#my ptsd riddled ass loves it
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NO COMPLAINTS | JOEL MILLER
No Complaints | J.Miller One Shot
Summary: In the peaceful town of Jackson, life seems stable. Ellie has found some sense of belonging, but for you, life remains a constant struggle due to the trauma you carry. You've faced loss, isolation, and danger, and you're not sure where you fit in. That's when you cross paths with Joel Miller, a man with a haunted past and a heart hidden beneath a tough exterior.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 8.5k
Warnings: Age-Gap (Late 20s - Early 30s) Angst, Hurt-to-Comfort, soft!joel, suicide ideation, Almost SA (dw nothing gets that far), Assault, Abuse, Blood, Injury, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attack, Slavery, Ellie and Joel had talked through their problems and everything is ok so no golf =D
A/N: This fic by @familyvideostevie titled “the meaning of it all” inspired me to write again after a long-ass writing slump. Literally, go read all of her fics cause they're just THAT good. Tbh, I’m not sure if this was even good to post since I’ve been out of practice. This one is a little darker than my usual writing, idk how it happened… it just does… so remember the trigger warning ya’ll!
Song: No Complaints by Noah Kahan
MAIN MASTERLIST
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You always thought that you’d find peace in never being awake long enough to feel anything. You lay there staring at the red marks on the hillside and the sharp grooves in the bark of the trees, and you couldn't help but wonder how you got to be in this desolate spot. Your feet, which were now exposed and rough, bore witness to a difficult journey.
All you knew is that one moment, you were fighting for your life from a group of raiders a few miles North, and you ended up where you lay. Had it been minutes? Hours? You weren’t sure as your vision was blurry and hazy, only saw the bleak white winter sky, you could hear crows cawing in the distance as you were freezing, and the snowflakes were on your lashes as you lay there in the snow.
Memories were a blur, time a mysterious riddle. One second, you had been immersed in a life-and-death conflict with savage captors who had enslaved you many kilometers to the South. In the next, you were in this desolate, snow-covered setting, with no clear explanation for how you had arrived. You saw the world through hazy glasses, your eyesight clouded, and all you could see was the stark winter sky, pure and cruel. As you lay there, a lonely soul in the middle of the cold wilderness, the eerie cries of far-off crows provided a haunting tune to your frost-chilled daydream. Each snowflake rested sweetly upon your eyelids.
A ghostly mist danced in front of your eyes with each breath, a whispered reminder of life's fragileness. You tried to relish these fading moments with every exhausted breath out. You felt tired and under pressure from having survived for a long time. You had endured the storm for a long amount of time, seeing pathetically as those you loved died, leaving a thick veil of grief, guilt, and unremitting agony in their wake.
You ached for relief, an end to the never-ending agony that had become your daily existence. During those last seconds, as your eyes closed like a curtain shutting on a world of hopelessness, you heard the muted voices of a group of strangers and the distant sound of galloping horses. A lone figure towered above you, their voice a beacon crying for assistance, while the warmth of your own tears blended with the chill on your cheeks.
“Please… make it stop,” you gasped, the words escaping your trembling lips like fragile whispers, hanging heavy in the frigid air. "I just want it… to stop." And with that, at that very fragile moment, you gave yourself up to the gentle embrace of the gathering darkness.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
How you awoke unfolded gradually, like the faintest of whispers. First, a parched throat and chapped lips stirred you, and then the sensation of the plush pillow cradling your head, the yielding mattress beneath, and a soft blanket cocooning your form.
Your eyelashes fluttered as you hesitantly blinked awake, and an immediate panic surged within you, constricting your chest. The world around you was unfamiliar, and a gnawing uncertainty clawed at your psyche. Was this a new iteration of hell on Earth?
A relentless drumming, your heartbeat, echoed in your ears, and your vision swirled with chaos as you scanned the alien surroundings. You used your forearms to hoist yourself from the bed, your chest rising and falling with the rapid pace of your breath.
Then, the door swung open, revealing a man in a pristine white doctor's coat, clutching a clipboard. "Oh, you're awake," he began, but your question cut through his words like a knife.
"Where am I?" you demanded, urgency coloring your voice.
"You're safe," he assured, though the reassurance felt as hollow as an echo.
Driven by an instinct you couldn't fathom, you sprang from the bed, the IV drip yanked free from your left hand, a sharp sting preceding the rush of cool air against your skin. Barefoot and resolute, you pushed past the doctor, racing down the dimly lit hallway, your footsteps echoing in the empty, sterile corridors.
With a beating heart, you reach the end of the dimly illuminated corridor and see two enormous doors. With bated breath, you lunged forward, pushing them open and preparing yourself for whatever horrors could be behind them. You expected to be in another harsh and terrible location where the only things that remained consistent were torture and cruelty.
To your astonishment, you found yourself in a simple, wintry town. People of all ages populated the snow-covered streets. Elderly residents chatted quietly on porches, and children giggled and played, their rosy cheeks contrasting with the chilly air. The adults turned in surprise at your unexpected arrival, their faces mirroring a mix of curiosity and concern.
From behind, the approaching doctor and nurses shouted, their voices filled with alarm. In the midst of your confusion and disarray, a strong pair of arms encircled you, causing your instincts to scream in fear.
"Let go of me!" you cried out, struggling in the grip that held you captive.
A soft, heavy southern accent whispered gently in your ear, "You're okay... you're safe here. Ain't no one here gonna hurt you, darlin'."
Your fear intensified as you flailed and cried inside the confining hold. But you didn't notice the abrupt, stinging prick on your neck because you were too caught up in the chaotic mayhem. The environment around you became blurry and black in a couple of minutes.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
The patrol had begun like any other routine, just another day in the relentless grind of survival. The plan was straightforward: coming across a few Clickers and eliminating them like they were just annoyances to be removed. What he had not expected, though, was to stumble across a lady who was on the verge of dying of hypothermia.
“Please… make it stop,” you begged in a voice so soft and fragile, "I just want it… to stop."
Joel couldn't ignore the desperation in your pleas. He'd been there before, when the world had crumbled into chaos, and he'd lost his daughter. Back then, he saw no point in carrying on, until he'd met Ellie and endured the hardships alongside her. He found her, protected her, and now, he cared for her as if she were his own.
Joel stood there, just across the street from the clinic, his weary eyes and gruff exterior a testament to the countless trials he'd faced. Those brave enough to ask for the details of what had transpired a few days earlier, who he had discovered, were met with curt, direct responses, followed by an icy, hard stare.
He'd assumed that Maria, Tommy, or whoever had been entrusted with integrating newcomers into Jackson would take care of you. So, for the past few days, he went about his life as best he could—patrolling, teaching Ellie how to play the guitar, constructing new homes, and restoring old ones.
But as he made his way to assist Tommy with yet another task, he saw you in the middle of the street, awake and in a state of panic, clad in your medical gown. His chest constricted with a sudden, unexplainable urgency, and without a second thought, he was sprinting towards you, clutching you against his chest in an attempt to ground you.
Now, you were back in the small room of the clinic, asleep due to the sedative they had administered. Joel sat in a chair beside your bed, patiently awaiting your awakening. He couldn't quite comprehend why he felt drawn to be by your side, to ensure your well-being. He closed his eyes, pressing both palms to his face, contemplating the reason he felt so adamant about your recovery.
Maybe it was the way he had glimpsed the hopelessness in your eyes, a reflection of his own prior misery. The way you had pled, already having given up on yourself, touched a chord within him. He understood that sensation all too well. Despite the plethora of sins he had committed, perhaps aiding you was a chance for atonement, a way to make amends for everything he’s done.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You stirred from your slumber, feeling the haze of grogginess envelop you as your weary eyes fought to open. Gradually, your vision sharpened, and you found yourself in a familiar place. This time, you weren't alone.
Across from your bed, a figure sat in a chair. His countenance was rugged, marked by the passage of time, a salt-and-pepper beard framing a face etched with the stories of his life. His presence exuded a rugged handsomeness, even as he raised a quizzical eyebrow in your direction.
In a deep baritone, his voice resonated through the room as he uttered the words, "You're awake."
You shifted uneasily on the bed and looked at him with wide, unsure eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. His piercing look was enigmatic; you didn't know how to respond, so you decided to be quiet, entangled in a fog of uncertainty.
With a soft hum, he introduced himself, "The name is Joel… Joel Miller. What's your name, ma'am?" His voice carried an air of gruff kindness that gently nudged you to respond, yet you found it hard to meet his gaze. Your eyes darted everywhere but his, and you said your name in a shy whisper, leaving it hanging there like a delicate secret.
Joel's voice wavered as he began, "I'm... I'm not exactly supposed to be here, but I—"
Your brows furrowed, and your eyes squinted with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as you interrupted, "Then, why are you here?"
His words stumbled and faltered. "I... I don't—"
Frustrated with the lack of a clear answer, you turned your gaze away from him, your attention drawn to the frosted glass window on your left. Joel fell silent, respecting your need for space.
After a brief pause, you nodded toward the outside, your voice soft, inquisitive. "Is it real?" Joel waited for you to elaborate, and you continued, "There are kids playing in the street, no FEDRA, elderly being taken care of... it all seems so..."
"Normal," Joel finished your thought, and you snapped your head back to him, watching him nod in agreement. "Yeah, I couldn't quite believe it myself, to be honest," he admitted, clearing his throat. "Jackson is a safe place, a good community. They've got real food here."
A weary, exasperated chuckle escaped your lips as you felt a lump form in your throat, and your eyes grew watery. You hugged yourself tightly, seeking comfort in your embrace as you confessed, "I... I don't know what to do."
"We'll figure it out, darlin'," Joel reassured you, his words infused with a tenderness that pierced through his rugged exterior. It was a kindness you hadn't expected, a gentle ember igniting a glimmer of hope within you. Maybe, you began to believe, that life wasn't supposed to be a never-ending punishment after all.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Solidarity was something you thought was long gone ever since the beginning of the apocalypse, where the Infected had taken what they wanted, and the remaining people who survived will always be at war with each other rather than fighting the common enemy.
It took more than a few tries, but eventually, you got the hang of things, thanks to Maria and Tommy, and especially Joel and Ellie. Bits and pieces intertwined with time got you to understand them better and sometimes made you feel less alone. Your mind sometimes wonders how Joel and Ellie met, when Joel practically adopted Ellie as his own, or how they got to Jackson.
You’ve got a house that you have made your own, a bed, and a kitchen. You help give back to the community in ways that you can. You helped in the greenhouse, and the stables, and when you were finally ready, you went out patrolling with the group when you were up for rotation.
Initially, you kept to yourself, often skipping breakfast, lost in a peculiar silence that enveloped you like a shroud. It was a protective cocoon, a way to conceal yourself as if you were an isolated island adrift in a sea of people. The presence of others had always unnerved you, a lingering fear that refused to release its grip.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Taking charge of the stables for the month had its perks, especially when it came to tending to the horses—an undertaking that ranked high among your favorite chores. While two other residents were technically assigned to work with you, the majority of your time was spent in the solitary company of the majestic creatures.
In the quiet embrace of the early morning, just before the crucial handover to the patrolling team, you busied yourself ensuring the horses were well-fed and prepared. Running your fingers through Scout's mane, one of the older stallions, you continued the rhythmic task of brushing his coat, a tranquil hum escaping your lips.
"S'cuse me," a voice interrupted, and you jolted at the familiar sound. Turning your head, you found Joel, surprisingly up and about at this early hour. Mouth slightly agape, you greeted him breathlessly, "Joel, hi."
"Up early for patrol today... so... was wonderin' if you needed any help," Joel's gravelly voice broke through the quiet serenity of the stables.
You tilted your head, a subtle quirk of curiosity. The unexpected shyness emanating from Joel piqued your interest. Scanning him up and down, you suppressed a smile before nodding, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fluttering in your chest. "Um, sure... Could you feed the rest of the horses over there?"
He nodded in acknowledgment before moving with seasoned ease to attend to the horses, his hands moving confidently as he handled the feed and navigated the familiar routine of caring for the animals. As he worked alongside you in the quietude of the stables, the bond between caretaker and horses, and perhaps something more, unfolded in the soft morning light.
"How are you settlin' in in town, darlin'?" Joel inquired, his voice dipped in a gentle southern charm that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. The term of endearment he used left you feeling a sweet warmth spreading throughout your body.
You shrugged, a subtle smile playing on your lips. "Jackson is good, quiet, and peaceful. Never thought a place like this could still exist after... everything."
Joel's gaze lingered on you, and he couldn't help but note, "Well, it's got its charm. People here look out for each other. You included darlin'." His words held a quiet sincerity, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.
Your eyes shifted around, a flutter of nerves settling in before gathering enough courage to meet Joel's gaze. You licked your lip nervously, and the words tumbled out, "Joel, I... I never apologized when I... um... first arrived here in Jackson. I'm sorry."
Joel looked at you, seeing the vulnerability in your eyes, and a softness overcame him. He offered you a sympathetic smile, "Nothin' to apologize for."
"You must have thought I was crazy," you lamely laughed, and Joel shook his head, his voice gentle, "No, not at all, just someone who's hurtin'."
You stared at him wide-eyed, feeling a phantom fear of tragedy as if he could see through you, still aware of any negative tendencies you may have. It evoked a sense of helplessness and vulnerability.
Then, a flicker of something in his gaze—a fire, a subtle intensity that caused warmth to spread across your face. An unspoken connection kindled in the quiet space between you, creating an inexplicable but undeniable bond.
Unable to hold his gaze, you looked away, clearing your throat, and tried to hide your smile as you continued to brush out Scout's mane. Joel smirked, watching you duck your head, proud of the way he made you react with just his gaze. The unspoken words hung in the air, a sweet tension that hinted at something more than apologies and simple conversations.
“So… what’s today’s patrol route?” You asked, trying to move the conversation, Joel walked over to you and finished feeding the horses, he stood in front of you and sighed, “Should be a quick one, makin’ sure there aren’t any infected or raiders nearby.”
Time flew by in the hypnotic flow of discussion with Joel before you realized it. His patrol partner eventually arrived, signaling the end of your stolen moments together. As you handed over the reins to Joel, a subtle thrill coursed through you when your hand brushed against his. A soft smile graced your lips, and you whispered, "Stay safe out there, Cowboy."
In response, Joel's steely exterior softened, and a rare, small smile played on his lips. He nodded, meeting your gaze with a warmth that transcended the casual camaraderie. "I will, darlin'," he affirmed, the endearment lingering in the air like a promise.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
The kitchen at Jackson bustled with activity, and you were focused on the mundane task of chopping carrots for the evening's stew. Gemma, a fellow resident assisting you, had stepped outside to discuss some news with an acquaintance. The day seemed ordinary, a haze of familiar routines in the post-apocalyptic town.
But then, it happened. A deafening crash of the door bursting open shattered the tranquility, causing you to jolt in fear. Instantly, you were transported back in time, your mind torn from the kitchen and thrust into a nightmare you thought you'd escaped.
In an instant, you weren't in Jackson anymore. Instead, you found yourself in that dreadful place, that sinister basement that still haunted your darkest memories. It was as if the chains that once bound your ankles were clinking and dragging across the worn wooden floor again, just as they had back then. The echoes of your fellow captives' whimpers and cries resonated in your ears, the cacophony of despair down the hall of that wretched basement.
The room seemed to whirl around you, and a frantic panic welled up inside, a chilling flood of memories surging through your mind like an unstoppable tide. It was as if the past, a nightmare you believed you had left behind, had come crashing back into your reality.
Your throat constricted, and tears welled in your eyes, blurring the faces of the people and the clatter of the fallen knife in the kitchen. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't pretend that everything was okay. You couldn't ignore the haunting echoes of the past any longer.
Without a second thought, you dashed past the bewildered onlookers in the kitchen, their voices fading into a distant, indistinct hum. Your pounding footsteps carried you through the dining hall and out into the crisp, autumn air.
Outside, you continued to run, propelled by an inexplicable urge to escape. The scene before you spun as you sprinted past, driven by an overwhelming need to distance yourself from the nightmarish memories that had clawed their way back to the surface.
Reaching the stables, you sought refuge by pressing your trembling hand against the cool, aged wood of the railing. It was a familiar anchor in this moment of turmoil, offering some semblance of support as your chest heaved, each breath drawn in ragged gasps. Your other hand clung to your racing heart as if to prevent it from leaping out of your chest.
Overwhelmed by emotions too powerful to contain, you eventually collapsed to your knees on the straw-strewn ground of the stables. There, amid the scents of hay, horses, and leather, you allowed yourself to succumb to the tidal wave of anguish. It was a cathartic release, an outpouring of pent-up pain, as you wept for the horrors of the past and for the insidious trauma that still gripped your very soul. The weight of the past was crushing, and a foreboding sense of its unending presence gnawed at you.
Amid the silent stables, in the hushed serenity of the autumn afternoon, your sorrow reverberated through the air. The horses nearby snorted and shifted, sensing your distress. Through your blurry vision, you made out the form of your own horse, Spirit, a palomino, whinnying and restlessly pawing the ground. Even he could perceive your distress.
With a heavy heart, you surrendered to the overwhelming emotions, curling into yourself. You buried your head in your arms, seeking refuge from the maelstrom within.
Time was elusive in that moment of vulnerability, and you couldn't gauge how long you remained in that cocoon of pain. It was the gentle touch of someone's hand on your shoulder that finally roused you from your anguish. Startled, you jolted and flinched backward, your tear-soaked eyes locking onto the familiar figure before you.
It was Joel. He knelt on the stable floor, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. His hands were lifted in a gesture of surrender, a silent assurance that he meant no harm. His voice, as gruff and comforting as ever, reached out to you with reassurance, "Hey, sweetheart, it's just me. Nothin's gonna hurt'cha."
You felt yourself wrapping your arms around Joel in a vulnerable moment as if motivated by an unsaid desire for comfort rather than condemnation. He hesitated for an instant, but then he threw his powerful arms around you and held you close to his chest. Tears poured easily into his flannel, his hold's warmth providing a haven from the cold.
His hand moved with a soothing rhythm on the small of your back, a gesture meant to calm the storm raging within you. In that quiet corner of the stables, amidst hay and the comforting scent of horses, you let out the pain that had long been buried.
Word had traveled through the residents about the outburst you experienced, reaching Maria's ears. Concern etched on her face, she went to check on you, only to discover your broken state in Joel's embrace on the stable floor. A shared look between Maria and Joel conveyed an understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the solace he provided. Without a word, Maria nodded in appreciation before quietly walking away, leaving you in the tender care of Joel's comforting arms.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Funny how it all fades away, the chaos of the world and the turmoil within, the very moment you surrender to Joel's arms. It's as if the universe aligns with the comforting embrace, reshaping the way it spins. You find yourself rearranged, your mind shifting, holding on a little tighter in the safety of your old age.
Your past, a fragile tapestry of pain, remains untold, hidden away from prying eyes. No one had ever asked, and the memories were not something you carried with pride.
Before you knew it, tears had given way to exhaustion, and you had surrendered to the solace Joel provided, falling into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Joel, unable to disturb your tranquil rest, gathered the strength to lift you with a gentle grace. Carrying you across the farmhouse they called home, he navigated the familiar halls with the kind of care one reserves for something precious.
In his bedroom, he gently laid you down on the bed, tucking you in with a blanket. You slept soundly, undisturbed by the world outside. Closing the door with a soft click, Joel rested his head against the wood, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of concern.
A voice sliced through the quiet, shattering Joel's contemplation. "Watcha hidin' in there?" Ellie's words caught him off guard, and he jumped, a whispered curse escaping him, "Fuck! Christ, kid, you almost gave me a damn heart attack."
Ellie leaned against the doorframe, her eyes studying Joel's worn expression. "Who's in there?" she asked, her curiosity tinged with concern.
Joel sighed, running a hand through his grizzled hair as he said your name, "She needed someone, kid. Don't worry, she's asleep now." He could see the questions forming in Ellie's eyes, and he continued, "She didn't need to be alone, not tonight."
Ellie's gaze softened, her understanding silently conveyed. "Need any help?" she offered, the bond between them speaking volumes in the unspoken connection.
Joel shook his head. "Nah, I got it covered. Get some rest, Ellie."
As Ellie retreated to her space in the garage, Joel turned back to the closed door, a silent vigil for the fragile peace within.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
As you deeply inhaled, the scent of soft cotton sheets enveloped you, and the plush mattress cradled your form. A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, causing the curtains to sway gracefully. Blinking your eyes open, your eyebrows knit in confusion as the unfamiliar room unfolded before you, a stark contrast to the one you had meticulously crafted as your own.
As you pushed yourself up, the blanket slipped off, revealing a scene that painted a portrait of the person who occupied this space. A guitar stood propped up next to a box of records, hinting at the melodies that might have filled the room. A clock, perched on the wall above a small bookshelf adorned with a multitude of books, ticked away the moments. The window, adorned with a closet nearby, allowed soft daylight to spill into the room, casting a warm glow on the carefully curated details that made this space unique.
Exiting the bedroom, you quietly padded towards the kitchen, drawn by the inviting aroma of breakfast and a faint hum in the air. As you entered, Joel came into view, focused on the morning task of preparing a meal. You said his name, but he tilted his head to the side, as if catching a subtle sound in the stillness. Eventually, he turned around, and a small smile graced his face, revealing the hint of a dimple.
"Oh, you're awake. Good mornin', darlin'. How'd ya sleep?" Joel greeted, his eyes warm and the kitchen bathed in the aroma of breakfast. The worn, well-loved kitchen table held evidence of countless meals, the scent of brewing coffee enveloping the space, and a charming clutter of ingredients spoke of a morning routine crafted by familiarity and care.
“I… I’m–”
“Before you start to apologize for shit that you can’t control, don’t,” Joel interjected, a wry smile on his lips.
Deciding it was too early for arguments, you settled for a small nod, and Joel mirrored it with an agreeing one, “Alright, good.”
You began, “Uh, then I should… uh, see myself out then um–”
Joel shook his head, “Not with an empty stomach, you’re not.”
“But I–”
“Let me take care of you, please?” Joel's request carried a certain weight, and you found it hard to resist. Politely nodding, you ventured, “Is there anything I could help with?”
Joel shook his head, “Just have a seat over there by the dining table.” You complied, the chair scraping against the floor before you settled, observing Joel expertly preparing a spread of plates.
The front door opened, and Ellie walked in with a bright smile upon spotting you. "Hey! You’re still here and Joel hasn’t scared you off yet?”
You began to reply, but Joel scolded Ellie, placing down plates and glasses on the table, "Ellie!"
With a sheepish smile, you told her, "Quite the opposite actually."
Ellie shot Joel a cheeky look as she stuffed her face with food, “Wow! Look at you, when did you become such a social butterfly?” Joel sighed, shaking his head, while you shared a chuckle with Ellie, finding yourself welcomed into the heartwarming banter of their unconventional family.
You three had a nice supper together in quiet companionship. Ellie finally got up from her chair and announced that she was going to hang out at Dina's apartment. Never one to pass up a chance, she gave Joel a playful glance and puckered her lips into a kissy face at him while you were busy with the dishwashing.
By the time Joel was done drying the dishes with a towel and setting them on the drying rack, you picked at the loose skin on the edges of your fingernails, nervously waiting for Joel to ask the question you knew was coming.
“Let’s go sit out at the porch and enjoy the good weather, watcha’ say darlin’?” Joel asks and you bring yourself to look at him and you just nod as you follow him outside. He opens the door for you and gestures to the seat that you take, Joel moves the table around and moves his chair closer to yours.
You inhale deeply, finding solace in the delicate dance of silence and the caress of a spring breeze that leaves goosebumps in its wake.
“Have ya talked to anybody?” Joel's voice breaks the quiet, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, a mixture of curiosity and kindness in his eyes.
“What?” you respond, caught off guard by the sudden question.
“Y’know, made some friends around town?” Joel elaborates gently.
“Are you asking if I have friends?” Your quizzical tone hangs in the air, and Joel huffs, “Well, you ain’t answerin’ the question, honey.”
A sigh escapes you as you weigh the words in your mind. Finally, you admit, “I like being alone.”
“Must be why you’re talkin’ to me so much,” Joel remarks with a smirk.
You meet his gaze, the warm sun highlighting the depths of his brown eyes as he looks at you. Shaking your head, you say, “That’s why I knew you were different. Because, for the first time ever, I wanted someone else’s company more than my own.” The vulnerability in your words hangs between you, suspended in the soft glow of the sun.
Joel's weathered hand envelops yours, a gesture that carries the weight of shared pain. "I’ve had 'em, the um, panic attacks," he admits, his voice a low murmur that echoes the haunting specter of those moments. "Feels like all the air in your lungs is gone, and you begin to feel like you’re drownin’.”
“I see her sometimes,” Joel continues distantly, his gaze lost in the depths of memory. You wait, the air thick with unspoken sorrow. “Sarah, my daughter. I lost her on outbreak day. She was only twelve.”
Your eyes well up, and you squeeze his hand in silent solidarity. "I'm sorry, Joel."
Joel shifts his gaze to his broken watch, a relic that marks the day and time when his world shattered when he cradled Sarah in his arms as she bled out.
“I got Ellie now, and she’s…” Joel trails off, the weight of his feelings for Ellie impossible to articulate fully. She's his everything, the reason to press on in a world that often feels desolate.
“I know,” you say, nodding in understanding.
“Talkin’ about it helps, y’know. Learned the hard way, almost lost her.”
Tears stream down your cheeks as the raw vulnerability in Joel's words resonates with your own pain. “I don’t want to just survive anymore,” you gasp, the ache in your chest palpable. “It hurts, Joel.”
“What happened out there, darlin’?” Joel asks, his voice breaking.
With a sob, you reply, “Nothing good. Nothin’ good, Joel.”
Then, the floodgates open, and you begin to tell an account laced with patches of short-lived joy and a frantic search for any opportunity at a better life. You spoke about the day of the breakout, the terror of seeing your parents die, and the passing of your siblings. You were taken prisoner by deranged and vicious raiders who took you to a basement filled with the deafening screams of violence.
You consider yourself lucky, spared the physical torment, yet the anticipation of it looms, a shadow of dread. "They should've just killed me then and there," you choke out, laying bare the scars that time can't erase.
A surge of anger courses through Joel's veins, an incandescent rage that echoes through his chest, resonating in the very marrow of his bones. The simmering heat in his head intensifies, a visceral response to the mere thought of anyone causing you harm. Every protective instinct in him flares up, urging him to mount a horse and embark on a ruthless pursuit, to track down those who dared lay a hand on you and unleash a torrent of violence upon them.
Yet, a rational part of Joel prevails. He recognizes the urgency of your need, the necessity for his presence here and now. Despite the molten anger that simmers beneath his skin, he restrains the impulse to act immediately. For your sake, he remains seated, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he clenches his teeth, locking away the fiery wrath that threatens to consume him. It's a fierce battle within, between the protective warrior ready for vengeance and the caring soul determined to offer solace. In this moment, he chooses the latter, for you.
The weight of your dreams presses upon you, vivid and haunting, every detail etched into your consciousness. "I've been remembering my dreams, more vivid than they've ever been, every detail and little thing. Every time I think about going back there to save the others I just… I can’t,” you admit, the guilt seeping through every fiber of your being. Joel kneels in front of you, a pillar of support, placing his hand on your knee.
“Let’s go inside, sweetheart,” Joel suggests, his voice a gentle anchor. You nod, allowing him to guide you back inside. Both of you settle on the couch, and Joel scoops you into his arms, a comforting embrace that shields you from the harshness of your own thoughts.
Sniffling, you pour out your heart, “I know I should have gone back for them, but I saw the opportunity, took it, and fought. I fought hard, and then I ran.”
Joel hums, a soothing melody that allows your tears to flow freely. “I thought… I was okay with the idea of dying, right there, in the snow, and then–”
“I found you,” Joel interjects, his voice a soft murmur.
You look up at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. “You found me?”
Joel's voice drops to a low register, his gaze steady on yours. “I found you during the patrol, freezin’ to death. Thought I didn’t make it in time.” The admission lingers in the air, a symbol of the frailty of beating the odds and the silent connection that kept you from falling apart.
You both stay quiet as you try to calm yourself down while Joel holds you, unable to form any response to the revelation that Joel saved you. You know you’re supposed to be grateful, but at the same time, you don’t feel that way. So you settle closer to him and Joel squeezes you a little tighter as if he knows what you are thinking, and there is no judgment, just pure empathy and understanding.
Eventually, you settle down and softly say, “I don’t know what to do,” Joel rubs a soothing hand up and down your back, “We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”
Then for the first time in years, that's when you could finally breathe.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
As the seasons wove their tapestry of change, so did the fabric of your life, threading moments of lightness and warmth. Having shared the weight of your past with Joel, he became a steadfast presence, an anchor in the shifting tides of your existence. Ellie, too, became a companion in the shared journey of growth.
On a particular day, amidst the vibrant greenery of the greenhouse, you found yourself potting plants and tending to the garden alongside Ellie and another resident named Tris. The air was filled with the earthy scent of soil and the symphony of laughter as you engaged in the simple joy of gardening.
Joel, clad in his worn yet beloved flannel, entered the greenhouse, his eyes inadvertently catching the scene of camaraderie and playfulness. He watched, a subtle smile gracing his lips, as you and Ellie exchanged sweet banter, a dance of words that resonated with laughter.
Ellie couldn't resist a playful pun, and you responded with a burst of laughter, the sound harmonizing with the rustle of leaves and the hum of nature. The moment encapsulated the genuine connection, the shared language of laughter, that had blossomed between you and Ellie.
There had never been a label given to the unwritten relationship between Joel and you. It was a wordless understanding, manifested in the tender attention he paid you and the evenings you spent finding comfort in the round of his arms. There was a promise in the air as he held you tight, "I'll keep you safe, sweetheart." The words were genuine and reverberated through the unexplored areas of your connection, a song of love and safety that didn't require any further explanation.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
The morning proceeded as usual, and the break of dawn illuminated Jackson's sanctuary with a hopeful glow. There was a small party of new arrivals, an expected but unusual sight, and the customary welcoming committee was called upon to assist them in becoming adjusted to the way of life in the community.
You and a few others started the annual task of welcoming the newcomers into the communal room that serves several purposes. A mixture of wonder and expectation pervaded the air as the newcomers experienced Jackson's regularity and warmth—a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the post-apocalyptic world.
You did your duty without thinking as the new faces moved into the shared dining room, where a shared meal was waiting. But at the doorway, something stopped you cold, a pause that went against the normal flow of the greeting.
And then, you saw him.
Recognition struck like a bolt, the back of his head triggering a flood of memories—the cadence of his voice, the grimy shirt clinging to his frame, the dirt-encrusted hands that bore the stains of a past you had fought hard to escape. Time seemed to fracture as you stood there, immobilized, your mouth agape and dry, eyes widened in sheer terror.
You could feel the weight in the pit of your stomach, a concrete representation of the eerie memories of abuse and torment. This could not be real. He was not allowed to be here, breaking into the safe sanctuary you had taken refuge in. Previously perceived as a haven of security, the shared area now seemed to evoke images of suppressed anxieties and bad dreams.
His eyes lock onto yours, and a malevolent grin creeps across his face, revealing a set of teeth that seem to glisten with wicked intent. The sight sends shivers down your spine, and an overwhelming sense of nausea threatens to consume you. In that moment, Maria's reassuring grip on your shoulder serves as a lifeline amidst the storm of dread that surges within you.
Her voice cuts through the dissonance in your mind, “You okay? You look unwell,”, her concern accentuated by the chaos unfolding around you. Yet, it's her inquiry that acts as the catalyst for your unraveling. A surge of panic propels you out of the scene, your movements fueled by a desperate need to escape the looming threat.
The world blurs around you as you sprint through the town, a disorienting juxtaposition of familiar faces and judgmental gazes. The echoes of a haunting déjà vu accompany your frantic run, amplifying the weight of your terror. Tears stream down your face, and your breaths come in ragged gasps as your throat constricts, a relentless grip tightening around your airways.
Staggering, you struggle to maintain composure, but the relentless onslaught of fear takes its toll. The corners of your vision blur, and in a secluded moment, away from the prying eyes of the community, your body rebels. The gut-wrenching sensation overwhelms you, and you bend over, retching as the trauma resurfaces in both memory and physical reaction. The ground beneath you bears witness to the aftermath of a confrontation with the haunting specter of your past.
As you slide down the cold, unforgiving wall, a shiver courses through your body, amplifying the stark reality of the present moment. The cool surface offers little solace as you fold into yourself, desperately clutching your knees as if they could shield you from the impending storm.
The air around you thickens with a stifling heaviness, a cruel reminder of the past that refuses to release its grip. Curling into a defensive ball, you hug yourself tight, as though this simple act could ward off the encroaching darkness threatening to consume you.
With your head buried in your arms, the world outside the fortress of your limbs becomes a distant, distorted canvas. The minutes unravel, each tick of the clock echoing the pulsating rush of blood in your ears. The simplicity of the moment clashes with the complexity of the emotions swirling within.
Seventeen again, caught in the clutches of an awful, horrible place that has become an indelible scar etched into the tapestry of your existence. The pain is not merely a memory but a living, breathing entity, clawing its way back into your present, rendering the passage of time meaningless.
The walls around you seem to close in, their echoes carrying the weight of your history. It's a stark reminder that the past, no matter how desperately you've tried to escape it, remains an unwelcome companion, haunting the recesses of your soul.
You feel the air thicken as he draws near, his presence casting an ominous shadow that seems to devour the feeble rays of sunlight. A cold shiver races down your spine, a chilling prelude to the encroaching darkness. His footsteps echo like ominous drumbeats, each one resonating with an unsettling promise.
"You thought you could escape, huh?" The words slither from his lips like venom, his voice a malevolent symphony that pierces through the ambient sounds of the surroundings. His gaze, filled with a malevolent gleam, locks onto yours, trapping you in a macabre dance.
Despite your mind screaming at your limbs to flee, a paralyzing fear roots you to the spot. The weight of your past sins, haunting and relentless, manifests in the figure before you. His form, etched with the scars of your shared history, now looms with a menacing intent.
"Did you really think you could hide here? With these people?" His tone drips with disdain as he gestures to the community around you. The tendrils of his threat extend beyond mere words, reaching into the very fabric of your newfound sanctuary.
Your breath catches as his words morph into a menacing promise. "I can take it all away, you know. Everything you've found here." His gaze shifts to the people you've come to love, their laughter and camaraderie now tainted by the looming specter of his return.
Nathan. A name, almost lost to the recesses of memory, surfaces in your mind – a cruel reminder of the scars he etched upon your soul. In this ominous confrontation, the echoes of your past reverberate with the sinister intention of reclaiming what he believes belongs to him.
Nathan's grip tightened around your arm, and you let out a scream, thrashing wildly to break free. As your nails clawed at his face, Nathan spat out a curse, "You fuckin’ bitch, I’ll kill you!"
In desperation, you tried to stand, but he grabbed your ankle, dragging you mercilessly across the floor. Your knee aimed at his face was thwarted, and his hands closed around your throat. The air in your lungs dwindled, and you kicked and screamed in a futile attempt to escape.
Feeling the switchblade in your pocket, you willed yourself to grab it. Flipping it open, you cried out as you stabbed him in the neck. Joel stormed towards you, anger etched across his face, but before he could intervene, you pulled out the switchblade, attacking Nathan with a frenzy of stabs.
"Stay the hell away from me!" you cried, each word punctuated by a vicious thrust of the blade. Tears streamed down your face as you unleashed your rage on the man who haunted your nightmares.
Joel, realizing the danger, moved swiftly. He pulled you away from the blood-soaked scene, shushing you and grabbing your wrist. The switchblade fell from your grip, staining the grass, and Joel held you close, shielding you from the aftermath of the violent confrontation.
Amidst the chaos, Joel's voice cut through, reassuring and protective. "Easy, sweetheart, easy. You're safe now." The echoes of your cries mingled with the distant sounds of Maria, Tommy, and others dealing with Nathan.
Maria's gaze shifted towards you, concern etched across her features. She turned to Joel and gave a decisive order, "Go and make sure she’s okay." Joel's response was a firm nod, an acknowledgment of his responsibility.
There was a hint of irritation in Joel's eyes as he escorted you home with an arm around your waist. It was an aging-related displeasure with himself for not being fast enough. But he was driven by desire to take care of making sure you were safe, and he brought you home with a strong sense of protectiveness. The atmosphere was tight, with echoes of Maria's instruction that spoke of the need to protect you from the horror that had recently occurred.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
In the quiet confines of the bathroom, Joel tenderly cleans the cuts and blood on your skin. The sterile scent of antiseptic hangs in the air as he carefully tends to your wounds. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh memories that still lingered.
Joel glances at you while he works, capturing your attention. Through the difficulties you've undergone together, you've built a mutual understanding and a silent bond. The air changes, as trust and frailty meld together at that one instant.
Joel stops and meets your eyes for a brief period. There is a tangible tension between you that none of you can deny. The air seems heated. He places the first aid kit aside and reaches for your face with his hands.
Without a word, Joel leans in, closing the gap between you. The touch of his lips against yours is a gentle reassurance, a promise that you're not alone. In that tender kiss, there's a quiet acknowledgment of the strength you've found in each other.
As the kiss lingers, the weight of the past starts to lift. It's a moment of solace, a testament to resilience and the possibility of healing. Joel pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.
And in the quiet bathroom, amid the wounds of the past, you find a newfound feeling of hope, grounded in the connection established through endurance and the compassion of Joel's care. Joel smiles softly and says, "You deserve to be happy, darlin'. Let me take care of you."
As Joel continues to care for your wounds, a sense of calm settles within the small confines of the bathroom. The sting of antiseptic is a tangible reminder of the present, but you find solace in the fact that Joel is here, offering comfort and care.
He finishes cleaning the last cut, his hands lingering for a moment before he retreats. There's an unspoken understanding between you, a silent agreement that this moment marks a turning point. The ghosts of the past may linger, but the present holds a promise of healing.
Joel's gruff voice breaks the quiet, "You're a tough one, you know that?" A hint of a smile plays on his lips, a rare sight that warms your heart. You manage a small smile in return, grateful for the unexpected bond that has grown between you.
Leaning back against the bathroom counter, Joel lets out a sigh. "You've been through hell, and here you are, facing it head-on. I've seen folks crumble under less. You're stronger than you think."
The atmosphere shifts as Joel's gaze meets yours again. There's a question lingering in the air, one that goes beyond words. You realize that this moment is a crossroads, a chance to choose your path forward.
"You're not alone in this," Joel reassures, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcends the scars of the past. "Whatever you need, I'm here."
In that moment, you feel a surge of courage, a newfound strength that emanates from within. The pain of the past begins to lose its grip as you accept Joel's support. The familiarity of the bathroom transforms into a sanctuary, a symbol of resilience and the possibility of rebuilding.
As you rise from the seat, Joel watches you with a quiet intensity. You get closer as the uncovered pull between you becomes stronger. This is a turning point in your life when you realize that you are now in control of the two worlds you have battled to survive and are determined to rebuild.
Joel's weathered hands find yours, a comforting embrace that symbolizes the connection you've forged. The tension that once lingered now gives way to a shared understanding, a silent agreement to face the future together.
In the hushed bathroom, among the fragments of the past, you lean in, closing the distance between you and Joel. The kiss that follows is a testament to resilience, an affirmation of the strength found in vulnerability. It forms a bridge between the hope of the next day and the scars of yesterday as it becomes deeper.
Joel pulls away, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Instead, he finds a glimmer of determination, a spark that signals a new beginning. With a whispered promise, he says, "We'll face whatever comes our way, together."
With Joel right there beside you, you walk into that tiny, quiet room, ready to tackle whatever the world throws your way. Strangely enough, the weight of the world feels lighter with him around. No complaints from you—just a sense of readiness for whatever comes next.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
End Notes:
tbh, I blacked out while writing this--- so UH if there are any inconsistencies let me know! :>
#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader tlou#joel miller x reader au#joel miller x female reader#ethereal writes#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller tlou#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x reader masterlist
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Floyd: I'm so lucky you came into my life...
Creek: Heh... I'm the one who's lucky..
Floyd: I love you so much, Raindrop...
Creek: I love you too, Sugar Plum
Today I come out as a soft Fleek enjoyer. I love psycho Creek and toxic yaoi fleek as much as the next fella, but soft, healing Fleek is the true owner if my heart.
(Don't worry Creek is still kind of a cunt, I won't take that away from him. Mans an asshole)
Personal headcanons alert!!! (This image falls into my Depths AU, hence Creek's lack of an arm)
TW: Mentions of drug abuse and alcoholism/self destructive actions
Creek sold out his entire people to save his own skin. Why did he do it? There's really only one reason. Guy was scared. Terrified. He was staring death in the face. In the literal jaws of a creature that would devour him without second thought. And fear makes us do stupid things. Things we regret. Things we can NEVER take back.
Creek is genuinely remorseful about his actions. When he winds up alone, fighting for his life every day, he feels he deserves it. He deserves to be alone. To die alone. He may have saved his own life in that moment. But he doomed himself to a life of solitude.
Until Floyd came into his life.
Now Floyd has made his own handful of mistakes. I personally love the headcanon that Floyd feel into some BAD habits during his solo career. I'm talking party drugs, drinking, ext. Mans a party animal, or at least he was. Until it got his ass hundreds in debt, mooching off any who'd take pity on him, then eventually captured.
I like to think that all the brothers did at one point try and go back home, only to find Branch gone and the tree in ruin. Like JD, Floyd though Branch was dead. He thought all of them were dead. So what did he do? He drowned himself in music, drugs, and alcohol. He failed his baby brother. The one promise he made, he failed to fufill. He destroyed himself every day after that. It was a punishment in a way.
Creek and Floyd are both broken, lost souls, riddled with guilt over past actions and failed promises. They understand one another on a level no one else can.
Floyd helps Creek reconnect with others and works to him redeeming himself in the eyes of the Trolls. And in return, Creek helps Floyd manage his PTSD, anxieties, and chronic pain
Now since the whole "spiritual/namaste" thing is actually INCREDIBLY insensitive to various east Asian cultures, I headcanon that Creek was the village physical therapist, chiropractor, physiotherapist, acupuncturist, basically a doctor who helped Trolls manage chronic pain, injuries, ext.
He did teach yoga classes, but mainly as a hobby, and to help Trolls practice body positivity.
These two lead a quiet life following all that happened to them. Guys are tired af and need a nap
I love these two as a sweeter couple. Floyd thinks Creek is stupid af but he loves him for it.
Okay imma shut up now this got LONG-
#dreamworks trolls#trolls band together#trolls floyd#trolls creek#trolls fleek#fleek#holy shit this was long#myart#traditional art#someone tell me to shut up#creek is still an insufferable bastard but like in an endearing way#at least to floyd hdhdhd#creek is gentle sweet and soft to floyd but an ass to everyone else#tw drugs#drug ment tw#tw alchoholism#tw alchohol mention
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Lilith wasted no time. You gotta wonder if she loves Fixing RWBY just as much as the rest of us. She's just a tsundere for Raymond! We all know that she's a lying piece of living garbage but let's see what kind of laughs she has for us this time.
"Random" PTSD. Because as we all know, PTSD isn't triggered by things that can be tangentially related to the thing that we have issues with in question. So flashes of red going into a dark tunnel reminding her of Adam's red and the dark cafeteria of Beacon. Nah. Not similar. The episode was totally out of nowhere.
Breaking news: Conman is better at gambling than teenagers. More at 11.
lmao WOW she's pressed. Over basically nothing, too. What is the issue with Blake wanting to talk about what's bothering her? What's wrong with former classmates wondering what's eating at her? Is it because they're men and you don't like those things? Is that it? Like seriously what an odd thing to have a freak out over. How dare men exist and do things.
You can tell Lilith doesn't pay attention because they don't barge in to talk about how totally better people they are. They come into the room to talk to everyone and finds only Blake there and are surprised, because they never knew she was a faunus.
Victimized. That, Lilith, is called past tense. I know you haven't noticed, but it's called character growth. Cardin and Velvet worked past their differences.
Plus, they're not love interests. Yet. Raymond is still on the fence about it because it's not important to the story. But he's blushing because it's a girly thing to have on his weapon and he's a burly manly man, so being teased about it makes him embarrassed. But no, it can only be because he's in love with Velvet. I forgot. Blushing doesn't exist as a psychological involuntary response triggered by emotional stress associated with passion, embarrassment, shyness, fear, or anger. No. It can only be from romantic stimulation. Shoujo anime taught us that.
Why is the main villain of the arc appearing in the arc?!
Stop trying to make transphobia happen, Gretchen. It's not going to happen.
I already explained why this is stupid, but I wouldn't put it past liars to deliberately ignore it or twist my words no matter what I say. So there's barely use explaining anything beyond what I already said. After all, only a moron would genuinely take me saying 'I don't believe you could use your sexuality as an excuse to not know how flirting among this sex works because you're not that dumb' and skew it as queerphobic and me calling Lilith an idiot. Then again, tumblrites were never known for their intelligence. There's a reason I also called out rwde for also having their own Liliths among them, after all.
What? You mean in a series where the main purpose is to stay as close to the original show as possible where it doesn't need to be changed doesn't change things that doesn't need to be changed... doesn't fix shit that doesn't need changing? What a fucking concept.
It's almost like this series is a reconstructive exercise to show how with only a few little tweaks, RWBY could be great and doesn't require a big overhaul to make it good for those who have issues with it or something. That Raymond thinks the show is mostly fine, it just failed in a few things in terms of execution, worldbuilding and other fundamental things and was primarily fine and not completely broken. Wow. You can tell when someone fundamentally doesn't understand something when...
You know it's really funny because we're currently arguing with a guy over the rewrite, because he also thinks it's subpar. Which is fine, but he has his head up his ass to smell his own farts trying to teach Raymond (and subsequently ALL of Hollywood) how to properly write fiction and that he's going to REVOLUTIONIZE the industry. Truly, this guy is what these people claim Raymond is: arrogant, and delusional about his own abilities. Anyway, based on what I've seen his spelling error-riddled script basically makes the girls into murderous psychopaths who will throw everyone else, even their teammates, under the bus to save their own skin and he calls that character development. Truly we live in a clown world.
He might need to be looked at, too, but as per agreement, only Raymond is allowed to look at his script so far. Because he seriously thinks his ideas are so good that people would want to steal from him.
Who are Raymond's pet characters who drove the plot forward?
Roman didn't do shit this episode except hide underneath a table, so that's not true.
Cardin got two scenes where he nudged Blake forward. It's not like he went out and did the work and repaired her relationship with Yang or anything, and then after that he and Russell mostly did the same thing Dee and Dudley did. So unless you're saying D&D were integral to canon and overshadowed the girls, I'd also say that's not true.
Adam? For once she tells the truth. The villain causes stuff to happen. Like in the majority of fiction. Villains usually drive the plot, yes, congratulations, you figured it out. Have a cookie.
Nora and Ren saved Roman. Nora goes and fights with Team RWBY on the roof. Ruby goes and retrieves the weapons. RWBYN take centre stage in the train car scene. Ruby cuts the train car.
But for as much as she loves screaming about how Raymond is misogynistic for this, that and the other, Lilith never really talks about the girls of Fixing in relation unless degrading them, calling them useless, or saying they only exist to be love interests for men. She has some major projection going on.
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Vergil seems like the kind of person that you'd have to Force to take care of himself when he's injured. Like, the man Refuses to take it easy and give his body the proper rest it needs. Absolutely the type where you'd have to threaten to make his injuries Worse just to get him to admit to + take care of said injuries and REST.
At least, maybe post-DMC 5, just because V seems to know his limits, however reluctantly. Tho tbh, I could see that just making Vergil even MORE stubborn about taking care of himself/minding his own limits, because he's not V any more, he's fully himself now, he should be FINE.
(He's so afraid of feeling weak and powerless again, even in things like this, that he Hates admitting he needs the help/rest.)
Not sure if he'd be turned on by you trying to (gently, with love) Order Him to take it easy and take care of himself and let you take care of him, but I feel like it might work? Just. Reassure him that he's not weak or useless for needing the help, and maybe it'll get through that thick skull of his.
HONESTLY THOUGH---
(Divider because this is long lmao)
Vergil could be cut in half, dying on the floor, and he would be insulted if you tried to help him. Don't get me wrong, he would begrudgingly accept help in that scenario but only if it is like that, ya know?
Getting him to rest would be even worse lmao. You'd have to pull out some motherfucking chains and strap his ass down to the bed.
Hell, maybe Vergil wouldn't even realize he's sick. I mean, he did spend a ton of time being everyone besides himself--the first 19 out of, like what, 40-some years is the only time Vergil was, well, Vergil. It would have to be something that gets so debilitating that someone else notices his lack of attention to things (Probably would have to do with him trying to fight and just fumbling the entire thing.). Bro would be out here dying of tuberculosis and wouldn't even notice.
Also, yeah, no-- He'd 100% get flustered and turned on by his S/O forcing him to take care of himself. I do think of Vergil being more of a dominant personality; however, having someone who loves him that wants to make sure he's okay? It would leave the man would internally be in shambles. However, if it was not painfully obvious (to the point of it almost being sickening) that someone is doing this out of love; then he wouldn't want ANYTHING to do with it. Vergil spent so many years being Mundus's puppet and being forced to do things that he didn't want to. So being bossed around again would just trigger his fight or flight (and he ain't flying anytime soon) and just cause him distress.
It would have to be quite the balancing act to make sure that he's making sure to take care of himself but, also, making sure not to upset the poor PTSD-riddled devil.
[I am putting aside my own H/Cs and like half of my fics that are about this very thing so I can write about this; I might actually do a small fic about this idk yet (I have a ton of WIPs rn lmaoooo). I think I covered everything I wanted to say, I had a lot to say/think about when I got this; so, sorry that it took me a hot minute to respond lol]
MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR
#devil may cry#vergil#Devil may cry 5#vergil devil may cry#devil may cry vergil#dmc#vergil sparda#dmc5#dmc vergil#devil may cry 5#drabbles#random thoughts#Devil may cry headcanons#vergil is stubborn#but we love him#sick vergil#vergil is baby#I like talking about this kind of stuff#thank you so much for the question(?)--ask? idk what this is considered#lmao#thank you though :)))
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So besides Jikook, I'm addicted to Dramione. So I'm gonna start sharing some of those too, just in case anyone else ships those two together, or are just looking to read fantastic love stories.
A rule, though. I don't allow ship shaming on my blog. So if you've got a problem with the fact that I love me some Draco and Hermione together, kindly keep it to yourself. I'm also a sucker for Dreomione, which is Draco/Hermione/Theo, a powerhouse magical triad. And yes, also Tomione, which is Tom Riddle and Hermione.
Don't come at me. Tomione has some of the best dark romances out there. And it's not Voldemort. It's his young, human self.
So, the first Dramione I shall share is a classic and one of my top five.
This is a post-war healing fic. They are all adults here, and are all on friendly terms.
After the war, Draco got addicted to potions to numb the pain. He is now sober, and sees a therapist weekly. For the past few years he has gotten morning coffee at a cafe in muggle London because he enjoys the anonymity of it.
Imagine his surprise when he sees one Hermione Granger getting coffee there one day too. He tries to steer clear of her because he knows she probably hates him, but that comes to a head when he catches her sitting at his table.
Needless to say, he makes an ass of himself, then is confused when Hermione is nice to him.
Thus starts their friendship that slowly turns to romance. Both are struggling with PTSD, and the expectations put on them simply because of who they were during the war.
This is one of my favorite Draco. He is flawed, and second guesses his own value a lot. Luckily with enough patience, Hermione shows him that he deserves to be loved and happy.
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I don't know anything about Helluva Boss but you usually have cool taste (I've been following this blog for years) and your reblogs and art are making me curious about it!!! What do you like about it? I bet you'll already recommend it because you enjoy it so much but I wanna ask! What does it mean to you? How did you get hooked on it so quickly?
First off, thanks for sticking around for so long! I can only hope we're mutuals at this point but I don't know for sure because you're on anon! Anyways thanks for following me for so long! Even with all the fandom changes lol you're a real trooper!
To answer your question, I love pretty much everything about it! The animation is literally STUNNING, the color pallets rock, the characters are complex, funny, and really relatable at times, and plus my gay ass loves all the canon queer main characters and their relationships! Also HELLO??? THE VOICE ACTING AND MUSIC TOO??? Top tier. I got hooked SO FAST lol.
Above all that though, I love the overall themes it's grounded in. Hear me out. In helluva boss, all the main characters are hellborn, meaning they're native to hell. They didn't have a choice to be born as demons, or what kind of power they have or don't or what type they are. And honestly none of the demons there did. They have families and jobs and hospitals and are basically just trying to get by with the hand they've been dealt. We've all felt that way.
They're already born in an established social class based on the species of demon they are and the level of power they wield, and a MASSIVE theme is how where you come from doesn't define you. How you can ALWAYS move up and take control of your life and prove all the shitheads that want to keep you down WRONG. That having a bad past/childhood/etc doesn't mean life can't get better. That your past and upbringing doesn't define your entire existence. I love that shit.
Also, there's a massive, and I mean MASSIVE, emphasis of overcoming and/or living with trauma. From taking steps to recover from trauma, to navigating adult life after trauma, to living along side the memories, to telling abusers to FUCK OFF and MORE. My PTSD riddled ass can't get enough of seeing these characters, who have suffered various/different types of abuse, stand up for themselves and learn to love themselves while navigating life after trauma. It's cathartic as fuck and I feel seen.
Would I recommend it? That depends! It's VERY ADULT in basically every way imaginable, and I mean that. I know this show and the dark humor side of things isn't for everyone, so it depends on the person asking! And that's ok! We all enjoy different things. At the same time however, different things can mean different things to different people. If you find that you like it? Cool! If you don't like it, also cool! I love it for what it is and what the characters and their journey mean to me, so I can only speak for myself!
#long post#asks#anon#SORRY I WROTE MORE THAN I PLANNED TO LOL#but dang I wanted to answer this honestly so here ya go!#helluva boss
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I'd like to apologize.
I'd like to apologize to all the angsty, gritty people out there who think I'm absurd.
Maybe I am. You see, for all the terrible things I've gone through in my life (and there are a bunch) that've led to me having to fight against PTSD, anxiety, and depression every day of my life, there's ONE thing that, since I first experienced it, I've never doubted for a day in my life.
Love.
You see, I didn't grow up in a family that used that word. Instead, it was weaponized as "God will only love you if you behave" and implied that my family would only love me if I behaved the way THEY saw as proper. Didn't take them long to kick me out emotionally and mentally (never physically, but that was all about control, for them), either, because I "acted out" young (long story... not for the telling here).
For a long time, I distrusted that word. It was a "bad" word, to me. I flinched whenever anyone used it.
Then, one day, someone saved my life (literally... again, long story. Social media doesn't like me to talk about these things). Instead of trying to tell me how I should be, he asked me to tell him who I was, how I WANTED to be. He was my friend. He was my safe space. He was where I turned when I needed someone to talk to, when I needed a shoulder to lean on, when I needed to feel REAL and SEEN. And I protected him and our friendship with everthing in me. I would have taken a bullet, without question, for that man. I wouldn't have even stopped to think about it. I didn't have a word to put to what I felt, because he was my world. We were each what the other needed, when we needed each other most. And I still flinched the first time he used the "L" word. Until I realized all the little ways he'd been showing me love, and I'd been showing it back, for a while.
In the course of our relationship (we only got 4 years together before he died in a terrible accident), I learned what love was really supposed to be. Even more, I learned to BELIEVE in love. I learned to believe in Fate, and in the hands of powers much more powerful than mine, moving in my life.
He took someone battered, broken, who believed herself unlovable, untouchable, and incapable of love, and turned her into a die-hard Romantic.
So why am I apologizing? Well, two reasons. First, I just made you sit through that whole personal history lol... And second (and far more important, here): I look at things through the lense of a Romantic. I see Providence (no, not "God") and universal threads. I analyze fiction through those lenses. I WRITE fiction through those lenses. No, I don't see everything as happy and cheery (I'm a PTSD-riddled anxious depressive... how could I?), but if I see something as Fated, I will find the threads that lead me to that feeling. I will pull on them until everyone else is sick to death of them.
THAT is what I'm apologizing for. That you have to listen to my Romantic ass turn things you want to see as dark and sinister into threads of Fate weaving a tapestry of love through even the darkest of times.
So I'm sorry... and now I'll shut up and go back to writing fanfic and Romance. 😉❤️
#Keep Calm and ❤️ on! 🐍🪽#good omens#good omens fandom#fanfic#good omens fanfic#good omens fanfiction#go fandom#go fanfic#ineffable husbands#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable spouses
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what makes my blood boils is people tagging austin and kaia in the funeral posts like why are you tagging them?? something we know he can see since he stalks fan club for kaia and etc, if he clicks on one of these photos and sees someone talking bad about kaia i hope he closes who can tag him 😌
i have tried not to talk about this too much on here bc i don’t want to be accused of being a narcissist and making it about myself but. god. the whole pictures debacle today was almost triggering my shooting ptsd to a certain extent- in that it was bringing back memories of being at the lowest lows ive ever been at while seeing press and cameras out of the corner of my eye. capturing it all. there are pictures of myself and people i love dearly (from across the survivors community- not just my school) looking like grief and trauma riddled zombies on the internet forever. my community walking into the funeral of the girl who was murdered at our high school was streamed on live television and said stream is still up to this day on facebook. they only got me at a distance but got right up in one of my best friend’s faces (and i told her later she should’ve broken the camera, lmfao).
when i went up to colorado springs to help with survivor support after the shooting there last year i almost lost my shit on a photographer who decided to keep his loud ass shutter on during a memorial, whilst quite literally crawling down the aisles of this church to take photos of people weeping.
all that to say the entitlement people in general have to public grief is…astounding. and tbh given how private austin i’m surprised he hasn’t turned off his tags already. i certainly wouldn’t blame him now.
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Tell me why the fuck I write the most random sad ass shit. I have this post in my drafts from like, a child's perspective, and it's Logan's son.
Right, that's fine, cute.
Everything is through Uriels eyes, first person, which I don't write much. And even from that perspective it is so fucking obvious Logan is just.... riddled with PTSD and went through Some Shit.
But it's just a kid!! So all Uriel knows is his Papa is cool and brave and doesn't understand what's wrong with him!!! My god.
I love the kid by the way. Fucking adorable.
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I remember seeing a post on this site that said Maxson had one of the saddest backstories in Fallout lore because he didn't have the chance to be a kid and got yelled at a little which was... A Take. Because there's Hancock who canonically commits suicide via radiation drug and is so riddled with PTSD and survivor's guilt that he sees himself as completely unworthy of any kind of loving relationship. Kinda makes me wonder if that poster and I were playing the same game.
First of all, yes, Maxson had a horrible childhood, but then, he decided - and it was his fucking decision - to become a fucking nazi warlord out to "better" mankind by hoarding tech so they can "distribute it" to those who are worthy...while killing anyone who wasn't human. He is called "Elder Maxson" and is expected to be obeyed without question. There are cults created out of that mindset.
Hancock went through all that and decided to try to become the opposite of the brother and society he felt caused that much pain, while taking all that pain upon himself and denying himself a chance to be happy.
Hancock has a severe amount of issues that he self-medicates for and STILL doesn't take it out on others if he can help it. He puts on a front to maintain his political situation while being fully aware he can be over-thrown and actually ENCOURAGES THAT if he gets out of line.
It's obvious to me that anyone who defends Maxson hasn't been playing the same damn game.
Y'ALL HEARD ME.
I already said before that this is Not A Maxson Friendly Blog. I have exactly ZERO pity for that fucking monster. I had the same amount of pity for Shaun. (Shot him in the head the moment he revealed himself. Look, if my kid turned into a nazi, his ass would be handed over to be "dealt with" by whoever hit the hardest.) I will not deny you your desires, but don't expect me to be friendly to the damn BoS. Those fucking nazis deserve every ounce of hate I can give them.
Although, I will say, since I learned more about Danse...I'm willing to give him a pass if he's willing to unlearn that nazi fucking behavior and stop being a racist dickbag.
He's got potential, that one. Just has to show he can grow beyond his wiring. (pun intended)
.
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On a personal note, I'm a survivor of abuse and all kinds of PTSD situations, and my ass still has enough respect to NOT kill the people who piss me off or I think should die for the good of the herd. If I can do it, so can Maxson.
#fallout 4#fo4#hancock#maxson#maxson fans should not try to debate me#I will laugh at then ignore you just before I block you
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Childe has really lived a wild life here tbh. He was a normal happy kid that enjoyed spending time with his family and ice fishing, then he fell into hell, kicked hells ass, crawled back out having to deal with the fact that he’s Different Now and there’s nothing he can do about it, got sent to the army cause he was getting too violent, and then basically got told ‘ok so you have a job now, and it’s basically half paperwork, half murder. Enjoy!’ Like??? Holy shit man
LITERALLY. Where's my Northland Bank gang centric fic about them being dumped with an overpowered, PTSD-riddled teenager who has enough political power to squash a small country and being told "this is your boss" like.
I want Childe hating himself for not being a good big brother and pushing himself too hard too fast to live up to being a Harbinger and his employees fielding idiots who try to hurt this kid out of jealousy.
I want Childe spending his first few days just shredding his paperwork out of pure rage and being brought before the literal archon to be scolded, I want Childe accidentally isolating himself by being so overpowered and not realizing it at first, I want Vlad and Ekaterina and the others seeing past it and making an effort to help him anyways.
I want Childe arriving in the economic center of the whole world and hating it because he never even wanted to leave the small town where he was raised. And I want him to be loved and cherished and realize that even though Liyue is big and loud and different, he can find something like family and love and a good life here all the same.
#canNOT get over this like boy is what? in his twenties? and dealing with ALL THIS???#i want ekaterina teaching him how to cook and the accountants teaching him math and like#i want him taking anger management classes and going to therapy and sinking bc he's going too hard too fast#genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#ajax#like BRO#also childe joining the fatui and realizing that most families don't have their own chicken that they keep for eggs...#what do you MEAN you buy eggs at a store that's what the family chicken is for#[me torturing childe] i just want him to be loved is all <3
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WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW | Chapter 5
A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY
Summary: One good night out turns into a two month affair.
Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! Drug use, relationship abuse, mental manipulation, drinking, cheating, angst, language, smut, praise, fingering, slightly rough sex, squirting, unprotected sex (you know the phrase kids...).
Word Count: 6335
A/N- This is a heavy chapter so I have done a longer authors note here. Please read before continuing if you haven’t already read it. Events in this chapter take place 11 months before Italy and a couple weeks after Will’s chapter.
PART FIVE| 11 MONTHS AGO
'Hey Will said you were back. Want to go grab a drink tonight?'
'Yea, sure. Who else is gonna be there?'
'No one else, unless you want to invite others. I kinda just wanted to spend some time with you and catch up.'
'Okay, sounds good to me.'
Frankie had run into Will as he was coming out of a bar earlier that afternoon. He was grateful that Will hadn't notice him coming out through the doors of the establishment, allowing him the chance to pretend like he was just in the neighbourhood; and the fact they had run into each other outside a bar was just coincidence. When Will had casually dropped into conversation that you were home and that he had seen you, that had triggered something in Frankie. Whether it was just his slightly drugged up and alcohol riddled mind or something else, Frankie couldn't tell, but he knew he couldn't get you out of his head.
Frankie had always had a thing for you, ever since Benny first brought you home with him after your last tour together and introduced you to everyone. You were gorgeous, deadly and had a wicked sense of humour, you were everything he wanted in a woman and that's why he had been absolutely terrified to make a move. As time went on and you found your place amongst the group, Frankie came to appreciate how lucky he was just to have you in his life and as a friend and as time moved on further still, it became clear to him that he'd completely missed his chance.
He had started dating Laura just over a year ago now. She was nice, pretty, sassy. She reminded him of a slightly watered down version of you and believing he had fully missed his chance with you and would never get the real you, he figured he could do a lot worse than settling for Laura.
Around month nine of the relationship Frankie started to recognise he wasn't happy. He soon found himself relapsing into old habits he'd fallen into after he'd first come home for good and the PTSD had settled in. It started off as sneaking a bump off someone in the bathroom of a bar one night when they had gone out for drinks with some of Laura's friends. Just a little something to get him through the rest of the evening. A couple of days later it had happened again. It was only when Frankie had dug out his old burner phone from a lock box in the garage and contacted his old dealer, did he realise he was no longer in control anymore, but he didn't care. That's how he had ended up drunk texting you at half past three on a Tuesday afternoon asking you to go out with him for the evening so he didn't have to be at home with 'her'.
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“Hey.” you said getting up from the booth you had commandeered as you waited for him to arrive.
“Hey.” he grinned as he wrapped you up into his arms, his head burying into your hair. It was so soft and smelt amazing, like coming home. “You been waiting here long?” he asked as he reluctantly pulled away from you, both of you sitting yourselves back in the booth. Frankie had taken a moment longer than he should have to get out of his truck when he had first arrived, prioritising snorting another line of coke up his nose off his dashboard, instead of coming straight in to you. A slight panic fogged his brain as he feared he'd taken longer than he had and made you wait ages for him.
“Nah, I only got here like 5 minutes ago or something like that.” You confessed and Frankie relaxed a bit. “Do you want me to go get the first round?” you asked, pointing towards the bar.
“No, its alright, I'll get it.” Frankie said hopping up from the seat. “What do you want?”
“I'll just take a beer.” you replied. You really were a girl after his own heart.
Frankie came back with two bottles of beer a few minutes later, handing one over to you as he tried to manoeuvre himself back into the booth without using his hands. “So when did you get back?” he asked casually, a typical conversation starter.
“Nearly two weeks ago.” you said, taking a sip of your beer.
“Where did you go again?” Frankie asked, his memory of where you'd been the last 6 months hazy.
“Colombia.” you said.
“Ahh, te dio la oportunidad de trabajar en tu español.” Ahh, gave you an opportunity to work on your Spanish.
“Cállate, mi español es muy bueno. Después de todo, aprendí de los mejores.” Shut up, my Spanish is great. I did learn from the best after all, you said stroking his ego and making him blush slightly.
“So what were you doing down there?”
You looked down at your bottle, unable to meet his eyes. “A whole load of stuff that, probably wasn't very legal.” you said, giving him as vague an answer as you possibly could. You looked up, expecting him to have a judgemental look on his face, but instead you were met with one of sympathy. You'd all landed yourselves in some form of shit or another since leaving active service and Frankie was the last person who could pass judgement.
You sat there for almost an hour just talking, drinking your first beers slowly. “You want another one?” Frankie asked, motioning to the empty bottle in your hands that you were now peeling the label off of.
“Yeah, sure.” you said with a smile. You looked to your left to find the pool table had also just become free. “Do you want a game?” you said motioning to the table where the last occupants were throwing the cues on top of it.
“Yeah sure. I'll go get the beers, you go rack ‘em up.” he said, hopping out of the booth with a smile.
You made your way over to the pool table, reaching your hand into the pocket of your jeans, searching for loose change. You took the quarters out, slotting them into the machine. The balls dropped like thunder as they were released, rolling towards the end of the table so you could pull them out the hole in the side. You rolled the discarded pool cues to the side of the table as you reached for the triangle, placing it on the top near you. You bent down to pull out the balls, dropping them blindly inside the triangle above your head. When you had pulled out the last one you stood and was met with Frankie's still smiling face making his way back over to you.
He handed you the beer and you took a sip before placing it on the edge of the table so you could use both your hands to pick out the balls, moving them into their correct spots within the triangle, then sliding them all into place. “Who's going first?” you asked Frankie who had put the pool cues that had been on the table, back into the rack on the wall, choosing his own to play with in the process.
“Well that depends, you get any better at breaking.” you screwed up your mouth at the cheap shot he'd just taken. You were a decent pool player but you were awful at getting the game started.
“Fine Morales, looks like you're going first.”
“Thank you.” he said, jokingly tipping his head at you as he put himself in position at the end of the table.
There was a loud crack as Frankie hit the triangle, the balls bouncing off each other in different directions. You winced in disbelief as he managed to pot two balls with just one shot. He flashed his eyebrows at you, showing off. “You know I think that was one of each.” you taunted him, bringing him back to earth. “You can only chose one, what's it gonna be?”
“Just because I know how much you love playing stripes...” he said leaving the sentence open with a shrug before moving himself around the table to pot one of the solid coloured balls. For a moment, both of you watched eagerly expecting it to go in, but it leaned to the right at the last second and bounced back, away from the hole.
You took a quick sip of your beer before placing it back on the side. “Ready to see how it's done.” you teased, dancing around the table sizing up your first shot. You started out with an easy shot, potting it with not much trouble. Frankie gave you a small nod of acknowledgment before you began circling the table again, working out your next move. You saw it near the corner. You lined up your shot and... clunk, you sank another ball into the hole.
You stood back from the table grinning as you looked over to him, ready to taunt. “That's two.” you said, a faint giggle at the end of the sentence. You danced around the table again looking for the next one. You decided to try your luck but ultimately missed.
“Hey, you can’t get them all in one go.” he said, pushing himself off the wall where he had been leaning. He handed you his beer to hold as he took his go. He fumbled his shot and you were soon handing his drink back to him to take your next go.
It had ended up being a quick game. You had won, easily potting ball after ball, much to Frankie's amazement. “Okay, you had to have been cheating. I want a rematch.” Frankie said, playfully challenging you.
“I mean, I am more than happy to give you one... then beat your ass again and then again and again.” you laughed.
“Okay, okay, I get it. Just rack 'em up again. I gotta go to the restroom.” he said backing away towards the door to the toilets.
When Frankie came back from the toilet he carried himself differently. He seemed both a little bit shinier but also spacey. It was a look you had recognised in people around you many times and had even, on occasion, experienced yourself. You had experimented with drugs a few times over the years, sometimes to keep your cover when trying to get intelligence out of a contact, other times just because it was a night out and you wanted to let your hair down. You never made a habit of it though. You never would have pegged Frankie of making a habit of it either, but it was becoming clearer and clearer to you, as you thought back on his behaviour at the start of the night, that it was.
“Hey, you ready?” he said as he picked his pool cue back up, snapping you away from your internal monologue. 'He's a grown man, he knows what he's doing' you berated yourself, shrugging off his actions. “You wanna break this time?” he asked you, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.
You pulled a face of discomfort. “Uhh.”
“Come on, I'll help you. You'll never get better if you don't practice.”
“Fine.” you said rolling your eyes, your footsteps falling heavier, stomping, mocking a stroppy teenager. He laughed.
“Come here.” He said ushering you to the table and taking a stance behind you. “You're problem is you doubt yourself and then get shaky on your follow through.” He said as you leant forward and lined your cue up with the ball. He leaned over with you, one hand on your left arm, helping hold it steady, the other finding a home over your hand on the cue.
He helped guide it back and you relaxed into his touch as you let him manipulate the shot. It was a gentle, yet forceful, nudge of the cue that sent the white ball careening quickly towards the waiting triangle of balls at the other end of the table. You turned back to him, smiling in triumph at the clack of balls as they scattered across the table. That's when you realised how close the two of you were. You couldn't help but look directly into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, somehow they were both bright and glassy at the same time.
You weren't sure why you were doing it, but you found your fingers reaching for the front pocket of his jeans, hooking just the tips of them in slightly, nudging the bag of blow. His eyes grew panicked as you began to pull the small baggy from his pocket, curling it into your fingers. You bit your lower lip, trying to search his eyes for how he was going to react, if he was going to react. He didn't move. A part of you thought about just getting rid of it, just tossing it out, but you were having a good time with Frankie, he was having a good time with you. You felt safe and it had been so long since you'd had a good night out you thought 'fuck it'.
Neither of you said anything as you began to creep away, bag still firmly scrunched into your fingers. Frankie tried to act casual, attempting to go back to focusing on the game as you snuck off to the toilet. He assumed you had gone to get rid of the coke, he never imagined you'd have some yourself.
You rushed into one of the stalls, quickly assessing how best to go about this. You decided that none of the surfaces were sanitary enough to do this properly. You sighed, half excited, half still berating yourself for stooping to this, as you took a seat on top of the toilet lid. You tucked your hair out of the way before opening up the baggy and tapping only a small amount of the white powder onto the back of your hand. You listened a second, making sure there was no one else in the bathroom with you. Silence. You quickly lifted the back of your hand to your nose, closing off one of the nasal passages and then sucking in all of the powder, with your intake of air, with the other.
You'd forgotten how awful it felt in that first moment, your nose burning. You coughed and continued sniffing as you attempted to clear the passage, waiting for the initial pain and discomfort to subside. It only took a moment for the rush of euphoria to set in. You resealed the bag, then wiped off any remaining remnants on your hands, before tucking the baggy back into your clutched fingers, hiding it, as you left the stall. You quickly checked yourself over in the mirror, self consciously wiping underneath your nose, then fixing any stray hairs.
As you went back out into the bar, the effects of the drug really started to settle in. Everything seemed shinier and brighter, happier. You made your way back over to Frankie who was stood leaning against his pool cue, awaiting your return.
He stared at you intensely, trying to work out what it was that you had done with the drugs. It was only when you came to a stop directly in front of him and he got a look at your eyes did he realised what you'd truly done. He found himself breaking out into a small smile of adoration, impressed by your courageousness, but it carried with it this underlining guilt in the pit of his stomach. That feeling of guilt though was quickly quashed altogether by another feeling as you pressed yourself close to him once again so you could discreetly put the little bag back in his pocket. You gave him a sly smile and that was it. That was the moment Frankie knew he was completely in love with you. You gave him a coy grin before reaching for your pool cue and continuing the game.
Watching the coloured balls dance across the table top when you hit them, felt so much more satisfying now. You didn't even care if you were losing as long as you got to keep watching the balls of colour roll back and forth across the table. You enjoyed your beer and your company, you and Frankie nudging each other and taking any chance possible to touch one another now you were both happy and relaxed. “Come on Morales.” you said as you placed your hands over his shoulders, giving them an over exaggerated massage like he was about to go into a fight. He tried to shrug you off so he could concentrate and sink his last ball. You stopped your movements but didn't take your hands away and both of you froze watching the ball intently as he took the shot. Clunk.
He stood up straight and whirled around, wrapping you in his arms, a big grin on his face. “You know I let you win right?” you teased him.
“Sure you did.” he said placing a kiss on top of your head before leaning back slightly so he could get a better look at your smile, his arm still firmly around your shoulder. He leaned back against the table, his legs spread apart slightly so you could rest between them. You were both smiling content in the embrace, neither one of you wanting to pull away.
Frankie moved his hands to rest against your hips as he began to wrestle with the idea that had just popped into his head. He looked longingly to your lips, wanting to kiss them. Your smile faded as you scanned his face, realising what he was thinking. It was probably only 3 or 4 seconds but it felt so much longer due to the pace at which your next thoughts flooded your head. 'Oh my gosh, are we gonna kiss? What about Laura? Maybe they broke up? Oh I really want to kiss him.' then his lips were on yours and it was like someone had just set off a bunch of fireworks in your brain. Your head felt like it was fizzing and tingling, you couldn't help but smile as you melted into the kiss.
Frankie felt your lips pull tight against his as your smile burst from your lips and it only encouraged his own. He pulled away only briefly so you could both acknowledge how happy you were right then in that moment, but you quickly closed the gap again, practically throwing yourself into him, desperate to feel that tingling feeling in your brain again. At your enthusiasm, Frankie wasted no time deepening the kiss, his hands snaking down to your ass and pulling you tighter to him. This was everything he ever wanted, what he'd dreamed about for years now and it was finally happening. It felt better than he could have ever imagined it to be. Your kisses were powerful and hungry and for a moment you both almost forgot where you were.
Frankie quickly broke the kiss. You were about to protest when he took hold of your hand and started leading you to the door.
Neither of you said anything as he lead you to his truck. He gave you one more quick passionate kiss before opening the passenger side door to you and encouraging you to get in. You happily hopped in before turning back to give him another kiss as he closed the door.
He drove you both back to your place, using his spare key to let you both into the apartment. You had given each of the boys a spare key to your place just in case of emergencies but this was the first time you'd ever seen Frankie use his and it made you happy. The image of it felt so natural to you, like you were both coming home together after a long day.
You didn't have time to revel in the domesticity of it though as Frankie pulled you inside, rapidly closing the door before latching his lips back onto yours. You felt him lift you up into his arms and he carried you to your bedroom.
Your feet dropped back to the floor as you both made it through the doorway, Frankie wasting no time to start undressing you and himself between hungry kisses, both of your tongues fighting to pull each other back together after every break.
When you were both completely naked Frankie wrapped his arms tightly around your middle, lifting you slightly, walking you both towards the bed which you collapsed onto together, Frankie coming to lay on top of you. You reached your hands up into his hair as he covered your naked body with his own. It was only in that moment that you fully realised he hadn't been wearing his trademark hat this evening. You made a mental note of the actions significance and happily kept smiling and giggling into his kisses.
A sudden feeling took over in the pit of your stomach as you watched Frankie's gaze darken, his lust for you taking over at your joyful sounds and the way your naked body moved underneath him. You felt his hands move to your hips and he suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach before guiding your hips up so you were resting on your knees, your ass and pussy on full display for him. “Oh god.” Frankie groaned at the sight. “Hold it there baby, there's something I wanna do.”
You felt him get off the bed and heard him shuffle around on the floor for something. It took you a moment for your brain to realise what he was doing. He was rooting back into his pocket for the cocaine. You thought about saying something but decided not to for fear it would ruin the moment and this would all stop. This was Frankie. You had wanted this for so long and you were willing to put up with anything just to have his love and attention all to yourself.
You felt his hand smooth over your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh, giving it a squeeze before he let go. You shifted your head slightly so you could look back and watch him as he opened the little baggy and began gently patting the powder out of it, leaving a line of it across your right cheek. The dark look in his eyes as he stared at the sight made your knees want to go weak. He could sense the slight tremble within you, “Hold still for me baby.” he said as he took hold of you again, his hands firmly placed either side of your ass, holding you still. You closed your eyes, thinking if you didn't see what was about to happen, maybe you could act like it never did.
It all happened so quickly you didn't even have time to really take it in. Frankie quickly leant down, taking the powder up his nose, his tongue coming out to lick up any remaining powder before he thrust his face between your folds. You let out a startled squeal of pleasure as you felt Frankie's tongue dive straight in, catching you completely off guard. His patchy facial hair tickled your skin and you jerked back further towards his face, Frankie moaning in pleasure at the feeling.
He quickly pulled his mouth away, thrusting two fingers inside you instead, stretching you out and making sure you were ready. His fingers took a moment to explore your heat and you moaned as this thick fingers stroked your inner walls. You let out a groan when he took his fingers out and you were about to lift your head to turn and whine pathetically about it when he suddenly thrust his cock inside you.
“Oh fuck.” you cried out as you attempted to adjust to his size. He leant over you, his arm wrapping around your upper chest, pulling you to your hands. His head nuzzled into your neck, trying to get you to turn your head so he could kiss you. As you began to turn it towards him, his hand that had been holding your chest moved up to grasp your jaw, forcing your lips to his. He felt you clench around him as you reacted to the power move and he gently rolled his hips into you, your back arching, trying to encourage him even deeper.
He began pounding into you rapidly as he straightened himself up again. His grip on your hips was firm, holding you steady, pulling you back into him with every thrust. The feeling was overwhelming and the lingering effects of the cocaine only heightened everything more. “Oh my god baby, you feel so fucking good.” he praised you as your moans of pleasure rang out through the room.
You felt him lean forward again and you turned your head, seeking out his lips once more. “I've wanted this for so fucking long.” he grunted out between kisses. He almost melted when you moaned back into his lips in response to his words. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling your back into his chest again, making his rapid thrusts even deeper. He was hitting a certain spot inside you and it was devastating, your eyes wanting to roll back into your head as you relaxed it against his shoulder.
A feeling began to rise inside you. It felt so overwhelming and rapid you weren't even sure what was happening until it had already happened. Frankie felt your walls pushing back against him and when he thrust back he was forced out of you completely, your release gushing all over his cock and the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ did you just-” he couldn't even say the word. He was so fucking happy and impressed, but he saw the look of surprise on your face. He quickly crashed his lips into yours as he tried to reassure you that what had happened was a good thing. No a great thing. “Fucking do it again for me baby.” he said as he lined himself back up with your entrance and thrusted himself inside you once more.
You couldn't help but cry out, your mouth falling open against his. You felt so sensitive between your legs it didn't take much time at all before Frankie had you squirting again. “That's it, that's my girl. You're so fucking beautiful when you do that baby.” he said as he turned you around to face him. He could tell your eyes were unfocussed, completely blissed out from each devastating orgasm he was pulling from you.
He placed his hands either side of your head, smoothing your hair out of your face as he kissed it. He sat himself back on the bed, trying to avoid the wet patch on the sheets, pulling you to sit on top of him. He held you close as he pulled you back down onto his erection and you relaxed your head against his shoulder as he continued to smooth your hair. He began rocking you gently on top of him, letting you have a small break, both of you enjoying the moment of being close.
When you felt your strength coming back to you, you lifted your head from his shoulder, fixing your lips to his again. He lifted you in his arms, laying you back on the bed. He lifted your legs back, allowing him to push himself deeper inside you as his thrust began to pick up again.
You placed your hands either side of his head, forcing your eyes to focus on one another. “Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful.” he said, his forehead pressing into yours. You're mouth hung open again, your breaths coming out fast inbetween his thrusts, your moans stuttering wordlessly from your lips. He could tell your eyes were starting to become unfocussed again as your next orgasm built inside you.
He placed his hands under your hips, lifting them slightly allowing his thrusts to reach deeper still. The feeling inside you was devastating and your hand reached to rub circles over your clit, encouraging your release to come even faster. Once again Frankie felt himself being forced out from inside you as you once again gushed all over him and the bed, only this time he had a much better view. He was getting so close to his own climax and this only spurred him on even more. He barely gave you a moment to recover before he was thrusting himself back deep inside you.
His thrust were rapid as he chased his own finish and your fingers clawed at his back as you tried to ground yourself. Frankie let out a deep growl as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. His thrusts became sporadic, stuttering as he lifted his head to capture your lips in his own as he finished inside you. He stilled inside you and you relaxed into his arms as you felt every pulse of his cock inside you. It was a feeling that made you feel proud.
You looked up into his eyes. They were ones of complete bliss and adoration. You wanted to tell him you loved him but the words caught in your mouth so you settled for kissing him once more. This time the kiss was tender and not just because you were both exhausted. It said everything you both didn't feel like you could say. A silent acknowledgment of love.
------------------
“Hey where are you going?” you asked him as he climbed from the bed an hour later and began pulling on his clothes.
“I gotta go.” he said as he shrugged on his t-shirt, unable to meet your eyes,
“Oh, okay.” you said, sitting up and curling your knees up to your chest. You watched him silently as your racing thoughts from the bar slowly started coming back to you. They were more prominent now in this post sex quiet. “Frankie.” your voice said tentatively. It was half broken as the reality of the situation set in and an ache began to form in your chest, along with a churning feeling in your stomach. He looked back at you, eyes sorrowful.
Frankie felt like he had just been punched in the gut. He could see the hurt behind your eyes and it killed him. He knew his love for you was so great and he hated that he was hurting you in this moment. He made his way across the room to you, his arms leaning on the bed either side of you as he leant down to kiss you. “I'm gonna make this right, I promise.” he said as you dipped your head away from him. He gave you a tender kiss on your fore head. “I'll text you in the morning.” he said before placing a hand under your chin, encouraging you to lift your head once more so he could give you a final kiss goodbye. You could only watch silently and helplessly from your bed as he turned and walked away. You practically flinched as you heard the front door close behind him, the sound echoing around your quiet apartment, the reality of your actions setting in. What the fuck had you done.
---------------------
True to his word, Frankie had indeed messaged you the following morning. There was no mention of Laura just an 'I really want to see you. Can I come over later.' You had of course said yes and you had both had a repeat of the night before, just this time with pizza and TV. You had wanted him to stay, but you also understood why he couldn't. He promised you he would soon though.
You had both carried on that way, the days turning into weeks. Wild nights turning into wild afternoons, always with the promise that at some point Frankie would break up with Laura and you would be together properly soon.
One week turned into two months and with every passing day your feelings for Frankie were growing stronger and stronger. You didn't care if he hadn't left Laura yet. You didn't care about the drugs, mostly because you could see he was using less and less when he was around you. You could see he was getting better. He was happier and shinier and you knew when he was ready he would end things with her and move in with you.
It was a Saturday evening when he turned up on your doorstep drunk and high and unable to get his key into the lock to let himself in. When you finally opened the door to him there were tears in his eyes. “Frankie?” his name fell from your lips as a question as he stumbled through the door. He made a beeline for your kitchen, searching the cupboards for more alcohol to drink.
You rushed over to him as you saw him pull a half full bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He didn't even bother to get himself a glass, just started sipping it straight from the bottle. “Frankie, what the fuck is going on?” you asked as you snatched the bottle from his grasp.
“She's pregnant.” he choked out. Your face dropped, complete shock taking over.
“What?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper.
“Laura, she's pregnant.” he said again. His gaze wouldn't lift from a spot on the floor. There was silence between you as you both let the information settle in.
“What are you going to do?” you asked him tentatively.
“I love you.”
“What?”
“I love you.” he said again, finally looking up to meet your eyes.
“No-”
“I don't want to be with her-”
“Frankie she's carrying your kid.”
“I don't want to be with her, I want to be with you.” he said again stepping towards you, his hands outstretched reaching for you. You remained frozen to the spot as his hands rested either side of your face. “I love you. I don't love her, I want to be with you.”
“How long have you know?” you asked him, your voice cold. He was silent. “How long have you known?” you asked him again, your voice rising, becoming desperate.
“About a week.” he finally admitted. You stepped backwards, away from his touch, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “Please baby, please-” he began to beg, trying to step forward and close the distance between you again but you kept stepping away, shaking your head in disbelief. “Please, you make me better. I'm better when I'm with you.” You turned away from him, leaving the room in an attempt to get away, panic rising up inside you.
“I'll tell her everything, I'll get help, I promise just please-”
“FRANKIE STOP!” you shouted, rounding on him. He finally fell silent, allowing you a moment to breathe, to think. “I can't do this anymore.” your voice said broken. “If you really loved me, if you were actually going to leave her you would have done it weeks ago when you said you would. If you didn't want to be with her, why were you still sleeping with her, why did you get her pregnant-”
“I don't even remember it.” his voice came back broken and his knees gave way, his back leaning against the open kitchen door. He was sobbing now.
“Frankie, you need help.” you said to him tenderly as you made your way towards him. You sat on the floor beside him, your head leaning on his shoulder. His head slumped against yours in defeat.
“How did I fuck this up so bad?” he asked you. You didn't answer. You didn't need to. “I wish I had a time machine, like that car in that movie, back to the future,,, or that hot tub in that stupid movie Benny made me watch.” he started, his voice calming. “I wish I could go back to when I first met you and tell you how I felt about you. I wish I had told you I loved you the moment I saw you. I wish I'd never let Will or Santiago have the chance to fuck you before I did. Maybe then you would be the one carrying my child right now and not her.”
You let his words hang in the air. You wished more than anything that things could be different right now but they weren't. Frankie had a drug addiction. He had cheated on his girlfriend with you. He had promised you he would leave her but he didn't. Instead he had gotten her pregnant. You had been willing to over look so much for Frankie but for your own sake you couldn't do it anymore. There was a child involved now and there was no way you were gonna hang around and make this situation more difficult for everyone. “I'm gonna go to Italy.” you told him. He looked at you lost.
You had gotten the call that morning. You had been wondering all day whether or not you should take the job but now you saw it as the only option you had. You both needed space. Frankie needed to be there for Laura, for his kid and you couldn't be here as a temptation for him. “My supervisor called this morning about a job in Italy. I think I'm gonna go. I think we both just need some space away from each other to clear our heads.”
“How long?”
“I don't know. Could be a couple of months, could be longer.”
“I love you.” he said again after a moments silence, hoping it would change your mind, hoping it would make you stay.
“Promise me you'll get help Frankie.” was all you said. You were on the next flight to Italy the following morning.
------------------------------------------
@icanbeyourjedi @theshiningharmony @darnitdraco @kesskirata @wyn-dixie @rosiefridayrogersunday @actual-spawn-of-satan @clydesducktape @asta-lily @honey-hi @heythere-mel @heidi-toevs @wigofokoye @choricenter @goodgriefitsawildworld @lostgirlheather @d0uwannkn0w @justdrawings101 @nicotinebirds @bisexualolympus @babyratt19 @cookiecat22 @peterhollandkait @a-bang-for-your-bucky @asta-lily @codenamewife @lazyunknownwerewolf @emmy626 @natura1phenomenon @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @fangirl-316 @thisisthewaytofiction @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @aficwhore @slayerx147 @alberta-sunrise @itspdameronthings @nano-pax @bunnypascal @niki-xie @eowynshairflip @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @t3rradactyl
#triple frontier#triple frontier x reader#what benny doesn’t know#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x reader#santiago garcia#santiago pope garcia#santiago garcia x reader#will miller#william ironhead miller#will miller x reader#benny miller
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I think some or almost characters on both Love Nikki and Shining nikki needs a therapy.
My lady(Nikki) was having an issue that kept getting bigger.
—°u°
hi hi °u°!
sjdhcbcdub nonnie, the fact that you are absolutely right is both funny and sad, bc a huge majority of the characters need extensive therapy, emotional and mental fixing, and positive surroundings/genuine love and affection. tbh they all just need a hug.
analysis below ( fuckin therapy bro ) !
mercury definitely needs to seek out therapy; i mean, the dude was ostracized from birth just because of his being biracial, which is literally completely fine, but royalty in pigeon kingdom sucks ass. also he definitely has major daddy issues, and no, it isn't the quirky kind like those weird 12-year-olds say. like his father straight-up tried to assassinate him when he was a kid just to protect his position and reputation is so wrong on so many levels. so it's not a surprise to anyone when he finally kills his dad, although this highlights how twisted mercury himself has become. he's no longer innocent and has become jaded to the world around him, and only has himself to rely on now. mercury hardly had anyone who was truly kind to him, the exception being his half-sister and his mother, and literal strangers, so he's been utterly deprived of genuine affection and love and as a result, sees true love as something that doesn't exist and openly wonders if does exist at all.
qin yi is another antagonist that needs therapy, mainly emotional therapy, seeing his background. he was born in the slums and had to scrounge for food and even had to starve for days at a time, and would even have to steal food just to satisfy his hunger. later, when he began to train to become an actor, he was constantly bullied and beaten into submission, because nobody believed he'd ever become someone important, much less someone in the world regardless. qin yi had no choice but to bury his true self, and his brewing emotions just to become the man he is today. so when he gives the first performance that gave him the fame he has today, he had likely thrown away any last shred of himself, the real him, and embraces this new, lifeless him that wears a constant mask and manipulates every one around him.
zoey has had to become a soldier ever since she was young, and she definitely shows how war, violence, and death can twist and jade a child. she's literally had to kill people around her pre-teens, something no child should ever have to do in the first place, but she did. she's become so accustomed to it that she sees it as normal and shows no hesitancy when it comes to partaking in gunfights, as seen in her mind maze. she even had to shoot her mentor, and while it's never explicitly stated, we can guess that this has stuck with her ever since. while zoey has indeed become much more influential and stronger, especially with how she presents herself to others, she'll still carry those mental scars of a childhood that was riddled with death, guns, and bullets.
loen started out as a soldier, and it goes without saying that soldiers have definitely seen shit while serving, and sometimes they get more than they bargained for. with loen's case, he's literally been on the frontlines of war, seen the aftereffects of it, loved through it all and even witnessed people dying in pretty gruesome ways. but surprisingly, he handles all of this quite well and keeps a smile on his face, still being realistic but still maintaining a cheery attitude. he doesn't show any symptoms of ptsd, like any soldier may show, loen would definitely carry the trauma of war within his mind but chooses to look past it and focus on the more positive side.
lilith/ashley is a definite showcase of pretty privilege, but also how people only love you for your looks, and not for your personality and you as a whole. because of the beauty standards of where she grew up, she was alienated and bullied by her own foster sister relentlessly. it was sad because she was a genuinely good person and was incredibly pretty, even with the blemish that covered her eye. when she becomes lilith, everyone loves her. they adore her. they shower her with praises, with love, all of the things she could have ever wanted. she became a literal queen for fucks sake because of her beauty. but in reality, nobody loves "her." they do not truly care for her. they only love her because of her beauty, and not for the person she is. so even if she is surrounded by her people's love, she will always be alone and no one will love the real her. and she knows it.
poor nikki has been through so much, has seen so much, and she carries these burdens wherever she goes. however, unlike the majority of these characters, she has a support system. she has people to fight for, she has people who genuinely love her for who she is, and she has a good heart. she has us and momo to rely on, but a majority of the time, she completely relies on us. we give her the boost she needs, we aid her because we care about her, and nikki knows and cherishes this. she spills her heart out to us, and we listen and give the appropriate responses. so she remains to be the good person she is, because she has us and momo at her side, and she'll continue to mature and grow because of the positive influence she has.
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New Episode Update Let’s GOO!!!
Warning : This is just Yume having a mental breakdown, seriously. This episode update was WHACK.
~ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 68-75 ~
I know we ain’t participating and all but the game reminding you that there’s 10 minutes left to prepare is seriously bad for my heart.
Aah, shiet. Vil is still hurt.
He still has small wounds and scratches that he hid make up. Daddy, I’m worried.
Apparently, yeah, I’m not the only one cause my homeboy, Epel just asked to switch the center role with Vil. THE CONFIDENCE.
Aw, he’s worried about him falling over during stage (And make the performance look bad) Come on, Epel just be honest-
...He finally became the ideal poisoned apple that Vil wanted, huh?
Vil being proud a mom.
But the queen inside him is STRONG.
He’ll embrace the villain in him, OUR QUEEN CAN STILL GO. INJURED, WHO?
...AAND he proceeds to roast Epel again lol Typical Vil.
I love how Epel just accepted a nickname like “Doku Ringo-chan” lol It’s so cute, senior-junior relationship goals right there.
HERE WE GO.
Everyone is actually really confident hahaha
I really wish Deuce’s mom, Ace’s brother, Jamil’s sister, and Vil’s dad were here in person to watch.
HECK I WANT KALIM’S WHOLE FAMILY HERE WHY NOT
T-THEY’RE REALLY LETTING US HEAR THE FULL SONG.
IS THAT JAMIL RAPPING.
Look at Jamil’s solo SD dancing. LOOK AT IT.
I really fucking love Vil’s singing voice aaa
HIS VOICE IS SO GOOD.
Album when disney.
Is Vil okay.
...aight im hearing some high quality panting here
...dont mind me listening to it a bit too much...
...they’re going to be great reference for some spicy- leave me alone
Vil panting is making me feel SOMETHING.
ANYWAY. THE CROWD IS A MOOD.
IS VIL OKAY.
Unmei no megami is giving me idia ptsd here.
Heartslabyul Senpais are watching their kids, looking all proud *sniff
Oh god, after playing Obey Me, it just occurred to me how similar Cater and Asmodeus’ voices are...
Watch these Senpai dorks act like Ace and Deuce’s second family. Trey being the dad, Riddle being the mom, and Cater being the supportive big bro. It’s so beautiful.
Riddle’s voice is a lot more softer now, I just realized...It’s so soothing...
God i miss u too octavinelle never change
Yeah, why tf did Floyd not audition for this
Bro, can you imagine Nobuhiko Okamoto in the squad as well??? IMAGINE-
Of course, he wasn’t in the mood back then. Of course. Why did i even ask.
IMAGINE FLOYD BEING IN VDC NEXT YEAR.
Omg i miss u too octavinelle never change
Azul’s gonna overblot again with Floyd’s marketing skills lol
Jade coming in like welp i guess thats that. Too bad, huh Azul?
GOD i miss u too octavinelle never change
SAVANA BITCHES HI
I wonder if these mfs knew that Vil just overblotted and malmal was the one who fixed the stage lol
oooh Leona’s sus about something he a sharp boi
Speak up my guy—
still so weird leona taking his job seriously
Malleus looking happier seeing this performance rather than Lilia’s lol
I miss the simpery in Sebek
Silver’s not in the verge of falling into a coma for once wow
Chenya’s so cute.
AND WE’RE BACK TO CUTE HEIGH HO TEAM
fcking shotacons man...im not one to talk
Aw, they didn’t show Neige performance...
The simping in the crowd is a MASSIVE mood.
WHO WINS TELL ME
These night raven fuckers better vote for us and not pull a “oh shie my hand slipped lololol” i swear to god- im gonna throw hands
*me holding my phone and pretending to vote as well
Suspense music intensifies be like-
HAAA
BOIS, ITS ONE VOTE DIFFERENCE WHO IS IT AAAA
WHAT.
HOW DARE- HOW!? HOW DID WE LOSE!?
WE LOST BY ONE VOTE!?
EVERYONE’S SO SHOCKED LOL
vil pls dont overblot again-
Noooo grim’s tuna cans-
WE REALLY LOST TO A LEGIT KIDS SONG.
These children do not have the right to be this cute. I wanna take Timmy, Toby, and Shelpie home.
I swear to god one of these dwarves sounds like Cheka lol Is it Toby?
EPEEELLLL DONT CRRYYYY
KALIMMMM DONT CRRYYYY
KALIM HAVING THE AUDACITY TO SOUNDING LIKE A BIG BROTHER AND THEN CRYING HIS OWN RIGHT AFTER LOLOLOL
I HATE THIS EPISODE YALL MADE MY TWO BOIS CRY IM FIGHTING THIS EPISODE. BURN THIS.
This background music too though im deeeeddd
KALIM IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING A SINFIC ABOUT YOU PLS DONT CRY-
Jamil impressed about Vil being “calm” and Vil just going “h e h. you dont even know.”
....ha...
Monsieur Rook. WHAT did you say.
ROOK VOTED FOR ROYAL SWORD. Are you kidding me. You snek how could you- i loved you
WHAT DID I SAY- Ya’ll night raven fuckers shall not slip by their fingers when voting rook.
Vil is in the brink of passing out aaaaa
I have never heard Ace this pissed before whoa- lol he sounds like Deuce in his delinquent mode
Aw...Rook felt that Neige’s performance carries a stronger bond than theirs :’( it’s hard to put the blame on him when he’s saying all these stuff
It’s just like what they said in the past episodes that it’s really hard voting for your own team when you know the opposing team is better.
Aww...He just wanted Vil to believe in himself more...Rook is such a best man. Im crying-
Oh noooo is Vil gonna cry too nooo- daddy turned to baby really quick SOMEONE GIVE HIM AN EMERGENCY HUG
Well- at least...at least the 100 year record of not being able to win is still going, yeah? Um...bad joke? Sorry, i’ll see myself out-
NEIGE NOT NOW AND YOUR VII-KUN BULLSHIT- we’re having a moment here
Neige is such sweetheart but aaaahh— This makes it worse, we can’t even hate him aaa—
OMG JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS COULDN’T- AAAAA
MONSIEUR ROOK. YOU’RE A FAN OF NEIGE!?
MOTHERFUCKER just got exposed by Neige himself lol
Going to Neige’s shake hand events, sending him letters, buying all his merch and shie- HE’S A FULL BLOWN NEIGE STAN
WTF YOU SNEK GET OUT OF THIS SCHOOL-
OOOOHHH THAT FUCKING ALBUM- HIS “LIFE’S WORK” or whatever bullshit IS FULL OF NEIGE
...actually- my japanese is lacking- im not sure lol what is a ブロマイド??? Lol I feel like a clown.
Rook is sweating profusely LOL
...what do you have to say for yourself, monsieur rook.
Wait- huh is that-
IS HE GONNA CRY-
WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING!??!?!?!
HE’S SILENTLY CRYING AS HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO NEIGE WHAT. THE. FUCK IS THIS EPISODE.
Neige fanclub??? Eternal Snow??? What kind of creepy-ass- OH, HE EVEN HAS A MEMBERSHIP NUMBER TOO-
Props to Neige with his :) expression unfaltering.
I’m- I’m speechless.
Vil is just looking down at Rook in disappointment like- “you’re more pathetic than I am”
Queen just went “I think you need this handkerchief more than I do now” THAT’S RIGHT. REPENT MOTHERFUCKER.
Rook crying is cursed.
But damn, I’m kinda liking this new relationship this bitchy relationship they have
Neige just dragged everyone’s ass back on stage and his snow white energy just said “LETS ALL BE FRIENDS AND SING”
NEIGE IS FUCKING GREAT- HE REALLY DID GOT THESE BITCHES TO SING HEIGH HO LOL
ACE’S RELUCTANT SINGING AND DEUCE LOOKING LIKE HE’S HAVING FUN
KALIM IS SUCH A MOOD, SINGING EVEN WITHOUT KNOWING THE LYRICS AND JAMIL JUST HAVING THAT “i want to die” ENERGY
AIGHT. ROOK IS HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN AND EPEL IS TRYING HIS BEST. HE’S SO CUTE-
OMG NEIGE AND VIL HAVING SUCH GOOD HARMONY—
YAHOO Y A H O O TANOSHIINDA~~
YA’LL SURE ABOUT GIVING ME THIS BLESSED MOMENT??
What a somewhat happy ending, even though Rook just backstabbed us I’m crying Beauté 100 points!!!
LOL Vil realizing he’s having fun singing with Neige- “SOMEONE JUST END ME RIGHT NOW-“ The desperation in his voice-
I love how Neige’s yahoo yahoo is messing with everyone’s head, even Vil wants to pass out lol
haha Crowley is so depressed lol
WHA- WHO-
HEADMASTER OF ROYAL SWORD!?
He looks like your typical grandpa- and his outfit looks like that one mickey mouse wizard outfit but blue—
Old man just went “we won lol” just to piss Crowley off I like this guy’s energy already-
Crowley being most likely as old as this guy—
ooohh this man just sensed something in this stage- Leona did too, didn’t he???
* Damn. Crowley talking so fast sounds like he’s making a load of bullshit lol
Anyway, I’m just glad that it’s not mickey mouse who’s the headmaster— I would’ve lost my shit.
We’re back in our dorms and I forgot that the squad doesn’t live with us anymore. It’s suddenly so lonely now...
Grim is getting the yahoo yahoo ptsd too lol it’s too goddamn catchy
oooohh shiet- mickey is calling us again
YES we finally got a good picture of this motherfucker
It seems like nothing is disrupting our communication this time, so MC thought to call Grim but—
Grim is not here.
Uuhhh...Grim? Where you’ve gone??? We’re getting flashbacks of the first parts of the game.
We went out to find Grim and HE’S CHOMPING ON ANOTHER BLACK STONE ON THE STAGE-
GRIM SPIT THAT OUT YOU LOOK TERRIFYING
AAAAAHH GRIM HAS GONE FERAL— He’s attacking US
Is this because we didn’t win his tuna canss nooo
NoOO SWEET BABY COME BACK.
Legit I’m sad, please baby don’t overblot like this...
He learned a new move though- SCRATCH
Ooh— We’re seeing some Ignihyde scenes here~
P U H I H I
Idia getting a lot of emails from bigshot companies whoa—
THAT OLYMPUS—?! EXCUSE ME??? Ortho what- Are we finally getting that Hercules episode—
Damn getting a hot chance in olympus only to put them down the recycling bin oof— Idia why edit : Yume was informed that olympus is kind of a company that sponsored VDC sorry she was mind-fucked at this moment and the ability to understand proper Japanese just went whoosh lol Thanks to @starshiningsirius for pointing it out for Yume~ ♥︎ HONESTLY YUME’S JUST GONNA WAIT FOR ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL TRANSLATORS AT THIS POINT LOL Don’t trust me for important situation too much lol
Aaaahh...We’re getting this shut-in out of his room in the next episode, are we?
And that concludes the whole Pomefiore Episode! JESUS CHRIST 75 CHAPTERS ALL IN ALL!? How long is the Ignihyde chapter going to be, huh!?
This was a really, really fun episode lol I’d consider this a fan service episode actually cause of all the things we get to experience— The singing, dancing, and the new songs, THE DRAMA. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
But then, the plot thickens, no? What’s going to happen to Grim? In the Ignihyde episode? And those reoccurring memories of us? And our relationship with Tsunotarou lol ALSO WE NEVER REALLY DID FIND OUT WHAT ROOK’S UNIQUE MAGIC IS. DISNEY EXPLAIN—
Thanks for reading this shitpost of Yume losing her shiet lol See you all in the Ignihyde Episode~ ❤
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Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.
SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .
i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah
post asswoop riddlers getting loves
Arkham riddler
He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is bad news.
I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.
when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.
He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.
he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.
he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long.
Blacklight Riddler
He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough.
even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.
he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better.
He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.
He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.
if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.
BTAS Riddler
he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.
i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care.
He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.
he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong.
if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.
He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.
Original Riddler
this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.
actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”
good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.
he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are.
he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.
i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient.
Telltale riddler
this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs
he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.
after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.
i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.
the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.
its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.
Zero year riddler
INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.
he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.
he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.
he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?
one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido?
he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies.
nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.
theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”
someone needs to stage an intervention
got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜
#asks#riddler headcanons#riddler#edward nygma#edward nigma#arkham riddler#arkham knight riddler#arkham knight#blacklight riddler#blacklight au#btas riddler#btas#batman the animated series#original riddler#telltale riddler#batman telltale#zero year riddler#zero year#my stuff#my writing#my headcanons#headcanons
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Let’s Talk About Klaus
Hi, friends. The Umbrella Academy’s second season came out recently. I finished it about twelve hours after. And I have feelings. We need to talk about Klaus.
Now, here is my disclaimer. From the very first moment I saw him, Klaus was my favorite, but please read to the end before yelling about how Klaus-stans refuse to see his negative qualities. Thank you <3 (Also, this will involve spoilers for Season 2 and probably be an essay, so be prepared.)
Okay, first of all. Let’s look at Season 1 Klaus.
He’s an asshole. Just like all of his siblings. They were raised by a narcissistic egomaniac and given hero complexes from pretty much the second they were born. Obviously they all lack empathy and healthy coping mechanisms. We can all agree on that.
However, Klaus is also kind. So unbelievably kind. He makes crass jokes and looks out for himself first, but he is also so caring.
When we first see him, he is encouraging people in rehab. He has a rapport with the EMT who brings him back to life. He hugs Allison as soon as he sees her at the mansion and seems genuinely concerned about her and her life. When the giant portal opens, he grabs a fire extinguisher and runs to the front to try and protect his siblings. Siblings who essentially ignored and belittled him for years.
Fast forward and we see him helping Diego and Five and Luther. We see him caring, sincerely caring about his siblings. He breaks a snowglobe over his head to help Five get the answers he needs. He follows Luther to a rave and dies trying to save his life, even though he’s riddled with PTSD and freshly sober. We see him try so fucking hard to not give out any information about Five when he’s being literally tortured by assassins. He saves Diego from Hazel and Cha-Cha at the hotel, even though he could have stayed safe in the car. He risked his life to save a brother who didn’t even notice he had been kidnapped.
We watch him die. We watch him get locked in a museum by his father figure and tortured by his abilities. We watch him be traumatized over and over again by ghosts that look just as gruesome as the day they died. We watch him be hurt and kidnapped. We watch him get thrust into a literal war, where he lost his soulmate after staying and fighting for ten months because he was just that in love with Dave.
Out of every character, Klaus clearly has the most trauma. This isn't even including the fact that he was homeless for years and alluded to non-consensual sexual situations. Ergo, trading sex for a place to sleep and things like that. I am personally of the belief that Reggie was the reason Klaus broke his jaw, which Diego talks about in S1, but that’s my own opinion.
Looking at all of that, Klaus has PTSD out the whazoo. Like, he is filled to the brim with trauma and no one cares enough to ask or help him. Five sees him after Dave dies and only cares about the briefcase. Diego hears that he lost someone and has the absolute audacity to call Klaus “lucky” because at least he can see them whenever he wants. Not one of his siblings understands Klaus’s powers and that’s terrifying because he had to deal with screaming, tormented ghosts completely by himself. Imagine that. Powers that you can’t control eating you alive and the only thing that helps dim the noise is drugs.
And your family doesn’t care enough to ask. They just write you off as a useless junkie.
Now, like I mentioned earlier, Klaus is not an innocent quote unquote soft boi. He is inherently selfish. But, he had to be. He had to be selfish in order to survive. He was on the streets. Alone. If he wasn’t selfish, he would have been dead ten times over.
He stole things. He lied. He hurt people. He was an asshole. Just like they all were.
But he was never cruel.
His relationship with Ben in the first season was pretty awesome. We get to see the snark and the familiarity and the bond between them. And it makes sense, to some extent, why Ben is constantly trying to get Klaus to be better. If Klaus hasn’t seen his siblings for years, neither has Ben. I genuinely think Ben wanted to believe that they had changed. He wanted his siblings to be good, decent people.
That’s why he told Klaus to go after Luther. Why he told him that his family would notice he was missing when he get kidnapped by Cha-Cha and Hazel.
But it does not excuse the fact that Ben never apologized. He was wrong and he never said sorry for it. He inadvertently got Klaus killed and he never admitted that he made a mistake.
He was there for so much of Klaus’s trauma and he just brushed it off. We never see Ben try to be there for Klaus or try to help him come to terms with everything. Ben can see the other ghosts. He knows that they’re terrifying and that Klaus’s powers are completely haywire. Why doesn’t he acknowledge that?
Let’s move on to Season 2.
For some reason, all of Klaus’s character development has been tossed out the window. He is a wildcard with no plot line to follow. He says random things and seems to act as comedic relief for the most part, except it rarely works.
For starters, his powers are completely gone, for the most part. We see him in a brief opening scene absolutely kicking ass with his ghost army. But, after that, we don’t see any ghost except Ben. We don’t see him learning to control his powers or talking to ghosts. We don’t even hear about his powers. It’s like they’ve been erased.
That kind of trauma doesn’t go away. Especially when we find out he has been sober for three years.
I’ve seen some people argue that he traded addictions. Swapped the drugs for the cult and the adoration that came with it. I don’t agree to that for a few reasons.
First, he is very clearly uncomfortable with the cult touching him. And we see in the flashback that it happened completely by accident. Klaus was, again, trying to survive. Was it selfish? Yeah. Did he use that old woman to shamelessly find a place in a world he’s not supposed to exist in? Yeah! But, like I stated earlier, Klaus knows how to survive. He knows what to do to get by. All he is doing is trying to survive. Ben can scream all he wants about fairness, but he wasn’t offering up any options to get Klaus a place to sleep and a way to survive in the past.
Second, we don’t know how the cult came about exactly. We don’t know what started it. We don’t know how it spiraled from whatever it started as into a cult. And Klaus hates it. He spends the entire season trying to get away from everyone. He used it as a means to survive and then wanted space. His entire plan was to get to 1963 and save Dave--probably from the start of 1960, to be honest. But to get to Dave, he had to survive. He had to get to a place where saving Dave was possible. He can’t save him if he’s dead or homeless.
Third, Klaus very openly is touch-starved and desperate for attention. He spent his childhood being overlooked and his adulthood being treated like a disease. He just wants someone to take him seriously and care about him. The cult does. They love him for who he is, for his weird humor and mannerisms. They believe him when he talks. He’s never had that before, not since Dave.
He finally has a group of people that genuinely care about what he has to say. Even if it’s all bullshit! They still listen to him. So, of course he sticks around. Of course he lets it grow. He thinks everyone he loves is dead! He’s holding onto the only thing he can. It just happens to be a cult.
Next point: Ben.
Ooh boy, this is gonna be a long one.
Ben is also not a soft boi. One tender scene with Vanya does not undo an entire season of cruelty and callousness.
Before we get into that, let’s talk about the point everyone brings up: Klaus didn’t tell anyone Ben was there!
Why should he? They never believed him the first thousand times he tried to tell them. What makes it any different fifty years in the past?
But aside from that, I have two theories.
One, I’m curious as to if he was subconsciously trying to punish Ben. Ben essentially got him killed at the rave with Luther. He also never apologized, as I mentioned earlier. He blows Klaus off, just like the rest of his siblings, even though, out of anyone, Ben should know better. From the very beginning of S2, Ben is saying some pretty nasty stuff to Klaus. Low blows that shouldn’t be brought up. If that’s been happening for 3+ years, it’s possible that Klaus internally is punishing Ben for being just like the others.
Second, he’s scared of losing Ben. It’s been 17 years of only having Ben by his side. Constantly. And we know Klaus has watched the love of his life bleed out right in front of him. That’s PTSD. And PTSD doesn’t exactly involve healthy coping methods. So, it’s entirely possible that Klaus doesn’t saying anything about Ben being there because he is scared to lose him to his siblings. If Ben is corporeal, if they know Ben is there, what’s stopping Ben from leaving to go spend all his time with someone else? Someone that isn’t Klaus? Klaus could be trying to protect himself from losing another person.
Does that make it okay for Klaus to hide the fact that Ben is there? No. But does it kind of make sense? Yeah. Ben deserved to reconnect with his family, but Klaus is traumatized beyond belief and clearly isn’t in the right state to make sound and logical decisions all the time. If we can forgive Five for murdering the Commission Board in cold blood and Vanya for blowing up the world twice, we can forgive Klaus for keeping Ben’s existence to himself (especially since he tried to tell them in S1 and was immediately written off as an attention whore.)
Now, let’s talk about the possession, aka my least favorite thing about the entire season.
Ben possessing Klaus is assault. End of story. Non-negotiable. It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It’s not “payback.” It’s assault.
We know that Klaus is terrified by his powers. We know that he has trauma in his past, involving non-consensual experiences. So does Ben. Worse, Ben was there for a lot of it.
Ben flat out ignored Klaus’s discomfort for his own selfish gain. He was so hellbent on possessing Klaus that he ignored the fact that Klaus was terrified to go to sleep because he knew Ben would possess him without consent.
And let’s acknowledge the fact that Klaus doesn’t owe Ben anything. He has no obligation to let himself be possessed. Ben is dead. And that’s horrible. It’s unfair and Ben did not deserve to die. But he. is. dead. The dead do not get free access to the bodies of the living just because they want to feel things again.
Ben completely disregarded Klaus’s feelings because he had a crush on a girl who didn’t even know he existed. Klaus, who willingly accepted possession the second he realized it was important to Ben. Klaus, who laid out strict ground rules, showing he was clearly terrified of the idea, but still did it anyway because he loves his brother and harbors guilt for conjuring him the day of Ben’s funeral. Klaus, who had just been brushed off after failing to stop Dave from enlisting.
Ben possesses him and almost immediately starts to make out with a girl who thinks he is Klaus. That is sexual assault. If I have a twin sister and that twin sister sleeps with my husband, who believes she is me, then she has raped him. That is rape.
Ben doing anything physical with that girl, who clearly showed that she was interested in Klaus, is sexual assault. She did not consent to sleep with Ben. She consented to sleep with Klaus, who was trying his best to break the possession and stop the entire thing from happening.
And Ben fought him on it. We see them struggle in Klaus’s body for the next several minutes. Ben doesn’t care that Klaus is clearly uncomfortable, that Klaus wants him out. He selfishly wants to stay in control because of his own desires. He ignores Klaus’s rules and does what he wants without considering the consequences.
This is the third time that Ben has used possession to control Klaus. We see it when they are fighting earlier in the season at the cult mansion. We see it again at the dinner with Reginald. We see Klaus essentially have a seizure (and we see none of his family members ask if he is okay. They just roll their eyes.) We see Klaus literally vomit once he forces Ben out of him in that alley with Five and Luther. Still, no one asks if he is okay.
Worse than that, Ben says that he no regrets. And then reiterates the statement! Ben assaulted his brother and does not give a flying fuck. That’s crueler than anything Klaus has ever done. I would argue that it’s the cruelest thing any of the Hargreeves have done, to be honest.
It doesn’t matter how much of an asshole Klaus is or how selfish or how flamboyant. His consent still matters. His boundaries are just as important.
Overall, this season just gave Klaus more trauma while still leaving his PTSD and mental illness completely unaddressed. They essentially removed his powers and took away his bond with Ben. Like, in the first season, Ben is almost always with Klaus. That is Klaus’s power, after all. In the second season, Klaus’s entire arc is without Ben. All of his missions are without Ben present.
There is absolutely no fucking way that Klaus wouldn't bring Ben with him to get tacos with Vanya and Allison. He loves Ben, more than anyone. We see that constantly in the first season, outside of a few mishaps.
I love Ben. I genuinely love Ben and his story in the first season. But in S2, they took him and twisted him into a callous thing with no respect for consent or his brother. If those three years with Klaus in 1960 were anywhere near as bad as what we see in 1963, I can see why Klaus wouldn’t want Ben around his family.
I was supposed to love Ben and cry for him. And don’t get me wrong, I did. I cried a lot in the last episode. But that scene with Vanya? Where he tells her she’s not a monster and that they should have done better and that they could help her control her powers? That’s the exact same damn speech he should have told Klaus. Vanya’s destruction was always outward. It always cost millions of people their lives. Klaus’s was inward. So why does Vanya deserve the help and love and support while Klaus gets tossed aside?
They both needed a family and only one of them got it this season. Sure, Allison and Klaus had some great scenes together. But she didn’t ask if he was okay when Ben possessed him at dinner. She didn’t check on him.
Klaus deserved better. He deserved to work through is trauma and to have a family that takes care of him and supports him and helps him figure out how to deal with the ghosts. He deserved to control his own body and to say no when Ben wanted to possess him. He deserved a goddamn hug.
Klaus was inherently selfish. However, he also gave up everything. He sacrificed his entire relationship with Dave to try and save his life. If he had succeeded, if Dave had never enlisted, they never would have met. They never would have fallen in love. Dave would never remember being with him. He nearly gave that up to protect the love of his life.
Klaus is not perfect. He’s an asshole at best sometimes. But he’s also kind and compassionate and loves harder than every other character on that show. He deserved better.
This has turned into a massive essay, but the bottom line is that S2 let Klaus and Ben down. So many things were handled poorly--from consent to mental illness. It could have been great. It could have been an opportunity to fix a lot of the mistakes made in the first season. Ben and Klaus could have talked everything out and figured out the ghosts and the war and the trauma together. They were never given that chance.
There were so many good parts of this season, but the bad parts were so bad that it tainted the rest. I know the writers could have done better. They did it with Luther and Allison! They made their characters great this season and showcased some amazing relationships between the siblings. I’m confused as to how they let Klaus and Ben fall through the cracks so heavily.
#tua#The Umbrella Academy#klaus#klaus hargreeves#reginald hargreeves#s2#tua spoilers#spoilers#dave#ben hargreeves
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