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beeing1alive · 2 months

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Cute headcanons with Tokyo Revengers boys P.1

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Takemichi (Takemichi Hanagaki); Angry (Souya Kawata), Smiley (Nahoya Kawata); Hakkai (Hakkai Shiba); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija), Koko (Hajime Kokonoi); Inupi (Inui Seishu); Hanma (Shuji Hanma)

Mikey clings tightly to you when he sleeps and cuddles. 1. because he gets cold quickly in his sleep and 2. because there are moments, when he hates himself so much that he thinks you'll leave him if he doesn't. He thinks that you would leave and that he will end up alone.

Draken sends you several messages throughout the day in which he either reminds you to eat, drink and sleep enough or that he loves and values you above all else. Most of the time the messages aren't really long, but it's enough to make you smile every time.

Mitsuya also makes you a bento every morning when he makes one for himself and his sisters, just to put it on your table before the main break. He thinks it's so cute how your eyes sparkle when you find your favourite food, but doesn't have the courage to look at your adorable expression for more than two seconds.

Chifuyu is extremely worried when you don't come to school, even if you just have to go to an appointment or something like that. He always thinks that you're lying in bed at home, terminally ill, and that you're feeling terrible. Sometimes he skips school to look after you straight away and if he doesn't, he goes to see you as soon as possible after school.

Baji can't handle seeing you cry. He just can't. Every time you start crying, he feels like something inside him is breaking. The thought that he might be the one making you so unhappy spreads through him extremely quickly the moment he sees the first tear. However, when they tell him that someone else has made you cry, he comforts you first and then disappears as quickly as he can. I think we all know why the mean person somehow stops coming to class from then on.

Takemichi cried during your first kiss. He cries quite often for different things, but it just made him cry with joy. How close you were to him, how soft your lips felt on his and how perfectly you fit in his arms. How could he not start crying?

Angry loves the way you smell. Of course he likes your perfume, but your natural body odour smells a thousand times better to him. He's far too shy to do it in public, but when you're alone he likes to put his head in the crook of your neck because that's where your body smell is strongest. He would kill for it

Smiley, unlike his brother, is not at all afraid of showing affection in public. Whenever he can, he literally sticks to you. Whether he's holding your hand, putting an arm around you or hugging you from behind. Sometimes he just comes up behind you when you're talking to someone and wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

Hakkai talks quietly in his sleep. He usually talks about trivial things or tells you about his day. It may sound confusing, but after practising a few times you understand what he is mumbling to himself. The first time you noticed it was when you spent the night at his place and you went to bed, but he suddenly started talking in a drunken stupor. He is such a shy soul and usually he is the one who listens while you talk and he loves to listen to you, but in his sleep he always starts talking non-stop. How ironic…

Kazutora keeps writing you letters. He got into the habit when he was in juvenile jail. He sent you countless letters and you answered him as quickly as you could. You gave him therapy from afar and he was able to tell you about all his worries and problems. You made plans for the time when he got out again. That was one of the few things that kept him alive.

Koko can't help but take you to every one of his business dinners and show you off excessively. He buys you the most expensive dresses and simply takes you with him as his mental support. He has one arm around your waist the whole time as if you were a trophy.

Inupi can't fall asleep without you. He makes sure he spends every night close to you and therefore always comes home on time. When you're not by his side, he feels so lonely, almost empty. As if every happy memory around him has completely disappeared.

Hanma cannot stand arguing with you. It feels like he's pushing away the only person he's ever loved and who has ever loved him for who he is. He was never loved by anyone for who he was and so he just couldn't bear to see you go. Although he teases you all the time, he deliberately avoids arguments with you so as not to give you a reason to turn your back on him.

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

I hope you liked it, If yes, here ist P.2

~Requests are open~

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horus-unofficial · 4 months

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hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

#lancerrpg #lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancer lich #ooc: something possessed me today i can't believe i just wrote 800 words bullying the lich

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months

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I have a question related to the prison au. Sorry if this has been asked before but what if Mc didn’t com in as a nurse but rather a therapist. Like the jail’s first therapist and it was all mc’s idea because Mc thinks that if the prisoners have more of am emotional outlet they won’t be as aggressive to one another and will become better people/monsters after they get out. And Mc wants to make a difference for them because Mc knows that their jail life isn’t the best. Mc can tell sans is trying to manipulate them, and isn’t affected much by reds attempts to charm her as much, and Mc can see threw skill’s scary and can understand him more and teaches him how to communicate how he is feeling better.

Oooooo...

Sans: Unlike pretty much all her other counterparts, this Mc is onto Sans' shit from the very start. Originally assigned to him as a mere formality, she immediately clocks that this motherfucker is much scarier than anyone has noticed before. His 'therapy sessions' are more like mental chess matches between two very perceptive people. Her aim is to genuinely try to treat him, genuinely try to get to the bottom of why he's turned into this terrifying mastermind, and perhaps even help him; there's not much else she can do. No one will believe her. Sans knows that, too.

Sans loves it. At last- someone who really, actually understands him, and the monster (not Monster) he's become. Not someone from his past lingering endlessly on who he used to be, not another pawn buying his 'harmless' persona. He loves having someone who is finally, finally in on his game. He was already fascinated with her from the start, this just makes it so much more intense- he loves being able to drop the mask. He loves the challenge of having to find ways to manipulate that are outside of his usual routes. He loves her, she's all he lives for.

She wants to help him? Cute. He'll show her what the world is really like. Then they can be puppetmasters together.

Red: She's assigned to Red to 'help' with his constant violent outbursts, after he gets in a particularly brutal fight and has to choose between attending therapy or lengthening his sentence. He's not the first violent offender she's dealt with, and he's definitely not the first flirtatious patient... but he's definitely the first that seems so utterly determined to charm her. She's firm on not breaching her ethics and she won't allow herself to do anything more than just get along well with him.

Mc actually makes a big impact on his mental health. The instinct to open up to her is a hard one to ignore, given his affection for her and their great rapport, and Red just likes her more and more with every issue she helps him work through. He doesn't like that she absolutely refuses to be with him, and he sees it as more of a challenge than anything.

When he gets out, he'll make sure she knows he's still very interested in some private sessions...

Skull: Giving Skull a therapist kinda feels like putting a band-aid on a completely severed torso. But it was a legal requirement. He cycles through therapists who either immediately refuse to treat him, or get a few days in and THEN refuse to treat him. Mc is just another in a long line of therapists that the prison expects to see rolling in.

... Except... he's so good for her. He tries to talk, he's calm and never bites, he's highly engaged with the tasks she gets him to do with her, he quickly notices that the better he does the more they make her spend time with him. The less violent he is, the more she talks to him in that lovely soft voice. Anything for more of her voice.

... Issues arise when Mc starts to understand that Skull has developed feelings for her. Deep feelings. He's always trying to kiss, nuzzle or hold her- it feels unethical to keep treating him. But it's also a well established fact that her presence in his life has probably saved several lives. If she tried to tell the prison that she didn't want to treat Skull anymore, she'd probably get a response along the lines of "we don't care, just keep him from eating anyone's hands".

She's not really got much of a choice.

#llamagines #prison au #prison therapist au #red: hey baby. i'm real stressed at the moment. you look stressed too.#mc: I don't like where this is going #red: how about we go somewhere private... and come up with a mutual treatment plan....?#mc: Ahah wow that's crazy. Anyway- about your deep-seated fear of commitment?

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st-just · 6 months

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Our patients are here voluntarily. Of course, if they try to leave, we’ll force them to stay. But knowing this fact, they chose to stay of their own free will. Be sure to remind them of this regularly. You can only keep someone involuntarily for three days, but you can keep someone “voluntarily, but if they try to leave they’ll be stuck here for three days and if they go along with it they might get to leave sooner” for as long as you like. We’ll let our patients go when they aren’t depressed (or manic, or psychotic). Of course, they are depressed, because we spent all this effort making the environment depressing, and it doesn’t do much for mania or psychosis either. They only get to leave when they successfully keep up the facade that they are happy, the environment helped, they’re so grateful to all of the staff, and the group therapy gave them a bunch of important insights that they can’t wait to apply to their lives. We have other incentives, of course—restraint, forcible drugging—but dangling the chance to leave in front of them is the most powerful of them all. Sad people usually feel better when they get to cry it out or seek comfort. Depressed people generally have distorted thoughts, and one purpose of therapy is to help them figure out a more accurate view of the world. We remove all these options. Instead, we force a level of self-monitoring on them more typical of spies and courtiers of the more dysfunctional Chinese emperors. No matter how miserable they are, they must smile. If they want to stop being jailed, they must thank their jailers, sincerity in their voices and their eyes.

-Ozy Brennan, On Mental Hospitals

#quote #ableism #Ozy Brennan

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howtofightwrite · 7 hours

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Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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alt-vera · 1 year

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— fine tune ⁀➷

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joel miller get’s a call for help from someone unexpected. he check’s out more than her broken down car.

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♡ | joel miller | 2.7k | ❛ fine tune - miranda lambert ❜

warnings: dbf!joel miller. pre-outbreak. drinking and driving. underage drinking (americans). dry humping. oral (m! and f! receiving). throat fucking. fingering. truck/outdoor sex. unprotected piv. established age gap. mdni.

❝ you flipped a switch, hot wired my gears, yeah you put me in line, and now i’m running right ❞

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

TWO IN THE MORNING WAS NOT THE IDEAL TIME FOR YOUR CAR TO BREAK DOWN.

　Pulled over on the side of a dirt road, slight hint of booze still coursing through your veins from the party you had just left, you knew you couldn’t call your dad. He’d kill you for even stepping close to your car after drinking, kill you for being out so late, kill you for waking him up in the middle of the night.

　You felt like you were out of options as you pressed your spinning head against the coolness of your steering wheel. Crickets chirped happily in the farm field beside you, unaware of the inner turmoil you were currently going through.

　You were definitely feeling worse than when you left the house party. You knew it was wrong to drink and drive, but it was summertime in the middle of a heatwave, and you were a dumb college kid. Your friend ditched you for a hookup and you had no other way home than your car, or else you’d be stuck sleeping on some random dude’s couch and would either get the wrong kind of attention from someone, or be puked on in the middle of the night.

　So, you took your chances.

　You couldn’t even call a tow truck, because they’d probably get the cops involved if they saw the state you were in. The longer you sat racking your brain, the more the booze soaked in. You were fucked.

　Then, it hit you. There was one person you could call that didn’t have parental dictation over you, and couldn’t give you proper shit for your bad decisions because he’d driven home after a six pack multiple times.

　Your fingers nervously picked at the seams on the leather steering wheel as the line rang. On the third ring, a groggy voice greeted you.

　“Joel?” You slurred. You ignored the taken aback way he said your name as he answered. “Joel, my car broke down. I can’t call my dad—Can you please come give me a jump?”

　Joel sighed on the other end of the line. Usually he’d be woken up by Tommy asking for a bail out of jail, but he never thought that when he’d be answering the phone this late it’d be you calling. In fact, he didn’t even think you had his number saved.

　“Where are you?” He asked gruffly after a beat of silence. You gave him the name of the random country road you were on, and with that he hung up.

　Joel was there within minutes.

　He sped the whole way there, praying no cops were out prowling and looking for someone to bring in to make their night a little bit more interesting.

　He pulled up a few feet behind your car, your figure popping out of the driver door to come meet him. The headlights of his truck shut off as he jumped out, white tee sticking to his biceps in the humid summer air.

　“Joel!” You cried, pace quickening. Your hands latched onto his forearms as he held you upright. “My car died—I think it’s the battery, or the engine, or something—“

　You reeked like alcohol. “Have you been drinking?” He asked.

　You avoided his gaze, eyes wild. “I…”

　You gulped, eyes slowly moving to meet his. “That’s… That’s why i couldn’t call my dad.”

　Your name came out as a sigh between his lips. You shifted more weight into him, “Please, Joel—Can you help me?”

　The neediness in your voice made his thoughts wander, but he mentally reprimanded himself, attempting to focus on the task at hand. He kept a hand on your arm as the two of you walked to your beat up car, opening the hood. Your eyes never left Joel’s face as he examined the contents of your vehicle.

　“Well, we’ll try jumping it,” He said, eyes shifting to you. “If that doesn’t work…”

　He didn’t finish his sentence. You really didn’t want to call a tow truck. College was already eating up your money.

　You trailed behind him as he walked to the bed of his truck, opening the tailgate and reaching for the jumper cables strewn lazily in the very back. Just as he reached for them he paused, instead turning to look at you.

　“You can’t be doing dangerous shit like this,” He said sternly, gaze hard with seriousness.

　Figuring that you were gonna be there for a hot minute, you jumped onto the tailgate, sitting down to rest your body. “Why? You do it all the time.”

　 “I bet you’ve even got a few drinks in your system right now,” You teased.

　“That’s different,” He sighed, hand coming to rub his face in annoyance. “I’m twice your weight and almost twice your age. My four shots is different from your four shots.”

　“Not really,” You shrugged. You leant closer to him, face coming dangerously close to his. “How many fingers am i holding up?”

　His eyes only left yours for a moment to glance at your hand.

　“Two.”

　You playfully rolled your eyes, drunken grin coming to dance along your lips as you pulled away ever-so-slightly. “Whatever, Miller. Just ‘cuz you have good eyes doesn’t mean you’re not half as buzzed as i am. I can still smell the whiskey on your breath; no age, or weight, can change that. And we both know how whiskey clouds your mind.”

　There was one time a few months ago where you had went swimming with Joel at a party your parents were having. He’d been a few whiskeys in, and you’d caught him staring at the way your chest sat perkily in your skimpy bikini top for a bit too long. He’d hopped out of the pool shortly afterwards, tugging at his swim shorts to presumably hide something going on down there. You hadn’t let him live it down since.

　Tired of your teasing, he inched his face closer to yours. His breath was hot against your cheek. “So, what?” He questioned, head cocking slightly and brow raising. “You wanna find out what happens when we’re both a few whiskey’s too deep?”

　You couldn’t hide your grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be jumping my car?”

　“Aren’t you supposed to be helping?” He retaliated.

　Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

　“How would your daddy feel about this?” Joel groaned between kisses, moving himself between your spread legs to be closer to you.

　“Who says he needs to know?” You pulled away, wrapping your hands in the white fabric of his tee. “You weren’t going to tell him you came out here tonight to help me, were you?”

　When Joel dodged your gaze and pressed his lips together into a line, your jaw dropped. You let go of his shirt, exclaiming, “Oh my god, you totally were!”

　“Joel Miller, i thought i could trust you! But, no, I guess—“ Your rambling was cut off by Joel’s large hand grabbing the nape of your neck.

　“Just shut up and kiss me.”

　You easily complied, melting into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He slipped his hands in the back pockets of your cutoffs, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer until you were flush against him, tits pressing against his chest and cunt pressed against the bulge in his jeans.

　You groaned at the contact, rubbing yourself against him. You felt him smile into the kiss. “Isn’t someone an eager beaver.”

　“Never again say that when we’re making out. Ever.”

　“Again?” He questioned, his brow cocked. “Who says i’ll ever let you kiss me again?”

　“Let me kiss you?” You snorted, “More like let you kiss me. You’re the man in his late-thirties making out with a 20 year old.”

　He rolled his eyes. “Are you this feisty in bed?”

　Your grin turned devilish. “Only one way for you to find out.”

　You grinded against him again, and he let out a raspy groan, hands coming to rest on your hips as he rolled you against him repeatedly, coaxing you to an orgasm without even taking your pants off.

　“Didn’t know you were so talented, Miller,” You mumbled as you caught your breath, and Joel rolled his eyes, sliding your shorts down your shaking legs.

　“You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

　“There’s only two ways to shut me up,” Your teeth shone under the light of the moon as you grinned, “It’s up to you to figure ‘em out.”

　“I can think of one way,” Joel muttered as his fingers rubbed your clit through your panties, chucking them off soon enough and pulling you closer to him on the tailgate, knees lowering onto the coarse dirt of the road. His tongue poked and probed experimentally, finding your clit to kiss and suck on it, his actions being rewarded by gracefully moans leaving your swollen lips.

　“So sweet,” He cooed, and you felt your face flush.

　“God, Joel,” You called out as his fingers moved to enter inside of you while his muscle continued to lap at your clit, “Please, don’t stop—“

　Your pleads were cut off by your walls clenching around Joel’s digits as you came, struggling to stop your hips from bucking up against his face. He let you ride out your high, using him.

　“Well, you found one out,” You sighed, and you heard Joel chuckle.

　“I think i know the other,” He replied as he rose to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sweet tang mixed with whatever whiskey was still in his system.

　“You should’ve been a detective instead of a contractor, Miller,” You joked, sliding over to pat the worn plastic of the truck box beside you, “Now hop up, old man. I think it’s time you had a bit of fun.”

　He complied, hoisting himself up onto the tailgate beside you and sliding further into the roomy box. He let you lay him down, fingers dancing along his jeans as you nimbly unbuttoned them, pulling them down. You raised his shirt, signalling for him to take it off. Once he did so, you ran your tongue in a hasty line from his navel down his v-line to where the band of his boxers laid, a thin happy trail guiding your way.

　You heard him breathe out a shaky breath at your teases, and to toy with him more you pulled down his boxers painfully slow, taking your time to unsheathe him before taking his cock into your palm, pumping him as precum leaked from his tip and into your hand. You raised your palm to your face, tongue licking up the salty mess as your eyes met his own, blown wide with surprise and erratic lust.

　“Oh, darlin’,” He choked out, and you smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip before your tongue moved down the vein on the side of his shaft, caressing him as you took him into your mouth.

　He hit the gummy side of your cheek and a deep sigh left him, the warmth melting his calloused attitude as you guided him down your throat, swallowing him as much as you could.

　“Baby, you’re doing so well,” He prided, fingers caressing your cheek as a suppressed cough vibrated through your throat. “Can i fuck that pretty throat of yours?”

　He felt you nod around him, and his hips began thrusting quickly, his dick hitting the back of your throat as he throat fucked you. When he felt himself getting close he pulled out, a trail of spit being left in his wake.

　You whined, causing Joel to laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Need to save myself to fuck you, darlin’. Wanna feel that pretty cunt‘a yours grippin’ me.”

　Your lips upturned at his praises, losing your shirt and turning so that you were on your hands and knees as Joel raised himself to meet your position, pumping his dick and dragging himself through your wetness before inching himself inside.

　You groaned, sinking yourself down so that you could meet his hips as he bottom out inside of you. A hiss left his lips, “You’re so tight, baby. Swallowin’ me whole.”

　You didn’t give him time to adjust to your warmth, wiggling your hips so that he’d get the hint. You heard a hearty chuckle rumble through his chest as he began thrusting inside of you, hand gripping your hips as you sank yourself down to meet his movements.

　Groans tumbled from both your lips as the summer air breezed through your bodies. His arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you up so that your back was against his chest. One arm stayed like that, fingers coming to twist as your pert nipples while the other trailed down to rub at your clit. The simultaneous actions guided you through another orgasm, hips stuttering and word’s incoherently leaving your lips.

　“Atta girl,” Joel praised, hips moving faster and more sloppy as he felt himself reaching his own peak. “So good for me, fuckin’ me so well.”

　You could have sworn there’d be bruises of his fingertips as his hand pulled away from your waist, his iron grip receding and making you cold from the loss of contact.

　You sighed, attempting to compose yourself after being fucked dumb. Your chest heaved with every breath, heart racing. You stole a glance at Joel, who tossed his tee at you as he began to pull his jeans up his legs. You graciously took it, suddenly realizing how exposed you were.

　Joel noticed your silence, the teasing air that usually surrounded you was replaced by a sullen aura, and he frowned. He pulled you into his bare chest, arms wrapping around you protectively.

　“You did so well, baby,” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your scalp.

　“Thanks,” You replied, small smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him. “You weren’t too bad yourself, considering how long it’s probably been since you’ve gotten laid.”

　There it was. Joel secretly loved how you would pal around with him, even if he was the butt of your jokes.

　“It hasn’t been that long,” He replied with an eye roll, “Besides, you can’t deny that that was probably the best sex you’ve ever had.”

　You sighed, but the smile never left your lips. “Yeah, it was a much needed fine tune. Now that you’ve got me runnin’ right, do you think you could work on my car?”

　In all honesty, Joel had forgotten the whole reason he’d come out here in the first place. He nodded, slightly embarrassed, and walked briskly to the door of your car. The engine revved to life as soon as he turned the key, and he gave you a pointed look as you stood beside him.

　“You’ve gotta kiddin’ me,” You muttered. “I swear, my car just hates me.”

　“Yeah, well, it’s gonna hate you even more because you’re comin’ home with me. I’m not letting you get behind the wheel.”

　“Fine,” You breathed out, complying easily as you locked your car and hopped into the shotgun of Joel’s truck. “But you’re making me food when we get back to your place.”

　“Alright, alright,” He chuckled, hands tapping the wheel as he began to drive, “You’ve worked up quite the appetite, huh?”

　“Shut up,” You giggled, shoving his bare shoulder lightly. “Don’t think you’re all that just cuz you got into my pants.”

　“I didn’t even need to get into your pants, remember?” He retaliated, voice raising to mock yours. “I didn’t know you were so talented, Miller.”

　“I do not sound like that!” You squealed with a laugh. “We’ll see how well you do next time.”

　“You thinkin’ you need another jump soon?” He questioned with a knowing quirk of his brow.

　You gazed out the window, smile painting your lips. “Yup. Thinkin’ my car’s gonna need it’s engine looked at, and i hear your garage is open all hours of the night.”

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waybeforeyourtime · 1 month

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Why this line was the last straw?

"Why can't I decide how the hell I want to live? I want to live a normal life."

Before S1E1 even hits the 3-minute mark, we see a frustrated Wille make this statement. We, the audience, think it's simply the spoiled demands of a privileged prince.

We come to find out that it's not. It's a boy being forced into a role he doesn't fit into. He's a square peg being shoved into a round hole.

Then he meets Simon. Then he becomes Crown Prince.

"I can't keep doing this anymore."

He tries, but he can't. So, he goes back to Simon. Then he * fucks * up again. The video is leaked. More shame on the family. He lies to be a good prince.

He's surrounded by the privileged and expected to act like the privileged while loving someone unprivileged. August betrays him and hurts Simon because he isn't a good enough Prince.

August: "You have it all, and you don't want it." (paraphrasing).

August can be his backup, but he hates August for what he did. Except Wille is getting desperate. He's lost Simon, and he considers letting that happen to give him the normal life he always wanted. Except August is worse than he thought. August would send Simon to jail to protect himself.

He wants to be a good prince and not let August take the role, somewhat out of spite, too.

Wille - impulsive last-minute Wille - decides, mid-freakin'-speech, to try being true to himself and remain a Royal, and he outs himself publicly and declares that it was him with Simon in the video.

It doesn't change anything, though. In fact, it gets worse. Now, Simon has to fit into the mold of a Royal, and he's miserable. Wille tries to explain how it works but he can't. It's half-hearted. He doesn't believe in it, so how can he sell it to Simon? He doesn't think Simon should have to stop posting his music or being who he is, but it's what is expected of him. It's how the privileged act. They expect the lower class to conform to their wishes. They don't care about the wants or needs of the lower classes.

Simon breaks up with him. Wille's defeated because he knows Simon is right. Simon will never be happy being stuck in the expectations of Royal life. But Wille isn't either. And Wille sees that his mother isn't happy - she's having a mental breakdown. Erik wasn't the perfect brother either. He did toxic things and then covered it up.

Everyone is fake. Except Simon, so he lets him go.

"You'll make a great King."

This was the last straw. Wille had never heard that before. Everything he's ever done has been the wrong thing. The wrong way of thinking. The wrong way of acting. Wanting the wrong things. When he tried to make it right, it failed. Now, his mother is telling him that he'll make a Great King. Why? Because he gave up Simon and tried to fake it like everyone else.

And in that moment, our impulsive last-minute Wille, decides that 'no. he will not make a great king.' He stops just trying to get approval from his parents. He will not carve out pieces of himself to fit in that round hole, and he runs. He runs away from it and runs towards a life where he can make his own choices. He doesn't know who he wants to be, but he knows it's not King.

A hopeful ending. Not a happy ending.

#young royals #again #it did not come out of nowhere #omg #yr s3 #yr s3 spoilers #how can you have watched 2 season of this show and not understand how impulsive Wille is #yr s3 reaction

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tinkerleaf · 2 months

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Jail Time

I should be writing more for the prom series, but I don't want to right now. I will finish it before the end of April though. Synopsis: Reader gets to go to Meursault, Fyodor and Dazai are annoying. gn reader Words: 500 ish Pairing: Dazai/reader/Fyodor (?) Warnings: light cursing

It all happened in the blink of an eye. You didn’t have a clue how they found you, but it sure was quick.

For hours, everything was dark. You couldn’t see or hear a thing, and your limbs were braced in a chair. To say you were scared would be an understatement. The agency feared that you would be executed, but you knew better.

“Well, it seems like another prisoner has come in.” A velvety voice came from your left side.

A sigh came from the right, “I should have seen this coming.”

When you were finally able to open your eyes to look around, you found that you were in Meursault. Fyodor and Dazai were on either side of you, and you let out a groan. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” This was going to be the most mind-numbing prison sentence ever.

“So, what are you in for?” The brunette asked, a smile beginning to tug at his mouth.

You paused to think, “Hmmm let's see…association with the ADA, association with the Port Mafia, association with you.” You counted on your fingers. “Also tax evasion, but I’m a little confused about that one.”

“I see.”

“You know, I’m not even mad. Compared to how crazy things have been on the outside, this is a vacation.”

You would soon find out that it certainly was not a vacation when the two foes in front of you constantly bickered back and forth. Their little brain games annoyed you, especially since you didn’t have the mental capacity they did (they were practically geniuses after all). It wasn’t like you could just join in.

There wasn’t much for you to do aside from reading a couple of books on the table by your bed, which wasn’t even comfy. You hung your head off the edge, your hair dangling.

“You know, you’re gonna get a headache.”

“I don’t care, I’m bored.”

“We could psychoanalyze your childhood trauma?” Fyodor suggests.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

He pauses, “Hmm, could that be a sign of avoidant behavior?”

“You know, now that you mention it,” Dazai begins, “They tend to work by themselves at the office when they can, isolating themselves for hours. You could be onto something.”

Were they teasing you to pass the time? Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. “You are so dramatic. I stay after work to ensure I finish everything. That’s what you should be doing since you never get anything done.”

“They’re getting defensive.”

“Would you shut up?!” The three of you were interrupted when you fell into a sudden hole in the floor. “What the hell?” After a rough landing, you looked up to find Dazai on the ground next to you. You were in a brand new area you hadn’t seen before.

“You alright?” He asks.

You nod, pushing yourself up off the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Just stay close to me.” He glanced at Fyodor and now Nikolai and Sigma, who seemed to be the reason for your escape from your cell. “Things are about to get a little more interesting.”

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the-kr8tor · 5 months

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Seafoam on the shore

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW drinking, CW food mentions, TW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

You run as fast as you can, your feet flying off the muddy uneven streets. Huffing while a local copper yells at you to stop, his yells get more exhausted every second he chases after you. So far he isn't even near you, one of the few benefits of staying at a provincial fishing town is that the police are either too out of shape to catch you, their bellies round, definitely full of ale. Or they simply don't give a damn about a pickpocket, muttering to themselves how they're not paid enough to do a city cop's job.

Losing your balance, you silently curse at your worn down work boots. Sliding off the ground, skidding off down the streets, disturbing the hustle and bustle of the market. You hit a vegetable cart along the way, wood splintering, scratching your arms. Cabbages and carrots fly off, there's yelling and screaming around you and your legs are aching from the impact.

“Sorry!” You yell back to a disgruntled vendor.

He curses at you and your entire family for ruining his sale. You take a mental note to pay him back somehow when you're not currently occupied.

Digging your heels in, you come to a halt, you're lucky enough to get a hold on a lamp post. Glancing behind, you don't see the cop running after you but you're not taking any chances so you enter a tight alleyway. You know this village like the back of your hand, you have to or else seeing the inside of the jail would be waiting for you in the future.

Knowing there’s a pipe somewhere along the walls, you run your muddy hands along the bricks, the cramp walls touching your back and chest, you stop when your nail hits something metallic.

Your ears perk up at someone snitching, “fuck” without hesitation, you climb up the rusty pipe.

Hands digging into the metal. It creaks and groans, but it seems like lady luck is on your side when you reach the top with no problems.

Hearing hurried footsteps down below, you immediately lie low on the roof. Hiding yourself from his gaze. The cop glances around the alley, scratching his head, confused as to how you escaped without a trace.

“Damn” he mutters, completely winded.

You smile to yourself as he leaves. The sun bares at your back, cotton blouse sticking to your skin. Needing a bath is an understatement.

Standing up, you carefully tread the roof, avoiding floors that look damaged. You definitely don't want a repeat incident of what happened six villages ago. You can never get used to the view from up high, the sea blends in with the orange sky, melting together, blues, greens and reds mingle in harmony. The setting sun paints a picturesque scenery, draping everything it touches in its heavenly light.

Ships and fishing boats float above the waves as if they're dancing to the sound of the water splashing on its wooden sides.

Your hands instinctively reach for the necklace hidden under your blouse. Fingers tracing the etching of a flying bird that you know like the back of your hand.

Despite the open sea, you can't help but feel trapped. The docks beckon you over to somewhere you can't remember, somewhere where you can rest in peace, somewhere across the deep dark treacherous sea are people you can call your home. People who may have been looking for you all this time. Their faces are but a blur in your mind, voices a mere echo lingering in your heart. The pendant leaves a circular indent on your palms as you grip it tight.

Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?

Your train of thought gets interrupted by movement from a ship floating along the dock, a large sailboat whose wood differs from each one of its structures. You can tell from how some of it is painted gold and silver like the ones on royal ships, it looks like it was hastily hammered into regular oak with intricate carvings. Some wood blends better together, dark timber melding with ashen wood. Three cannons are lined on the sides, its metal having seen better days, no longer glimmering in the sunlight.

From where you're standing, the figurehead on the bow looks peculiar, like nothing you've ever seen traveling along coastal towns. A fierce creature with sharp teeth opening its jaws, eyes wide and alert. Its red scaly skin adds to its terrifying image. What's more peculiar is the lack of flag flying on its mast. An unknown ship from an unknown place tickles your curiosity.

You slink back down on the roof when a woman emerges from below deck, her blond hair shining under the sun. Another much taller one follows behind her. Raven colored hair flowing in the soft wind. They seem to be arguing, but you're completely bewildered as to how they're allowed to sail. All this time, you can't believe that you can actually step foot inside a boat, moreso sail on it.

This changes everything, you suppose.

You leave the roof, letting the women argue amongst themselves. Expertly hopping from awning to canopy, you land at your final destination, the White Salmon pub.

Jumping down, you land on a cart full of broken fishing nets, it's a miracle that you weren't tangled under all the mess.

Entering the rowdy pub, the smell of ale and pickled fish enters your nostrils. A bunch of sailors sing off key in the middle, too drunk to care about the ruckus they're making. You try to blend in with the drunk crowd, hiding behind people, weaving around them to sneak past the bar and upto the stairs leading up to your room.

“Oi! did ya think I wouldn't notice ya?”

You stop just about the foot of the stairs. Groaning in exasperation, quickly taking off the bandana tied around your face to conceal half of your face. You try your best to put your best smile, turning your charm up to a hundred.

“Hi, aunty Janet” you walk towards her like a child caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. “I got the butter you asked”

Janet huffs, eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. You place the stick of butter in front of her like an offering to appease an angry God.

“Please don't tell me the coppers will be knocking on my doors again”

“That was one time! Besides I actually paid for this one” you push the butter towards her with your finger. She stares at it like you're giving her contraband.

You give her one charming smile, she sighs, taking the butter from the counter. “You're on thin ice, Y/N. Don't make me regret taking you in.”

“That was a year ago and look, I'm still here!”

“A year and a half, I counted because with every shit ya manage to pull, a strand of my hair turns white.” she points at her hair that's almost completely white. “This used to be black”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just need to–”

“To what? It always seems like you're hiding shit from me and Thena” She tries to hold your hand on the counter but you flinch away.

“Won't happen again, I promise.” A clear lie on your part, you'll just have to be better at sneaking. You vault over the counter to roll up your sleeves, clean yourself up and put on your apron.

“When will you learn, girl?”

“When the king sentences me to death himself!” grabbing an empty tray, you start clearing a nearby table. Janet pinches the bridge of her nose.

After dodging rowdy customers and a flying pint, Thena takes a break with you in the tiny corner of the tavern. She unabashedly sighs loudly, smelling of ale and lavender she hastily rubbed on to mask the scent of alcohol.

You side eye her with a tired smile, Thena sighs again, louder this time, a few patrons gaze your way.

“Alright, what's wrong?”

“Oh nothin' it's just Arthur's back again and he hasn't even glanced my way”

You flick your eyes towards the blonde patron nursing a pint, his green eyes meet yours, he smiles with his yellow teeth and you look away immediately, not from embarrassment, no, but from how you don't want his eyes on you.

Why in the world is Thena so smitten by someone like Arthur who comes and goes into the pub more than he goes inside a bathroom?

“You could do better, Thena. One that actually brings in coins instead of using them all in the pub or a brothel.”

“I know,” she sighs once again. Leaning closer to your side so you slide further away. “But he's the fittest bloke here though” whining, she puffs out her cheeks.

As if some divine comedy, Arthur beckons you over with a twist of his hand. You internally cringe.

Thena gasps, “I think he's finally taking notice of me!” She stands up, sauntering over to his table with the confidence of a newborn deer.

Before you could rescue her though, Janet yells at you from the other side of the room. “Get back to work, Y/N!” She signals with head, pointing towards a table by the corner.

You groan, lumbering your way towards the customers. His large back is turned away from you, brown hair neatly slicked back, clothes looking too neat and expensive for a dingy pub like the white salmon. His companion thumps her head on the wall lightly like she's trying to get water out of her ears. Her hair is cut short, glasses over her almond shaped eyes, clothes equally looking expensive but less neat than her large companion.

Her lips turn upwards once she sees you. “Finally some service” she stretches her legs out, noting how she's wearing trousers instead of the usual frilly skirts rich women wear.

“Sorry, what can I do for you?” You put on your customer service voice that's laced with mild annoyance. The man sits still like a rock, his back still turned away from you.

“Fish and chips, some pickled eggs and a pint.” She glances at her friend before groaning with a sly smirk. “And he'll have plain porridge, no seasoning, just porridge. It's better if it's days old. Right, Miguel?”

The man huffs, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. The single candle light on the table illuminates his chiseled face, turning his eyes crimson.

“A pint will do” his voice is gruff yet calm.

There's alarm bells ringing in your head, the tray falls from your shaking hands. Your heart thumps louder than the clanking metal.

“Careful there, it's bad to drink on the job” His friend’s comment falls on deaf ears as you stare at the man before you. His expression doesn't change except for how his eyebrows lift slightly.

It's been years, surely he doesn't recognize me as an adult, right?

You clear your throat, mustering the best smile you can do. “Sorry about that, I'll get your orders right away” leaning down to take the tray from the sticky floors, your necklace slips out of your blouse, the gold shimmering in the candle light.

He could burn you with just his stare.

Walking briskly, clutching the tray, its metal is uncomfortably cold on your skin. The pub seems to get louder and louder with every footstep, the laughter and rowdy singing makes you dizzy. Janet calls after you as you run up the stairs to your room.

Thinking fast, you lock the door, pushing your dresser to further lock it. Your mind races to the floorboards beneath your threadbare bed. With your bare hands you hastily take the wood out revealing a hollow hole containing your possessions.

There's loud booming footsteps climbing up the stairs. Followed by his voice calling your name.

“Fuck” without thinking, you take the bag from its hiding place, slinging it over your shoulder before you cross the small space to the window.

“Y/N, Please!” He keeps calling after you. “Let me just,” thump, “fuck!”

That's your signal to jump down.

Landing on your heels, you feel your knees aching from the fall. You hear your bedroom door slam open with a force that surely broke its hinges.

You run like you've ran from him like last time.

Suddenly, you're thirteen years old, weaving through the forest, vines prickling your legs as you wade through the thicket. White lilies are but a blur as tears flow freely from your eyes as you keep running without a destination.

Why? Aren't you enough? Did she not love you like you thought she did? What did you do to deserve being abandoned twice?

You're back to the present when he yells your name again. Your heart pounds loudly on your ribcage, lungs burning, you feel like you're about to collapse.

His companion also runs after you, screaming your name desperately.

But you have the upperhand. Using the moon as your guide, you climb up a house, its bricks protruding out of the walls, the place you used to climb to practice, but now you climb it to save your own skin.

Running from roof to roof, you feel a presence behind you. His thunderous footsteps echo into the cold night. You don't dare look behind.

The woman follows you from the ground, her heels clicking on the uneven sidewalk. “Y/N! Wait up–shit!” Without looking down, you hear her fall.

He screams your name again, the same one she called you back then.

You run furiously, jumping off the side only to keep running towards the docks. Panicking, you see a ship leaving the docks, its fishing net left hanging on the side. Without thinking, you make a break for it.

Sprinting on the old docks, you leap the huge gap. Miraculously, you take hold of the net, clinging to it with all your might. Entering the net, you ignore the smell of fish, watching as the place you once called home gets smaller and smaller.

You say goodbye to Janet, who kindly took you in without asking for anything in return. Who gave you a job and a room so you don't freeze and starve outside. Who took care of you when you fell ill to the cold.

You say goodbye to Thena, the only friend you've ever had, the longest friend you've ever had. The same Thena who taught you how to sew and mend your own clothes. Thena who taught you how to throw a punch when a handsy sailor tries to touch you.

Thena whom you've grown accustomed to calling you her sister.

You say goodbye to the fishing town you've only recently called your home.

You say goodbye to the man at the docks who's staring at your fleeing form, whose eyes are narrowed, almost pleading for you to come back.

A/N: There's no Hobie appearance in this chapter yet :( (next chapter though 👀)

Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 9 months

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Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Parallels

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 3.4K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, motherly issues, tw: violence/abuse towards minors

—————

It wasn’t your fault your mom didn’t care for you but why couldn’t you care for me. We all have ways to cope, mine is taking pen to page, yours was needle to arm. I grieve for the girl you should’ve been...for the mom you could’ve been

A few days go by, with the only contact being Tommy to deliver you food though you barely stomach it. Ellie had stopped visiting probably Joel’s doing leaving you to the silence and your thoughts. It wasn’t until one day when both Maria and Tommy had arrived that you hadn’t expected them to open the door for you. You stared at the open cell taking a step out right as the door leading outside bursts open as two men struggle to bring in a thrashing and screaming man. He’s bloody clearly from a fight he lost, but his clothes are familiar, and when he made eye contact with you a surge of strength as he lunged for you.

“You murdering fucking cunt!” Snarls and insults hurled at you, words you’ve never heard of thrown at you. The two Jackson men reign him back in as Maria rests a gentle hand on your shoulder. You pull away harshly from the contact and Tommy leads you outside the community jail Maria following behind you. The sunlight blinds you stepping outside shielding your eyes slightly as the cold air sends a full body shake and you bring the coat closer around your body. What you didn’t expect was to see Joel leaning against a telephone pole a deep-set frown on his face.

“A patrol came back with him, they ran into raiders, said they were looking for what they described as a ruthless woman from a cabin,” Tommy explains and your blood runs cold. They weren’t kidding, these guys were actively hunting you down because you killed some of their guys.

“The reason we’re letting you out is we needed the room to question him. Now we’re relying on your trust you won’t try anything or we will find an alternative holding space.” Maria explains and you slowly nod looking at the two adults before you glance over at Joel who’s still watching you Maria notices, “So with that, you will be staying Joel.”

“What?!” “Tommy!” Both you and Joel speak at the same time, you don’t want to be near the man who has almost choked you and tried to break your arm. The man steps forward grabbing his brother’s collar,

“That wasn’t the fucking deal, you said to watch the kid but not her living with me.” He says as Tommy shakes his head,

“I had no choice, Joel you think I trust anyone else to watch after her? I would do it myself, but we got the baby.” Tommy says and Joel steps back with a curse on his lip.

“Hey, I’m not happy living with you either old man.” You spit and he gives you a look making a step toward you but Tommy steps between you two giving you both a look, “Please Joel.” He felt like he was dealing with two Joels. The stubbornness of his brother and he couldn’t ignore the eerily similar mannerisms you two had. Joel stares at his brother before he curses stepping back he looks over at you pointing,

“You try any shit, I’ll make you sleep outside.” He threatens and you cross your arms mumbling, “Probably better than being with your old ass.”

“I swear-” “Y/n!” Tommy gives you a look and you sigh rolling your eyes.

“I won’t try anything.” You promise as the two of you hold tense eye contact before he turns and heads down the street, and you look over at Tommy and Maria.

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be kid,” Tommy says and you scoff crossing your arms, “He fucking started it.” You say and the two adults sigh mentally preparing themselves for putting you and Joel together in the same house.

“Come on, let’s get you set up. I have some spare clothes that will fit you better than what Ellie has.” Maria says as the three of you leave the jail making your way to your new home.

You could feel the stares from people as you walk between Tommy and Maria, barring your teeth makes them scurry away or look away quickly and the two adults sigh at the feral behavior. You were like an animal asserting your dominance, a sign of ‘back of the fuck off’ coming off you. “Come on kid,” Tommy says as you turn down Rancher Street entering Joel and Ellie’s home. You hear the clink of the glass seeing Joel in the kitchen setting down his drink. A bottle of amber rests next to the glass in his hand, you freeze slightly seeing the liquid. The yelling of a woman as similar amber sloshes in the cracked glass, the liquor fueling the rage that always led to nothing well.

“kid…Kid?” Tommy’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn your gaze away from the man in the kitchen to the man beside you. “Let me show you the room you’ll be staying in.” Following behind Tommy your hands clutched to your pants hearing the liquid being poured before the glass slams back on the counter again. Tommy opens a door and you find Ellie inside moving things around. It looked to be used for miscellaneous things but those items were shoved in a corner, it looked swept up clean to have you stay in.

“I didn’t believe it when Joel said you were staying here! I tried cleaning it up as much, but we can get you stuff to make it your own, books, posters...” Ellie rambles as Tommy chuckles at the hyper girl speaking to the older one who silently takes in the room.

“Alright, Maria should be here soon with some clothes that will fit you better. Anything you might need just let us know, I’m sure someone in the community might have it.” Tommy says and you nod before Ellie races over grabbing your hand. Panic rushes through you as you rip it free from her grasp staring at her with wide eyes. Tommy and Ellie look at you slightly with pity in their eyes at the defensiveness in you.

“Sorry…come on I’ll give you a tour of the house, then I’ll show you the town, then there’s Dina and Jesse, oh and Cat you’ll like her.” Ellie rambles and you turn to Tommy who gestures for you to follow. Around the house, she shows off the living room and dining room, you stand in the entranceway of the kitchen as she opens cabinets and drawers explaining where everything is. You tune her out slightly your gaze focused on the bottle of amber the hair on your skin rising as you were entranced by it but not in awe but fear.

‘Fucking ungrateful brat’

“Okay let me show you upstairs.” Ellie’s voice makes you flinch slightly as she leads you upstairs. You’re silent your thoughts running wild, you hadn’t thought about her in years, as far as you were concerned she was the last thing that should be on your mind. You let the girl distract you as she shows you her room, the posters she explains Joel had found for her on patrols, the collection of comics that she promised to share with you, and the photos and sketches on a corkboard. “This is Joel’s workroom, he doesn’t like people in here same with his room…so I say just ignore it.” She points to two doors that are next to each other. Ellie let you know where both bathrooms were before the tour was over.

“Well this is home and there’s the garage. Joel’s thinking of making that another room said I could have my own space but is gonna wait until it’s warmer to start working on it,” Ellie explains as she grabs her coat and hat pulling them on, “Come on I’ll show some places in town.” Ellie swings her pack over her shoulder and opens the front door and there’s Joel almost as if he was waiting there to stop you two.

“Shit Joel trying to scare the crap outta me.” She jokes moving past him but the man remains silent looking at you. You knew a ruthless person when you saw one, you knew he did things he wasn’t proud of, the same with you but it was needed to survive. You knew he didn’t like you not an ounce of pleasure was it to have you under his roof.

“Give us a minute to talk kid,” Joel says and Ellie tries to retort but he steps inside closing the door and leaving the two of you alone. It’s silent before he speaks up, “To be frank I don’t like you. I don’t like you in my house, around my brother, with my kid. I’m only going to tell you this once, try anything and I mean anything that has you out of line. I won’t hesitate to do worse things than those Raiders would do if they had you.” His threat is not light and you knew he wasn’t bluffing. Though time had to soften him with Ellie and being in Jackson you brought back that darker side of him when he was younger and more ruthless.

“Are we clear?” He says and you nod silently and he grunts stepping aside and opening the door revealing Ellie waiting on the steps, “Be back in an hour no later.” He says as you step out joining the girl outside.

“Ready?” She says a wide grin on her face completely unaware of the threat her father had just given her. You nod and you both leave the home heading towards the main street. Your gaze darts around quickly taking in all the people of different ages around you, you hadn’t seen this many people not since you were younger. Most of it was spent alone traveling and fighting to survive. You feel each heated gaze and the whispers that follow and shackle you. Though you speak to no one as Ellie points at places explaining you felt drained and on edge, your hands are stuffed in your pockets as you follow beside her. Even though the girl was younger you felt like a child trailing after their sibling for their guidance.

“So there’s the mess hall, there you can have, breakfast, lunch, dinner, but sometimes we just cook at home if we have the time,” She points at the large building as people walk in and out of it. You remember this building running through it to escape Joel and Tommy. “Yeah that’s pretty much it, we should head back or Joel will tear us a new one,” Ellie says and you follow her as she claims she’s taking a shortcut through the back of the place, as you follow her you hear voices and the aggressive tone has you on edge. Ellie seems to notice the both of you turning the corner. You see a girl with dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and tan skin as she’s backed against the wall by three guys around your age.

“Hey back the fuck up!” Ellie calls out and the three boys and girl look over spotting the two of you as Ellie moves to stand in front of the girl protecting her.

“Aw, Dina you’re little girlfriend here to rescue you. What’s Jesse gonna say?” The boy in the middle says as Dina glares at him and Ellie’s face flushes at the comment but quickly hides behind a sharp look.

“Just leave her alone fuckface.” Ellie growls and the boys all chuckle at the presence of the sixteen-year-old tries trying to protect Dina who looks to be your age. “Come on Williams what you gonna do, go cry to Daddy and Momm- oh wait it’s just Daddy.” The middle boy says as the other two laugh and you see her stiffen hearing the comment about her mother.

“Just leave us alone, Derek,” Dina calls to the middle boy who shakes his head as he steps towards Ellie she bites her lip and you see her hands balled up in fists.

“No come on Williams, gonna go home and cry over Mommy.” He taunts and her face is bright red in anger you’re not sure how her anger transferred to you but your body reacted.

“Hey.” You call out and he turns right at the moment your fist slams into his nose and you feel it shatter under your knuckles as he grabs his broken nose. The four other teens look at you in shock kinda forgetting you were there until a complete fight broke out. One of the boys jumps at you their fist striking your cheek the metallic taste filling your mouth. You kick your foot striking him in the groin his hands grab his dick and your fist slams into his throat as he grabs it gasping for air and falling to the ground. A hand grabs your hair as your temple collides with the brick wall stars flashing your vision and they pull back to slam you into the wall again. Grabbing his wrist you twist yourself free until you feel a crack as his screams fill the air. A punch to his face brings him down as you barely dodge a blow to your lip feeling it split from the force. Seeing Derek with blood pouring down his nose fire in his eyes as he holds his fists up.

“You fucking bitch!” He hisses and blood coats your teeth as you grin more sliding down your temple and you bring your fists up waving at him to come at you. With a roar, he swings a fist and you dodge landing a shot right at his kidney. A sharp gasp from the sudden pain as his hands go to grab his side not able to block his face as you drive your fist forward. The punch brings him to the ground as you pin him down your fists slamming into his face and beating the crap out of him. You hear screaming as blood coats your hands that you don’t realize is coming from him. His fighting grows weaker but arms wrap around your waist and you’re pulled off the boy, your elbow driving back but another pair of hands stop you. You’re heaving air trying to catch your breath as the red clears from your vision and you suddenly take in your surroundings. A crowd surrounds you as multiple people surround the three boys looking at their injuries. They all had severe injuries as you tried fighting the arms holding you back. You see Maria hovering over Derek’s body a man beside her as he screams curses at you. You are pulled away from the aftermath of your fight around the corner you slam against a wall not trying to protect your head as you find yourself staring at a furious Joel holding your shoulders to the wall. Behind him is Tommy who paces his hands in his hair as he curses with each step, beside him are Ellie and Dina who are silent but Joel’s hand grabs your jaw making you look back at him.

“What the fuck did I say about ‘try anything and see what happens’ did you no fucking understand!” He roars in your face as you continue heaving blood pouring from your mouth staining your chin some blood almost gets in your eye and causes some hair to stick to your face. “Are you fucking listening to me!” He shakes your body.

“Get rid of me then.” You retort and he slams you further against the wall your head smacking against the brick again, “Is this a fucking joke to you!”

“Joel!” Tommy yells as the man still keeps a grip on you, “Fuck…just get her out of here, and you two better not lie about what happened.” Tommy turns looking at Dina and Ellie who nod in fear not used to seeing the man this angry, Joel yes but Tommy no.

“Get the fuck out of here. Now!” He says and Joel pulls you off the wall shoving you to walk as you move. You examine your split knuckles before using the back of your hand to wipe the blood off your chin spitting some excess pooling in your mouth on the ground as it stains the snow. The walk is tense as people watch the four of you head towards the Miller home. It had only been minutes since the fight ended but the news spread like wildfire in the close-knit community. Joel rips open the shoving you inside as you stumble catching yourself on the wall before you slam into it.

“Joel!” Ellie yells at the aggressiveness coming from the man, she knew he was pissed but enough to shove a kid around is where she drew the line. Gripping the corner of the wall as he moves past you reaching the kitchen and you hear the telltale sound of glass hitting the table and you’re frozen gripping the wall. You knew you were in Jackson but everything felt just like Kansas City.

“Fucking ungrateful brat!” She yells as the glass hits the table and you are surprised it didn’t shatter. A meek child clutches her scraped hands using the dirty sleeves of her shirt to wipe the stray tears wincing from the bruise on her eye. The ruined book at your feet. You had tried to get it from the small library only to run into the kids that bullied you and you quickly lost the fight which got Fedra involved. This caused her to be called away from whatever busy she was in to deal with this which leads us to now. The glass hits the counter again as you flinch. “You fucking pull me away 'cause you couldn’t handle a few fucking kids? Are you that pathetic!” She hisses. Your gaze moves to the wall not wanting to look into the kitchen. Just let her vent and then you’ll be alright. A hand grabs your arm almost ripping it from your socket and you're whipped around to face the woman who was going to murder you with how angry she was.

Your mother.

“Are you fucking listening to me? You’re so fucking stupid I swear why the fuck did I have a dumbass kid!” She yells and your eyes shut instinctively feeling her spit land on your face, the stench of nicotine and liquor fresh on her breath. She shoves you away and you hit the ground wincing from the pain, “Should’ve fed you to fucking infected,” She says pulling the bottle to her lips and you watch the amber liquid drain as you push yourself to stand with shaky limbs.

“Want me to feed you to infected, want mommy to let them rip you apart,” Tears flood your eyes as you shake your head begging her not to, “How ‘bout I leave you in the streets and let the sick bastards out there do whatever they want to you. They would like a young ten-year-old.” She says as you cry out more pleading for her not to kick you out. A sharp slap across your face and you feel your lip split.

“Stop fucking crying god it’s irritating.” She shouts and you bite your lip only making it bleed more to muffle your tears. She looks down at the child turning away, “Get the fuck out of my face. I don’t wanna see you at all tonight.” She shouts and you scurry off running to the small corner hidden behind the rotting couch away from her gaze.

“Are you listening to me!” A man’s voice yells out as you gasp for air your fingers dig into the wallpaper, and everything blurs around you. You weren’t hidden behind the couch to avoid her wrath but the feeling was still there but only with a different person.

“Y/n?” A hand grazes your shoulder and you book it down the hall barely avoiding Joel as he comes out the amber glass in his hand that sends panic through you. Your body slams into the door to your bedroom as you shut it behind you twisting the lock as you hear a fist bang on the door. Your hands grab the dresser pushing it forward until it blocks the door. The banging and the yell of your name only get louder. Covering your ears trying to drown it out, you felt the tears stinging your eyes biting your lip hard enough to bleed more to muffle the whimpers from coming out. Boxes are pilled along the wall giving a corner for you to hide behind. Hands against your ears trying to block out the sounds as you try to calm yourself down.

You’re not there anymore.

Kansas City is gone.

She’s gone. Stop crying.

Stop fucking crying!

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