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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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537 notes · View notes

elliespuns · 4 months

Note

I think Ellie & Dina DID have sex, it really could’ve been clothed sex. I was gonna specify on what they could’ve done but let’s just not…😭 Because being honest, getting changed RIGHT after sex is a bit awkward. Feel like if they did have actual naked sex they would be skin to skin. To be honest I don’t really think Ellie knew what she was doing, maybe she did have some experience with Cat but considering there right behind Joel I doubt they would’ve tried anything if it meant him finding out.

I do think they could’ve had sex a couple times on the farm but nothing too extreme with Ellie’s PTSD & Dina recovering from child birth(then again I feel like Ellie wouldn’t be really concentrated prob zoning out). I feel like if all that with Joel really didn’t happen they’d be very cocky & flirty during the farm era.

I do like to think Ellie & Dina slept naked together during my the farm not to be weird just for more intimate moments even if that didn’t mean sex.

Found this art, at first I did think it was with Seattle Ellie with the hair but Joel’s jacket tells me otherwise. It was probably early into the farm era, maybe a bit before Ellie cut her hair.

This is what I always thought about, too! They were in their underwear. I mean, okay, they were in a weed den, and there was always some danger lurking behind the corner (I don't mean Jesse, lmao), so it's possible they wanted to cuddle naked but decided to take some clothes on just in case. But then again, they would've probably ended up getting dressed all the way, right?

I like to think they had sex, but not exactly what most people imagine when you say 'sex'. I mean, there was certainly touching; they've probably gotten off with each other too. But maybe there was no more to it than them just rubbing against each other with their hands down their pants. Who knows. Fuck, I always said I hated them cutting the scene at the best part!

The reason why we can see Ellie's Seattle hairstyle in the photo from the farm era is because when the artists were drawing the pictures, none of them knew about what Neil was going to decide for the final project. There are many pictures that have mixed outfits and hairstyles from certain parts of the game that have nothing to do with the moments portrayed in the pictures. I kind of love these mix-ups.

Also, Ellie hovering above Dina, being all playful and cheeky with her? Why didn't we get any of this?!

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #dina nolastname #dina tlou #ellie x dina #dinellie #the last of us concept art #elliespuns answers

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genderflu1dwh0r · 11 months

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Are you stupid?

You can be racist and have POC friends, Jason is way worse than Billy any day. Jason isn't the one being abused by his father everyday, he isn't poor, he didn't get taken from his home and live with a step sibling that he didn't know that well.

Jason is a horrible person and got his friend to tackle Erica, then he held a gun at Lucas. You can't tell me that that isn't racist, you can't tell me that's worse than what Billy ever did. Jason said "I thought you were one of the good ones". That. Is. Racist.

Billy got his bad traits from his father. Billy got beat by his father. Billy was crying into the phone for his mom to come home. Billy had no support system. Steve was the only person that Billy bullied and tormented, and in my opinion, Steve is a worse character than Billy.

Steve threw slurs, while Billy got slurs thrown at him by his own father. Just because you don't care about abuse victims, doesn't mean you have to spread your hate.

I think that Billy just wanted Lucas to stop hanging around because if Neil found out, Billy would be the one getting beat. Neil would probably hurt Lucas way more than Billy could have ever done. Billy was protecting Max and himself, he was scared that Neil would find out. He did care and love Max, he just showed it in some confusing ways.

Also, the Duffer brothers are racist, they wanted Dacre to say the N word. Dacre protested and it ended up not happening. Billy saying the N word isn't canon, cause it didn't happen in the show. Stop always going to that excuse for him being a bad person. He never said any slur.

People say "if the actor wasn't hot, then people wouldn't have liked him" and I disagree. His character is very interesting. He has a backstory, he has trauma, he has an actual interesting plot unlike any other character. Dacre is also a very amazing actor, he was able to make Billy even more interesting.

Dacre has said that his art imitates his life. He put his own life into the character, he didn't have a great relationship with his dad, he has said this.

Max is a horrible person too, she drugged Billy with something that she didn't know was in, almost hit him with Steve's bat, screamed at him before leaving and stealing his car. Billy could have died on the floor, he was drugged and had no car. Tell me that that isn't abuse. Just because Billy grabbed her wrist ONE time, doesn't mean it's abuse.

Siblings fight all the time, it's just what happens. Especially how their family dynamics was. I and many others have fights with our siblings. You get over it in like a day. That doesn't make Billy a bad person. He did some really shitty things, yes. But that doesn't excuse all the hate he gets. He's a complex character, no other character is like him.

That's why he's my baby boy. I relate to him, I'm an abuse victim, I love knowing that I have a character to relate to. Stop blaming abuse victims on how they grew up, they can change. He could have changed if he didn't die. He could have, but nobody let him.

Nobody tried to help him. He didn't have a support system. The people who compare Jonathan to Billy are wild, cause Jonathan did have a support system, his mother did so much. Billy had nobody. His father beat him, hi stepmother did NOTHING to stop Neil, she just watched. She was clearly abused too, but she's the adult, she has to be there for Billy. She has to get Max away from all of this, which in season 4, she did. But she turned into an even worse mom.

Right here. He was trying to get help, he was trying to get the MF to get out. He wanted someone to help him. He kept fighting, and that's how he saved everyone on the day he died. He knew he was going to die, he was sobbing.

Try to think before talking bad against Billy.

Why do people say Vecna/Henry/Jason/Troy/James/Angela are better than Billy?

Vecna/Henry literally tried to kill children and the whole world. Billy wanted to have some fun and games, he would never go to prison for killing a child. He was never going to hit Mike, Lucas, Dustin, or Will.

Troy/James made Mike jump off of a fucking cliff while wanting to take Dustins teeth out. Tell me that isn't fucked. MIKE WOULD HAVE DIED IF EL WASN'T THERE!!

Jason held a fucking gun to Lucas's head and got Erica hurt. He sent a witch-hunt over Eddie and that ended up killing that poor boy. Literally, he was poor and Jason is a rich christian white boy. Tell me that isn't classist. Jason also did this to get information out of a kid.

Angela deserved the roller skate to the face for what she did to El. I would have done the same thing, El never deserved any of what she went through there.

Anyone going to object? Cause you can't, my points are spot on. Why aren't we gonna get mad at Jamie Campbell Bower over saying he relates to Vecna/Henry? If Dacre is bad for doing so, why can't we shame Jamie for the same thing?

I would count the MF taking over Billy like that as a reference of sexual assault. His body gets taken away from him, he is crying for help, he is scared and tried to tell someone. I've talked to SA survivors and they agree.

Anyway, I am pissed at Billy antis and I am just so done with them.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #st billy #stranger things billy #dacre montgomery #neil hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #jason carver

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har-rison-s · 5 months

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mask & seek: 15

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she’s from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson’s universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn’t trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues??

author's note: hey all :) mask & seek is forreal back this time. i think this is my favourite series ever, sooooo.... i really want to like actually finish it. there's not a lot left honestly, but don't worry, no spoilers. i hope you guys are still tuning into this, i know it's been like..... more than a year since i published 14, and almost two years since i started mask & seek too.... wow. that's insane. so! bruce and y/n are so cute in this. happy reading <3

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part fourteen

word count: 4.7k

warnings: little bit of smut towards the end, it's pretty short, some anxieties, self-doubting

gif credit goes to author! (i know it's neil but i needed a sorta domestic bruce gif and there are none!!! i cannot find them!!)

“okay, here goes,” y/n mutters with a heavy heart and a chest that seems to have grown ten times its usual weight. she sticks the porta filter back into its place in the coffee machine and faces vanessa with a heavy sigh. everything is heavy as of now, most of all - her own heart. vanessa meets y/n’s dark eyes with her bright ones, “i... will be quitting this job soon.” y/n finally tells her.

immediately she thinks her voice was too quiet, too unsure, too dark even, maybe? and maybe she uttered the words too fast. but really, no matter what voice she uses or how she says it, the news stay the same, and they still break vanessa’s heart. her eyes grow wide and her mouth hangs slightly agape. “what? you’re leaving?” she asks in nearly a whisper, shock and sadness all over her features. y/n can do nothing else but nod. “why? are you going somewhere? did something bad happen yesterday or something?”

“no, no, no, not at all,” y/n answers with a shake of her head. god, does she tell her the truth? it’s been a only a few days since that faithful night and morning that were followed by this decision being made, officially. it’s been hard for y/n to muster the courage to tell her co-workers, much less her boss, about leaving this job, but it’s also been killing her not to tell them. so here she is, choosing vanessa as the first person she tells. mainly because vanessa has become sort-of her best friend, and she trusts her the most, “i, uh... i got a really good job offer. it’s something completely different, but actually in the field or, value margin, that i wanna work in, and have wanted to for... a while. basically since i was a kid.”

“not a team of crazy scientists, i hope?” vanessa asks, now her face changing to doubt. it makes y/n laugh, and she does so while shaking her head. “okay, what is it, then? some genie came up to you and offered you three wishes, one of them being getting your childhood dream job?” vanessa gets more casual and closer again. y/n chuckles again.

“something similar to that,” y/n nods along, “only the genie is a man who happens to have very, you know, thick pockets,” y/n wiggles her eyebrows, and vanessa laughs, “he’s honestly the kind of man who’d fulfil more than three of my wishes, he’s made that quite clear.”

vanessa grows an ear-to-ear wide grin and gives y/n a wicked look. “is this about bruce wayne coming to visit you here those days back?” she asks and steps even closer to y/n, so their conversation would get more private in the café with nearly all full tables, “did you guys work it out? and how do you even know him? he’s a very hard man to catch outside his enormous house, much less to meet.”

now, bruce had predicted that this kind of question would come up for both of them, and that they couldn’t just dodge it. he also predicted that people would want a clear status of their relationship, to know how the business would really work and how it came to work at all. his and y/n’s conversation about it came to start on something like...

“i don’t want to be a faceless fling of yours in the eyes of the media and public,” y/n admits with a frown on her face, and bruce looks to her.

“well, you’d be the first one to have that title,” bruce faintly jokes. y/n gives him a curious look, still thinking that it sounds kind of impossible, “at least we’re the same age. they’ll take you somewhat seriously.”

“somewhat seriously?” she echoes, now turning to face him completely, one leg bent at the knee before her, on which she lazily splays her arm. bruce shakes his head.

“trust me, i know this so-called industry,” he clarifies, “the press love the old billionaires and their young fling-of-the-months.” bruce says and has a dark-humoured chuckle. it’s sad, really, that old men go after much more younger women, and that the press make all their money off it. bruce knows that. he’d never want to be that kind of man, and he’d never wish that fate upon any girl. “what do you want to be to the public?” bruce asks y/n as he looks to her again, his shoulders hunched forward.

she shrugs. “don’t want to lie about anything that i am, or what we are,” she says truthfully, “but then again – tell the truth, and they find a way to make up lies, anyway.” y/n chuckles and shrugs her shoulders, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

bruce wears a faint smile on his face. “how does being my wife sound to you?” he asks her in a soft tone. that question, though it’s just a casual one mentioning an option for their title, makes y/n look at bruce again. she smiles, too, her head tilted to the side as it’s resting on her knee now.

“for the papers or... in actuality?” she clarifies. bruce smiles wider. he wouldn’t mind having her as his wife, though we all know that’s an understatement, but he needs her consent, of course. he already feels closest to her now, sitting with her in her apartment, and he felt close to her and with her when she was at his mansion. marriage is only a document, two rings and a ceremony. he doesn’t need that to know that he loves her, to have proof that they’ll want and belong to each other forever.

so bruce shrugs for an answer. “whichever one you want.” he answers truthfully. it’s really all up to her. it’s her image to society, after all. and yes, of course, the medias and public change it to what they want it to be, but at the end of the day, she is the foundation of herself and how she is viewed. y/n smiles again, this time with a hum.

“neither, to be honest,” she answers and turns her gaze back to the window, “i’m not ready to be someone’s wife. not because i’d be scared of commitment or anything, no. i feel you and me have committed for quite some time now,” y/n says and they both chuckle, knowing it’s true, “no, it’s just that the word has so much meaning, so much... weight and unnecessary stigma around it, you know. like, you tell a person that you’re someone’s wife, and in their eyes you’re already pregnant, have two cars, a cul-de-sac and its garage full of washing machines, fridges and driers.” bruce laughs further. “plus, being a wife is just a legal paper and title. i could be your wife in my head, if i liked the title, without any legal, official papers.” bruce has quieted down, and just smiles now. it kills him to realise more and more, with each day and each new conversation with her, just how similar they are. they both see marriage the same way. “i wouldn’t say no if you proposed at any point in the future, though,” y/n clarifies and bruce chuckles again, like a school boy, “just making sure you heard me.”

“i hear you,” he confirms with a nod and that smile still on his face, “how double standard of me to not need to worry about my title. what if i wanted to be your husband or your fling of the month?” he suggests, and that makes y/n laugh loudly. she hops off the window sill, only wearing one of her huge thrifted sweaters and a pair of pajama shorts, and still giggling, tiptoes her way over to bruce, her thin socks touching the wooden floor of her apartment. he watches her all the way of doing so, and now that she’s comfortably sitting close next to him on the sofa, his eyes take on a more private gaze at her. she makes one of her beautiful smiles at him and breathes a short sigh. “what about you being my... girlfriend?” bruce now suggests, his voice a bit quieter.

y/n’s smile grows even wider, and her mushed cheeks are complimented by a deep crimson blush. she smiles so wide her eyes are barely visible, but the small portion of them still visible shine with the few tears gathered in them. just pure happy tears, nothing else. she shrugs her shoulders and then moves closer to bruce. his body grows immediately aware of the proximity. “well, my only condition would be...” y/n starts to say, and sighs quickly again, “that you’ll be my boyfriend.” she says. and she thinks god, there must be more age appropriate terms for boyfriend and girlfriend for people their age, something between boyfriend and husband, and girlfriend and wife. partner seems too formal, as well. she feels too young saying saying boyfriend, and too old saying partner. but, she guesses, since they’re just playing with these terms, also the ones the medias like to use, there’s no harm in saying boyfriend and girlfriend.

bruce cracks a wide smile at that, something only y/n gets to see and even she rarely does, and his pale cheeks blush a rose pink for a moment, too. on the rare occasion y/n sees him blush, she always takes note of how the rose pink brings out the soft brown of his eyes, and the gentleness of his eyes altogether. they’re usually dark, filled with emotion to the brim, and encircled by that dark matter he uses. but his eyes are gentle, as is he. the light brown irises look up into y/n’s eyes with care and ease, and a smile still faintly displays itself on bruce’s lips, “i think that’s a good deal.” he says in a voice deep and soft.

y/n smiles wide again and gets the closest to him that she can. legs entangled, y/n partly laying in his lap, faces close but hands still withdrawn from each other. “yeah?” she asks him in a faint whisper, and now her hand glides over the side of bruce’s face, like he’s often done to her, and she adores it. she only expects more of that in the future.

his eyelids flicker as he looks up at her, and any expression except adoration and submission fades away from his features. bruce only gives her a nod in response and y/n smiles. the world goes completely quiet as she presses her lips down onto his. only their inhaling of breath can be heard as bruce encircles her waist with his arms and pulls her body impossibly closer to his own. y/n holds both sides of his face now, continuing to kiss him—still hoping she’s good at it—and draws in breaths through her nose because the event and sensation of kissing bruce is drawing out all air and suffocating her in the best way possible.

“we, uh...” y/n’s mind fogs a bit from that memory, but only pleasantly so, “we met through friends in the justice department.” she tells her, hoping it’ll be enough. she and bruce planned out a small cover story for them to use, involving an old friend of bruce’s in the justice department, who happens to be on vacation right now.

“oh, you never told me you had friends there!” vanessa muses. “tell me exactly how you met, i need all the details.”

y/n chuckles, and hopes the nervousness in her chuckle doesn’t appear too strong. “it’s nothing romantic, i promise,” she tells vanessa, “they visited me here on a closing shift after some dinner they’d had, and bruce happened to be with them.” y/n says, but she knows she’s gotta do better than that. funny, how her whole life here in gotham has been built on lies she’s told, and she’s suddenly nervous to lie. maybe it’s because she has to lie to vanessa. but she’s done that before, too. “he told me recently that i struck him in the first moment he saw me. i do remember how awkward he was when he tried to order a drink.” y/n says and makes a small laugh again, but this time it’s genuine because she knows how awkward bruce, in truth, can get sometimes.

“i don’t care what you say, to me that is romantic,” vanessa replies. y/n shakes her head. the reason why she hates to be lying right now could be that the circumstances of how they met are much better than this made-up story. much more special, “wish i could have been there to see it.” vanessa admits. y/n doesn’t like the light this cover story paints her in, either. rich business man falls for the woman serving him. in her eyes that feels very weird for some reason. maybe it’s her feminist character that finds it weird.

but judging by vanessa’s face, the cover story and y/n’s acting are natural and convincing enough. y/n wishes she could spill the truth to vanessa, because god knows she trusts her, but she can’t tell her the truth. it would jepordise everything. “you would have got second-hand embarrassment, v,” y/n tells her and both women laugh.

“so, what, are you gonna be working for wayne enterprises now?” vanessa clarifies.

“sort of,” y/n answers with a shrug, “you’ll see. but don’t tell anyone else yet. and don’t tell anyone outside of work, ever. they’ll be all over you, and i do want us to make our relationship public, not anyone else.”

“yeah, yeah, you and I both know how tabloids work around here,” vanessa answers, “even though i’d love to tell everyone, i promise you on sebbie’s life that i won’t tell a soul.” she promises y/n on her cat’s life and does a cross over her heart. y/n chuckles at the superstition element. “you’ll have to deal with them a lot, though. i’m sorry for that.”

“yeah, thanks,” y/n replies quietly, taking that vanessa has mentioned the thing she’s most afraid of. she guesses vanessa knows the character assassination women face in gotham if they’re on any tabloid or news banner. y/n is in for a big portion of that—people don’t take too kindly to women who work in the same company for their male partners or spouses. it’ll be even worse for y/n perhaps, because she’ll be getting a job at wayne enterprises because she’s in a relationship with bruce. there’s nothing wrong with it, and it was bruce’s idea. god knows what kind of speculations will spiral out of that fact...

y/n feels bruce’s tongue against her own as he brushes his hands underneath her sweater now, petting her waist gently. the image of his large calloused hands on her bare skin already entices y/n more, her sharply inhaling breath through her nose. it feels difficult to breathe now, her fingers digging into the skin of his face. bruce softly groans at the feeling, and an almost animalistic shiver sends his hands to the back of y/n’s thighs and pulls them closer to his crotch, positioning her legs on either side of his body.

the pair nearly fall over from the impact, but y/n steadies them both with ease that her instincts provide, and they only interrupt their kissing with laughter over their slight clumsiness. she really has me feeling like a teenager, bruce thinks to himself before kissing her once more. they melt into each other so easily you’d think they were two pieces of butter on a hot pan. y/n is just about ready to eat him up, she feels this insatiable urge to touch him and kiss him all over, for as long as she has breath.

and when she’s reaching into his sweatpants and adjusting him up with her entrance, panties slid to the side, it’s almost like they sync up completely. the final transaction, the closest they can get, yet they still want more. they’re messy, panting, giggling, hands trembling as they hold onto each other and y/n rocks her hips on bruce’s length. he thinks this must be heaven – her on top of him, her chest in his face, her hands in his hair. he loves her on top of him, always did when she used to patch him up, clean his face, all those times. now their relationship has been turned around and this intimate position they’ve been in before has gained a different turn, too, one bruce was secretly thinking of beforehand.

“you’re so perfect,” he breathes against her skin, laying hot kisses across her chest, her sweater now pushed up, barely covering anything. y/n gasps at bruce’s lips on her breasts, mewls softly, and feels herself so close to release already. she pulls her sweater off over her head, it being in the way, and lets bruce pull her closer, smothering her chest with kisses, arms around her holding her securely.

“fuck, i’m close, bruce,” she tells him in a heave of breath and bruce nods in response. it might be his familiarity with her body, and it might be her spidey-sense growing on him, but he could tell she was close before she uttered the words herself.

“i know, i’ve got you,” he tells her quietly and keeps his hands supportingly on her back. y/n looks into his eyes, her hand now on his cheek.

“you f-feel so good inside me.” she whines and arches her back, hair messy in the air, complete surrender to her feelings.

bruce feels himself twitch inside of her at the words, and he doesn’t resist the groan coming out from between his lips. he grips one of her thighs in his hand, one palm completely capable of covering it, and sees the bump he’s made in her, completely visible to him. “fuck,” he moans out and takes one of her hands in his, guiding it down to the bump, looking into y/n’s eyes as he does. y/n feels the phenomena there and gives him a tired smile, her cheeks sweaty and shining from it in the half-dark.

“you’re so big, bruce, no wonder,” she compliments him and it makes them both chuckle quietly, though the praise once again goes straight to bruce’s hardness inside of her, “ah, fuck—” she starts to say, but can’t even finish her sentence, whatever it might have been, because her orgasm has taken hold of her and is washing through her entire body like an intense wave. bruce completely succumbs to her, feeling himself unloading inside of her, too, nearly in unison with her milking him in all his length.

he tries to watch her face as she comes, not wanting to miss the sight of it, and he manages through his eyes filled with euphoria to catch the look of her. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks glistening with sweat, breasts on display for him, hair falling over her arched back. that is until she crumbles on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder and her hands gripping the back of the sofa. she pants heavily into his ear as he does the same, both of them grounding themselves back to reality. “you’re incredible, y/n,” bruce tells her and y/n smiles in response.

she easily hops off him and finds her sweater on the floor and puts it on before sitting back down next to him. bruce stuffs himself back into his sweats and runs a hand through his hair. she turns her head to look at bruce and they smile at each other. “you’re not so bad yourself,” she tells him and kisses his lips gently. she circles her arms around his neck and they rest their foreheads together, “i could never get tired of this. physically, i mean. i think my stamina is through the roof,” y/n admits, making bruce chuckle, and she enjoys feeling the rumble of his laughter.

“i’ll try to keep up,” he promises and glances into her eyes, this time he’s made her laugh. with her he comes to realize how much he’s capable of. he can make her laugh, he can make her smile, he can make her blush, he can make her reach ecstasy-level orgasms. all of these are honours he holds dear to his heart, “i could never get tired of you.” he tells her quietly.

“me, neither, of you,” y/n responds, then averts her eyes from bruce’s briefly, “what if i can’t take it? the press, the job? what if i’m not... good enough? classy enough?” she lets her anxieties wonder. it breaks bruce’s heart that she feels this way.

“you’re more than good enough,” he assures her, “the press may want to say horrible things about you, and i know it’s easy to give into hate and... critique, but...” bruce shakes his head, “you’re the amazing spider-woman, without the suit and powers, too.” he makes a smile at her and y/n gives a weak one back. “you’re going to be so great at this, i already know it. and don’t be afraid to ask for help—me and alfred will be supporting you every step of the way.”

y/n sniffles quietly, but gives bruce a nod. she leans against the back of the sofa, letting go of bruce, and his skin misses her touch immediately. she rubs her eyes and sighs. “i’ve wanted to do something like this, be someone who can make a real change, all my life, since i was a little kid,” she tells him, “and everything that happened throughout growing up just made me want to do it more. and now you’ve given me this amazing opportunity to finally do something like it, and it scares me,” she turns her head to look at him again. bruce nods, understanding, and splays an arm over her frame, “i can never thank you enough for doing this for me. i’m really grateful for it. i’m just scared i won’t be any good at it.”

“you will be,” bruce tells her, “i never expected this kind of... role would fall on me. i did know, of course, that i would have to follow in my father’s footsteps, and i was more than happy to, but doing it alone, especially when there’s so much pressure about it, and relentless work, never made me like it.” he shook his head. “i know i still want to help people, i always have, and being batman was my way of doing it, but... you’ve made me realize it’s never going to be enough. yes, i can make people fear me, but there’s always going to be someone not so afraid.” he makes a pause to clear his throat. “you remember that brothel we went to on our first night together?” he asks and y/n nods along. “we’re never gonna stop more of those being made by just... doing what we do on our night shifts. crime and corruption in gotham are like diseases. we gotta do more.” he says and y/n nods again.

“i’m glad you see it now, too,” she tells him and runs a hand through his hair, “we will do more. but i can’t do it without you.” she says and makes a sad smile. bruce holds her moving hand in his and lays a kiss on the top of her palm.

“you won’t,” he promises, “you won’t be alone. i’ll go to every interview, every event, anything with you.” so you won’t be alone, like i was, in this business.

y/n chuckles. “really?”

“yeah, i promise,” bruce says with a smile and that’s what makes her believe him. she nods, “i’ll take care of you.” she presses their intertwined hands against his cheek.

“we’ll take care of each other,” she corrects him, and bruce nods, lips once again on her hand, “thank you for this. and for believing in me.” she makes a smile at him and curls herself closer to bruce. he nods at her. he’ll always believe in her. ever since that first night she took him to her apartment, he has put tremendous faith in her and she has always proved worth it. she has never disappointed him. she’s only ever surprised him and hurt him when she fled the manor that night. but never disappoint him. she should have ‘exceeds expectations’ written in her resume, in her passport.

“always,” bruce says and kisses her lips.

“uh, vanessa,” y/n calls for her attention again, and vanessa turns to her with welcoming eyes, “can you promise me that... you won’t say anything the press want you to say? no matter how much money they’re offering.” she requests shyly, hoping this won’t close vanessa off to her. but her friend-colleague nods.

“of course,” she says, “i would never do that to you, man, come on,” she bumps y/n’s shoulder and they both laugh, “no amount of money could make me want to lie about you.”

“thanks so much. i’d never assume otherwise, you know, just had to make sure.” y/n says timidly and rubs her hands together. “i’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow. a month’s notice.” she tells her and vanessa nods with a smile, though she also sighs sadly.

“only a month with you left,” she says and makes a playful frown. y/n shakes her head, “it’s gonna be weird here without you.”

“i know,” y/n says in an aching voice, “it’s gonna be so strange not working here. but i’ll come here for coffee, i promise you that.”

vanessa smiles. “it’ll always be on the house,” she says and does a salute. it makes them both giggle again, but the bell ringing at the entrance door alerts them of a new customer and their laughter dies down a little.

“that won’t go unnoticed, v,” y/n tells her as she takes her post behind the cash register. vanessa raises an eyebrow at her, “if i’m ever invited to a gala and i can take a plus one, it’s gonna be you.” y/n smiles at vanessa and she nearly bursts at the proposition.

“are you serious? but won’t mr wayne be your plus one?” she makes sure, but y/n shakes her head.

“no, he gets his own invites. we could go as three, and i wouldn’t wanna go with anybody else, anyway,” she admits.

“ah, just imagine – us getting ready together to go a gala! what a dream,” vanessa ties her apron around her waist again and passes y/n to stand behind the coffee machine, “your life’s definitely getting better.”

that statement sort of stops y/n in her tracks. her life is getting better, that’s true, she just hadn’t admitted that to herself yet. probably because she feels she doesn’t deserve it, isn’t worthy of such good circumstances. a great relationship, a job she’s wanted to do since she was a kid, a job in helping countless people in peril, poverty, hunger and everything else that’s eating gotham up from inside. but she doesn’t let herself enjoy it. well, truthfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she’s already hesitant towards it.

being scared of the job is one thing – how good is she gonna be at it? how will everyone else at wayne enterprises like her? how will the media take her work? how will the people of gotham embrace her? but another thing is feeling like she doesn’t deserve it. she doesn’t come from upper class, she wasn’t born into money like bruce was. she comes from a different universe altogether.

but shouldn’t an advocate for people who can’t defend or support themselves be someone exactly like them? maybe y/n should tell her story to the whole of gotham, about her hardships growing up, about her mother’s hardships – not the whole story in details, but just enough that would make people see that she’s just like them, no different, and wants to help. because she knows how she can help. she knows exactly what these people need because she’s been one of them. who better to protect and vouch for them than someone who comes from the same gutter? that would be a great article headline for the press, y/n thinks.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @works-of-fanfiction @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @xoxobabydolls @corallyink

series taglist: @blue-aconite @captainbarnesevans @chiliiscereal @miniflower93 @scorpio-echo @faithsreviews @buckysjuicyplums @legendaryfishdreamexpert @eucalyptrus @matchesarelit @daphne-bloom @aestheticpisces @baybay123455 @measure-in-pain @spookysins @calumspupils @prettygirlpattinson @johnisonlysleeping @bedshrooms @mischiefmanaged71 @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @siriuslydestiny @strawberriebabbles @katemusic @angelicadiabolus @musamusing @fatherfigured @tojisprincess @eriklensherrschild @uraritychain @philiasoul @violetsthought @srryxmate @frozenhuntress67 @underdarkcityskies @brthofafish @mistasbae @uncle-eggy @daryldixonstorm @tshuuls @alderaansleias @brightjimini @xmalereader @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @22carolina08 (i’m sorry if someone’s @/s aren’t working, idk why!!)

if anyone wants a tag next time, please let me know :)

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #battinson smut #battinson #battinson x fem!reader #mask & seek #batman series #the batman fanfic #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #har-rison-s writes batman #battinson x oc #mask & seek series #bruce wayne fanfic #bruce wayne fan fiction

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morfitties · 8 months

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Sometimes I get fixated on movies and watch them multiple times.

The first time I watched Dead Poet Society was with my best friend- I knew nothing about it, only that she loved it, it was one of the few movies I had never seen spoilers for and I’m so thankful for that. The first time you watch something and you make assumptions about what will happen; I thought Keating would replace Nelson and maybe Todd would grow up to be an english teacher and Neil an actor, maybe Meeks and Pitts would actually be the creators of the drone or something, I thought that maybe Charlie wouldn’t have to keep protecting them, that he could live with comfort, that Cameron would grow and learn and that Knox would lose his stupidity but not his dramatics.

I didnt expect a story about 7 boys and a very special teacher, about finding something you love that you’ve not truly seen before, of being unashamed of what you love, of not being enough to save someone, of feeling like you have no choice, of being left behind.

I’ve rewatched it a lot since then- me and my best friend actuallt watched it jjst the other day and talked about the movie all through the movie.

There’s a weird sense of comfort knowing that the ending is sad, knowing that if nothing else it is realistic and that it isn’t lying to you. Watching the lead up to Niel’s death, seeing him lie to Keating and when he finally acts in front of his friends, the amount of pride the people who loved him had for him, up until the argument that acts as the trigger to what ends Neil’s life.

The movie spends roughly twenty minutes exploring the people that are left behind.

The scene with Meeks, Pitts, Knox and Cameron in the doorway while Charlie tells Todd is heartbreaking because you can SEE the tears and the grief, you can see Charlie, despite being the humorous one, being the way to tell Todd that the person who helped him see what he was missing was dead. The fact that we only see Todd getting told, that we only see the last person to find out, it feels final and that hurts.

The scene in the snow is the nail in the coffin for me emotionally. Todd finally yawps but his yawp is for his dead best friend, the group themselves are torn apart after everything. In the church when everyone is crying but singing apart from Charlie, who just stares at his book. When Cameron and Charlie fight and Charlie gets kicked out and sent to military school and everything about this movie makes me sick to my stomach with emotion.

I basically just needed to rant about this movie, quite honestly. It feels so tenderly bittersweet, like looking back to when you were younger and wondering who else you could’ve been if certain things never happened. The boys feelings at the ending feel like that to me because none of them quite want to believe it. In a weirdly dramatic way it fully encapsulates what it’s like to have friends be torn apart- albeit most don’t have quite such drastic reasoning. But the wondering, if you possibly knew it was the last time that you would see them, would you change everything you did or said?

I fucking love this movie.

#dead poets fandom #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #mr keating #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #steven meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron

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drachenmagier · 1 year

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Hi! Saw your post about commissioners using AI as a skeevy way to get cheap fully-rendered art from artists (thank you for spreading the info btw! Deeply concerning the ways these AI programs are being used to make an already difficult field of work even harder 🥲).

But it also got me thinking a bit about TOS's and pricing your work, particularly commercial work... I'm in the process of preparing to open up for commissions for the first time in years myself, and was wondering if you had any advice/resources for putting together a professional looking TOS and figuring out how to handle commercial licensing? I know this stuff tends to be super regional, but it's so hard to find consistent information online on the topics 😞

I can only tell you how I handle it. :) For normal commissions, do feel free to copy whichever part of my TOS you think will work for you from my private commission info. If you're not Swiss, the last line on the page won't be usable.

A lot of doing art and illustration commissions is trial and error. I know it was for me. Tons of mistakes and hopefully not repeating them.

For pricing, a friend told me two things that stuck with me and helped deciding on prices since then.

First thing she told me is that exclusive rights for a simple caricature for a newspaper go for USD 800.- and up. Mind ya, she said that YEARS ago. And prices change. But if a simple black and white doodle goes for USD 800.-, don't sell exclusive rights to your full colour A4+ artwork for less.

If in doubt, don't sell your exclusive rights at all. Most clients don't need them and if someone tells you they will give you USD 25.- and a voucher for -10% off their own product for it, tell them to fuck off.

People will try. And you will learn to say no.

The second important pricing tip I got from said friend: decide on a price that makes it easy for you to let go. If you regret having sold it, the price was not high enough.

Most companies have their own contracts and their own price lists. It helps if you are able to adjust your work to their budget and deadline.

Read the contracts carefully, don't skim anything, only sign them when you understand them. Especially US-contracts have a lot of complicated looking clauses in them, like the Indemnification clause. If they tell you that a clause is just there and you don't need to understand it, you can sign the contract as it is: run.

Most clients won't actually need or even want exclusive rights, simple print licenses will be enough for them. A rough over-the-thumb minimum pay would be around CHF 200.- to 250.- per work day.

I will add a third point here:

If you really want something to exist and be a part of it, then do it. Have fun. We mostly regret the things we never tried and never did. And if you only do things for the money and don't get paid, it leaves you with nothing (my thanks to Neil Gaiman and his commencement speech "Make Good Art").

Some of my most amazing commissions were orders from people who couldn't pay a lot, but were awesome individuals with fantastic ideas. And I don't regret a second of the work I put into those commissions. But THAT is your decision. And purely yours. Don't let people tell you what to be exited about.

Maybe the thing you will be exited about is a kid that wants to pay you three shiny rocks for a drawing of their super hero princess cat wizard.

And you will make it the fucking best super hero princess cat wizard for one of the rocks, because you don't want the kid to have no shiny rocks anymore~. <3

#drachenmagier #artist help #advice #artists on tumblr #commissions #super hero princess cat wizard

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thesherrinfordfacility · 10 months

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i know ive had like 16 apoplexies in the last 4 hours but im really raking through the weeds on this one: let's talk ✨angel costumes✨ im going to leave the modern ones alone for a moment, perhaps ill take a look at them later on, but for the moment im essentially going to focus on the job minisode.

so let's go in order of what we would understand is the heaven hierarchy. first up we have lord farquaad gabriel:

key points:

heavy gold collar embellishment

slight gold cuffs

superhero cape

accentuated waistline

purple eyes as per

biggest and Baddest angel around, michael:

key points:

heavy gold collar embellishment

heavier gold cuffs

more noticeable gold makeup accents

my bamf-y bOY:

key points:

(im presuming it might be down to lighting but his costume is noticeably duller on earth, which kinda fits with how his general daily outfit elevates in s1 when he discorporated, but fundamentally retains the same features)

heavy gold collar embellishments

gathered sleeves with heavy gold cuffs

accentuated waistline

snazzy little gather of material on the waist, also embellished in gold

the light of my life, muriel:

key points:

simple gold collar embellishment but embellishment nonetheless

similarly small gold detail on cuffs

some gold makeup accents (i think eyeshadow?)

and these other angels (im going to call them the Sycophant Squad bc why not) in the background:

key points:

similar to muriel; small gold embellishments on collars and cuffs, possibly even less than muriel's, but otherwise unadorned as far as we can tell

(also special shout out that the representation in this show is unparalleled, mad behaviour i love it sm).

so we could attribute aziraphale's costume to him not only being of relatively high rank (when you take into account that there are 10 million angels milling around somewhere) in the GO!angels hierarchy, and to boot he's one of the main characters. but... his angelwear is almost so ornate that it looks like he actually genuinely belongs in the archangel cohort?

ive remarked on it a couple of times but god still seems to be present in heaven in the job narrative compared to 'modern day': The Lighting Change Is Everything. and when you take into account that his costume before the Beginning used to look like this:

the impression i get is that between this point and job, he may have had a promotion? now i get that neil has said before that fashion changes in heaven, but the general themes (however individualistic the costumes are depending on the character) seem to follow the same trend: the more embellishment and detail in their design, the higher the rank.

the above picture of aziraphale and AWCW may well be because it's simply long before job and the fashion was simpler (ie had more important things to do), so i won't double down on it, but i do feel there might be a little something-something there.

in any case, we know that muriel is below the rank of a throne or dominion. neil has said that the angel hierarchy in good omens runs like this, but nothing that explicitly says about thrones or dominions; but from christian angelology (which he said he and terry based their hierarchy iirc, he said in another ask somewhere), they are in the show at least high ranking below seraphim and cherubim, presumably below capital-A-Archangels, and presumably higher than aziraphale, a principality.

neil also alludes in the ask that muriel is one of the lower tiers/choirs; so in this, we have our scales - muriel's dress being the lowest tier, and gabriel's being the highest tier. when we look at aziraphale's dress, it is ornate, and it is Fancy; is this representative of the midpoint in angel attire (ie a principality, more or less), or could it be indicative of a higher rank at the time?

idk where im going with this in particular, but it just seems very strange to me that there would be a two-step system to how the angels dress - that everyone from presumably principality rank and above gets lovely gold things and fancy dress patterns, and then small gold detail but otherwise plain gowns if below a principality. again, might just be that aziraphale is a Main Character, but it's fun to speculate right?✨

#i just want to soak up every last visual cue in this show im OBSESSED #and am avoiding real life work this is way more fun #good omens #flashback meta #aziraphale meta #s2 meta #costume meta #angel hierarchy spec

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agoodomenssideblogiguess · 9 months

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You know how Neil Gaiman said that when it comes to new television shows, Crowley would probably enjoy the Good Place?

Don't imagine Crowley watching the episode where Eleanor finds out her mom isn't dead.

Don't think about how he probably scoffed at Michael telling Eleanor that she should accept that her mom has changed. Don't think about how when Eleanor says "Because I wanted that mom! I wanted the mom who made me afternoon snacks instead of just telling me to look for loose fries in the McDonald's ball pit," his mind conjures memories of God's cold dismissal of his request to meet with Her back when he was still an angel and Aziraphale had just told him about how his brand new nebula only had 6,000 years left.

Don't think about how when Eleanor says "Why does Patricia get that mom?" Crowley probably thinks back to Job and how even if he didn't get answers, he at least had the chance to ask the question. Why wasn't he allowed to ask?

Jesus too, even as he suffered, got to ask: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Even though it took 3 days, Jesus at least got some closure in the end.

As Crowley fell, he probably cried out the same thing and his only closure was getting dunked into a boiling pool of sulfur, a cruel precursor to Jesus' baptism.

And DON'T think about how when Eleanor says "If Donna Shellstrop has truly changed, then that means she was always capable of change," a sob probably gets caught in Crowley's throat too.

"But I just wasn't worth changing for," Eleanor concludes.

Do you think he finishes the episode?

I don't think so. I think he leaves the remaining 8, almost 9 minutes unwatched, promising himself to come back on a boring day with nothing to do and no one to visit.

I don't think he's really quite sure what to expect from the ending of the episode. Some closure maybe, a sudden understanding, quiet relief from some weight being lifted away, maybe even a desire to forgive Her.

I don't think he gets any of that. And that makes sense. After all, Donna is a human and God is, well, God. Humans can grow, change, exercise their free will. God is ineffable.

I think that as the episode goes on, Crowley probably thinks to himself that he should have just finished the episode the day he'd started it.

When Eleanor says "You need to commit to this," Crowley thinks he probably should have made Aziraphale watch this with him some time before Gabriel showed up. Maybe if he had, things would be different right now. Maybe Aziraphale would have chosen the beautiful life they'd painstakingly carved from themselves out of the end of the world.

I think Crowley would really like the phrase Michael used at the end of the episode: "afterlife life." It a bit if a throwaway line but it brings back a memory from a makeshift bus stop at the end of the world.

"Do you believe in life after death?"

"I suppose I must do."

Michael tells Eleanor, "You told him that you loved him and he told you that he loved you back," and it stings a bit to realize that for all he tried, he couldn't actually say it to Aziraphale. Could barely do more than skirt around the word 'couple.' Maybe that's where it all went wrong. He didn't just need the one fabulous kiss, he needed a proper, direct, confession that left no room for misinterpretation.

I think as the next episode plays and Eleanor gets her memories of her 'afterlife life with Chidi, he wonders what it feels like to have someone give you barely any time to finish your confession before they're saying "I love you, too."

Crowley's not as deterministic as Eleanor. He's a strong proponent of free will, even took the time to learn it for himself. And Crowley is, underneath it all, an optimist. So when Eleanor says "I guess I was right. I'm incapable of love," Crowley's hardly listening. He's too busy thinking that it's really rather fortunate that despite his demonic nature, Crowley can and does love. He barely hears the joke about Eleanor's Sam the Eagle dreams because he's too busy replaying Eleanor's promise to Chidi a few scenes earlier over and over again in his head, like a prayer he hopes will reach the right person up in heaven.

"It's okay. No matter what he does, we will find each other, and we will help each other because we're soul mates."

#good omens fanfiction #sorta? idk #good omens #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #the fact that in the episode after Eleanor gets her memories back and theres the whole 'crowleys memory was erased' theory jumpscared me

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mydysfunctionalvampirefamily · 13 days

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Now that my secret identity has been revealed (by me) I shall bravely soldier on like nothing has changed and scream into the void.

Wynn! I know subtlety is not your strong suit, but damn.

Look at them! They're actually just talking and not arguing! I'm so proud.

Guys, I'm gonna be real honest. They've been talking for like 10/15 minutes now and I don't really know whats going on, my brain is so tired. I tried relistening. Absolutely nothing was retained. I might have to do this episode again, or maybe just not and see how big of a issue this will be.

So far I know that the sabat is attacking and they are debating what to do.

Johnny asking Miles to be his date. 👀 We all. Know Miles is saying hard to get.

😂😂😂Britta idk what you were expecting they'd say, but I know you didn't expect them to go oh okay no problem, because you're smarter than that.

Britta you cannot stay with Eden, there are people who would be upset. Here in the real world.

I mean Britta or someone needs to reach down deep inside her, if you know what I mean. 😏

This is hard though, because I totally get what Johnny is saying, but my social anxiety is agreeing with Britta. Tbh I'm surprised she hasn't just walked into the sun.

Neil, sweetheart, baby, love of my life. What is going on with you and the obsession with Britta? Like you are grilling her way too hard, and this is not the first time. Is this because she was kidnapped? Idk it's very strange, I can't place it.

Poor Britta, so much has happened to her that I had completely forgotten that Shaw had promised to 'give' her to some Bruja.

Johnny you don't know the half of Britta and Pendragon.

Wynn, you're a goddess for offering to go with Pendragon.

NEIL?!??! WHAT THE FUCK???? Idk if this is confirmation bias or what but you're being so weird about Britta!

Wynn: can we let Britta choose how she comes (to this). 😏 I'm so sorry, I am Really tired.

Neil: Britta, how do you wanna come?😂

Omg Wynn: I like mouth stuff. 😂😂 Thank god I am not alone on this train.

Do aunts and uncles usually talk about sex at thanksgiving???? That feels very unamerican.

Aw Britta I get you, being scared is the absolute worst. And having to do smth you're scared of sucks.

Wynn being her guidance councillor self.

Wow look at Johnny being all tactful and doing this dividing the invitation.

Neil, goddamn that is so sad. Why would Johnny just tell you good luck?? Dude you are a part of this coterie! When will you get that into your thick skull?

Wynn immediately catching it. She had a full time psychologist job with this coterie damn.

Miles just being a shithead: I heard you got invited to a ball recently.

Miles: I am used to being hated. (😭 what is going on you guys??? Youre the best!)

Miles actually thought that Wynn hated him now. Goddamn Wynn, I hope you charge by the hour.

Hell yeah, Britta!! I know this is all under duress, but if you can stop yourself from fleeing the scene when Pendragon shows up (which I wouldn't blame you for, let me be clear) the you're going to do a great job at this rave!

What if Delgado brings Carmen and Britta is going to get sucked into some bisexual maelstrom.

Neil!!! Sweet lord, why does it sound like you exactly know what's going on and yiu just want to hear her say it. Calm down.

Johnny getting a new jacket for Britta without question. 🥰

Neil omg are you seriously going to steal that jacket back??? Is this a weird Britta thing? Or a weird ownership of stuff thing? Or both or neither?

We all knew it, but it's still gratifying to see Miles being a great boy toy.

I don't think anyone has called a Bruja rave a soiree before. Lmao

Lmao Neil being pulled around by Jane.

Okay say what you want but this Rave is making everyone look good!!

Lmaooo Jane just collaring Neil without explanation. 😂

Wait what diablerist?? Ohh because of the trial??

Jane is the best, I love her.

I know it's such a small thing overall, but I love the mount of detail we always get clothes wise. It really helps me visualise, even though my visualisations are often wrong and offend people (see: Johnny's shaved head and Britta's light blonde curls)

Whethers is such a dream boat!

Johnny doing his iron heart thing. 🥰 I know he has done it a few times alrwady but it always warms my heart.

#path of night podcast #pon liveblogging #season 3 #Episode 70

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bigmamag · 9 months

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I have what I think is a new theory about what happened at the end of season 2 of Good Omens. I think Aziraphale doesn’t tell Crowley what came after Metatron told Aziraphale that he can work with Crowley again and restore him to full angelic status. I don't think we're getting the whole conversation, not because Aziraphale has been drugged or anything like that, but simply because Aziraphale is the eponymous unreliable narrator—he’s literally narrating the conversation to Crowley, so Crowley and the audience are only getting whatever he’s willing (or able) to impart.

Metatron presumably still thinks they’re both immune to holy water and hell fire, so he thinks he can’t kill them. I doubt he'd hesitate to kill Crowley, but Aziraphale is different, not because Metatron gives a shit about him, but because it’s a matter of pride and there will NOT be an institutional problem in heaven on his watch. Aziraphale says he doesn’t want to go back to heaven, so how does Metatron convince him to go be the supreme archangel so he can be heaven's PR puppet while also completely separating him from Crowley? He knows the power they wield together: able to perform a miracle of 25 Lazarii together where apart they can barely bring one person back from the dead (for evidence of this, see how they can't resurrect Wee Morag and also this ask where Neil addresses their individual miracle capabilities.)

I think Aziraphale doesn’t reveal to Crowley that he actually tells Metatron that Crowley would never agree to come to heaven and be an angel again, because he knows Crowley. But then Metatron has the ultimate trump card, and here it is, the ‘give me coffee or give me death’ moment: Aziraphale must convince Crowley to come to heaven or he must leave him behind, because if he tries to interact with a demon again, Metatron will erase Crowley from the book of life.

Imagine if this is the reason for Aziraphale’s sudden change, then everything makes so much more sense that follows. Aziraphale’s intense worry before he walks into the bookshop, but the brightness and joy he exudes while trying to convince Crowley to come, like he’s giving the sales pitch of a lifetime and notice he’s almost manic with it:

“It’ll be just like old times, only even nicer!”

“Work with me! We can be together!”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

“I…I need you!”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

It’s breaking his heart, just the face he makes when Crowley says no nightingales, he knows exactly what that means. Crowley kisses him, and god imagine how much Aziraphale wants to stay with him, go off together, even forgets himself a little bit and clutches Crowley to him for a just a moment, but he can’t, Metatron is watching, notice that after he breaks the kiss, Aziraphale glances over to the window, because what if Metatron had seen that? He takes a bit finding the words, so he decides on what he knows is the worst thing he could say to make Crowley go away and not speak to him, because he’s in danger.

“I forgive you”

And he still looks to Crowley before he gets on the elevator, trying to memorize him before they’re forced to part forever. Metatron is right about one thing–everyone so predictably chooses the coffee, no one chooses death. I end with a quote from a wise man by the name of Cecil Palmer who once said about a white apache tracker, "what an asshole."

#good omens #ineffable spouses #theory number one trillion here #I've had a pot of coffee and now it's your problem too #Metatron #good omens theory

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 10 months

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Why I Never Said What I Meant To

Actor! Joel Miller X Actress!Reader

Your mouth gaped open, there was nothing you could tell him to truly show how sorry you were, that you’d kept your mouth shut because the producers told you to. You weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the changes, not even Ellie who could keep a secret like her life depended on it. a/n:this fic deals with heavy topics of anxiety, depression, thoughts of suicide, if any of those are triggering please read with caution! feedback is much appreciated! wc:7k

Ellie was walking back and forth on set, ignoring the people rushing around to make sure that everything was indeed in place. Joel had been talking to one of the producers, mentioning how he didn’t feel comfortable with one of the upcoming lines. They’d been filming for nearly twelve hours, going from late in the night to the early hours of morning. She had half expected to see you running over with a new cup of coffee for the pair, but you still weren’t there. Neil, the director, looked more annoyed than a few minutes prior. Suddenly the sound of your boots echoing inside the large room caught everyone’s attention.

“I’m so sorry! My alarm never went off and traffic was a nightmare,” You were already in costume which would speed things along.

“About time, we couldn’t film without you here,” Ellie threw her arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I know, I’m so sorry for making everyone wait,” You rubbed a hand over her back gently.

Ellie had grown attached to you and Joel rather quickly, it didn’t matter that the girl was old enough to drink. At least in Canada. You’d joked that you and Joel had become her surrogate parents during filming, taking over when she had questions. You’d practice lines together whenever the three of you had some time off together. It was comforting, knowing you got along so well with your costars. There had been plenty of times in the past where no one had gotten along, so this was a nice change of pace for once.

“Today’s the big day for you sweetheart, sorry this is how it ends,” You always knew your character was going to die, you’d thrown the idea around with the director a few times.

“Aww, are you gonna cry over me as I slowly die in your arms?” You batted your lashes at Joel, snickering when he groaned.

“Well it’s in the script that he does cry, but I don’t think he does it til he’s all alone,” Ellie loved teasing Joel, it was one of her favorite pastimes.

One of the makeup artists ran over to Joel before filming could commence, fixing up his right temple that was supposed to still have “fresh” blood. It was a gripe you had a lot, especially when it was cold and the blood would end up freezing to your skin.

“Alright, everyone get into place and then we can go ahead with this scene,” You let go of Ellie, walking around to the opposite side of the room.

You were going to get bit by one of the infected and fight them off before Joel realized what was happening. This was the scene you’d been dreading since the table read, once you’d gotten closer to Ellie and Joel you didn’t want to be done so soon. The lights dimmed, bathing the room in a soft darkness that would normally comfort you, however with one of the infected actors standing nearby, it was nerve wracking. Joel checked over all of his weapons, making sure everything looked good.

“Joel! Gonna need you to move back about a foot, Ellie take two steps to the right, and perfect!” Neil sat down behind the wall of monitors, looking over every inch he was filming.

Your heart was racing, it didn’t matter that nothing around you could actually do any harm but knowing that your character was about to die? It sucked. You were all ready to go on Neil’s instruction, the fake knife holstered on your thigh was an uncomfortable reminder.

“Action!” Neil’s voice echoed through the room, startling you for a brief second before the infected actors ran into the room.

You turned and ran towards the opposite side of the room, grip tightening around the handle of the fake knife as one of the infected managed to grab your arm. What neither of you had prepared for was the small slip of rug that had been flipped up, the pair of you tumbling to the ground. The other actor slammed into you before sliding to your side, groaning in pain. Everyone began to rush over to make sure neither of you had been seriously injured, nothing worse than realizing you couldn’t work for an extended period of time.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Joel knelt down beside you, gently cradling your head as he looked over you for any actual injuries.

“Think I just slammed my ribs, nothing feels broken,” You were a little nervous with Joel so close, especially after harboring a crush on the man for years.

They had the onset medic check you over, and after getting the all clear finally you resumed shooting. The bite mark took a little while to apply once filming was over which meant none of you could even leave for lunch. Why did the thought of leaving suddenly fill you with so much dread? Was it because you would be leaving Ellie, or did it all have to do with the absolute hunk of a man that Joel was?

No, don’t start thinking of your costar like that, he’s absolutely married with at least two children looking the way he does. Sure you’ve never discussed your personal lives and he absolutely refuses to answer those questions during interviews, but whatever. Then again if he was married it felt a little weird to openly thirst after him.

“Alright, time for everyone’s favorite scene to film, Joel’s about to find out you’re infected,” Neil had gone over the script with you a handful of times, bouncing off different ideas that could work.

You sat down in the corner of the room, shifting into place to make sure you gave off the aura that you were terrified. The now “dead” infected was lying about five feet away from where you were curled up. Joel didn’t know how the scene was going to play out, he’d just been given his lines and was told to follow your cue.

“Action!” Neil’s voice was muffled from where he sat.

The sound of Joel’s boots echoed throughout the set, something they would later cut down so it didn’t echo to the point of giving away how big the soundstage was. Your arm had started to annoyingly itch right above the prosthetic and instead of scratching at it, you had to ignore it entirely.

“Jess, what-” You held your hand up, lip quivering as tears began to build in your lash line.

“Don’t, please,” The bite mark was just barely visible with the way you’d tried to hide yourself.

“Are..sweetheart did..did you get bit?” Joel’s expression gave away nothing, but his eyes, they told the entire story.

You chuckled softly, lifting up your arm so that the wound was more visible, blood shining in the dim light that was pouring in from a window nearby. It was a simple mistake, you could’ve avoided all this mess had you just listened to Joel.

“I’m really sorry, they came out of nowhere and I couldn’t stop them before this happened,” You stood up slowly, watching the way Joel backed away out of instinct.

“Darling you got bit, what the hell am I supposed to do about that?” It was a natural reaction for Joel to get angry.

“You know I love you, right? I ran in here because it was going to stop that goddamn infected from getting either you or Ellie. I know that she’s immune, Jack, but there’s nothing we can do about this,” Tears were streaming down your face, a reminder that everything was one sided.

You reached for the gun that you’d had holstered in the waist of your pants, pressing it against your temple before Joel could react and pulling the trigger. Blood sprayed against the walls and floor as your lifeless body collapsed. Joel’s horrified gasp was louder than everything, everyone sitting behind the camera waited with baited breath. No one, except for yourself, Neil, and the makeup department knew about what was going to happen.

“Shit,” Joel glanced around the room, most likely looking for Ellie to see if she’d had to witness the same exact moment that would sit with him for a while.

He glanced down at you one more time before running out of the room, his hands had begun to shake uncontrollably. How was this happening? Things were going perfectly fine and now you were dead, he’d fucked up so badly. Leaning against the wall Joel hadn’t realized he’d begun to slide down until his ass had hit the ground. Ellie was now his main priority, no one was going to stand in his way when it came to protecting her.

“Cut! Holy shit that was amazing!” Neil was ready to start screaming with excitement, this was surely going to win a lot of awards.

“Alright, let’s get Y/N cleaned up so she can head out,” Wow, they were really letting you go so quickly? Then again the sooner you could get all this fake blood off of you, the better.

Looking around you’d noticed both Ellie and Joel were missing, which wasn’t unusual but it definitely didn’t leave you feeling comfortable. The walk to the makeup department was quick and thankfully not crowded. Joel was standing over by his trailer, hands thrown into the air in what looked like anger. Shit, had he gotten a phone call that was upsetting him?

“Hey there, let’s get you settled so we can get all these off,” The makeup artist, Lala, was a godsend and you thanked your lucky stars the two of you had met.

“Hey, have you seen Joel at all?” Sure you’d just seen him about a minute prior, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him.

“Not today, Kat’s been the one doing touch ups for Joel and Ellie all day,” Huh, that was weird, normally Lala did the touch ups and makeup for the three of you.

“Oh, okay,” You didn’t want to let it bother you, they would be filming for the rest of the day while you got to leave and actually have a decent dinner for once.

Lala didn’t say anything as she helped take off the prosthetics, but you knew the answer was laying right in front of you. Joel was clearly upset and wasn’t going to talk to you, so you could either buckle up and apologize, or wait until he finally cooled down.

“Am I doing your makeup for the premier?” Lala knew she’d be the only person you called for any event makeup, she would work her magic and make you look stunning for everyone to see.

“You already know I’ll be calling you the moment I found out when the premier is,” Hopefully it wouldn’t conflict with another project.

Maybe you and Joel could go to the premier together, have to avoid spoilers so no one realizes one of the other main characters gets offed halfway through. Then again, if he was still upset that wouldn’t happen, especially if Ellie backed him up. Craig, one of the producers, had wanted to get Joel’s genuine reaction to you dying, which was why you’d improvised.

“Hey, can we talk?” Your eyes widened as you noticed Joel standing in the doorway while Lala worked on getting the fake bullet wound off your skin.

“Yeah, if you want to talk outside she’s almost done,” Joel nodded for a second before heading off.

Lala winced slightly, as if the awkwardness between you and Joel was palpable. It was though, you could feel his judgment sinking into your bones. If Joel was this upset by the improvisation of the scene, how had Ellie reacted? If you managed to ruin two friendships in a single day it would definitely be the worst thing that had happened that year. That did not include finding out your partner had been cheating right before you were supposed to start filming either. That was a whole can of worms you vehemently refused to even deal with until you could go back to therapy.

“Alright we are all done, just make sure not to be too rough when washing your face later, your skins gonna be sensitive still,” You already knew the drill, having worked with many fake prosthetic pieces in the past.

“I know, I’ll give you a call if something goes awry and I need advice.” You stood up from the chair, stretching your back with a soft groan.

Lala waved goodbye as you headed out to find Joel and see how you could try and apologize for everything. Taking a few moments you composed yourself before heading to what would be your imminent death. Joel was exactly where you’d expected him to be, by the coffee. Most of the extras and crew members were off doing their own thing, or even gone for the day. Right now you need to talk with Joel and head back home.

“Hey, you wanted to talk?” You grabbed a bottle of water off the table, clutching it to your chest.

Joel’s shoulders stiffened so briefly that if you had blinked you would have missed it. Shit, this wasn’t going to be pleasant at all. As long as you could get all of your words out without freaking out this would be fine. The moment his eyes landed on you every thought in your head suddenly vanished. There was nothing but anger coursing through the dark depths. Wow, you’d really and truly fucked up.

“I’m sorry Joel, they wanted to get your honest reaction to the scene to make it more authentic, I wanted to do what I could,” Your heart was racing, palms sweating as you waited with baited breath.

Joel chucked to himself, chin dropping down to his chest as he shook his head slowly. This was it, your entire life was about to be destroyed in three, two, one.

“You know I knew they were going to change something in the script to help give it a little oomf, but I never expected this to be the case.” Joel dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee, stirring it absentmindedly with one of the wooden sticks.

“Now if you were to tell me beforehand that they had changed the script I would’ve been a little more prepared, but instead you end up blowing your brains out without warning me.” He turned to face you fully, sipping the hot black coffee.

“I really am sorry Joel, my intention wasn’t to hurt you,” You wanted to let them in on the secret, but Neil and Craig had forbidden it entirely.

“You know, normally I would believe you, but this right here? Hiding something this severe doesn’t mean shit.” Joel threw the nearly full cup of coffee into the trash before angrily storming out.

You wanted to run after him, to explain that your hands were bound and that under contractual obligation you could not tell anyone. That wasn’t going to happen though, at least not any time soon. The entire situation was heartbreaking, knowing that you were tearing apart the trust between you and Joel as if it meant nothing to you. Thoughts began to swirl through your mind, how would the premier go if Joel was still refusing to speak with you. Shit, that wasn’t going to be a fun conversation to relate to Neil and Craig.

“Hey by the way Joel and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore because of that suicide scene, good talk.”

Yeah that wouldn’t go over well at all, they’d have nothing but questions and with no answers to give them, you’d be running in circles. With one final glance towards the doors that Joel had walked through you decided it would be best to leave for the day. You’d give it a few days and reach out to Joel to sit down and talk more, this would all get resolved soon enough.

~~~~~~~Unfortunately that was not the case at all, you’d reached out to Joel multiple times to sit down and have a conversation and each time he ignored you. The first time you just assumed it was because he was busy, it made sense right? After the fourth time you tried you finally got the hint, if Joel did not want to speak with you, then you wouldn’t try anymore. Ellie would text you here and there, but she was still a kid(in your eyes at least)and it didn’t feel right lying to her. She’d asked if you had talked to Joel at all after filming, you had told her you were busy doing other projects and didn’t have time. In reality you were sitting on your couch, crying into a bowl of ice cream while your favorite movie played in the background.

Lots of news sites were reaching out for interviews before the upcoming premier of the show which did nothing to help ease your mind. Had Joel done any since the teaser had dropped a couple months ago? Or had he been radio silent waiting for you to break the ice and let every in on the secrets of the show. Of course you wouldn’t give away much detail as you wanted people to at least tune in to at least one episode. Ellie had been traveling with her mom and her moms best friend, according to what she posted on Instagram. You’d hearted each post, leaving a comment here and there about how she looked to be having a great time.

Now with the premier only two weeks away you were starting to get nervous, should you wear something black or something colorful? How would you do your hair and makeup? God, this was all so damn stressful and you couldn’t even ask Joel what he planned on wearing without sounding like a creep. Before you’d realize your eyes had begun to fill with tears, lip quivering as it began to truly sink in that you’d lost that entire friendship. A loud ping from your phone brought you out of your reverie, bringing you back to the present.

Joel had posted something and of course curiosity got the better of you. You opened up instagram to see what it was, your heart sinking at the image in front of you. It was a photo of Joel and someone else. You could only make out the silhouette’s of them as the sun set in front of them. The photo was gorgeous, something you would normally be amazed at and study all the tiny details. It wasn’t until you noticed the hearts in the caption, nothing more. Joel had found someone, someone that he loved enough to put online.

Your heart was shattering in your chest, the pieces cutting through everything in you like glass. Now you had never pursued Joel because he was your friend first and foremost, but seeing this truly put it all into perspective. He would never love you the way that you did him, never see the feelings that you harbored for him so deeply. It didn’t matter that everyone on set would joke that you two were an old married couple, that you spent so much time together on and off set. None of it fucking mattered anymore. Angrily you threw yourself off the couch, storming over to the kitchen and ripping open the cupboard you rarely used. A bottle of whiskey that Joel had given you as a housewarming gift sat inside.

Without thinking you reached for the bottle, cracking open the top and taking a long swig of the dark liquid. It burned more than you’d expected, but right now you just wanted to numb the pain, to bury all of your feelings in it. It didn’t take even a quarter of the bottle before you began to feel its effects, half the bottle got you severely drunk. Your body swayed almost dangerously as you struggled to stay upright. Once the last drop finally hit your tongue your mind was blissfully blank, nothing but the sweet relief of ignorant bliss.

The sun streaming through your blinds is what woke you up, and brought forth the worst hangover you’ve ever had before. Why the hell had you even had an entire bottle of whatever in the first place? And where the hell were your clothes?

You sat up quickly, instantly regretting it as a strong wave of nausea rolled through your stomach. Taking a few heaping lungfuls of air to help prevent anything you’d had the night before from coming up, you waited until it seemed to have passed. You looked around the room slowly, shame suddenly pulling at your mind at the scene of disarray. Shit, had you managed to go on a full on temper tantrum last night?

Scooting towards the edge of the bed, you rested your feet against the hardwood, noting that while your body was sore, it didn’t feel like that kind of sore which relieved you. Nothing worse than getting blackout drunk and inviting a stranger into your home. You grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt to throw on, not ready to show your face to the world. Slipping your phone into your pocket you headed over to the windows. Closing the blinds brought an almost instant relief to the pain that was raging in your head. Surely you hadn’t done something too drastic, it looked like the mess was mainly in your bedroom.

Sighing you headed out to the kitchen, noticing the empty bottle of whiskey that sat on the kitchen island. Huh, no wonder you felt so damn shitty. You tossed the bottle into the recycling and pulled out your phone, frowning as you noticed the abundance of notifications sitting on your phone. There were a few messages from Ellie, a ton from your agent, and even a few from Joel. It hadn’t surprised you that your agent had called no less than fifty times, considering each text sounded more urgent than the last. The last message Ellie had sent was regarding a post you had made on Instagram, but the last thing you’d posted was about your final day of shooting.

You glanced at the app on your phone, the daunting little thing almost taunting you before you clicked open. The first image that popped up was from a friend you’d grown up with, she was getting married. You couldn’t help but smile at that, she deserved nothing but the best in life and deserved something positive. But that was as far as your good mood went, as you clicked on your personal page your eyes widened in horror. It was a photo of you, body barely covered with the sheet on your bed. It was clear that you’d been crying in the photo, or had been crying before the photo was taken at least. Something about it looked almost deliberate, the way your hair fell over your shoulders, body covered both seductively and insecure. The caption is what caught your attention next.

“They say the eyes are the window to the soul, when I saw nothing but hate in yours, I knew I had truly lost the one thing that I would ever know to love”Oh god, oh god.

You had royally fucked up, flickers of the night before coming to mind as you looked through the comments. People were speculating that you’d gotten your heart broken by someone, whereas others were trying to figure out if you were teasing a new role. How could you possibly admit to everyone that post had to do with the fact that Joel was dating someone? It was stupid and childish! Everyone with a brain and two eyes would see that you were acting irrationally and make fun of you until the end of time.

Swiping over to your following you looked for Joel’s name, clicking on it to find the photo he’d posted was gone. You had seen it, it had caused a goddamn breakdown and now it was fucking gone?! Instead of being upset, or even sick anymore, you were downright pissed off. This man refuses to speak with you for months and then has the audacity to blame you? Who the fuck-

“Y/N? Are you home?” Ellie’s voice sounded so small outside of your front door that every ounce of anger suddenly vanished.

You ran over to the door, swinging it open to the teenager in front of you. She looked shocked for a brief moment before her arms wrapped around your waist. Her tears had begun to soak through the soft cotton of your shirt. You shut the door quickly and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, keeping her flush to your body.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Ellie wasn’t one to open up to new people easily, so when you two had become close friends you wanted nothing but the best for her.

“Please don’t leave me! I don’t want to lose you too,” Her body was racking with sobs, body shaking as she tried to pull in air.

“I’m not going anywhere Ellie, I can promise you that,” Ignoring how much pain you were in for the moment, you gently ushered Ellie over to the couch.

She didn’t say anything as you both sat down, watching the way she all but cuddled into your side. You ran a gentle hand through her hair, doing anything you could to help comfort her.

“But those texts you sent me.” Her lip quivered as she looked up at you, eyes shining with tears.

“I wasn’t myself last night, I had too much to drink and had a breakdown, I can promise you I’m not going anywhere,” Pressing a gentle kiss to her hair you pulled her in even tighter.

She let out a soft sigh, relaxing further into your hold as you’d both started to slowly relax. That was, until the sound of your front door opening caught your attention. The last thing you needed was someone trying to rob you while you consoled your friend. Your agent, Tess, all but barrelled inside the door.

“Why don’t you answer your damn phone? I’ve been calling for hours!” Tess was beyond pissed, she’d gotten word that you had texted a few people saying you couldn’t keep living.

“I’m really sorry, I woke up and by the time I got to check my phone Ellie was at my door,” It wasn’t a lie, you couldn’t even fully grasp the situation yourself.

“You're lucky that photo didn’t get you into any trouble, I already had Neil calling me this morning asking what the hell happened,” Shit, you were in some deep trouble.

“Do you want me to delete it? I don’t mind.” You pulled your phone back out of your pocket, keeping one arm wrapped around Ellie’s shoulders.

“No, it’s not the worst thing you could have posted and a lot of people are now interested in seeing you in the show,” Of course, the show.

Tess had started to make herself a cup of coffee, replying to a couple texts and emails on her phone as you and Ellie stayed locked together on the couch. Sliding your button over the messages app on your phone, your stomach dropped out as you opened yours and Ellie’s thread. It was obvious that you were in the middle of an emotional breakdown, each text sounded worse than the last. And now you had a teen afraid you would off yourself if she wasn’t there to stop you. Did you have the strength to open Joel’s and read the things you’d sent to him?

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you clicked on his icon, glancing back down at the screen in your hand. You’d congratulated him on his new relationship, saying that you were happy he could find someone in this shitty world. The multiple texts you’d sent throughout the months sat above that very message, reminding you of why you did what you did. His response was kind, thanking you and leaving it at that. But suddenly the texts seemed more urgent, nearly begging you to reply since you were also ignoring Ellie.

You typed out a quick message, letting him know that you were fine and just forgot to plug your phone in and that was why you hadn’t replied sooner. Even though it was tearing you apart inside that Joel would never return those feelings, you could at least be civil. You only had to see one another for the premier and then afterwards you could become strangers once more. You set your phone to do not disturb and slid it back into your pocket, glancing down to see how Ellie was doing.

“I’m really sorry if I worried you, you know I would never do that on purpose,” Ellie didn’t need to know all the embarrassing details of what had happened. No one did.

“Promise?” Ellie was too afraid to let go of you, afraid this was all a bad dream and you’d taken your life before she could stop you.

“I promise.” You glanced over to see what Tess was doing since she was uncomfortably quiet,

Your front door opened once more, except the person stepping inside was the last one you ever wanted to see ever again.

“Ellie, Joel and I need to have a discussion so can you and Tess go down into the guest room to give us some privacy please?” You kept your tone friendly, not wanting to even remotely hint at what was about to transpire.

She looked as if she wanted to protest before silently slipping off the couch and following Tess down to the spare room across from your own. You stood up slowly, walking over to Joel and staring the older man down.

“What do you want?” Joel winced at your tone, the anger simmering below the surface waiting to be let free.

“I think we need to sit down and talk.” Joel moved to step closer to you, watching how you flinched away from him.

“We do not need to talk Joel, I tried for months to reach out to you only for you to ignore me, there is nothing for us to discuss.” You pushed past him towards the kitchen, heading to your fridge to get a bottle of water.

“Listen, about last night.” You whipped around, anger coursing through your veins like lava.

You slammed the bottle down onto the counter, nearly popping it open with the tight grip you had on it.

“We can ignore the fact that I have feelings for you, those don’t fucking matter anymore, but this? I apologized to you about that day, and you left me high and dry, ignoring every single message I sent to you. You do not get to stand there and say that we need to talk when you refused to do so in the first place. Did you suddenly expect me to forgive you? It’s been nearly six months Joel, six months! I’ve learned how to crochet and watched Ellie celebrate her twentieth birthday with her mom while you pretended I never existed. So do me a fucking favor, and get the fuck out of my apartment.” Joel was shocked, he’d watched shows and movies where had to portray anger, but nothing was as severe as your true anger.

It was the realization that he had messed up by ignoring all of those texts, by putting someone else in the place you had at his side and refusing to be an adult about this situation. He’d lost the person he held so close because he was angry and selfish. Without another word Joel turned and left, shutting the door softly behind himself.

You had wanted to talk to him, to really sit down and just talk like two adults, but Joel couldn’t put aside his pride and here you were. Were you going to be able to come back from this? Or were you going to lose some of the people you cared about the most?

~~~~~~~

Lala had just finished applying your lipstick, watching as your favorite hairdresser, Kat, did the final touches on your hair. You were originally going to keep everything a little more simple and so a smokey eye with a stunning black dress, but Joel derailed everything. You chose a dark red dress, the plunging neckline doing little to hide your chest(thankfully tape keeping everything together)with a long slit up to nearly your hip. Your eye look was more simple, a sharp winged liner with a soft cut crease. Your lip color matched the dress perfectly, giving off a femme fatale type of look. You paired it with sleek black heels, your nails a black french tip. You had the ladies take photos until they were satisfied with what they chose to be the best picture.

Your skin was glowing, your body silhouetted perfectly in the dress. It left just enough to the imagination while still being risque. You made sure both ladies were paid, along with hefty tips, before heading down to the limo. Ellie had texted you that she was already on the way, riding with her mom and Joel. The limo was mere minutes from pulling up as you posted the photo onto instagram, giving everyone a look at your outfit, hair and makeup. You were parked behind Ellie’s limo, watching as the three of them slipped out. Joel, ever the gentleman, helped both Ellie and her mother Anna get out of the limo.

Once they took to the carpet the other limo drove off, letting yours pull up to let you out onto the carpet for interviews and photos to be taken. You took a quick breath before sliding out. The cameras were flashing even more now, hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of you. Joel was talking with one of the many interviewers, laughing at something they had said. You kept your head high as you stepped onto the carpet. Ellie nearly screeched as she laid eyes on you. She was dressed in a suit, which you of course helped convince her to do, you knew deep down she would never have worn a dress.

“Holy shit, you look smoking hot!” Ellie wanted to hug you so bad, but she didn’t want to mess up your dress.

“Thank you sweetheart,” You smiled at her, pulling her into a brief hug.

Anna was glancing between you and Joel as if trying to figure out when he’d realize that you finally arrived. You simply smirked at her before heading over to some of the fans that were hoping to get an autograph. Of course you also posed for a few photos, if it wasn’t for the fans you wouldn’t be where you were, and you would always show appreciation.

“Sorry, I have to go before they start yelling at me!” You blew everyone a quick kiss before rushing back to the middle of the carpet.

It was then that you noticed Joel had finally realized you’d arrived. His gaze didn’t waver as he took you in slowly. You smirked lowly before posing to show off the slit in your dress, silky skin on full display for all the cameras. It was your time to shine, and by god you were going to do just that. Tess caught wind that you were in fact there and tried to usher you down and into the building. Joel felt his heart stop as you walked by, the scent of your perfume wrapping around him like a viper. He had wanted to tell you the truth, but he couldn’t do that with so many cameras flashing and possibly ruining everything. Once Ellie and Anna were back by his side they all made their way inside. Ellie wanted to grab a bite to eat and then get her seat with her mom.

“Go ahead, if you need to find me go ahead.” Joel ushered them both off carefully, eyes in search of you.

He could see you talking to Tommy, his brother, and for some reason that seemed to downright piss him off. Why the hell were you talking to Tommy if you knew that he’d recently gotten married to his wife Maria, he posted the photo.

Oh, oh.

That’s why you were so upset, you had thought Joel had found someone. Oh shit it was a total misunderstanding. Joel took a look around to make sure no one would try and get his attention, noticing a clear line towards where you were standing Joel started on the move.

“Yeah! We just got married a few weeks ago, the best thing I did was meet her,” Tommy’s eyes sparkled as he stared over at his new wife.

“You two are absolutely adorable together, I’m so happy for you,” You had known Tommy longer than Joel, having met on an indie film a few years prior.

You were the first person he had told about Maria, nervous so much as to ask her on a date, and here they were happily married. They would probably start discussing children before anyone knew it, you were positive of that.

“Yeah, Joel put a picture of us on his instagram since neither of us had our phones on us, just wanted to enjoy the night,” The sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks. That photo was of Maria and Tommy? Oh shit.

“Hey, the man of the hour!” Tommy held up his glass of whiskey, grinning over at his brother.

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk off the free bar,” Joel didn’t need any instances to ruin this night.

“Nah, just enjoying, Maria’s off talking to Ellie and Anna right now anyway,” The three of you glanced over to where the other three were talking.

Tommy looked at Maria as if she hung every star in the sky, your heart sunk as you remembered that was the same way you’d looked at Joel. Had it all been a horrible misunderstanding this entire time?

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go and see the Mrs.” Tommy didn’t wait for you or Joel to reply before heading off.

Your mood had suddenly turned sour, where before you felt confident, ready to take on everything that came your way. Well now you just felt like someone putting on a front to keep yourself from getting hurt.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about that day, that the picture was for them and not myself.” Joel turned towards you slowly, waiting to see how you would react.

“That doesn’t negate the fact you all but cut me off for months, Joel, I wanted to reach out to you and discuss everything but you treated me like I was the worst person to exist.” You crossed your arms over your chest, staring angrily up at him.

Joel was at a loss for words, he couldn’t put any of the blame on you because this was all entirely his fault. He’d been the coward that ran and hid instead of actually sitting down with you and talking. He pushed you away because he was afraid of his own feelings for you.

“I would pick up my phone every single day, wanting to reply that we could sit down and talk about everything but I was too afraid you would see right through me. That you would see I had feelings for you as well and think I was a liar. No one can hate me more than I currently hate myself, I can promise you that darling.” Joel cupped your cheek gently, making sure not to smudge any of the makeup on your face.

Your eyes welled with tears but you refused to let them fall, instead of uttering another word you grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled his body down so his lips were flush with yours. Everything and everyone in the room seemed to vanish as you stood there, lips pressed to the person’s you loved most. Joel wasted no time, wrapping his arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. Was this what it felt like to kiss your soulmate? Nothing else in the world but the two of you standing together, taking in this moment. Joel was the first to pull away, pulling in a harsh breath as his eyes opened to see the wrecked expression on your face.

If he hadn’t known any better Joel would’ve assumed you were still angry with him, ready to start screaming at how inappropriate that was. Except it wasn’t Joel that kissed you, you had kissed Joel, and now he was addicted.

“Fucking finally!” Tommy screamed loudly in the room, causing everyone else to laugh.

Joel shook his head, resting his forehead against yours as the room erupted into a ravenous applause. You took that as your cue to press your lips to his once more, smiling into it this time. Everyone had been hoping the two of you would realize your differences and see that you were meant to be. Unfortunately it took Joel pushing you away, and you posting a rather scandalous photo onto your Instagram for things to start coming to a head.

“Next time there’s an argument, just talk to me, okay?” Arguments were something that couldn’t be avoided, but you’d be damned if you didn’t spend another moment without Joel by your side.

“I promise,” You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out, saying the same thing to Ellie just a few weeks ago.

You’d have to tell everyone the good news and let them know that even in the darkest of times, there was always a light to help guide your way.

#the last of us #angst #joel miller fic #joel miller #ellie williams #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller angst #joel miller au #tw self destructive behavior #tw self destruction #tw selfhate #tw suicidal ideation #tw depression #angst with a happy ending

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kingedmundsroyalmurder · 7 months

Text

Okay, lunch time on Monday, time to bang out some more Kilmeny. This chapter has the usual ableism content warning and an extra strong racism one.

First off, I want to address a point brought up by @gogandmagog, about how this book may have been a satire or a sort of deconstruction of traditional fairy tale romances. I've been thinking it over, and I can see it. It would explain the abrupt tone shift in how Eric treats Kilmeny, if Maud is making a point about how men see women they're not interested in vs. how they see women they want to marry. It's a really bleak point, but honestly I've already noticed that Maud is really unimpressed with marriage in this book and specifically how marriage reduces women. I don't know that the satire angle explains the racism and the abelism -- I think that may just be artifacts of her and the time she lived in -- but it may help a bit with Eric himself.

It's still very unpleasant to read, but it's an interesting perspective to keep in mind.

Anyway. Eric goes back to the orchard to meet Kilmeny, with the understanding that she will introduce him to her aunt and uncle. Only, plot twist, Kilmeny isn't there and it's Neil who meets him instead! Neil, who is fully out of his mind with anger.

“So you’ve come to meet her again. But she isn’t here—you’ll never see her again! I hate you—I hate you—I hate you!”

Scintillating dialog, to be sure.

Eric is, of course, cool and collected in the face of Neil's fury, because why would Eric ever be anything other than detached and superior?

“So you have been making trouble for Kilmeny, Neil, have you?” said Eric contemptuously. “I suppose you have been playing the spy. And I suppose that you have told her uncle and aunt that she has been meeting me here. Well, you have saved me the trouble of doing it, that is all. I was going to tell them myself, tonight. I don’t know what your motive in doing this has been. Was it jealousy of me? Or have you done it out of malice to Kilmeny?”

His contempt cowed Neil more effectually than any display of anger could have done.

The problem with this book... okay, a problem with this book is that, as I think @no-where-new-hero said, LMM doesn't seem to know what to do with her protagonist. He doesn't really have any character traits, he doesn't have any interests, he doesn't really have a personality beyond, like, bored and detached and superior. So when he takes this turn into the monstrous, we have nothing to balance it out. Eric doesn't play music or enjoy gardening or even show an interest in arguing theology. Everything he does -- except visit Kilmeny -- he does out of social obligation. He didn't even go to school because he wanted to, he did it to please his dad. His one thing he actually does because he actually wants to is his relationship with Kilmeny, and now that he is being dreadful to her, there's nothing left. You just go from 'this man is a bit insufferable, isn't he?' to 'wow, I want you dead in a ditch!' with no in between.

Which is a very long-winded way of saying, I hate Eric now and I want him dead in a ditch! And his being smugly superior to Neil -- who is also behaving dreadfully, just to be clear -- is doing nothing to endear him to me.

“She will meet me in her own home then,” said Eric sternly. “Neil, in behaving as you have done you have shown yourself to be a very foolish, undisciplined boy. I am going straightway to Kilmeny’s uncle and aunt to explain everything.”

Neil sprang forward in his path.

“No—no—go away,” he implored wildly. “Oh, sir—oh, Mr. Marshall, please go away. I’ll do anything for you if you will. I love Kilmeny. I’ve loved her all my life. I’d give my life for her. I can’t have you coming here to steal her from me. If you do—I’ll kill you! I wanted to kill you last night when I saw you kiss her. Oh, yes, I saw you. I was watching—spying, if you like. I don’t care what you call it. I had followed her—I suspected something. She was so different—so changed. She never would wear the flowers I picked for her any more. She seemed to forget I was there. I knew something had come between us. And it was you, curse you! Oh, I’ll make you sorry for it.”

We have fully lost control of the craft of storytelling here. This wild shifting in moods might work, if this wasn't the first time we'd ever spoken to Neil on page. There's 'oh, he has an explosive temper', but going from 'oh, I implore you!' to 'I'll fucking kill you!' in a single paragraph needs more setup than just that.

"He was working himself up into a fury again—the untamed fury of the Italian peasant thwarted in his heart’s desire. It overrode all the restraint of his training and environment. Eric, amid all his anger and annoyance, felt a thrill of pity for him. Neil Gordon was only a boy still; and he was miserable and beside himself."

1- Neil Gordon is 22. Eric himself is only 24. Cool it with your whole, 'oh, he's only a kid!' headpatting.

2- Blood. Will. Out. This is the most strongly established theme in the book at this point.

"Eric, not a little ruffled under all his external composure by this most unexpected and unpleasant encounter, pursued his way along the lane which wound on by the belt of woodland in twist and curve to the Gordon homestead. His heart beat as he thought of Kilmeny. What might she not be suffering? Doubtless Neil had given a very exaggerated and distorted account of what he had seen, and probably her dour relations were very angry with her, poor child. Anxious to avert their wrath as soon as might be, he hurried on, almost forgetting his meeting with Neil. The threats of the latter did not trouble him at all. He thought the angry outburst of a jealous boy mattered but little. What did matter was that Kilmeny was in trouble which his heedlessness had brought upon her."

I am going to very begrudgingly give him a point for actually considering and prioritizing Kilmeny's feelings. He is assuming that he knows what they are, but we've been given enough details thus far that he's probably correct -- Kilmeny clearly did want to keep seeing him, and she probably is quite unhappy about what is happening.

"Presently he found himself before the Gordon house. It was an old building with sharp eaves and dormer windows, its shingles stained a dark gray by long exposure to wind and weather. Faded green shutters hung on the windows of the lower story. Behind it grew a thick wood of spruces. The little yard in front of it was grassy and prim and flowerless; but over the low front door a luxuriant early-flowering rose vine clambered, in a riot of blood-red blossom which contrasted strangely with the general bareness of its surroundings. It seemed to fling itself over the grim old house as if intent on bombarding it with an alien life and joyousness."

There hasn't been a lot of house symbolism in this book, but shall we assume that Kilmeny is the rosebush, the only point of light and beauty in her family?

"The pictured face was a very handsome one, suggestive of velvety dark eyes and vivid colouring; but it was its expression rather than its beauty which fascinated Eric. Never had he seen a countenance indicative of more intense and stubborn will power. Margaret Gordon was dead and buried; the picture was a cheap and inartistic production in an impossible frame of gilt and plush; yet the vitality in that face dominated its surroundings still. What then must have been the power of such a personality in life?"

Margaret Gordon: definitely a witch.

So Eric lays out his case to the Gordons, which is that he met Kilmeny on accident and befriended her, but belated realized that he should tell her grownups about it and so has come to formally ask their permission to continue seeing Kilmeny. Thomas Gordon then says this, and I roll my eyes out of their sockets and into space:

“I don’t need to do that,” said Thomas Gordon, quietly. “I know more of you than you think, Master. I know your father well by reputation and I have seen him. I know you are a rich man’s son, whatever your whim in teaching a country school may be. Since you have kept your own counsel about your affairs I supposed you didn’t want your true position generally known, and so I have held my tongue about you. I know no ill of you, Master, and I think none, now that I believe you were not beguiling Kilmeny to meet you unknown to her friends of set purpose. But all this doesn’t make you a suitable friend for her, sir—it makes you all the more unsuitable. The less she sees of you the better.”

Of course they like him instantly. Of course they do.

And, of course, the reason they think he shouldn't see Kilmeny is the same reason Mrs. Williamson thought he shouldn't. She is young and sheltered and might fall in love with him and be heartbroken, because of course he couldn't mary Kilmeny, she's mute!

Honestly this story would have almost been more interesting if Kilmeny had been ugly. Not that 'oh, you can't marry her, she's ugly!' is any better, but it would require some actual character growth from Eric. Because -- and again, I hate to give this man any credit -- he isn't saying, 'oh, I trust she can be cured so it's fine.' He would like her to be able to speak, but he is fully prepared to marry her even if she remains mute her entire life. As of currently, he seems to see Kilmeny's disability in the same way she sees it: a little inconvenient and mildly unfortunate, but not, like, an insurmountable problem.

"Janet Gordon had hitherto spoken no word. She had sat rigidly upright on one of the old chairs under Margaret Gordon’s insistent picture, with her knotted, toil-worn hands grasping the carved arms tightly, and her eyes fastened on Eric’s face. At first their expression had been guarded and hostile, but as the conversation proceeded they lost this gradually and became almost kindly. Now, when her brother appealed to her, she leaned forward and said eagerly,

“Do you know that there is a stain on Kilmeny’s birth, Master?”

Janet Gordon: also a witch? Definitely a woman who would enjoy a true crime podcast in this the year 2023.

So the Gordons give Eric permission to court Kilmeny, because of course they do. The problem with having a protagonist that everyone loves is that you can't then set up, 'but someone will be mad at them!' as a conflict and have it land. The Gordons were set up as mini-bosses, as it were, but Eric didn't do anything to get on their good side. He just showed up and they went, 'welp, we like you now, if you're sure you want to marry Kilmeny despite her disability and her parantage, then you have our blessing.' It's just a really unsatisfying narrative.

Luckily for me, any good feeling I might have had towards Eric for his being almost decent about Kilmeny's disability vanishes when he gets to see her again and is immediately condescending!

"She did not tell him how glad she was, and how unhappy she had been over the thought that she was never to see him again. Yesterday she would have told him all frankly and fully; but for her yesterday was a lifetime away—a lifetime in which she had come into her heritage of womanly dignity and reserve. The kiss which Eric had left on her lips, the words her uncle and aunt had said to her, the tears she had shed for the first time on a sleepless pillow—all had conspired to reveal her to herself. She did not yet dream that she loved Eric Marshall, or that he loved her. But she was no longer the child to be made a dear comrade of. She was, though quite unconsciously, the woman to be wooed and won, exacting, with sweet, innate pride, her dues of allegiance."

Thesis: Wives and Friends are two different species of women. Friends may be spoken to as equals and confided in and allowed their own way. Wives are meek and demure and do not make eye contact and submit sweetly to your every whim.

I think perhaps Lucy Maud Montgomery was not very excited to get married.

#kilmeny of the orchard #kilmeny readalong #I think more than anything this book is ruined by being badly written #Any social commentary or genuine feeling gets fully lost

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