#in one of the most grotesque ways possible mind you
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Divine. // Heian Sukuna x M!Reader <3
smut brainrot :(
-!! Overstim, - oral, - sex with a lot of feewings, - monsterfucking (he has 2 cocks), - tadbit body horror possibly
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aghjakhg he's so.. :3
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Sukuna couldn't quite believe it: your hands, so soft, were gently running themselves over his chest.
"What are you...?" The words clogged in his throat, feeling you start to trace down.
You shifted in his lap, alone with him and solely him, -- under the dark awning of the night. No one would come to look for the two of you, not now, when it was so late out.
You could barely see the massive body in front of you, -- so you felt him. You ran your fingers over the expanse of his chest, his shoulders, his four arms, - mapping a general shape in your mind's eye. You couldn't see but you could see him, -- see him in a way no had before.
Air eluded itself from his lungs and he shuttered involuntarily. He had never been touched, been held like this, handled so tenderly. Fingers, miniscule compared to his massive figure, grazed over the markings etched onto his skin. You could faintly feel yourself touch over a scar, a raised, rough mark on his perfect body. It only made you sink deeper into him, his loose embrace of his arm around your waist. Your fingertips sketch the defined muscle, feeling every dip of skin and flesh, -- living proof of the decades of hard, grueling work engrained into his abdomen. His abs slightly flex when you run over them, you can feel the strong muscles ripple with each sharp intake of breath.
You reach the curve of his second mouth, running your thumb over the thin lip in his stomach.
"Careful..." he mutters. The last time someone had gotten so close to that area, it hadn't ended well for him. Sukuna could briefly picture his mangled skeleton, twisted and bent at all the wrong angles.
The Curse was in awe, how you effortlessly touched over his body, hardened by the decades of war and bloodshed it had borne witness to.
A noise involuntarily ripped itself from his lips, - the broken sound of a tiny, cornered animal. He had never in his life been touched in such a way, -- revered almost.
You reach back up, fingers dancing along his skin, tracing every line of those inky black markings. Sukuna realizes too late when you reach for his neck, pausing there, to rub the place where his pulse was. The blood rushed underneath your touch, rapid and humming and alive. It was such a vulnerable spot for him, but Sukuna stays frozen, rooted to his spot, so you don't stop. You travel up, all the way up to his face, where they lingered over his jaw. You press the pads of your fingers into the hard bones of his face, feeling along his jaw, his chin, and the jutting outline of his nose.
In his long lifetime most had shunned him: turning on him with huge swords and fearful expressions. But with you, he no longer was the ghastly monster, he just simply was.
"Beautiful...." You breathe
Sukuna's own breath faltered,
"You think I'm beautiful?" He sounded surprise, unsure, -- a kind of insecurity that should have terrified him, -- but it was with you, and he embraced this vulnerable state.
You smile softly, only Sukuna with his cursed vision could make the shape out in the dark,
"Very."
Sukuna wanted to lick the worship off your lips.
The lower arms on your abdomen tighten.
Silently, your fingers meet the rough start of his second face. You freeze, feeling the harsh change in texture from his smooth skin. Sukuna hesitates; would this be where it all came to an end? When you look at him with anything but deep adoration? Where the affectionate touches would be met with violent resistance, and you'd hate him, find him to be the grotesque and horrifying monster everyone else did?
Sukuna hated himself for feeling so hopeful.
But you simply start your exploration again, fingers travelling up and down the rough expanse of melded flesh.
"Fascinating.."
Sukuna was surprised; you found his second face fascinating.
He waited for the moment you'd change your mind, stop lying to yourself, start spitting crude insults and accusatory words, to swear, to hit, to resist him in some way.
But it never came.
You trace the rough folds of his face with a caress nothing short of adoring.
For the longest time, he had been denied this.
Sukuna's eyes were closed now. He couldn't comprehend the mixture of emotions he was feeling in this moment.
He was completely exposed, vulnerable... beautiful...
His second face... usually filled with terror... was receiving such tender care.
His thumbs trace to the hem of your top, gently pressing down into the soft skin, rubbing what he hoped were affectionate caresses. No one had ever made him feel such a way before, and he wished to show you the same affection, the same adoration, as you showered onto him. He had to admit he was quite inexperienced-- making contact with another living thing usually had some violent motive, but all Sukuna desired to do was wrap his arms around your tinier body -- shield you from the rest of the world. The idea of anyone else getting this kind of attention from you filled him with a strange bitterness unknown to him: jealousy.
He could feel every tiny detail of your movements, every inch of you getting slowly leaning in closer, every carefree intake of breath. He felt envious of the way the oxygen so effortlessly entered your lungs, how you inhale it without a second thought. It would be so easy for him to simply reach out and crush your windpipe, steal the air from your lungs the same way you did his.
In this moment, he saw and felt it all. Every inch of your body was beautiful to him.
"Mmm..." he whispered, relishing in the feeling of your presence so close to him.
Carefully, tentatively, you dip your head down, bringing your face closer, lips softly grazing his cheek.
Sukuna almost choked.
The feeling of your lips on his cheek sent chills through his body. He had always seen himself as the menacing and terrifying harbinger of suffering who had to be kept at a distance.
But now, he was seeing from your view... And from your perspective, he was beautiful.
His heart pounded against his chest as he felt your breath on his cheek.
Then you kiss him;
Every muscle, every tendon of his body seemed to tighten, and you were surprised they didn't just snap altogether.
All kinds of new, delicious sensations coursed through him,
Mwa :3
He had spent countless years of his life slaughtering people and taking control of everything he could... But here, he was weak again, like a newborn child.
He felt his breath grow short, labored, completely lost in the sensations of the kiss. All his fears and regrets, all the pain and misery accumulated from his years of cursed isolation, separated from the world around him, becoming the untouchable King of Curses, -- It all melted away. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.
He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, pressing you against him. Having you so close, you seemed so delicate to him, yet you were exploring him without hesitation, without fear, the first person he had encountered in so many years who didn't think of him as a monster.
His muscles were completely tense, but he had no desire to stop. He was enjoying every second of it.
You were kissing him, and he felt your tongue peek out from your intertwined lips, slipping into his mouth and meeting his. You fit so nicely against him, his hands slotting perfectly onto your waist, hips fitting like two puzzle pieces. It was all so... soothing to him.
The way you were taking control was indescribable--your kisses making his heartbeat so fast he swore it would explode, his breath was fast and short. He didn't think he could keep these feelings in for long without combusting altogether.
You pull away, gasping for air (unlike Sukuna, who as a curse, if he could have his way, would have kissed you for hours, days even).
"Your touch is.... divine"
Sukuna could bathe in the way you gazed at him, the way your eyelids drooped, the way your bright irises shone up at him through your lashes. Many once eerie, cold maroon eyes met yours with enough loving reverence to shake Heaven Herself.
As the word left his lips, he was staring at you. The look on his face was one of utter contentment and happiness.
You had kissed him so delicately, so tenderly. He felt every sensation burn itself into his mind, desperately grasping to remember the way your lips felt on his.
His grip on you was gentle and cautious. He didn't want to crush you. You were so small and slender. Such a frail and delicate human in his grasp. Yet the same, you were something else, something he had never experienced before.
You wanted something so intimate with him. It had Sukuna spiraling deeper and deeper into a side he had long since forgotten about. He felt frail, weak... human, -- yet Sukuna couldn't find it within himself to care. The rush of sensations and emotions he felt from your contact, from your kisses and the way you touched him, -- It was intoxicating.
He wanted you, every single part of you...
No matter what.
---
You laid with him that night, and he took you-- right on the dirt ground beneath a sky of stars. Sukuna reveled in the way your body writhed underneath him, such a beautiful, fiery creature.
He bent down, placing a gentle, loving kiss to your forehead, licking the salty sheen of sweat from your skin. You shudder, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as another hot lick of pleasure curdles through you, searing white.
He couldn't get enough of you, decades of societal neglect and the absence of human companionship had starved Sukuna, and you were a whole feast. He ravished your body, the carnal hunger never satiated until he filled you with his full.
You clung desperately to his strong forearms, nails digging into the firm muscle. Incoherent babblings cascaded from your lips which he dipped down to hungrily lap up as you mewled underneath him. He'd crash his lips onto yours, the sweetness almost lost from the first time, -- drowned in the desperate need of the kiss.
Two large hands held you steady, keeping your legs apart and waist in place as Sukuna continued his rolling thrusts into your lower abdomen. Every snap of his hips against yours sent another coil of pleasure curling in your stomach.
Puddles of his seed bubbled from your opening, leaking through the small crevices and corners from where his massive cocks somehow didn't take up. You swear you almost shatter completely the moment you feel those sharp teeth graze the walls lining your insides.
Sukuna smiles from inside of you, two long tongues lolling out to lick at the coating of your guts. He pulls out the slightest bit, just enough so a relieved smile breaks on your face. He wished there was a way to permanently engrave the moment your hopeful expression shattered into his brain-- the way your eyes widen in horror, your mouth slacked open as the two tongues bully their way between your organs. They twist, intertwining, drinking the wetness from your body dry almost, and coming to a deadly point prodding at your stomach and swirling your intestines.
You cry out, the agonizing pain clashing deliciously with the pure bliss you felt. Your mind blanks and all the colors melt together.
Everything turns molten. Sukuna reaches down between your thighs, taking you in one big hand. You choke on your own spit, coughing and spluttering, hands flying to your crotch, only to be gently swatted away. Sukuna chuckled, gently pushing your body down as your back arches.
He continues to play with you in his hand, kneading the flesh between the pads of his fingers. He runs his knuckles up and down, coating his fingers with the tears from your crying tip. He tugged you playfully, watching like an eager puppy when your relief pours into his hands, drizzling in between his fingers, squirting onto his chest, painting the black markings white.
Sukuna places two lathered fingers into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you sitting on his tongue, and he sucks down hard.
He needed you like the earth the sky's rain. You gave meaning to his long, empty, accursed life. You were forever damned to him, and Sukuna would have it no other way.
You were his god, his stars, his beauty.
And he found you absolutely ... divine.
<3
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[A/N]: the other kind of lobotomy kaisen
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk oneshot#jjk smut#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#jjk x y/n#sukuna#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen x reader#ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x male reader#jjk x male reader#x male reader#x male smut#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna#jujutsu sukuna#sukuna x reader smut#sukuna x reader fluff
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been reflecting on the fourth season and. again. in all fairness to jason carver, like. man. i really do feel bad for that boy. he had the worst fucking week of his life. and it does suck that how he responded to two terrible tragedies overshadows everything potentially good about him
#girlfriend gets tragically murdered and sees his best friend get tragically murdered#in one of the most grotesque ways possible mind you#and he has to carry his friend's broken body back to shore#like the context of the time period matters and if the news was saying dnd was evil and bam. weird fucking murders happen in your town#one of which happened nearby the leader of the dnd club#like sure i liked eddie but the audience got to see more of him. jason just saw the bare minimum#if what happened to jason happened to anyone of course they'd go crazy and start piecing things together that dont make sense#my sister mentioned that during that last scene with lucas where lucas is trying to explain everything to jason#(wayyyy too late in the game)#it does look like jason is trying to rationalize it but to him it doesnt hold a candle to what he already put together#hell. when has anyone taken anything about the upside down at face value? and it's usually in much calmer scenarios#maybe the reason i feel so bad for jason is bc that couldve easily been steve if something happened to nancy in season one#we dont know much about jason except for the fact that it looks like he really did love chrissy#rambles#stranger things#stranger things spoilers#jason carver
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The Feral One • Chapter 2
Finnick x Reader
Series Masterlist Link
I had some down time while my flight was delayed so here’s another chapter! Hopefully chapter 3 will come out in a few days but we shall see. Thanks for all the love on the first chapter!
Content warnings - flashback to prostitution assault and detailed descriptions of killing/death
You weren’t always known as a feral victor. Sure, some of your kills in the arena were a bit much, but it’s not uncommon to see that behavior in the games. It is a fight to the death after all. What is uncommon, however, is that literal fight continuing afterwards.
After the incident with the first doctor, which was kept quiet from the public at first, Snow believed you would still be of use from him. He thought the capital doctors could “fix you” and make you “civilized” again. He’s lucky he always had guards with him, or he would have ended up on your list.
Finnick, your mentor, thought that your post-arena violence might save you from his fate in the capital. He tried to convince Snow that it wasn’t a good idea to assign you clients, that you were unpredictable and things could go very wrong. Snow thought it would be fine.
“Sure she may put up a fight,” he told Finnick, “most of them do. But, I don’t think that should be an issue for her client. He could break her quite easily if he needed to.”
And break you he did, just not physically. It was you who did the physical breaking.
You didn’t mean to kill him, nor anyone else outside the arena, but his grotesque hands roaming your body triggered something deep inside you; a primal instinct you first felt in the arena. It was kill or be killed.
You tried to push through it. Snow had warned you what would happen to your family if you didn’t comply. But laying there being completely violated by this capital man broke the only pieces of you that had survived the arena. Your mind had convinced itself that you were out of options.
The man’s avox had phoned the police when she heard him scream, but they weren’t fast enough. He was so engrossed in his actions that he didn’t notice the way your eyes turned cold, or the way you stopped protesting.
Less than two minutes later, he was dead. You still can’t shake the feeling of his eyeballs under your nails, or the sound he made as you crushed his esophagus. The worst part was having to unattach yourself from him when the ordeal was over. You didn’t even protest when the police entered. They sedated you and carried you off, away from the scene of your crime.
Did you mean to kill him? No.
Do you regret it? Absolutely not.
The only thing you regret is coming out of that arena alive; but what’s done is done and there’s no going back.
Your prep team won’t go anywhere near you for the parade, which is quite the dilemma. How the hell were you supposed to get ready? You’re surprised a stylist designed something for you at all, or that they’re even letting you participate for that matter.
Apparently, your stylist didn’t design the outfit. He said that his mentor, Tigress, wanted to design something for you specifically but she is banned from the games so he volunteered to bring her design to you. He’s the first person in the capital who doesn’t seem terrified to be in your presence, but the peacekeepers still won’t let him near.
You’re forced to dress in front of the peacekeepers. They uncuff you at least but it’s still uncomfortable. You would strangle them all right now but unfortunately there would be consequences.
Snow paid you a visit last night. He told you exactly what would happen if you went “feral” before the games.
“We wouldn’t want Mr. Odair’s pedestal to malfunction while he was standing on it, would we?” he stated. “Or for Mrs. Flanagan to come down with a horrible illness. That would be quite unfortunate.”
You had to do everything possible to keep yourself under control, but even that could only help so much. The rage you felt inside was growing and it wasn’t calming down anytime soon.
“Why isn’t it ready yet?” the shrill voice of Linessa calls to the peacekeepers outside of your room.
“No prep team would touch her,” they tell her. “The tribute is getting herself dressed.”
“Move,” Finnick states as he pushes past the group to enter your room. You’re mostly clothed but are having issues with zipping up the back of your gown.
It’s a beautiful blue gown that hugs your skin before flaring out just below your hips. The stylist explained it as, “The image of a silent siren. A deeply misunderstood mythological creature of the ocean.”
Finnick slowly approaches, making sure you can see his hands.
“Can I help get you ready?” he asks. “We need to be out there soon.”
You nod and turn so he can zip up your dress. The feeling of his hands on your back causes you to tense up but you grit your teeth and remind yourself it’s just Finnick.
Practically grinding your teeth dull, you let Finnick do a simple makeup look on you to match your outfit. You wish you could give him an outfit instead of a net but neither you nor Mags have a say in the matter. You especially don’t.
Finnick is especially careful not to touch the scar that runs down the side of your face. You got it during your games and the capital doctors refused to polish it off after you killed one with a scalpel for taking your temperature. You wish you had the temperament to let him cover it up with the makeup but you know it would set you off.
When he’s done, the peacekeepers come and recuff your wrists but leave your feet free so you don’t trip in the dress.
“She doesn’t need those,” Finnick tells them.
“I’m sorry Mr. Odair but these are direct orders from Snow,” they state.
“Will you remove them before the parade?” he asks.
“No,” they state. Mags whispers something to Finnick and he nods in understanding before approaching you slowly.
“Hey,” he calmly states. “I need to go talk to some people before the parade. Stay with Mags and I’ll come get you before we start.” You nod and he leaves.
The peacekeepers force you and Mags out to where the chariots are, but make you stay along the edge of the stables where they can keep an eye on you. They wouldn’t want any of the “excitement” to start before the games begin.
You can see Finnick talking to Katniss, last year’s victor. You don’t really know any of the other victors besides Finnick and Mags. They know all about you, of course, but none of them care enough to get to know you. The only one who has ever spoken to you (over the phone of course) is Johanna Mason of District 7. She’s pretty close with Finnick and they talk all the time. You would be jealous if Finnick didn’t practically live at your place and spend all his time with you. Plus Johanna hates people.
“Hey feisty!” you hear Johanna call as she approaches you. Finnick has shown you pictures of her but outside of that and watching her games you had only ever heard her voice. The peacekeepers move to block her but one glare from her sends them away. “How’s life outside of your cell?”
You give her a thumbs down and she laughs in response, catching the attention of the other tributes.
“Well I give it double thumbs down,” she states.
“Johanna!” you hear a male yell. “Get your ass over here.”
“Ugh Blight’s calling,” Johanna groans. “See ya later feisty!”
You think you’re done socializing for today when you’re approached by a young blond boy. He doesn’t protest when the peacekeepers keep him five feet away.
“Hi y/n,” he states. “I’m Peeta. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
You give him a blank stare as you study him. Something about you feels like he’s harmless, but you can’t be too sure.
“Ah Melark,” Gloss booms as he approaches the boy. “Don’t take it personal. Feral doesn’t talk.”
It’s clear these two haven’t met before as Peeta looks a bit scared of the career. You’d met Gloss once before your games as he was your allies’ mentor, but you haven’t spoken in years. Him and Finnick aren’t close.
“Oh, uh I’m sorry,” Peeta stutters. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick flirting with Katniss. “Uh nice to meet you I guess.”
Peeta looks harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Katniss, on the other hand, looks like trouble.
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#hunger games#finnick odair#hunger games fic#the hunger games#finnick odair x reader#finnick x oc#finnick imagine#finnick x reader#catching fire#finnick odair angst#finnick x you#thg finnick#finnick fluff#the feral one
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dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader || part 2
disclaimer: this contains religious themes and slightly interiorised homophobia so if you know this is not for you don't read any further. i hope you like this descent into the pits of hell of both religion and my hunger for introspection (and also please tell me the story flow makes sense). not proofread bc i hate doing it with a passion. also, this is taking an angsty turn that i didn't mean but oh well.
> for part 1 click here || for part 3 click here
"ellie!" was what could be heard all over the courtyard and what eventually became the reason why the person whose name you shouted dropped her usual insolent smirk.
the incident of the previous day had left you in disbelief. you reckoned that it had more to do with your own lust driven conduct than it had with ellie's. you were an educator there, your role didn't involve letting one of your alumni have her way with you, no matter how legal of age she was and how little of a age gap was between the two of you. it had been immoral, shameful, a pure fever dream to which you were willing to remedy.
and what about you being a nun and still indulging in such wicked behaviours? had you perhaps forgotten your religious vocation? the fulcrum that had been dictating your whole life and on which every decision of yours had depended. and you could still play pretend that your attraction to women didn't play a huge part in your decision to confine yourself in a convent or wherever you were needed, but that would be your umpteenth sin, lying.
acknowledging your mind was beginning to wander in dangerous territories that could tarnish your renewed courage and substitute it with coward uncertainty, you refrain from further dwelling there and instead focus on what you had came to do.
before you was ellie, her grimace now an upright expression of disgust as her head hinted to the girl in front of her to leave. at least she looked like she was reading the room, recognising you had the urgency to address a serious situation and that this called for a certain degree of privacy.
you were fast proven wrong and the devil's laugh echoed in your ears, teasing you for not giving up on ellie and still tumbling in the illusion of reading any of her actions as redeemable or without the wickedness the other sisters had been warning you about.
"wasn't the last time enough for you that had to come for more?" was spat out in what you now considered a torment, given the frequency of this filth. however, it now strengthen the force of the damage it meant to inflict as it had a thick skin to wear. it wasn't just a decontextualised question without a standing and stable ground. ellie was obliging you to revive your blasphemous encounter in which she had menaced you with something so inconceivably disgusting that you deemed as outrageous as a capital sin and so offensive towards god to even give it a mere second of life in your memory.
without giving you the semblance of a chance to defend your dignity, she began her usual and monstrous journey of tearing as much of your integrity and hope as possible.
"what, are you gonna inform mother superior about me smoking a blunt?" the mentioned item was discarded with nonchalance. "or did a single orgasm with me made you so obsessed that you now are jealous i was talking to another girl?" was the grotesque addition to her first equally absurd insinuation.
needless to say, no matter how much you had grown accustomed to ellie's way of tainting her speech, you still couldn't help but remind your chest to let the stored air out, trapped in an aching press around your heart.
what dealt the final and most destructive blow was the ever insinuating belief that ellie simply was beyond control and beyond salvation. a realisation so unbearable that your ego pressed so intensely to push all reasoning aside and out of your mind. the same ego that would have rather died than accept that the time you had spent believing you could make a change had all been wasted bullshit, that you had in fact been dead wrong when you had taken ellie's side against the abuse of power perpetrated by the other nuns.
you were torn between screaming in frustration and crying in pain because of just how much you were supposed to take and let sink in you and once again negotiate in order not to accept defeat and it was starting to weight so much you—
"why don't we talk about what seems to be an unhealthy obsession that you have with fucking a nun?"
shit.
you gained awareness of what you just had vomited when ellie, even though for a brief moment, found herself not knowing how to comment on such an unexpected outburst.
what the hell did you just do? all the big talking about being the mature and reasonable one and it took the time of a snapping of fingers for you to descend on the level of a petty teenager quarrel. ellie didn't make a show of her respect to elders with spotless reputation, so what chance did you stand of wishing for ellie to come to her senses thanks to your guidance?
ellie taking advantage of the situation and turning it to her favour was typical of her and it happened faster than you could expect.
"well, well... and what if that is the case, mh?" the humming sound was accompanied by the slight tilt of her head to the side, as if to find a fashion to penetrate deeper inside the remnants of your crumbling facade. not to mention, this was becoming more than she could have ever bargained for and the hunger in her eyes was proof that if anything she was finding your destruction the most amusing event she could recall.
"i would call an exorcist and put an end to this foolishness," you were conscious that this, if anything, was but fuel to ellie's debauchery.
"i quite like that. would you have them exorcise me before or after you get the chance to ask for god's forgiveness after coming all over my face while screaming his name?" ellie was giving voice to anything that came to her mind at that point. she was slipping, drowning in her own depravity and thirst for the unquenchable rush of heat that followed the vision of your face transmuted into something uncontrollable.
and infuriated you were. putting god into this hellish game, using his name in vain. you had just one objective in mind and ellie tore it down before you could even attempt to have her admit her wrongdoing. what you had been saying was coated in venom, tracing the path of ellie's poisonous temptations and completely detached to your first intention.
you were dancing on ellie's palm, the same way everyone in the orphanage was. you were no exception and it was feeling more and more like a death sentence.
before you could let go of the last droplet of willingness and accept that you were now a slave to her sick play, you slapped her on her face.
you were no longer your own person, you were a shell to somebody else's actions because you had spent your years learning to hate physical violence masqueraded as a educational mean.
you couldn't care less. and for this reason when ellie threatened you with the promise of making you pay for that, you bathed in a perverse anticipation for what she could possibly have in store.
#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie x reader smut#ellie williams smut#ellie x y/n#ellie smut#ellie x you#the last of us smut#dark ellie#ellie williams x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#ellie tlou
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An art student's ramble about Lobo from Puss In Boots
As y'all know I'm a visual artist so ofc I'm aware that a HUGE part of creating visual content is intentional. Like, chances are if you see something being made a certain way, there was thought behind it. There are references being made and/or this was done with a specific intent in mind.
So ofc the moment I saw THIS
I was like.... why?
Why why why?? Why the pose? Why is it so symmetric? Why the balance in all the scenes and his figure and design WHY??
(rambles about visuals, possibly grotesque imagery and talks about death, various gods, and tons of pictures BEWARE)
Then I realized HOW MANY REFERENCES to other Gods/omens of death The Wolf has??? Like:
Death. Straight up.
(I don't think I need to explain myself for this one...)
Kinda cool how they decided to include a more "scythe-looking weapon" at the end, only when Lobo decides to get serious. Kinda like he's becoming more "Grim Reaper-y" when he stops playing around. More on DW's choice of weapons for our edgy furry friend later honhonhon.
Big Bad Wolf
The universal, historical omen of death. Present in many stories like Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs to name a few. Always the ultimate symbol of evil (fun fact: Most old bedtime stories we know today are passed from generation to generation; by the time these were created and put to use, it's most likely they were either made to warn children not to wander off into the woods for fear of being eaten predators, or for the risk of running into criminals shunned out of society and who normally retreated into the forests since they had no other place to live and couldn't leave the fiefs.)
Wolves are also predators that chase their preys, and exhaust them before going in for the kill. Much how like he does during the movie.
Also, it's possible Lobo isn't even the true form of Death in this universe. It may very well be the form he adapted to scare off Puss in particular; because canine v.s. kitties amirite?
(this could also be a huge stretch but the dark patch of fur on his face reminds some people of a bird, which could be interpreted as a crow. i personally think it's just a design element to attract more attention to the face/make his eyes stand out more but i included it cuz why not).
El Silbón/El Silbador
"El Silbón" (The Whistler; also known as "El Silbador" in Colombia) is a legend from Venezuelan origin of a young man condemned to carry the bones of his father, whom he himself killed.
It is said if his whistle is to be heard, the more far away it is, the closer you are to your death.
Could also explain why the hell the Wolf is Latino LMAO. (Hearing him talk full sentences in Spanish scared me to Death haha get it? d-death)
Charon's Obol
The bribe for Charon, the ferryman who carried the soul through the river that divides life and death.
Osiris
This was one of the things I found interesting the most lmao. Like, I knew that pose reminded me of something...
I've read many people attribute this to Anubis, but from my research, it's actually not. This pose was used in sarcophagus by Pharaohs to resemble the God of the Underworld and Judge of the Dead, Osiris. What Osiris holds to his chest are a crook and flail.
Wikipedia offers the following explanation:
Traditionally crossed over the chest when held, they probably represented the ruler as a shepherd whose beneficence is formidably tempered with might.
In the interpretation of Toby Wilkinson, the flail used to goad livestock, was a symbol of the ruler's coercive power: as shepherd of his flock, the ruler encouraged his subjects as well as restrained them.
AND NOW WHAT I ACTUALLY WANTED TO TALK ABOUT!!!
Lobo's Symmetry
Okay this is a purely personal take, but am I the only one who found it incredibly interesting how balanced and symmetric his design is?
A rule of thumb when designing interesting-looking characters is to say fuck you to symmetry and balance. It usually works for a much more exciting silhouette and generates more visual interest. However, in Wolf's case, they made a ton of effort to make him look extremely symmetric.
His face doesn't have any distinct marks that separate one side from the other.
His cloak is a triangular shape that converges somewhat in the middle (the only element that breaks the overall perfect sillhouette).
And they went out of their way to divide the Grim Reaper's signature scythe into two: Which he usually holds to his sides, almost at the same height. Like, why would they? Why bother to do all that?
WELL WHY DON'T WE ASK OUR KINGS OF SIMMETRY THEMSELVES, HUH?
T h e E g y p t i a n s (insert papyrus font here)
Symmetry is usually seen as the ultimate form of perfection. It is unachievable by most human standards, so it is notably known for causing feelings of detachment to a figure, even if it is recognizably human.
If you had a person who was entirely, perfectly symmetrical on both sides of their face, changes are, the uncanny valley effect would be triggered. Try grabbing a picture of a person's face, flip one of its sides and connect it with the other....... Looks weird, right?
The uncanny valley effect is normally used to depict images of deities and the like, because it usually instills the most literal form of 'fear of God'. Something that is so perfect that, by its presence alone, it makes you feel awkward.
The same principle is used by architects in churches even today: The more other-wordly, detached but still recognizably human you get, the more a person is made to feel powerless and awkward. Thusly, easier to control.
In summary, Wolf's design is made to look as symmetric and balanced as possible because he's supposed to feel other-worldly, even before we find out who he is. He's supposed to resemble something unachievable by human standards because he's not human. He's supposed to look out of place because he's Death. Straight up.
Every aspect of Lobo's design is sooo carefully thought out I just LOVE IT. Like have you noticed how his eyes stop giving off light during the scene we find out he's actually DEATH???
I JUST-- I LOVE THE WORK DREAMWORKS PUT IN THIS CHARACTER. I LOVE HOW HE'S JUST SIX MINUTES INTO A 1 HOUR 40 MINUTES MOVIE AND HE SOMEHOW STILL STOLE THE SHOW. I LOVE HOW YOU SPEND EVERY MINUTE GLUED TO THE SCREEN, ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED OF WHEN YOU'LL HEAR THAT STUPID WHISTLE NEXT.
Edit: I don't understand why, but Tumblr is fucking with the formatting and I've been trying to fix it, but I can't. It's genuinely upsetting me lmao but yeah. I promise it looks better when it's in my drafts but the moment I save it, it justttttt does whatever it wants. I'm so sorry!
Edit: I THINK I FIXED IT GUYS say THANK YOU to fumbling with HTML, fucking everything right up to the point where the post itself doesn't know what to do and gives up with my ass like "OKAY OKAY I'LL FIX THIS MYSELF GOD"
#I'm not a furry BUT#That's the worst sentence I've ever written in my life but HEAR ME OUT OKAY#I'm not a furry but I'd LOVE to rub Lobo's belly#HE LOOKS LIKE A DOGGYYYYYY!!#He triggers my monkey brain who sees a fluffy canine-like creature and thinks OHHHH WHO'S A GOOD BOOOOYYY //intense belly rubs#Makes me wanna scratch behind his ears when they flop around after he removes his hood HE LOOKS SO CUTEEEE#When he's not like....... Looking into my soul through the screen that is#dreamworks#dreamworks animation#puss in boots#puss in boots 2#puss in boots the last wish#puss in boots death#puss in boots wolf#puss in boots lobo#angi rambles filth#No one's gonna read this shit I already know#But I needed to get all this out of my system#And I don't wanna spam my friend Lunxi's DMs even though it's HER HUSBAND I'm gushing about#DEADLYROCKET SHIPPER HASTA LA MUERTE ÑAÑAAÑÑAÑA
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Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) au headcanons
Other snippets of this au found here
When Sukuna awakened, he didn’t yearn for the scent of battle or the blood of the innocent. Before everything else, he felt your soul, and then he saw your face. Not an exact replica from the days gone by, but tiny pieces resonate here and there, beautiful in every way.
Far from a romantic, Sukuna had little interest in the arts outside of cooking.
Yet as he slaughtered the lowly thing that dared to lay eyes on you, the words of a dead emperor echoed in his mind:
Though a swift stream be
By a rock met and restrained
In impetuous flow,
Yet, divided, it speeds on,
And at last unites again.*
After a thousand years of fruitless searching, he has found his other half. The swift waters, long separated, have finally reunited.
However–
“Nee-chan, do something about this guy, he keeps talking crap about me when I’m trying to sleep!”
“You’re the King of Curses? So lame, can’t even take over a teenager? Boring. I could take you down.”
He could handle the annoying pink-haired brat’s yapping, and he will take care of the polished turd that called itself “Gojo Satoru” in due time. Sukuna’s main problem was something far more depressing.
“Darling, please feed me too,” he requested from Itadori’s cheek.
You lifted a piece of bread but instead of offering it to Sukuna, you directed it to the brat’s mouth.
“Beloved–” he would start, but you’d turn away with a harrumph. Then the white-haired turd would burst out laughing.
“Sweetheart, if you won’t look here, I will make sure this brat won’t get a wink of sleep.” Your only reply was a chilly snarl.
Of course, any husband would be disheartened by the sight of his wife glaring, but Sukuna was a special case.
He loved the attention. He’d rather you slap and hit him than ignore him. He preferred your warmth more, but this poisonous disdain of yours burned him in a deliciously different way.
He yearned for your gaze, no matter the cost.
It’s easy to look at Sukuna and think that he is a mega super sadist dom. Well, you’re wrong. He is a total wife-con. His greatest earthly treasure is you, so of course he will treat you with care. You’re the only one who will ever have him on his knees. You could snap him in half and he’d lick your toes in gratitude.
As stated above, he yearns for your attention, so he will do and say anything to have that. A millennium of loneliness has twisted his desires in the most grotesque way possible. He doesn’t want you to hate him so he can’t bring himself to kill the brat you cherish, but he will maim Yuuji just to hear your voice crack from screaming.
He really wants a physical form. One he can freely move in, so he can court you properly, like he did way back when. If words cannot convince you, then maybe he can remind your body why you loved him so much in the past.
If you were miraculously able to return his affections, he’d be waaaay easier to manage. One word from you can stop his rampage. Even if you were deceiving him to control him, he wouldn’t mind so long as you stayed by his side.
[1] A poem by Sutoku-In. Lifted from: The English translation of Ogura Hyakunin Isshu from Hyakunin-Isshu (Single Songs of a Hundred Poets) and Nori no Hatsu-Ne (The Dominant Note of the Law) by Clay MacCauley Yokohama: Kelly and Walsh, Ltd., 1917. Source: https://jti.lib.virginia.edu/japanese/hyakunin/macauley.html.
If you have any questions regarding this Sukuna and this version of Reader, feel free to ask cause I’m running out of stuff to say unprovoked.
@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo
@lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever
A/N: My unhealthy obsession with yandere fluffy husband Sukuna is the epitome of #ICanFixHim. (Disclaimer: This should go without saying but in real life, don't ever stay with a guy believing you can fix him. You’ll end up dragging each other down.)
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x reader#sukuna#reincarnation au#husband#yandere#married#married au
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So much of the difference in player response to the Emperor vs. Raphael comes down to aesthetics.
I’ve been seeing a lot of fan posting of Raphael lately, which is honestly fine. I enjoy seeing fan creations on all the characters. But I feel like I need to address something that is, for me, rather glaring in the fandom. Raphael is a pretty popular character, while the Emperor gets so much hate posting I’ve had to block users and entire groups on other sites because it was so over the top. These characters are functionally quite similar in the game, but the disparity in how they’re each perceived couldn’t be more different.
Both characters need to form an alliance with the main character. Both characters need the main character to defeat the brain. Both characters are willing to manipulate the main character to meet their own ends. But, one character is a conventionally attractive middle aged man, and the other is a humanoid squid monster. (How many times have we all seen posts about how upset someone was when their hot dream guardian turned out to be the squid monster?)
Not only is Raphael conventionally attractive, but he stays that way when he reveals himself as a devil.The Emperor presents himself as someone the main character would trust, but when he’s finally revealed, he bears no resemblance to the facade he was wearing - a facade that he sincerely believed was necessary to keep himself safe and to win your trust. Raphael is quite literally the handsome devil. His ascended form barely makes an appearance, but even so that form is not alien. It’s devilish, but not alien, and “alien” unlike devilish, invokes a deeply discomforting fear of the unknown.
Raphael is all opulence and performance, wearing tailored clothing and living in a grandiose house that hides the horrors of what happens there until late into act 3. While the mind flayer colonies by comparison are grotesque organisms that look like the inside of a body, and the Emperor’s home is a bare bones cellar with the last remaining keepsakes of his former life. The chains he uses to hold his victims are right out in the open.
Raphael is like an old school campy Disney villain who tries to entertain you all while openly admitting that he wants you to come to him when you’re desperate and all hope is gone. And like those old Disney villains, he just enjoys being evil. He even comes with his own villain song that he sings. He enjoys your suffering. He’s openly playing with his food. The Emperor does try to seduce you, but mostly tries to appeal to your pragmatism and empathy. However, he doesn’t have Disney villain camp to help him out here. He embodies all the body horror and fear over the player's loss of humanity by virtue of him being a mind flayer. He does have a song, but most of us miss it on our first play through and don’t hear its tragic lyrics.
Raphael, and this one is perhaps the most frustrating to me, imprisoned and tortured Hope for years! He takes advantage of people, including orphans, and gets them to sign away their souls for eternal torment in exchange for something they desperately want or need in life. While the Emperor has that one infamous cutscene in which we see him enthrall Stelmane, but it comes on the heels of the player dehumanizing and provoking him. A lot of players will refer to this as a “call out” and a “mask off” moment, which is very disingenuous framing. It’s frustrating that so few players never seem to consider the deeper role their choices may play in triggering this scene: you treat him like an inhuman monster, and you get an inhuman monster. Players will complain all the time about how the Emperor manipulates you and lies about everything, but apparently in this one scene he’s suddenly being completely honest and not manipulating you? So many never consider the possibility of confirmation bias when it comes to this character.
As I said, this cutscene is an obvious threat, but I know that just because he’s threatening you, it doesn’t mean there’s no truth to what you’re seeing. However, it also doesn’t mean that this is somehow “the truth” as so many players seem to think it is. I’ll write more on this in another post, but there’s just not enough information in the game to make definitive conclusions on their relationship. And I bring this up because I don’t see anywhere near the outrage over Hope as I see over Stelmane.
Then there’s Ansur. The Emperor killed his love, Ansur, out of self defense (we know this from Ansur himself), and for a lot of players, this was what solidified their hatred for the Emperor, and they will endlessly hate post about it. Raphael, on the other hand, never killed any of his loves. But the reason he never killed any of his loves is because he’s never loved anyone. He’s incapable of it, and anyone he has killed was, at best, a mere tool for his use.
Which brings me to my next point, even though both characters are trying to manipulate you to their own ends, only the Emperor sees you as more than a means to an end. Raphael does not. In fact, I wrote a lot of words on this very topic.
I’ve had people tell me that they like Raphael more because he’s upfront with his intentions, while the Emperor isn’t. That’s not entirely true. The Emperor tells you he wants his freedom, even tells you the power he uses to protect you is power he’s stolen, but he goes to great lengths to hide his identity, where Raphael barely goes to any lengths at all. As I said, the Emperor sincerely believes he must do this to protect himself. He likes to puff his chest out, but he’s quite aware of his own vulnerability, so he lives a life in which he’s constantly hiding and disguising himself. He’s surviving, as he puts it in the end. Raphael is essentially a prince in the Hells who wields a lot of power, and whatever vulnerabilities he might have are well protected. Whatever difference this makes is not enough to justify the gulf in how much hate the Emperor receives versus how little Raphael does.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this is not me saying that you have to like one character or dislike another. That’s personal, and I’m not going to waste time telling people how to feel. So please don’t take away from this that I want to see more hate posting about Raphael. I don’t! Please don’t hate post about any characters, and if you absolutely must, please don’t use character tags to do so. What I am saying is that there’s a clear double standard in this fandom, and I want more players to engage with this media in a way that is both empathetic and analytical. I think both of those things together can prevent a lot of toxicity.
#bg3#the emperor#the emperor bg3#bg3 emperor#baldurs gate 3#bg3 spoilers#raphael#media criticism#not a hate post#fandoms
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"Yes, Raphael had a very nice mouth.
Tav wondered what he thought of hers…"
Indeed. What did Raphael think of her's? 👀
[PART I]
—
“You seek the means to free Orpheus from his chains, do you not? There is no other way to achieve such a feat outside of what I own, and therefore the Orphic Hammer is your best option - I am your best option. Time is becoming scarce for you and your companions. The quaking of the earth is a tell-tale sign that the end draws near, and decisions must be made if you hope to claim victory over the tadpole burrowing in your brain. The illithid cannot be trusted - relying on such a self-serving and soulless abomination brings you closer to the edge of becoming a soulless abomination yourself! I would hate for that pretty face of yours to be hideously tentacled and saw toothed…”
There came a window of opportunity to openly appreciate said pretty face, and Raphael indulged in the moment. There was much to admire; his mouse made for a fine portrait, and he mentally lamented any unfortunate decisions that would lead to beauty’s erasure by way of a grotesque transformation.
He almost shivered in repulsion.
However, it was frustrating to note that, in the middle of what was becoming the most important pitch of his centuries-lived life, his little mouse did not look like she was paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, and the forever-maddening glint in her eyes was partially dimmed as she took to watching the recitation that flowed from his mouth.
“Meanwhile, I am honest and can be trusted. I have proven myself to be a man, well, a devil of my word! There is truth to what I say, and though I have already made my intentions with the Crown clear, should it need repeating, I will not use the Crown to dominate a mortal. My conquest will remain in the Hells, and you and yours will have played your parts.”
He took a beat and pressed onwards.
“And so, at the end, when you destroy the brain - and you will, because you must, the Crown will be yours for the taking. We will then meet, and you will give the Crown to me. In exchange, you shall have the key to your victory - the Orphic Hammer, which I will give to you the moment the contract is signed.”
At the end of his monologue, Raphael charmingly smiled at his mouse. Noticing she was slow on the draw, he raised a brow as irritation simmered; of the four in the audience, there was only one who mattered, and he was beginning to think he may as well have performed a soliloquy.
Confusion flashed across her attractive, non-tentacled features, but her expression leveled out as the gleam returned to her eyes.
“How do I know I can really trust you?” asked his mouse.
“Oh, don’t get him going again! Let’s just get out of here, yeah? We’ll figure something else out - anything is better than this…” groaned a companion from behind their leader.
He ignored the lines of malcontent - his interest was piqued along with his ire; something was distracting his mouse at a time when there should be no distractions.
What was going on in that head of hers? He’d temporarily removed any possible interference from the illithid, and she did not enter his Den overtly bothered by anything…
He would call her out - warn her to be respectful of his time. This appointment was too important to be treated as less than!
“Are you not paying attention, Little Mouse?”
“You claim to be trustworthy and yet you flipped the tables on Yurgir,” she easily replied. “You tricked him with your terms. How can I not expect the same?”
She was attempting to cover her tracks of inattentiveness, but she had been detected and caught!
“The wording of Yurgir’s contract was explicit and exact. The developments that occurred are an oversight of the orthon’s; he was shown the terms, he agreed to them and thusly signed. Is it trickery on my half or stupidity on his? But you are not so stupid, are you, my dear? At least, I don’t believe you to be stupid, even when weighed against the past folly of mortals–”
He continued with his diatribe on the intelligence of mortals, yet it alarmed him somewhat to see his mouse approaching him steadfastly with that blank and inattentive look on her face. He was unexpectedly made aware of his heart - of the beating that was quickening with each and every step of hers…
His mouse imparted herself into his personal space as she grabbed the collar of his doublet and–
HELLS, she was kissing him! His mouse’s warm, soft and supple lips - touching his! He could not say anything when seized by a kiss that was too gentle and too chaste for his liking, and, though he longed to react (claim her!), he could do nothing when both brain and body ceased in knowing how to function.
From beyond the roaring in his ears, her companions were expressing their displeasure. He would have joined them in chiding her for this impolite breach in manners and decorum - were he not reduced to being a damned silent statue!
She broke away whilst wearing a smugness that should have been his.
“I got the gist,” his mouse said. “I will need a day to think everything over but have duly taken your words into consideration. Thank you, Raphael.”
She turned and went for the door with her companions hurriedly chasing after.
When the door to the suite closed behind them, Raphael’s brow pinched as he ensnared his lower lip between his teeth and ran his tongue along its smooth surface. Her mouth had transferred a lingering sweetness to his lips - a fruit she must have eaten before their meeting…
Raphael growled to an empty room.
She’d provided him with the smallest taste, and his craving was not sated!
He needed more! He craved her lips, craved another kiss from her mouth that required teeth and tongue - he craved all of her!
She was becoming a source of weakness…
That she could stupify him with a kiss!
He needed to stop thinking about her! He wasted too much time thinking about her as it was…
Yet she’d become an integral piece to his plans… and that mouth of hers…
#my writing#raphael x tav#raphael bg3#raphael x tav fanfiction#baldur’s gate 3#answered#bg3#baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction
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guess I should've known from the look on your face
part one of begging for you to take my hand. part two here
pairing: joel miller x f!reader, friends -> enemies -> lovers (kinda)
summary: your tempestous relationship with joel was put to the test after a fuck up on patrol that left you embarrassed and overly defensive. despite every urge to exacerbate the problem, you tried your best to make the most of the situation and get along....mostly.
word count: 7.5k
Despite the ear-splitting gnashing of teeth next to your face and the painful clawing at the raw skin of your décolletage, you couldn’t help that in the back of your mind all you could think was: You fucking moron, you’re going to die in the most embarrasing way possible. Even fear seemed to have left you, as you struggled in the choking grip of the runner in front of you that was desperately trying to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. All that remained was adrenaline, humiliation, and the sinking feeling that if you were to meet your demise in this moment, it would be Joel Miller, of all people, that found your torn apart frame on the floor. Joel Miller, who had expressly warned you to stay where you were until he returned from checking the back of the building for intruders. Joel Miller, who somehow always made you feel like an incompetent child.
When you had first approached the roadside gas station and small bait shop that was the destination for your current patrol route, both of you had slowed down and pulled out your weapons at the sight of a beat up pick up truck haphazardly parked across the verge separating the gas pumps from the road. This was new, not having been reported by the previous patrol duo. Joel quickly assumed the position of the team leader.
“Stay here. I’ll check the back entrance,” Joel muttered as quietly as he could, still ensuring that he could be heard over the whistling wind from the snow that had been picking up speed since you first departed from the Jackson gates. As the snow crunched under his boots with each receding step, you were seething.
The audacity of this man who had spent the last ten months ignoring you to immediately try and give you orders, you brooded silently. You weren’t even supposed to be here, for God’s sake. It was the unfortunate result of poor scheduling over the Christmas holidays, as well as the skilled persuasion by your closest friend, Maria, that you were even stuck on this patrol to begin with. Sure, it was one of the shorter journeys for patrol pairs, one that only required travel on foot, but that was still a miserable three hours with Joel Miller. Three whole hours of curt answers and second-guessing your decisions. So, the instant he was out of sight, you tucked away your gun into your waistband and folded your arms across your chest, rubbing your ungloved hands against the sides of your arms to try and create some warmth.
The natural instinct in you to piss him off outweighed any logic that you’d previously believed you’d been in abundance of, as you made that decision to ignore his instructions so flippantly as soon as he had turned his back to you. Besides, the truck was clearly empty, the store shutters were undisturbed, and there were no tracks to be seen in the snow that had persistently been coating the floor for days now.
The irritation that only Joel Miller seemed to inspire had clearly blinded you to your next bad decision, as you spotted something through the windshield of the truck. A perfectly intact Spider-Man bobblehead, right there for the taking on the dashboard. Ellie would love that. You exhaled hot air into your icy hands to warm them up as you plodded along to the car, already picturing the teens’ excited face at the impromptu gift. The next few moments seemed to pass in bullet time as you heard it within seconds of leaning into the enclosed space of the front seat. The wind was no longer able to muffle the pained guttural groans.
Grotesque and dripping with congealed blood was an emaciated looking runner, face sunken in and ghoulish. It practically scampered up towards you from the floor of the backseat, moving in jerky convulsions while its teeth bit at the empty air in anticipation. You jumped back from where you had been leaning into the car, arm outstretched for the bobblehead, and your heel promptly made contact with a patch of ice. Your ass hit the ground, shooting a sharp pain through your tailbone that you had no choice but to ignore as you attempted to scramble back up to your feet.
The runner dove head first out from the backseat, the snapping of its jaw seeming to lead its body faster than any of its limbs, giving you the opportunity to send a hard kick directly into its head. Stumbling back up, you were able to grab the handle of your trusty switchblade in the few seconds it took for the beast to reorient itself.
With a quick dart forward, you plunged the knife into the closest spot that would have any sort of impact on its mobility: its kneecap. At least some of your survival instincts were still in place. You made sure to wrench the knife from side to side, a visceral squelching sound being emitted from the tearing ligaments. In a different life the sound probably would have turned your stomach, but now you were just flooded with gratitude that you actually remembered to sharpen the old blade before leaving.
“Jooooeellll!” You felt the scream for help rip out of your throat, and immediately regretted it despite the dire situation. He would not exactly be thrilled at your blatant disregard for his instructions.
The continued effort to stumble back while avoiding any more patches of ice was proving to be successful, until you felt your back slam painfully against the cold metal store shutters behind you. Fuck. You had miscalculated your distance and had nowhere to turn, despite the monster hobbling towards you being slowed down by its new injury. These creatures didn’t feel pain, so regardless of the fact that you could see the white of bone jutting out from the torn flesh of its knee, it continued to progress forward.
Desperately trying to lift your knife from your side while holding the full weight of the beast back with one arm, you were unable to stop yourself from thinking about what Joel would think of you for your mistakes. The blustery air did nothing to cool the heat in your cheeks as you continued to struggle, hating yourself for even thinking of someone like Joel in the face of literal death.
As you were beginning to lose hope, arms shaking from the effort of holding the runner back, strong hands suddenly appeared from behind its shoulders to drag it straight to the ground. You heard a sickening pop as the partially torn leg finally gave out after being heaved backwards at such a strange angle. You were practically hyperventilating, finally feeling time speed up again as you watched Joel take his boot and slam it into the head of the runner, over and over and over again, until all that was left was a puddle of viscera under his foot. The creature was clearly fresh, still more human than mushroom, and pieces of bone and brain matter decorated the floor. You stared, unable to tear your eyes away from the haunting sight.
Joel was breathing heavily as he finally ceased his brutalisation of the corpse, seemingly having decided that what was left of the zombie would probably not be able to get back up. He slowly looked over at you, undisguised rage clouding his handsome features, and he clamped his jaw shut. Any embarrassment that you were still feeling morphed into pure, unbridled shame under the weight of his disdainful look.
“I told you one fucking thing.” Is all he deigned to say. You were glad as you could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears, anyway.
Refusing to give you a second look, he shifted the entirety of his attention to unlocking and lifting the metal roller blocking the door, making it apparent to you that there had been no other threat in the area.
Something like anger and sadness both bubbled up in you simultaneously, and you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you walked to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. As he locked the door behind you both and began looking around the store shelves for something, you pressed your freezing fingers against your face as subtly as you could, trying to physically cool off the burning sensation in your cheeks.
You weren’t a child. You weren’t an idiot. The judgement of this man should not have been hurting you as much as it was, but as much as you insisted that you hated him, some semblance of respect and even care for the man still existed deep within you.
A quick glance up to where he was standing reminded you of something that you had somehow spotted outside, despite the carnage. His boots. Green laces. You were the one to find them for him, ten months ago.
His incessant muttering and pacing were really starting to piss you off. Fine, you made a mistake. Fine, you technically could have died. You were already mortified because of it. Did he really have to keep exhaling so dramatically and making as much noise as possible with each empty crate he moved in his not-so-subtle attempt at finding the supplies that he should definitely know the location of? All you wanted was for him to cease his incessant pacing around the dusty shelves, especially since he started to make deliberate eye contact with you over them to send you withering glares.
“Are you done?” You found yourself asking sarcastically from where you were perched on the long disconnected chest freezer pushed against the right wall. You had been fidgeting restlessly with your fingers since you took your seat, trying to calm the slight shake in your hands from the leftover adrenaline.
He lifted his head up from where he now stood, flipping through the worn pages of the log book on the counter. As annoyed as you were, it was hard to deny the way something in your chest still jumped with each brief moment of eye contact.
“Excuse me?” He asked with an exasperated tone, almost as if each word he spoke was physically exhausting him.
“I said,” You finally hopped down from where you were sitting and watching him sulk, and slowly started to take a few cautious steps towards him. A loud creak reverberated out from the rickety old wooden floorboards with each step as you closed the distance between the two of you.
“Are you done? You know, with the whole I'm Joel Miller, I’ve never made a mistake in my life act.” You drawled with an exaggerated Texan accent in your poor imitation of him, feeling emboldened by his increasingly frustrated look. “I fucked up, I know that. You can go right ahead and relax, you’ve already made it very clear that you disapprove.”
He straightened up in one swift movement and threw the pen down against the counter, hands coming down to rest on his hips. Suddenly you felt like a child about to be reprimanded by a teacher.
“Y'know, you’re bein’ awful ungrateful for someone that I could’ve just left there to die.”
It was so typical of him to insinuate that you weren’t as capable or strong as he was, despite the fact that when Joel first arrived in Jackson, you had been the one to show him the ropes. That is, of course, before Joel summarily decided that he no longer wanted to take instruction from you.
It had been a long ten months since that day, and your relationship had become practically non-existent, if not tense and uncomfortable in the few situations you were still forced to interact in. The bond you had built with Ellie meant that there were many days that you had to see him during mornings when you promised to walk her to the schoolhouse. Joel would be sure to give you a polite nod, his Southern manners enduring regardless of the change in your relationship, to which you would roll your eyes or just simply ignore him.
Maria, your closest friend in Jackson, would regularly invite you to dinner with her and Tommy, usually choosing not to warn you that the older Miller brother would be making an appearance. It would take all of your strength to suppress the urge to cuss Joel out at the slightest infraction, knowing that Tommy would be disappointed at how quickly your friendship had disintegrated.
Truthfully, you were well aware of just how petty and immature you were being. You just couldn’t help yourself when you thought about how good things had been before he made his choice to rebuff you. Your friendship had been easy, and caring, and you had even started to feel…things that you hadn’t ever felt for someone before. Pettiness made it easier to shove those feelings away, even if you knew it wasn’t exactly helping your case that you were definitely, totally, unaffected by his rejection.
You had reached the cracked acrylic counter separating you, and you tried to ignore the way his gaze remained trained onto your face as you approached. The quiet anger was visible in his eyes, like he couldn’t even believe your defensiveness when it was so obvious that you were in the wrong. You slammed a fist straight down on the counter, effectively shutting down the part of your brain that would always lose focus at the mere sight of his deep, brown eyes, angry or otherwise. The sharp pain radiating through your hand acted as the physical reminder you needed to keep your anger burning for him to see, rather than letting it falter under the power of his eyes studying you.
“Please,” you rolled your eyes dramatically, “I had the situation firmly under control. I mean, thank you, obviously, it’s not like swooping in like that didn’t help, but don’t act like I wasn’t a second away from killing that thing myself.”
Joel continued to watch you with an incredulous expression across his face, before he chose to merely scoff in response.
“Whatever you say, doll," he said in that low, dismissive tone that you were well acquainted with, before picking the pen back up to continue writing his note in the logbook.
The trait you had grown to hate the most in him was his dismissiveness. As if you weren’t even worthy of his anger, like you were just an incompetent child that he could be done with whenever he chose. It was a trait that was apparently reserved just for you. No matter what you would say to push his buttons, to even get a negative reaction from him, his response was to shut you down and not engage. It exasperated you that that hurt more than if he just yelled at you.
“God, you are the fucking worst, Miller. I’m not just saying anything, alright? I think most people would agree that it was an accurate assessment of the situation. What, do I need to be so fucking touched by your heroism that I’m on my knees with gratitude?” You paused before starting to stammer as you realised the unintended double meaning of what you just said. He clearly also heard the innuendo, if the tightened grip on the pen in his fist was any indication. “I-I mean, like, you’re not a God or…whatever… where I would need to beg for forgiveness at your feet! I fucked up, and you helped, but I would have been fine either way!”
His face betrayed no emotions, just letting you rant at him. You were running out of steam quickly from his lack of response, and your mouth grew dry as you realised that he really had no intentions of participating in your little outburst. It left you, as always, to be the one making a fool of themselves.
“Well, say something!” You insisted, shoving the book out from under his hand, in an attempt to get him to look up from where he was staring. “Say what you really think of me Miller, say why you always have to make me feel like I’m a fuck up.”
He finally moved to slowly close the logbook and place it back under the counter where it belonged, letting you stand there with your chest heaving in anger that was probably disproportionate to the situation. Joel finally looked back down at your face.
Something in his eyes took you off guard. It felt different to how he had ever looked at you before, almost heavy. In your peripheral vision you could see his hand shift across the counter top, gently tracing his index finger across one of the cracks in the acrylic while his eyes slowly scanned over your facial features. They finally settled on your eyes, and you could tell that any trace of visible anger you had in your face had faded away in anticipation for what he was about to say.
‘You could have died. Y’know that right?’ His tone seemed somehow defeated for even having to say the words.
You shifted on your feet uncomfortably as his eyes remained locked on yours, as if he was trying to make you understand something he was saying, something deeper than just the few words he had used. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your slightly torn shirt as you looked for words. Why did he seem almost…hurt at the thought of something happening to you? Anger or even disappointment would have been explainable, but this was indecipherable to you.
A loud crack echoed through the room suddenly, as some debris outside clanged against metal shutters from the wind. The spell was broken, as you both jumped in place at the disturbance. You decided to take the opportunity to take a small, stabilising, step back.
The only conclusion that you were able to come to about his statement was that he felt guilty. Maybe he thought that you were under his responsibility while you patrolled together, and that he somehow failed? You immediately balked at the thought of Joel somehow feeling responsible for you, as if he thought you couldn’t handle it outside of the walls by yourself.
“I know that I could have died”’ You swallowed bitterly.
You tap the hand still on the counter against the grimy plastic a few times, deliberating whether you should add something else but deciding against it at the last second.
And yet, as you finally walked past him into the staff room at the back of the store, it slipped out anyway.
“As if that would even matter to you.”
Pushing open the door with some effort, thanks to the rusted hinges, you were greeted with the sight of the supplies that Joel had been working oh-so-diligently at finding, sitting in plain sight on one of two metal storage shelves. The old ham radio that was the reason for you entering the room sat on the small table that took up the corner of the room.
Before reaching to grab the mic, you paused for a second and leaned back against the shut door, taking in a few deep, calming breaths that evaded you earlier. You hated how easily he was able to bring you to anger, how quickly your face would burn with indignation while he was able to remain as unaffected as always. Whatever you had done to inspire this distaste for you must have been unforgivable, given how it seemed to persist enough that he wouldn’t even be able to spend the effort to argue with you.
As you gathered yourself you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to your somewhat brief, yet impactful friendship with Joel.
He had shown up just over a year ago, Ellie in tow, and you had immediately accepted them with open arms. You were one of the lucky ones, finding Jackson with your two siblings while you were still in your mid twenties. Having almost ten years of safety and community was enviable to many of those who showed up in Jackson. It was your awareness of this fact that encouraged you to work harder and longer hours than the vast majority of those tasked with the safety of Jackson. It was the least you could do, after all, and if you were able to do anything that would spare the added trauma for those that had barely scraped their way into safety, you would do so with a smile.
Joel and Ellie weren’t the first to arrive at the gates hardened and traumatised at the brutality beyond the gates, and you pitied them. It didn’t come from a place of patronization. They were both clearly strong, physically and emotionally, for surviving what they had. But watching the weary look in their eyes at the comforts you had begun to take for granted had you wishing that the world had been kinder to them.
By the end of the first week, Tommy insisted that you take Joel on as a patrol partner. He felt that Joel making a friend could soften him up a bit, maybe even break down a couple of the walls that locked out everyone but Tommy and Ellie. Besides, he teased Joel, who else was patient enough to teach an old man like him the proper way to do things?
You soon found yourself spending all of your spare time with him and Ellie. Between instructing Joel about how to most effectively utilise their horses when facing small groups of raiders, to lounging on their couch as Ellie demanded that he let her get a tattoo for the millionth time, the two became fixtures in your life. As always, Joel’s answer would be a firm not until you’re eighteen to which Ellie would stomp off to the garage, leaving you both chuckling in her wake.
Joel appeared to like your presence. The one-word answers he had given you at the start or your relationship quickly shifted into full conversations. He always furrowed his brow with put-on disapproval when you tried to teach him your lesson of the week, before, like clockwork, admitting that your methods weren’t too shabby. He even regularly took your advice when it came to Ellie, valuing your input that Ellie was old enough to rebel a little bit.
Ellie had been so grateful when he finally allowed her to resume hanging out with her new friends following the weed incident, that she gave both of you a huge bear hug. The smile gracing Joel’s face for the rest of the day made your knees feel weak, especially whenever he directed it at you in gratitude for your advice. The embarrassed laugh that followed when you teased him about his own teenage years, courtesy of a drunk Tommy babbling at you one evening, resulted in you needing to grip onto the kitchen counter next to you for strength.
The third month of your friendship brought with it disapproving shakes of the head from Maria everytime she caught you looking at him for a second too long. You would promptly shrug and make a confused face to indicate that she was the one being weird for even implying that you might have been getting attached.
Family dinners and boozy evenings in the Tipsy Bison continued on a regular basis. Joel was still himself. Gruff and slightly mean towards anyone that wasn’t Ellie or Tommy, but he would laugh at your jokes. Really laugh, in a way that made warmth radiate through your chest and into your fingertips. The elbow nudges that Tommy would give to you in response were a lot less accusatory than Maria’s looks, merely appreciating that Joel had somebody to make him laugh. Ellie had been the one to change him, letting Joel give himself permission to feel joy again, but damn if it didn’t make Tommy relieved to see Joel allow himself that with other people too.
Whenever you would find small things outside the wall that you thought he could use, he would accept with a small smile, rather than immediately rejecting it with a short “I have everythin’ I need.”
Even on days that he wouldn’t be on patrol with you, you would find him at the stables, just coincidentally with an extra thermos of coffee in hand despite his insistence that he just had to check in with the stable workers.
It was these small moments that made you realise that you were falling for him. As much as you wanted to shy away from those feelings, wanting to avoid the potential awkwardness of rejection, you had almost convinced yourself that he was starting to feel the same way. There was something about the way his hand lingered when he boosted you onto your horse, or when he would wrap an arm around you for warmth the second you dared to shiver in his presence.
This delusion came crashing down one summer evening five months into your friendship, as you entered the Tipsy Bison and were immediately pulled aside by Tommy, before you even had a chance to raise a hand in a wave at the table where Joel sat with Ellie and her friend, Cat. Tommy quietly explained to you in the corner of the room that you were no longer patrolling with Joel, effective immediately. He grimaced at your attempt at protest, and even more so when you asked when he was going to tell Joel. The immediate suspicion at this reaction was quickly confirmed when you looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Joel, who was watching the pair of you intently before quickly shifting to look back at the teens sitting in front of him. His face said it all. This was his choice.
You decided to let Tommy off the hook with a quiet, “I understand,” before stalking out of the bar, shoving past the multiplying crowd that tried to funnel inside.
After a few days of trying and failing to catch him alone between shifts on patrol, you were finally able to grab Joel by the arm and physically pull him aside on his porch as he tried to enter his home late one evening. His refusal to even look at you acted as the fuel you needed to begin your aggressive diatribe.
‘What the fuck, Joel?” You asked, unable to stop your leg from bouncing while you stood.
“Did you need something?” Was his curt response, face hard and so deeply unlike the way he would typically look at you.
“Why did you want to switch partners? Did I do something wrong?” The wobble in your voice betrayed the hurt you had tried to tuck away inside of you, and you suddenly felt incredibly silly for confronting him. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? I was having dinner with you and Ellie literally the night before. And you’ve been avoiding me since then.”
He seemed to think through his response carefully before speaking. The warm brown eyes that you were accustomed to were almost black, and his brows were tightly furrowed as he spoke. “Thought it’d be easier to get Tommy to pass the message along. He’s always been the more cordial type. Didn’ think it needed to be a whole thing.”
He started to unlock his front door, back turning to you as he continued.
“I jus’ felt that things were getting a little too cosy over here. I know what I need to know when patrolling, and I sure as hell don’t need any more hand holding from someone who’s barely known a life that wasn’ all…soft and easy.”
The door opened to the dark hallway and he stepped in and grabbed something from the console table by the door. It was your purple fleece blanket, the one that you, Joel, and Ellie had been sitting under just a few nights ago while watching one of Joel’s favourite westerns. He shoved it towards your hands. “There, been meanin’ to get that back to you. No need to drag this out any longer.”
Your jaw clenched as you stared at the blanket, quickly snatching it from him as the embarrassment flooded your body. How could you have let yourself think that he actually wanted you here with him?
“Y’know what, Joel. Fuck you.” You said with a sniff. You quickly turned and walked away, refusing to give him an opportunity to respond.
After throwing the soft blanket in the coat closet of your home haphazardly, you decided to head straight to the Bison for a strong drink. The first good looking man with brown eyes and broad shoulders that you saw ended up taking you home, in the first of your many attempts to extricate your feelings from Joel.
A scraping noise from the other room brought you back, reminding you that you had a task at hand, and with a click of the button on the small handheld mic, you spoke.
“Jackson, this is the bait and tackle shop, checking in.” While you waited for a response from Jackson, you sat on an old stool and angrily picked at the loose threads hanging from the ripped hem of your shirt. Stupid Miller, making you feel inferior and indebted to him. Not even giving you the decency of fighting with you.
At least a conversation with Alfred, the kindly old man who took the late shift for the radio office in Jackson, always made you feel better. His old war stories of encrypting and sending radio signals got you through many lonely evenings at the Tipsy Bison, and he had become sort of a grandpa-like figure to you.
“Hey there, birdie, we hear ya.” You heard some paper moving, as he shuffled through to find the appropriate area map. “Snow’s getting pretty bad out here, it’s looking like you’re going to need to buckle down and wait it out for the morning. It’ll be a longer walk than usual with the way the wind is whipping up the snow.”
No, no, nope. Not happening.
You bolted up and leaned over the table with the radio, as if it was possible that you had merely heard him wrong and getting closer to the speaker would fix things.
“No, Alf, it’ll be fine, I can’t stay here overnight with-’’ You cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how loud you were talking and let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s just. The snow’s not that bad, we’ll probably be fine walking back.”
Alfred makes some deliberation noises, unnecessarily keeping his mic on the whole time as if he thought it would make you feel better that he was actually considering it, before finally responding.
“I don’t know, kid…I would feel guilty if you froze to death out there. I know you don’t get along too well with that Miller boy.” Alfred hesitates once again, before sighing. “I’m sorry, dove, I can’t let you walk in this weather.”
You groaned dramatically into the microphone, rubbing your spare hand across your eyes wearily. With a quick peek at the shut door in front of you to check for shadows through the frosted glass that might indicate that Joel is listening, you lowered your tone to what seemed like a sufficiently quiet level, and continued.
“I just. I fu-” you paused, remembering the old man's dislike for sailor talk. “I made a mistake. Everything's fine, no one is hurt! Just. He's doing that thing where he makes me feel like an idiot. And it just sucks because it’s like I proved him and his stupid doubts about me right. I hate when he’s right.”
“Birdie, you know that you're not an idiot. You do the same job as him, and I can tell you from experience that you don't call back to Jackson with any more issues on the road than he does. Who cares what that silly boy thinks about you? More importantly, are you going to let it get in the way of doing a good job?”
You let a small smile pass onto your face. He knew you well, and your bruised ego for the earlier mishap was already painful enough without adding any more unprofessionalism into the mix. People in Jackson relied on you, and you wouldn’t let a man who clearly didn’t think about you more than he needed to to get into your head.
“You’re right, Alf. If you say we need to hang out here overnight, we can do that.” You made sure to shake off any remaining angst that had uncharacteristically been plaguing you since you first got given this job, and tried to become the person that people in Jackson knew you as. “Just to confirm, we will be utilising the emergency supplies here, so please note down that the food, water, and oil for the lamps will need replenishing by the next pair out.”
You could practically hear the smile on the old man’s face, “Will do, dove. Good night. Don’t kill each other.”
After placing the receiver back in place you take in a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. The herculean task of thanking Miller sincerely and being amicable for the rest of the evening was daunting. It practically made you shudder, but you would be lying if you didn’t acknowledge that there was a part of you excited at the prospect. You missed him, as absurd as that was given your history.
With an armful of sleeping bags, a lamp, a couple of pouches of jerky, and a glass bottle labelled ‘Pete’s- Hands off!’ you exited the staff room, trying to appear as confident as you would be on a typical, Joel-less day. You plopped the items down on the counter unceremoniously, looking up to find him now sitting on an old camping chair in the darkness. Barely any moonlight made it through the thin gaps of the shutters, so you focused your attention on lighting the lamp, ignoring the weight of his stare on your form as you did so.
“Heads up,” you called out a moment later, quickly grabbing and tossing a pouch of jerky at him. The trajectory of the throw was mostly aimed towards his hands, but you did use a careless flick of the wrist that would have absolutely resulted in it smacking against his body if his reflexes weren’t annoyingly good for his age.
The lit lamp that you placed on the floor between you and Joel brought the room into a softer state, and you could see that the earlier anger on Joel’s face had at least partially subsided. You dragged an old crate that once held fishing lures and flipped it, sitting down to his left hand side, before opening your own pouch of jerky and digging into the stale meat.
"So," You began hesitantly, lifting your eyes from the floor to where he sat, feeling a pang of an emotion you didn’t want to identify when you found him already looking at you. "I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Properly. For saving me, or whatever. I shouldn’t have approached the car without backup."
If it hadn’t been so awkward, you probably would have been laughing at his incredulous face, eyebrows lifted upwards in shock at your sudden attempt at sincere appreciation. When it became clear that you weren’t waiting to attack again, he finally spoke up.
"It’s alright. Could have happened to anyone, I suppose." He seems almost unsettled at your sudden shift in attitude, but also doesn’t seem to want to provoke you again.
You bit back any part of you that wanted to emphasise that it really could have happened to anyone, even with experience, and instead focused on chewing the tough meat. It was surprising to say the least, when Joel was the first one to speak again.
"Why did you, though? Tommy say something about needing another vehicle?" Joel’s tone was hesitant, as if he felt he shouldn’t be continuing the conversation any further.
"Oh. Um. No, I wasn’t going to check on the car. I just saw a bobblehead on the dash. Spider-Man. I thought Ellie might have liked it." Your eyes narrowed as you looked at Joel, expecting him to start on you again. What you didn’t expect was the short laugh that followed. It was nice, and you couldn’t help the small smile in return at your own expense.
"Spider-Man, huh? What a reason to risk getting bit." He passed you the final stick of jerky from the pouch he was holding as he spoke. A peace offering. With a wipe of his hands against his jeans, he continued. "Y’all are still close, aren’t you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.
Your leg bounced at the use of the term ‘still.’ As in, despite everything between us. You batted that thought away quickly. The friendship between you and Joel had crashed and burned after he decided that he couldn’t work with you anymore, but Ellie had only seemed to latch on tighter. Whenever you pointed out that he didn’t seem to think you were worth getting to know, Ellie would roll her eyes at you.
"Yeah, I guess we are. Is that a problem?" You said while shifting in your seat, knowing that he probably would be well within his rights to tell you to stay away from his child. "Because I can tell you right now that despite her insistence, I’ve refused to teach her how to throw knives, at least not until she turns sixteen-"
"What? No. Should I be concerned?" He cut you off with a concerned look on his face.
Realising that you may have just given Ellie up, you fake a laugh that Joel could have believed if he hadn’t heard your real laugh so many times before.
"No, of course not. That was just a hypothetical." He continued to stare you down, resulting in you giving in more quickly than you were proud of. "Don’t….tell her I told you that."
He gave you an actual laugh at your desperate plea, a sound you hadn’t heard for almost a year. That familiar warmth in your chest and fingertips returned at the sound, and you found yourself chuckling too. Thoughts of all of the times that he would begrudgingly break when you teased him, despite insisting that you weren’t funny rushed through your mind. And how he would threaten to sic Ellie on you whenever you teased him for his achy knees. And how tight your chest would feel when he would look at you over from on his horse while you rode beside each other. As if…No. Nope. Those memories had been securely tucked away in the back of your mind for months now, and you sure as hell were not going to let them out after a year of getting nothing from him.
You forced the smile off of your face in an instant and stood up somewhat abruptly.
"I-uh, found something in the supplies!" The broad grin you plastered on was an attempt at masking your strange behaviour, but, frankly, a smile from you aimed at Joel was strange enough in of itself.
Joel watched as you grabbed the glass bottle and lifted it into the air with a little shake to show it off.
"It’s fucking cold in here. This’ll warm us right up!" You said as you uncorked the bottle and immediately tossed back a healthy swig of the mysterious clear liquid. Yep, definitely moonshine. And yes, definitely strong.
A couple of drinks in, and things had already become so much easier between you two. Not only were you both warmer, in spite of the blizzard on your doorstep that was making your breath visible in the air, but you were both laughing freely.
"And then, he takes the shot and the bullet whizzes by, easily fifteen feet from the deer! The way that smug look dropped off of his stupid face…" You trailed off, cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol that was far stronger than even the typical homemade stuff back at the Tipsy Bison. Whoever brewed this batch clearly anticipated the need for the strongest shit possible in a bottle small enough to fit in an emergency supply cache, and for that you were appreciative.
You were sitting on the floor,, one knee up and your back against one of the empty shelves that once held fishing rods. The crate you had been sitting on now held your winter coat, inadvisably discarded due to the sudden heat you felt. Joel sat back in his chair, a far sight more relaxed than he was a mere hour ago. He was chuckling at your mockery of Emmett, your current patrol partner who was definitely a beginner at hunting.
Joel’s shadows danced across the dark room as he lightly shook from the laughter, illuminated by the cheap oil lamp that sat in front of you, and you watched with a dazed grin. His presence used to be a comforting one for you, and seeing his shape fill up a room again made you feel strangely at peace. With the gift of alcohol in your system, it was easy to ignore the painful familiarity that came from being with him like this. You bring your chin over to rest on your raised knee as you look up at him while he speaks.
"That boy definitely has too big of a mouth for his own good. I heard him out in the Bison a week or so ago, going off at a couple of the other guys about how he’s always pullin’ all these different ladies." He shook his head in disapproval while bringing the bottle back up to his lips, taking a generous drink.
"Oh yeah? He say anything about me?" You couldn’t help yourself from asking with a teasing grin. Just the previous week you had to turn Emmett down after he insisted that he could show you a good time. He was a handsome young man, but his age and his use of the term ‘older ladies’ when describing his type made it clear that he would be too annoying to even spend one night with. Besides, you were only in your early thirties, and the thought of being with someone that considered that ‘older' made you physically cringe.
Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You into him? I didn’ take you for the type that would want a…pretty boy." He says derisively while picking at the label on the bottle.
You were momentarily distracted by the flex of his calloused fingers against the bottle before snapping out of it to respond, "Eh, I guess you don’t know me that well, then do you, Miller?"
His fingers froze in place and he looked at you humorlessly, causing you to awkwardly laugh and acquiesce "Nah, of course not. He just keeps pulling stupid shit to try and impress me. I had to finally put my foot down the other day and tell him that him wasting ammo on trick shots wasn’t gonna let him into my pants."
Joel let out a small breath that sounded sort of like a laugh but not quite, as he resumed picking at the crumbling label and confirming "I s’pose that means you aren't the cougar he was seeing, then?"
A dramatic gasp escaped your lips. "That son of a bitch! Oh, I am going to give him hell next week. No wonder his little buddies have been givin’ me weird looks recently."
Joel laughed for real that time and you were unable to help yourself from relaxing back against the shelf at the sweet sound.
"I don't know why they would partner you with someone like that," he chuckled, reaching over to finally pass you the bottle that he had been holding.
As you grabbed the bottle, your fingers briefly brushed and you sensed him tense slightly. This action, combined with his previous statement, made your stomach feel weird. The alcohol bypassed the part of your brain that was screaming at you to shut up, things are going well! and you found yourself saying, "Well, I guess they did that so I could teach him a coupl‘a things. Some people benefit from a little hand holding, I guess."
You trained your stare into Joel’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the way his face fell at you directly addressing how you were once partners.
Quiet taps of your fingernail against the side of the cool glass bottle resting in your hand fill the room while he seems to look for words. Something about your statement caught him off guard, as if he somehow didn’t think that you would remember or care about his words. Realising this unsettled him, and you revelled in the glimpse of vulnerability that appeared across his face.
"I s’pose that makes sense." He finally acknowledged, looking deeply uncomfortable at the way you continued to stare at him bitterly.
"I guess it does."
A few more beats passed in silence as you waited with bated breath for anything, an acknowledgment, an apology, hell, even another insulting explanation for his choices, anything, but it didn’t come. You let out a quiet sigh, placing the bottle on the floor as you stood and dusted off your pants.
"I think I’m gonna call it a night, Joel."
He nodded without a word, eyes remaining stuck at the point on the ground where you had been sitting. Rather than waste your time waiting for anything else from him, you turned and grabbed one of the thin sleeping bags that sat on the counter, walking over to the side of the room furthest from where Joel was still sitting and rolling it out in one quick move.
Now that you were far away from the heat he naturally seemed to radiate, the cold suddenly felt a lot more biting against your skin. You crawled into the sleeping bag, rolling to face the wall and pressing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to just fall asleep and get this confusing evening over with. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was a quiet, defeated sigh from the opposite side of the room.
a/n: nobody look at me rn okay, i'm juST TRYING SOMETHING OUT!!!!! okay. well. this the first fic i've written and it's looking like it's gonna be 3 parts. please give me any kind of feedback!!!
also a huge collosal thank you to @sinsofsummers for helping me SO MUCH and generally being the most incredible human angel creature to walk the earth with endless patience
#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#IDK WHAT I'M DOIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG NOBODY JUDGE ME
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Can you write about a Yandere Smoke x reader?
Author's Note: Hello Anon! I wanted to let you know two things.
1-Since you didn't specify I took the idea of making a short story, and I'm sorry if you wanted a headcanon but I wanted to make a one-shot of this guy for a long time <3
2-The gender of the reader will be female because it was not specified. In case you want to change it, send it aside so he can do it like this <3.
With this already warned, enjoy the short story, anon!
Yandere! Smoke x Female! Reader
This didn't have to end like this, but it did. In her image, she thought that he was just another friend, a companion on her long journey called life, or even someone whose wisdom could help her and be guide in her most complex moments.
So how did it ended up like this?
The blood spurting with each blow, the wet sound of flesh against liquid, and pure and audible cries, but that only both of them could hear. It was an image of a vivid horror story that they told her at your young age of 5.
But he thought that he was doing it in the name of love, in the name of something so pure and beautiful that it made him want to stay alive, to want to continue fighting for what he considers right, and mainly, to fight to get his beloved.
But if that feeling was so pure, why was he so cruelly harming another person especially that person whom his darling adored so much? Why did he try so hard to spill his blood on his hands, caking his skin and filling the environment with a smell as dirty as blood clotted in someone's body escaping from inside of someone?
That question plagued the mind of the young darling, who wanted to try to help her beloved, that person whom she was going to give her life a thousand times, but unfortunately on this occasion she did not know that he was going to allow her to do that; He was forbidden to harm her, he was forbidden to hurt her and he was only allowed to love her and be able to be the only one to look her in the eyes and tell her how much he missed or love her. No one else, not even the stupid guy she had clumsily fallen in love with had the right to such a privilege, much less when it was someone she didn't have even the positive characteristics of.
However even with the fact that he believed it was enough to receive that person's love, she did not love him; He wondered countless nights why she never noticed him, only giving him superficial smiles or innocent glances of admiration.
He never found the answer, obviously. Much less was he going to find him punching and abusing the man beneath him so fiercely, hitting and damaging his skin and causing irreversible pain to his muscles and risking his bones breaking from the blows or even breaking. He dared to think about using his blade, wanting to expose the inside of his skin and open all the holes possible to ensure that he would never get up from the ground again, much less see that person again, see his loved one, someone whom he loved. I never deserved it in the first place.
He knew he was wrong, hell he knew it. But something in his heart was screaming at him to do it, and his mind was too corrupted to believe he was doing anything wrong, especially trying to wrap his head around the fact that it would be wrong to harm someone who was trying to take him away from what made him happy. Someone which tried to directly harm him by taking away the love of someone he wanted so much, someone for whom he would give his life over and over millions and millions of times. He wanted to be selfish once, but that man forbade it, that man was the only one who got in the way.
No one else had done it, no one else had even dared to stand in front of him and say no, to deny him the fact that he was not going to be loved by her, least of him, least of all this man whom he had rarely seen, and who since the first time he saw how his hands ran over his darling's body, he only wanted to see him die again and again. He wanted to torture him in the most grotesque and inhuman ways imaginable or ever seen by a human being, but he would have to limit himself; He couldn't afford to be so cruel in front of his darling.
After what he considered a short period of time, he finally stopped; His hands stopped moving as did the corpse beneath him, the red liquid was pouring from his hands and he felt slightly disgusted by the fact that he had gotten so dirty, that he had allowed himself to make such a mistake and not be more cautious. But that didn't matter anymore, I didn't care if anyone discovered this, he didn't care if someone else tried to stop him along the way because he knew that he knew at that moment that he was going to eliminate him, it didn't matter if they were his adoptive brothers or even the clan he dared to call family, he was willing to take on everyone if it meant holding her in his arms, if it meant receiving even a little love from her or even a simple kiss on the cheek, then he would.
Of course he forgot to mention the fact of how terrified she was, the trembling that was in her body and the babbles of inconsolable crying and cries for help echoed throughout the place like an empty echo, but it was just that; an empty echo, in an area abandoned by the gods.
Just knowing that he fixed his gaze on her, she knew that her fate was doomed; she was never strong enough to win even a beginner in the Lin Kuei clan, then it was much less likely that she would be able to even make Tomas take a step back.
So the only option was to try to escape, but even that was useless; She didn't have any special abilities that made her stand out. And that same lack of ability was what made her believe that she was going to have a quiet life, far from any kind of danger. And it was a shame for her and those around her to know that just relating to a single person had doomed her entire existence, something as grotesque as being reduced to a mere object, as being reduced to someone's property, and much more from a man who was so sick that he wanted to separate her from everyone, and have her only for himself.
While his hurried footsteps echoed throughout the forest in an almost deaf way, she had blurry images of the last time she had seen him before this fateful day, she had denied him being her partner since she had already entered into the relationship. with someone she truly loved, and she was not willing to submit to such torture as being with someone she did not love, much less someone who had already had aggressive tendencies towards other people or even towards her if she did not accept what she did. that he asked for.
And when she had denied him, he just walked away without saying a single word, she thought that he would be fine, that he was just going to feel a little down for a couple of weeks and then he would be back to his normal self, or even might even to find someone else, someone who would truly love him. But that was not possible, much less due to the fact that he was already willing to do anything before proposing, and now that he had already passed and had nothing to lose, he only had to take one last risk.
And that risk was the most extreme and horrendous of all but he was willing to do it. Even if his soul wished with all his heart not to, he was already too corrupted by the idea that she truly loved him, and that this was just a mere stage of denial.
The sobs only made the journey longer and more painful, the images and memory of the man's voice asking for help and giving his last breaths like a pig about to be dismembered only caused the cries to become stronger, more painful and generating more irritation and weight in her chest, and mainly, in her soul.
But she didn't get very far and noticed it when blood began to flow from her leg.
The feeling of being stabbed was an idea that had always crossed his mind, it was mainly because he had never experienced such a display of aggression due to the pacifism in her village and in her world in general, and now that she felt it, the only she wanted to die. She just wanted her heart ripped out and finally rest in peace; She didn't know if it was mainly because of the context or the fact that it was as horrible as having a tooth pulled, or because of how deep the knife had gone, but if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that the muscle in her left calf had never I would be the same again.
Her legs landed against the ground, she had to feel like small leaves were what cushioned her fall with small twigs and stones generating some pain and discomfort, then her thighs fell. And the last thing she remembered was the impact of her head against the ground, taking into account the contact against a pile of dirt, which was the only thing that functioned as a pillow for her face, even generating a small feeling in her of drowsiness, thinking that maybe she was going to wake up from that dream, that maybe and just maybe all this death and all this spilled blood was just a product of her twisted imagination.
And when she opened her eyes, the nightmare had only taken a new form, as if it had evolved.
Her hands wrapped around her with a rope very firmly behind her lower back, her ankles chained together, being joined by a chain to which she was heavy just to move. And a room whose setting only reminded her of Tomas, but something was different.
She had already known the gray-haired man as someone organized, quite calm and someone she admired because she always dreamed of being someone as organized or soft as him. However, when she looked around and thought that it was obviously her room, she only saw the dust and certain remains of clothing which she recognized as hers, stored and organized in a poor way, folded in a hasty and poorly organized manner, even reaching to protrude or fall to the ground.
The first time she had heard about this room was from a close friend of hers, who always described it as well organized or always clean. So it was surprising to her to know what had happened to her. Was this the effect that had been a symptom of her obsession?
She was immersed in her thoughts, she heard the footsteps outside the room on the other side of the door, knowing that it wouldn't be long before he returned, and her heart began to beat much faster at the simple thought of that he would return to make her God knows what.
But he hadn't shown up, he hadn't shown up for a few hours, a plate of food in his hands with a drink in his other hand.
He was quite gentle, being friendly, even smiling nervously a couple of times when she least expected it. A grimace between his lips only clashed with the fact of what had happened just a day ago, as if he had changed his personality, as if this was not the Tomas she had met that day.
As she chewed her food, her vacant gaze met his, and in response he smiled goofily, sometimes asking if she needed anything else. He acted like a husband worried about his wife, and that thought only wrinkled the young woman's heart from the disgust she felt.
But she didn't say anything, she couldn't open her mouth unless it was to stuff another piece of food into her lips.
You want to know why?
Because she was afraid of him.
And the worst thing was that she felt so insignificant next to him.
She knew what he was capable of, but even having her body and soul in her hands, knowing that he had the possibility of harming her, using her and killing her whenever she wanted, she He never touched her.
The only time she did it was before asking if she wanted to do it. And they were things as minimal as a hug or caressing her hair.
Oh yes, he wanted a lot of affection too.
As the days went by, it became customary for him to ask if she wanted a hug or a kiss. And although at first she flatly refused to let him even dare to lay a finger on her, as time went by she only agreed from time to time, after all, she was human too. And she also longed to feel the warm feeling of being hugged and loved by someone.
And well, while she never developed feelings for him, she learned not to be so afraid of him. More than anything because of how he behaved with her.
Sometimes he brought her gifts, like clothes or things that she liked, and on her birthday he would take her out for a walk around the area. Let's not even talk about how she behaves in difficult times for him.
Sometimes he just asks to lay her head on his darling's lap and rest, even if is under the illusion that she really loves him, and that she clings to him as much as he clings to her.
Sometimes the woman notices that he's lost, or even regrets certain things, but when she asks him, he never responds with something like "Oh right, I discovered that what I do is wrong, now I free you <;3", but she knew that it would take too long when those repressed thoughts inside his heart explode, and she would have to know how to take advantage of that moment.
He is sweet and sometimes even so sweet that it makes her sick, and very rarely she can figure out why he refuses to let her go, but she also doesn't want to know more than she already knows.
He loves her, and that's the only information she has about it.
#yandere#obsessive love#poppa thoughs#yandere x you#yandere male#poppa things#yandere short story#mortal kombat 1#yandere mortal kombat#tomas vrbada#yandere tomas vbada#yandere male x reader#yandere writing#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#mk1 x reader
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「 ✦ 𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚✦ 」
𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮’𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓭:
You can usually tell when Malleus is in a bad mood because, well, you can’t see the sun, or moon, or anything aside from dark clouds and streaks of lightning. So, when that happens, you normally try to get to him as soon as possible. He’s been through a lot; so, you feel like you should return the favour.
You always hear what he has to say and give him your opinion, an honest one always, he doesn’t want to hear any more lies to make him feel better, just the truth, and when you comfort him, you always speak your mind. On that topic, you always make sure to look straight into his eyes when you comfort him, caressing his hands or his cheek gently so he can feel that someone is there with him. So that he knows that you’re not a figment of his imagination, a piece of a dream, created by his desire to be held.
𝓖𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼:
Malleus is not the most sociable person around, mostly because people usually find him intimidating or straight up terrifying; which drives you to introduce him to your friends.
He’s obviously curious about them for numerous reasons; first of all, they have known you for years, so they’ll probably be able to help him choose presents for you, know what makes you upset, happy… Second of all, you look very happy around them, for him, it’s like you’re a sun irradiating joy (his hear melts when he sees you smile so carelessly around them, stress lines completely erased from your face).
And lastly, because they come from your world and know their way around modern technology; he asks them for help when he doesn’t want to bother you with his questions and inquiries (you seem too busy helping the Heartsabyul duo to explain how does this “Blue tooth” functions. Is it a spell to brush one’s teeth? To colour them blue? Who would like to have their teeth painted blue? And why does it seem to be in his telephone? Where does that small gadget has its mouth?)
𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼𝔂/𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼:
Alrighty… Our lover boy here might be a bit overprotective. I wouldn’t say that he gets jealous often, but sometimes he treats you as if you were made from glass, which can feel a patronizing. It’s not like you don’t appreciate him taking care of you, but it can be a bit too much; so, you’ll have to tell him to back off a little when you see that he’s overreacting; like when he decided to just send everyone into a 1000 year long nap because he thought that way everyone would be happy and out of harm's way, but let's not talk about that :)
𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷:
Malleus tries really hard to use his (newly acquired!) phone to contact you, but he hasn’t gotten quite used to it, he finds texting a tedious task and therefore prefers calling you or sending you letters in which he asks you about your day, Grim, your friends…
You, on turn, ask him how Lilia is doing, how is Silver and Sebek’s training progressing whether he saw and gargoyles the previous night; and now you have more than a hundred letters sitting on your bedside table.
They are filled with poems, dried flowers and thousands of very detailed sketches of grotesque stone creatures filled with explanations on their whereabouts, the kind of rock that was used to sculpt them, and curious details (see how the fangs of this magnificent creature are rounded and have almost disappeared? This means that this one is quite old, and thus shows signs of age and use. Don’t you think it’s wonderful? The many things these beings have witnessed, the time and care someone put into them?).
#twisted wonderland#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#x reader#diasomnia#minor mentions of other twisted wonderland characters#2nd installment of this#more stuff is coming#and by that i mean octopus con man neadcanons are coming#i have been hit with inspiration and cannot be stopped#hahahahahaah#suffer#fuck you disney
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Hi!!! I saw your fem! Proxy post and I was wondering if you could write a NSFW scenario/oneshot with a fem! Proxy with Hoodie? It just really got me thinking and the way you write the characters really intrigues me!
If not it's completely ok!!! I don't know if your requests are open or if you write NSFW but if you don't then feel free to ignore this!
The only specific thing I ask is if Y/N was a bit in the sweeter and innocent side when it comes to her personality, since i think the contrast between her human and naive natures contrasts with Hoodie's perveted one is really interesting, that's the only thing really.
I love your writing and hcs and remember that you don't have to write this if you don't want to!!
💗💗💗
Hii!! Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! 💞 💞💞
NSFW|Hoodie x Female Proxy|
Warnings: heavy NSFW,hair pulling,orgasm denial,violence,blood and abuse mentions
Two years.It took you two years of working under a faceless creature to finally give in the loneliness almost every creep of the mansion drowned into
It was noticed by Brian who waited patiently for you to say the word that would bring the nights he spent jerking himself off to you to reality
On the occasions you were free to wander around, Brian followed you a couple of times. At first it was just his job,to make sure you aren't plotting to escape and to report to Slenderman if you would be on the run
To be honest he wouldn't have rat you out even if you thought you could escape the forest,but he would've blackmail you into various "services" to keep quiet. He isn't the most innocent after years of having blood on his hands
Missions with you along with Masky and Hoodie were going two ways. It was either Maksy smashing someone's brain across the room while you're distracted or having you knock out someone while the white masked man bitches about it.
It was funny to him,really,altough the hood's expression captures sadness he's finding himself smirking to how much you try to leave a scene with the least amount of blood possible
It was a dirty thought,but he was getting hard of the amount of fear or disgust your face portrayed whenever his teammate did something grotesque
He noticed how you reacted to the cruel things he did as well
Sometimes he wonderes if you would have the same expression if he would put a pistol to your head while pounding into you,or if the sweet girl he thinks you are would enjoy it
Of course he never tried to make a move on you or to harass you like Masky did.He was simply waiting for an opportunity to fuck you,one like today
There were feelings he wasn't aware of,but he never gave them much thought because a relationship between the two of you would be candalous
The dynamic among the proxies would be destroyed,but he wouldn't mind to be honest,the word "shame" is out of his vocabulary after all the time spent here
Today was one of the days you had a breakdown and needed to be out for a while,deep in the forest to the usual spot
"You keep on coming here." he approached you with slow steps,leaning on a tree while pulling his hood upwards.There was clear tension between the two of you from the mission last night
"Oh,yeah.. " you simply responded while rubbing your hands together.
"It was a nice thing." he mentioned from last night,when you soothed Toby who was on the verge of exploding into another violent outburst to Masky's constant bullying towards him.
You gave him a nod while playing with the crushed leaves on the ground
"I know how it was at first,in these woods." Brian stated while taking a few more steps towards you."You don't have to hide there.Confess to me." he demanded."Why you do it?"
You looked at him with a puzzled expression,deep bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the stress from all the worked days
"I don't know." and you told him the truth,but to be honest,at this point you were exhausted.You kept on thinking about your life..before you ended up here.
The loneliness combined with the way of how hot his body felt right next to you made you make the first move to finally give Brian the start he longed for.
You looked up to him and he leaned in.You kissed him and he followed by with a deeper passionate approach while his hands traveled from your waist to your ass and finally to your pants
As you tried to get some air as well as some distance you gently pushed him by the chest. "We shouldn't do this."
"Why not?"
"I...I don't.." it felt guilty to be out with your teammate like this.It felt like a betrayal of some sort for some reason.
"You don't what?" he smirked while closing the distance yet again "you're a virgin? That's alright,I won't bite." Brian whispered while giving wet kisses to the crook of your neck "or maybe you aren't into this kind of stuff?"
His right hand traveled to your clothed sex after giving your ass a rough squeeze.He continued to rub your cunt while his left hand went up your shirt,pulling it upwards with your bra
The way your legs opened up,giving room for his hand to toy with your covered heat and the way his tongue circled your nipple made you moan in response
After giving your puffy nipples a final squeeze he grabbed you by the back of your neck and throwed you face down on the log he was previously sitting on making you yelp in surprise
Hoodie moved his hand from your neck to your hair,grabbing a fistful of it while undoing his pants and pushing your legs apart for more room
"You're not saying anything,huh?Use your voice for a bit',I might do it more often" he whispered as he lowered his body onto you
"I..I don't know what to-" you were interrupted by the cold wind biting at your skin as he pulled your pants to your ankles in a rush
"That's okay.I'll fuck the words out of you." he whispered as he plunged two fingers into your wet hole
He kept on hurrying the pace as you were driven closer and closer to the edge then suddenly went slower
"Please don't stop" you begged for him,your mind long gone into a hazy cloud as he gently lifted your head by the hair
He entered in without much effort as you arched your back followed by his grunts
He continued to slowly trace circles on your clit,patiently waiting for you to ask for more
A few squirms and your body was rocking against his hand,the nonverbal response made the intention clear and he followed suit
The sound of flesh on flesh combined with the muffled moans were enough to make your face red,further hurting your cheek in the rough surface of the log he previously sat on
"Are you disgusted with yourself?" he smirked while continuing to pound into you "of being with someone like me?" getting closer to your face he jerked your head upwards and licked your cheek "maybe you're getting off of that"
Making the pace slower again he hissed "respond."
"N-No!I'm not!"
"Atta girl"
The whole situation driven you drunk with lust as you tightened around him
After a minute of heavy breathing you both regained yourselves from the high.As Brian caressed your hair a wet pop was heard before as he stood up straight to adjust his clothes back on. "You alright?"
"Y-yeah.." you breathed out while hurrying to pull your pants back on,still shaken from the whole experience.
"Want some help with that?" you immediately responded with a quiet "no" while ignoring any sort of eye contact with him.
"Aight'" Brian smiled to himself as he sat down on the same log,still watching you take deep breaths in and out while leaning on the tree next to him.
The faint sound of a click was heard as he lightened up a cigarette. "Take a break." Brian whispered with a different tone now,the teasing and mischievous one being long gone at this point. "You'll need it for tomorrow."
You finally looked in his direction, eyes fixated on yours as a soft smile appeared on his face
"Maybe you'll get lonely again.I'll be there"
#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta#headcanons#hoodie#hoodie x reader#marble hornets x reader#y/n#brian thomas x reader#brian thomas#brian x reader
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mareridt ;
Warnings!; angst (but with a happy ending) , shibuya nanami
It was clear in your mind, words like those couldn't be forgotten easily and, most likely never be forgotten.
“Nanami Kento is dead”.
What a shame, isn't it? Your fiance, your soulmate was taken away from you in a matter of a second. How unfair.
Maybe he could stay as a salaryman, miserable but alive, exhausted but alive. But nothing matters now, he's dead and, by what you could understand of that call, it was a grotesque death.
True horror for a frightening night like this, October 31st.
The jujutsu sorcerers are talking about remains of a body, not a complete body worthy of burial. The universe is vile when it wants to, doesn't it?
Words weren't even a way to explain all what you were feeling. Grief? Sure, sadness? Also, but mostly despair. Your heart wasn't even beating anymore and your lungs felt like heavy sandbags ready to be thrown into the sea and sink to the depths, goddamn, you couldn't even stand up from the floor of your home.
A now broken home.
How could you even try to keep going with your life like this? How could you possibly try to lift your head against and face the world? Kento used to say that running away was always an option, one that you could regret in the future, sure, but still an option. But how could you run away from a cruel world that didn't even care about the massacre that was happening outside there in Shibuya?
The regretful thoughts didn't take too much to start appearing. It was your fault, it surely was.
You could have begged Kento harder not to respond to that emergency call and stop him from leaving. You could have locked the door and hid the key. You could start a temper tantrum just to make him stay with you. You could have done so many things but you did nothing.
Kento was dead because of you… right?
With the last strength you had left in your body, you crawled to the bed you both shared. A bed witness of moments of love and hate, a bed that was a safe space for both of you. His scent is still on the pillow and in the room in general.
It hurts horribly.
You roll over to grab his pillow and hug, pouring your love through your tears as the memories of Kento run free in your mind. Crying your heart out with sorrow by all the disgrace that life is giving to you.
Your stomach was churning while your head was spinning and it kept feeling like a nightmare. You were feeling like you were not connected to your body at all.
That's until you felt hands hugging you from behind and pulling your body.
— “Hey… You're having a nightmare again…”
That voice, that familiar voice.
— “Darling… Wake up.”
Just like magic you were brought back to reality by the raspy voice of Kento in your ear. He was holding you in his arms and planting kisses on your head as his hands caressed your arms in an attempt to calm you down.
— “You were having that nightmare again?”
It was an obvious question to ask, but yes. Once more, the same vivid nightmare plays in your dreams. It was a torture to this point.
— “I'm here, alright? I'm right here.”
Without hesitation, you hugged your boyfriend back, finding a comforting sense of protection in his arms. Kento is and has always been your safe place after all.
— “Don't worry, I promised you that I'm not leaving the house today. No matter what happens, we'll spend this Halloween all safe at home together.”
i DO NOT wanna see nanami dying. i swear i'm gonna throw up
anyway
i wanted to write this as a way to comfort my own self for what's about to come and, honestly? life in general has been feeling like a fever nightmare so...
i hope this can help you to cope the fact that this is the last time we're seeing nanami alive
#nanami kento#kento nanami#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x reader#nanami angst#jjk angst#. bibi's writing
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🌹Anon here! No headcannon just a thought I wanted to share. Imagine if Carol admitted to her cheating on Dave, and that their daughters aren't actually Daves. He knew about the cheating but not the daughters not being his part. He was already planning on leaving her for Reader but this just finalises it and so he decides that night to have a baby, a baby that is actually his, with the woman he actually loves. Also wouldn't Teressa and Carol make a lovely couple?
Dave York x f!reader
A/N: bestie I know this ain't a headcanon request but like, how can I not write a headcanon out of this wonderful idea? I love you and your idea and you are right, Carol and Teresa make a lovely couple to rot in hell 😭
• Dave had never been a cheating husband, even if his marriage with Carol wasn't something that made his heart race and his hands sweat, butterflies in his stomach in a big anticipation to see his spouse, he just settled, mostly for the kids after she showed up pregnant and it had become a comfortable arrangement for everyone
• so he was just glad in working and providing for his family, in exchange she took care of the house and the girls and Dave had the normal unsuspicious family which came in handy to hide the kind of job he had
• sex with Carol was alright, surely there was something better out there, but he had had worse, so he settled for that too
• when he met you, however, he felt like a stupid teenager, as all those dumb signs of being in love were there: he felt slightly nervous around you, he felt butterflies in his stomach (!) he spent his day thinking of and yearning to see you; you were the last thing on his mind when he fell asleep and the first one when he woke up
• so when you both started dating, he felt guilty, not because of Carol, though, he knew she had slept with men here and there, and each time she went for "girls night out" with her friends and came back home smelling like booze and men, he just felt more indifferent, being sure he didn't love her and perhaps he never did in the first place, he just didn't have a meaningful feeling to compare with, but now he had it with you
• but he did feel bad for you, because you were a beautiful, decent woman and you didn't deserve the mistress status, instead, he wanted to come clean and be with you without having to hide
• so the divorce was already in his mind, he just needed to have a couple of meetings with his attorney and get the paperwork done
• when Carol found out about it and made a huge, terrible scene, Dave and her engaged into a real bad fight, he had to hold himself back not to get physical with all the provocation and horrible things she said
• but the moment she said the girls weren't really his daughters, Dave thought he was going to lose it
• at first he held some hope she was just bluffing in the most cruel way possible, but then, all the information she offered made a lot of sense and he realized she was telling him the bitter truth: he wasn't really the father of his daughters
• it broke Dave, he loved them so much, more than anything in the world, he took care of them since they were tiny little helpless babies, he couldn't believe they weren't his
• Dave's eyes were full of tears, he was brokenhearted as his girls had been the best part of his life, luckily to them, they were having a sleepover at their grandparents' so they didn't have to witness the grotesque scene their mom caused
• when Dave got to your home, he was devastated, he'd been crying and drinking and he gripped your body not wanting to let go, telling everything that happened once he stepped inside
"please, let's have a baby, I wanna start a family with you, you'll be my wife, you're the only one who's worth being Mrs.York, I need to put a baby in you, you will never gonna lie to me, it will be our baby, I need to know I'm the one responsible for something good in this world"
• he begged you
• and Dave York wasn't the kind of man to beg someone anything at all
• so you couldn't say no to him, taking that powerful and strong man who was so broken and small at that moment to bed and made love to him, a couple of times, always making sure he was inside of you and you were both doing the possible to get your baby to grow in your womb
• the next morning, Dave was a little ashamed of his behavior, but at the same time he was excited that maybe he'd got you pregnant
• you both had a heartfelt conversation and you reminded him that no matter what Carol had done, he would always be the girls' dad and they'd always love him as such
• and he was sure he'd made the right choice to have you by his side, even if being lied to was terrible, he was convinced he was going to have his happy ending with a woman he truly loved
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#dave york#dave york x reader#dave york x you#dave york x y/n#dave york fanfiction#dave york fanfic#dave york headcanon#dave york headcanons
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Well… I’ve seen the slasher ones, so I’ll go with classic Michael M. :)
I’m kinda curious if you’d write some short concept on some punishment with your prompt 36? Lol thank you I kinda started to fancy this boogeyman >:)
Since Michael Myers doesn't talk, instead I'm going to theme the short around the prompt instead of having the character quote the prompt.
Yandere! Michael Myers Prompt 36
"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to."
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Power dynamic, Threats, Manipulation, Obsession, Breaking and entering, Murder.
All of his victims struggled. It was pleasant to watch them struggle and scream as he watched the life leave their eyes. He was always so creative with the ways he could end them.
He didn't like it when you struggled, however. No, you were different. You made the boogeyman feel different.
Your presence filled the same void murder had. You were a way to tame the beast for at least a short while. As a result, he pursued you.
He followed you for hours. It could have even been days before Halloween began. It was like you were the most fascinating person he's ever seen. You were his newest obsession and he'd do anything to see you.
He used to just be content with watching. Soaking in your appearance and everything you did. You were only living your life, unaware of the lurking danger nearby.
He was silent. The only noises coming from him being heavy breathing behind the mask. No one ever saw him coming.
The boogeyman must strike at some point, unfortunately. He can not go long without watching someone fall victim to his hands. Yet... he also liked watching you.
This was when you'd start noticing disappearances. Murders often happened around you. The worst part being... they were all people you recognized.
Your fear would grow and grow the more you noticed familiar faces being targetted. All of which murdered in grotesque ways. Whoever did this must have been pretty passionate in the crime-
You stopped watching the news at some point. Dreading the idea of learning about a new murder of someone else you knew. You'd rather be blissfully ignorant....
You began to isolate yourself in fear that you'd cause more death. This new behavior only encouraged the boogeyman to close in on you. He went from watching at a distance, to being right outside your window.
It was cute when you first spotted him outside your window. Your face contorted in a scream while you ran away from him. It only made him more eager to break your window.
You couldn't get far. Michael was skilled in hunting down his victims, no matter where they went. He was motivated to find you.
He could wait no longer to have you.
As he cornered you, screams of 'No' came from you. No matter how much you tried to change his mind, he would not change his goal. Your cowering only encouraged him.
While he did enjoy your fear, your struggling was not as welcome as it usually is. With others, he loved it when they struggled. With you... it only annoyed him.
He tried to restrain you with his strength but it only made you push against him more. Even though he was much stronger than you, you still never gave up. It was cute, albeit irritating.
He didn't entirely want to hurt you... yet, it looked like he'd have to. The knife he wields threatens to trace across your skin if you move anymore. You immediately freeze when the cold metal grazes against you.
Michael could stare at the fear in your eyes forever.... He was enamoured by you. You were weaker than him, maybe that's why he enjoyed you so much.
He liked things weaker than himself...
Which meant he liked you.
He didn't care if you cried. He didn't even care if you cursed at him. He just cared about you staying still.
As long as you stayed still, he didn't need to hurt you.
He just wanted to hold you and look at you.
What happens after he's had his fill is up to him.
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Who were the ghosts that attacked Wen Chao and Wang LingJiao?
The torture and murder of WC and WLJ are some of the most gruesome scenes in MDZS. To me, they are particularly harrowing. Not only because of the implied violence and gore, but the heartbreaking revelation of WWXs mental state after escaping the Burial Mounds.
The contrast between WWX's sudden paled appearance and cold demeanor, against the vivacious and warm WWX we all know and love, always makes me incredibly emotional. Obviously this is because he has been through an extremely distressful experience and is tremendously traumatised. It's quite obvious his thirst for revenge is one of the things that kept him going during his time in the Burial Mounds. Which is why, when he finally emerges from the awful hellhole he was trapped in, his attacks are particularly brutal. I'm currently working on a post about WWX's trauma, which is taking me some time, as it's quite an emotional ride - so we won't go into that too much here. Instead, I want to take a look at something that stood out to me on my first read and even more so on a re-read.
When reading the scenes mentioned above, I noticed a few things with regards to the ghosts WWX used to torture and kill WC and WLJ. Personally, I think MXTX hints that the female and child ghosts used to attack WC and WLJ, have some form of connection to the two in some way.
Wen Chao cried sharply in pain. It sounded especially jarring in the empty courier station. Jiang Cheng asked, “Why is his voice so sharp?” Wei WuXian, “Of course it’d be with a certain thing gone.” Jiang Cheng was disgusted, “You’re the one who did it?” Wei WuXian, “It’s nasty if you think about it that way. Of course, I wasn’t the one who cut it off. It was bitten off when his woman went mad.”
Chapter 62 ExR
When I first read the above scene, I had a sudden realisation that WLJ couldn't possibly be the "woman" that WWX was referring to. Prior to WC being attacked, WLJ stuffed a broken stool leg down her throat, while under the influence of an unseen ghost - perhaps even possessed at that moment in time.
On the ground, Wang LingJiao had already picked up one leg of the stool, frantically stuffing it into her mouth, laughing as she did, “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it! Haha, I’ll eat it!” An entire chunk of the leg had been stuffed down by her!
Chapter 61
Not long after the above scene, JC and LWJ find her in the same horrific position with the stool leg firmly in her mouth.
The doors to Wen Chao’s room were wide open. Only one female corpse remained in the room. The corpse wore light clothes. Half of the leg of a stool had been stuffed down her throat. She had killed herself by forcing herself to swallow the stool leg into her stomach.
Chapter 61
With this in mind, it couldn't have been WLJ who attacked WC. She was already dead or dying while choking on the stool leg. You could argue that she might have taken it out of her mouth, after she had turned into a corpse that WWX could control to attack WC, swallowing the stool leg again once she had finished. But that doesn't really make much sense. MXTX purposefully drew attention to the fact the stool leg was still in her mouth when JC and LWJ found her. There is even a rather grotesque point where JC attempts to shove the stool leg into her mouth further, when he is kneeling by her corpse. This scene is used not only to emphasise JCs hatred and character, but to draw further attention to the stool leg still being in WLJs mouth. If this scene was purely to show JC's hunger for revenge, MXTX could have had JC slap her corpse - just as JC overheard WLJ state she wanted to slap Madam Yu's corpse after the massacre at Lotus Pier.
I have seen some people in the fandom claim that because of the above contradictions, WWX must be lying. As WLJ, "his woman" was already dead. As such, people insinuate WWX must have bitten off WCs private part himself! Which is ludicrous! He might not be acting himself at this moment in time due to the mass amount of trauma he's endured, but he's not going to do that! Especially if he has others under his control, that are so eager to attack WC in his place.
When WWX said "his woman", I think he was referring to the ghost woman in the room with them at that moment in time. Not WJL as some people assume, but the one who was currently there to torment and kill WC. To me, WWXs words pretty much confirm that he is using one of WCs dead mistresses to torture him to death.
As he spoke, the blue-faced woman crawled toward him using both her arms and her legs. When she had been fighting, her face was almost hideous, but now, with her dark face against Wei WuXian’s lap, she somehow seemed to be a charming concubine, obediently pleasing her master.
Chapter 62
The ghost is even described as a seemingly charming concubine, which could be a hint to her past relationship with WC. Given WCs character, and the fact we know he is a huge unscrupulous lech who treats women as objects - it's not much of a jump to assume this ghost was one of his many mistresses or a "sexual conquest" from the past.
Wen ZhuLiu grabbed the child’s head with his left hand, as though to put so much force on the small, cold head that it exploded. The blue-faced woman threw the bloodstained bandages on the ground and, like a four-limbed creature, she crawled to Wen ZhuLiu’s side almost instantly. A swing of her arm and there were ten lines of blood. The two dark beings, one large and one small, wrangled with him incessantly.
Chapter 62
Of course, there is also the ghost child. The two appear to be working together and the ghost woman seems protective of the child - as we can see from the above. I think this is insinuating that the child might be the ghost woman's offspring and possibly even WCs illegitimate child. It would make more sense then WWX having summoned a random ghost child. If the ghosts already had strong resentment towards the WC and WLJ, (especially if they caused their death in some way) it would also help strengthen WWXs attacks on them both.
A long-haired woman in red clothes, her face blue, fell heavily onto him. The dark face, bright red clothes, and black hair created a chilling contrast. Her fingers wrapped around the bandages around Wen Chao’s head and tore!
Chapter 62
The two scenes above are even somewhat reminiscent to the chapter where the corpses of the Mo family were working together to attack the ghost hand that killed them at the start of the novel. I think the parallels between this scene and the scene at Mo Village are quite deliberate and are intended to help suggest that something very similar is happening with the two unknown ghosts in the scenes in question.
Aside from being unable to defy Wei WuXian’s command, the family also loathed the creature that killed them, and let out their anger on the ghost hand.
...
The three corpses and the hand were in the middle of a tough battle, when Mo ZiYuan
abruptly moved out of the way. His abdomen area was attacked by the hand, causing a few chunks of his intestines to spill out. As Madame Mo saw this, she screamed incessantly and shielded her son behind herself.
Chapter 5
Not only do we see a mother protecting her child, but we see WWX use the resentment they have towards the hand that killed them, in order to attack it. Which could be exactly what is happening in the chapters with the ghost woman and child.
Wei WuXian took his hand away after patting on the white ghoul child’s sparse-haired head. Holding what he had fed it in its mouth, it turned around and sat down. Hugging his leg, it chewed fiercely as it glowered at Wen ZhuLiu with cold, glistening eyes. What he was chewing were two human fingers. Needless to say—they must be Wen Chao’s fingers!
Chapter 62
Chewing on WCs fingers has a particularly gruesome, yet disturbingly poetic irony to it all if the theory of the ghost being his illegitimate child is true. The ghost child is literally biting the hand that (possibly) should have fed him!
There are a number of hints that could support the theory that WC and WLJ know the ghosts who are attacking them and that they might have had a hand in their demise. If we piece together the little hints that have been left for us, there seems to be an undercurrent of something more sinister being alluded to within the subtext.
She had been following Wen Chao for almost half a year. Half a year was the most time that Wen Chao could spend on a woman, from loving her to becoming tired of her. She had thought that she was different, that she was the one who could stay until the end. However, Wen Chao’s growing irritation during the past few days had told her already. She was no different from the other women.
Chapter 61
The above confirms that WC tires of his mistresses quite easily, usually within six months. From earlier chapters, the reader is already aware WC was married, but still openly flaunted his mistresses and promiscuity. Obviously I'm sure he usually just casts them aside rather than murdering them! Otherwise, there would be a pretty big body count from the sounds of it! But if we consider the fact WC usually tires of his latest conquest within six months, we can assume he dumped this particular mistress way before she'd given birth to the child, more than likely way before she even knew she was pregnant. Perhaps after giving birth she thought presenting him with his child would help her situation, similar to JGY and MXYs mothers holding out hope on JGS taking an interest in his illegitimate children. WC is a cold-hearted, self-centred, greasy, vain psychopath who doesn't care for anyone but himself. It certainly wouldn't be out of character for him to decide to get rid of a mistress and his illegitimate child, because it was an inconvenience to him.
Obviously all we can do is speculate, as there is no solid evidence in the text around the child being WCs. Though the child definitely has a mass amount of resentment towards him and seems connected to the ghost woman in some way - so it is definitely plausible. That being said, I do think we can see MXTX drawing a connection to the ghosts and the two being attacked if we look closely enough.
The chest held all of the valuables and weapons that she had managed to hoard during the half-year of staying by Wen Chao’s side. Valuables she could spend, weapons she could protect herself with. Although she didn’t want it to, the day had finally come.
Chapter 61
So we can see WLJ had a contingency plan for if or when WC got bored of her - as it's apparently something WC does often. She already had an idea that if WC lost interest in her, she would need to leave in a hurry. What is rather interesting from the above, is that WLJ had been stashing weapons away to protect herself with as well. Now I am aware that at present, the cultivation world is at the beginning of a war, so this could be overlooked as her trying to protect herself against the enemy, if all of her current privileges and protection were taken away. But the Wen sect really didn't take the war seriously until very recently, possibly even just in the past few days - as we can see from the below.
Everyone who stood on the Wen Sect’s side took the Sunshot Campaign as a joke. However, three months later, the circumstances didn’t turn out the way they expected them to at all!
Chapter 61
As such, I think WLJ hiding weapons is more of a means to protect herself against a more imminent threat - WC and those under his command, if he decides she is no longer of use to him. We have already witnessed how cold hearted and ruthless WC and WLJ are. They were quite ready to murder or seriously injure MianMian back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter - so killing and physically harming others isn't something out of character for either of them. I think the above scene shows the reader that WC might be accustomed to getting rid of mistresses who become troublesome, and that WJL knows this. WLJ may have even participated in such things to gain her current position by his side, after all she was particularly ruthless to poor MianMian, so she's definitely capable of such cruelty.
As we've seen, WLJ has an extremely jealous streak, which caused her to pick MianMian as the person to be hung up as bait for the Xuanwu of Slaughter. So it's not really much of a stretch to think WLJ might have had a hand in bumping off her rival and her poor child as well. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if she'd jealousy helped permanently get rid of a mistress who had given birth to WCs child and become too much trouble for him.
From a psychological point of view, looking at what happened to WLJ when she was attacked, we can see a number of things that could support the above even more so.
The woman’s features were all distorted, as though they had been smashed and then pieced together again. The two of her eyes were looking in different directions, the left upward and the right downward. Her entire face was hideously twisted. Wen Chao tried with much effort before he could finally manage to recognize her from her rather revealing robe. This was Wang LingJiao!
Chapter 61
The fact WLJ's face is hideously disfigured is very telling. Whoever attacked her, did so in a very distinctive way. They made her look hideous, they attacked her where it hurts her the most - her beauty. We know the ghost child from later scenes made an appearance in WLJs room, so it's safe to assume that the woman is nearby as well. If the ghost woman was a former mistress who WLJ had a hand in getting rid of, it's definitely something a scorned woman would do to get revenge. Making someone's face look horrifically deformed, sounds very personal to me.
Wang LingJiao staggered before kneeling down and collapsing onto the ground, as though she was kowtowing someone, mumbling, “… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Let me go, let me go, let me go…”
Chapter 61
WJL is currently being controlled or manipulated by an unseen force. Earlier WJL put a talisman that unbeknownst to her, had been reversed and therefore attracted rather than repelled evil. She also admits that her cultivation is extremely low. With all of that in mind, it's possible that she was possessed by the ghost woman from later scenes, at that moment in time. WLJ is currently half mad and very frightened. She's talking to someone who only she can hear - again possibly alluding to her being possessed by the ghost woman. This makes her words very interesting. Most might assume she is saying sorry to WWX, but he's not actually made an appearance yet - he's outside watching and waiting. To me, WJL is apologising to the ghost woman. Because she's the one who is possessing her, and she is the one who WLJ might have wronged.
On the ground, Wang LingJiao had already picked up one leg of the stool, frantically stuffing it into her mouth, laughing as she did, “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it! Haha, I’ll eat it!” An entire chunk of the leg had been stuffed down by her!
Chapter 61
Back to this grotesque scene again! It's quite apparent that the stool leg is suggestive of the scene we now know must follow. The above could even be seen as a metaphor for what happens to WC off page. As I've already explained above, I don't think MXTX intended for us to think WLJ attacked WC. The stool leg is very phallic and the horrendous act seems very personal once again. It's an extremely sexually violent act and not something I think WWX would be capable of thinking of himself. To me it's perhaps something a murdered or scorned mistress would do to her rival in order to exact extreme revenge. Perhaps even a previous mistress who WLJ had a hand in getting rid of, in order to appease WC.
There seems to be two viable options that I can theorise, as to how WWX acquired the two spirits we are later introduced to. One option is the talismans WWX had reversed all around the supervision office that WC and WLJ were occupying. As we know, reverse talismans attract ghosts and corpses within a certain area. So if the poor woman and child met their end nearby and were waiting around for vengeance, they would have been attracted to the area now the talismans were reversed. Or there is the slightly more sinister option that WWX actually met their ghosts along with many others, during his time in the Burial Mounds and brought them along with him when he left. I find the latter option quite interesting, because there is something that stood out to me in chapters 60 and 61, that could support this theory as well.
Wen Chao continued, “Burial Mound is right in Yiling. You Yunmeng people have probably
heard of its name as well. It’s a mountain of corpses, an old battleground. If you find a spot wherever on the mountain and dig your shovel into it, you’ll be able to dig out a corpse. Any
nameless corpses would be tossed here as well, wrapped in a mat only.”
Chapter 60
Wen Chao immediately refuted her, “It’s impossible even if he’s dead! The people who died in Burial Mound, all of their souls would be shackled there.
Chapter 61
WC seems to know just how convenient the Burial Mounds is if you want to get rid of someone, keeping their soul trapped there in the process. It certainly wouldn't surprise me if WC had used this place as a personal dumping ground for anyone that displeased him.
Apparently MXTX mentioned somewhere in her author's notes that certain things had to be edited or removed due to censorship issues. Perhaps she originally intended for WLJ to attack WC in the above scenes, but decided to rewrite it. Some claim this scene might have been censored and this is MXTX's attempt at working around it. But personally I think that if MXTX wanted to insinuate WLJ was "his woman" without showing such extreme sexual violence, she would have had the reader notice the stool leg was no longer in her mouth in later scenes. Allowing the reader to notice it was still in her mouth, not once but twice, seems very deliberate to me. With that in mind, I think that even if this was MXTX working around censorship, she most likely still intended for the ghost woman to be the one who committed the violent act and had to do so off page and hint as such instead. It definitely ties in with the rest of the evidence in the text and is even reminiscent of the first time we see WWX using his cultivation technique at the start of the novel. It also somewhat echoes his theorising at the Cloud Recesses, where he first talks about arousing resentful energy and using it as a weapon.
Personally I think once you accept WWX is talking about WCs "woman" being the ghost woman, there seems to be hints to an even darker subplot just under the surface. The fact WLJ has a contingency plan for if when WC tires of her and that the plan involves weapons to protect herself with, is in my opinion rather telling. The fact WWX is known for harnessing the resentful energy that an entity under his control has for others, as a way to enhance his attacks is also a compelling argument that strengthens the above theory as well. I certainly think this is a credible theory and even helps explain a part of the plot that some have found a little confusing, due to what may come across as inconsistencies in the chapters in question.
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