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hellishjoel · 7 months

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seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

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cottonpuffmouse · 6 months

Text

God I’m such a fool to not be writing Kunikida in love as Kent Davidson in love with Sue.

No, Kunikida will not out right flirt with you. He will wait several months, possibly several years, to ask you out. You would be lucky if you got a few drunk kisses inbetween that. It’s a harsh reality of Kunikida’s character: He Is Methodically Cautious.

But in the middle of a semi-serious meeting, where Doppo has more less been playing hardass all morning, you make a joke about the case.

And he laughs. It’s a quick, ‘blink and you’ll miss it laugh’. But he laughs! It’s funny! He does not scold you about speaking out of turn about the case either.

When he calls you with bad news, instead of straight “Here are the facts as of now:”, he says “I’m sorry. Here are the facts as of now. If you need anything, I will be available after 7PM.” And he means it!!! If you said you needed groceries, he would come with groceries!!! He would demand a small hassel delivery fee but it would be reasonable considering the groceries would be on him.

And perhaps most damningly for a Kunikida trying to hide his affections for you: He trusts you to be competent. Atsushi, Dazai, Ranpo, etc need to be checked on constantly to ensure their good behavior - (in a day to day setting anyways. In crisis they are obviously perfectly capable. They save their energy I think.)

But you can be trusted to just…do the fucking job.

You have no idea how crazy this drives him. I’m not exaggerating when I say it almost turns him on how he can ask you to perform a task and know, beyond any unexpected issues, it will get done. It’s truly epic for him. You are taking a chunk of the world off his shoulders.

He’ll admit it one day. Dazai will start a weird count down on his desk with a calendar that started in May. Every few months he would turn to the next month and he’d made a big show of it. He started in October. It would now March of the following year. Dazai’s calendar would have you believe it is June.

Life was bad tolerable until about Dazai’s Calendar’s March and Kunikida started acting fidgety around you.

On every mission he stayed close to you, constantly gently bumping into you - like someone testing an electrical fence. He became fond of getting between you and dangerous opponents. Doppo starts ensuring your snacks were bought with your grocery budget - you’ll be never without Matcha tea cakes and berry tea again!

The day the calendar reached May again, Kunikida formal courted you.

When asked about this weird way of counting down, Dazai insisted he was psychic. When that failed, he said his actual ability was to read minds of fussy people. As he was rattling off his third bit, Ranpo insisted.

“A clock would have been better? Because it always ends at 12, your calendar has extra months.”

“I had to account for him adding more of those stupid requirements when he changed the final one,” Dazai said with a grin. “Plus a calendar is what I hand in hand.”

(Last bit for all my fellow “I could never met his ideals”-ers. His ideals would change!! To you!!)

#Bsd #Osamu Dazai #Ranpo edogawa #kunikida doppo #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #mouse mumbles #cotton ships

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vivixrocks · 10 months

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Lucydream…. Please continue the zombie apocalypse story sometime… EVERYONE DID SO WELL ON DANGEROUS FELLOWS…

Dangerous fellows is such a small game and it’s so sad. I feel like it had more potential in it and you can see it but whether it’s do to budget or something else we don’t get to see that. It’s also such interesting story I want to learn more about everyone!

Like there’s a bigger picture here, Zion had two cousins, Jae and Zoey and Jae is looking for Zoey and Jae also a childhood friend Shane and they found this random ass kid Lily. Lawrence has a brother and Ethan mentions he has a sister in his episode card I think, Sue was student council president,,, the original Mac from dfel is missing from havenless and dangerous shelter?? Also something about the beginning of dangerous fellows talking about protests against the government and then all of a sudden there a zombie break out??? What the fuck.

LUCYDREAM EXPLAIN LUCYDREAM EXPLAINNNN.

ITS BEEN 3 YEARSSSSS

Please…. Spin off game please…

#dangerous fellows #dfel #havenless #havenless game #dangerous shelter #lucydream #storytaco

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lieutenantabrudas · 6 months

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yeah okay i gave up and cheated on the shading, so sue me. yes that's a prosthetic arm i did my best

this is sinatina "sina" kryik, born sinatina varilin, my oc for nihlus's mother. she's a bounty hunter by trade, daughter of a freelance merc vitevia and a weapons dealer on omega kaesso. she had nihlus fairly young, when she was 24 and thought she was invincible. nihnih was the result of a one-night stand with a passing military officer, and she was not prepared at all. luckily for her, her occasional job partner and regular FWB fellow freelancer martelian "marty" kryik happened to come a-calling while she was having her breakdown about the surprise pregnancy, and he, being something of a charming rogue himself with a soft spot for the ladies, sat with her and let her cry and promised to help her out with whatever she chose to do. so when she chose to keep the baby, marty volunteered to help her raise him.

throughout the pregnancy, sina realized she was actually falling in love with marty, and it was cemented when baby nihlus was born and marty took to him like he was his own. when nihlus was two, they made it official, got married, and sina took marty's name and tattoos. they took turns on jobs so nihlus wasn't left home alone, did the best they could to give him as good a life as a couple freelance mercs in terminus could provide... and agreed to never, ever tell nihlus marty wasn't his biological father, or talk about it between themselves, in the hopes that maybe they could eventually believe it, too. he came out looking close enough that they could pass it off as standard genetic nonsense, so it was fine. it was fine.

the truth came out after marty died. sina just didn't want her little baby boy to end up the same way as his dad, and things got heated, and they both said things they could never take back. nihlus didn't speak to her for thirteen years, and only started again after a long talk with saren.

this piece is how she appears in my fic in the land of giants, where she's been the pov of an interlude and will be arriving in the main narrative very soon! she's 93 years old and merc work + bounty hunting obviously hasn't been very kind to her, but shit, it pays the bills. the krysae is a gift from nihlus, their relationship is still a little rocky at times, but she's still his mom and he still loves her and worries about her doing dangerous work at her age, so he sends back a chunk of his spectre paychecks and occasional fun toys for her when he can.

#mass effect #turians #turian oc #mefanart #mass effect oc #sinatina kryik #drawing #digital

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neopoliitan · 4 days

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TEAM RAIN: ARC 4 CH5 - INTO THE FRAY

A WRITE UP FOR THE REST OF TEAM RAIN: CHAPTER 5

At Zenith, we cut to Roderick Lincoln’s seemingly lifeless body on the floor of the cell - following his beatdown at the mechanical hands of Sterling Braith. Fellow Lincoln Clan prisoner, Primrose, takes his pulse while the young bear faunus Fennel, stands next to her. He asks if Roderick is dead, and Primrose looks down.

Oak Holm remarks that two Lord Lincolns are dead in a matter of months, that it’s hopeless. Loden Lincoln asks if they should call a Braith to deal with the body, which Crete berates him for - their hopes lie with Artemis now, if she pulls through.

Primrose quickly exclaims, and we cut back to Roderick. His body is now covered in ruddy red aura, which quickly turns to a bright light that fills the room as the Lincolns shield their eyes. Once the light fades, they look back at Roderick, who lies still for a second - then stirs and wakes up.

As Roderick looks at his hands in shock, Primrose tells him they thought he was dead. He replies “I think I was - looks like I got better.”

Fennel feels his cheek, where he was bruised by one of the Braiths at some point, and notes that Roderick didn’t just heal himself - he healed them all. Loden is incredulous; not only did Roderick heal himself from death, but everyone else in the room is healthy again too.

A voice calls to Roderick from offscreen, and we see Artemis sitting up - finally awake. She asks what she missed.

Note: This scene introduces Roderick’s semblance, following his aura being awakened in Arc 3 Chapter 5. His semblance is named “Revival” - his aura is only active at the exact moment of death and revives him in a burst of light, healing anyone caught in its area of effect at the time.

–

Team RAIN prepares to leave for Zenith with Raleigh Radcliff. There’s a fairly ceremonious farewell scene.

Akane and Nanako end a call from Makkuro Sekinetsu, the huntress who trained them. Makkuro ensures their siblings are safe at a lodge.

Jin is leaving with RAIN - Isambard and Petra assure her they’ll be fine. Peach says her team will look after Jin’s, but is sad they’re parting ways when they just met after so many years. Jin affirms that she’ll be back.

Irving hugs his mother, and his father repeats that he’s proud of him - and if he dies in Zenith, he’ll sue the pants off the Braiths.

Robin tells Maylis that Marron’s family and Irving’s brother are going to look after her. Maylis asks if Robin is actually going to come back. Robin is unable to lie and confirm, knowing how dangerous the Braiths are, so instead she tells her she’ll do her best - and if she does, she’ll come back with the “best present ever” (This refers to Roderick, Maylis’ father).

Lilli asks Robin how she can help from Mistral, and Robin tells her that as the oldest Lincoln left, she needs to take charge as representative of the Clan. Lilli sarcastically retorts that they’ve been doing a great job so far, so Robin relents and tells her to ace her entry exam for Combat School. Lilli grins “Kick some ass? Now that’s something I can do.”

Akane and Nanako head to the ship, but Nanako lingers for a moment. Akane calls to her, and Nanako sighs - she’s not coming. She tells Akane that she wants to, but she looks at the people staying behind and knows that’s where she needs to be - not just because she’s the leader of Team NPIR, but because she can feel it in her heart. Something in her wants to prove she can protect her friends and family more than it wants to hunt down the Braiths.

Akane clutches her sister’s arm and tells her it’s fine - she’d be happier if Nanako stayed. She almost lost her once (Arc 3 Chapter 8-9), she’d prefer not to inflict the danger of Zenith on her again. Nanako removes her scarf and gives it to Akane, telling her to keep warm, then unties her hair and instructs her sister to give the hair-tie to Marina. Akane assures her they’ll only be gone a few days and she doesn’t need to give away her belongings, but Nanako tells her it’s a gesture so that Akane knows she’ll always have her back.

Nanako smiles, and tells Akane she’ll make her proud. Akane, never the hugging sort, embraces her sister and tells her she already has.

–

We see Raleigh’s ship flying through the air. Snow in the sky tells us that they’ve made it to Solitas.

An establishing shot of a small, industrial settlement built around a giant electric dust crystal is underlined with the title “FARADAY.”

Raleigh looks over his shoulder from the cockpit and tells them they’ve arrived at the nearest settlement to Zenith (he got a rough location from Mason of the Crazy Bunch), but there are readings of Grimm activity all over the place. He tells them to hop out of the ship and make a start on the Grimm - he’ll catch up, but “parking is a nightmare.”

Team RAIN and the newly formed “Team PALM” (Jin-Shi Pan, Marron Armona, Wil Lincoln, Marina Lincoln), leap out of the ship and employ their landing strategies.

There would be a page or two of both teams showing off their skills by killing Grimm - Wil would swing wide, then pull his sword in close for Jin to vault over his back and kick a Grimm. Marina and Marron would fire back to back, then we’d run backwards through the members of RAIN, starting with Nyssa and ending on Robin, each doing something cool.

Irving finishes a Grimm off, then rounds a street corner - where he’s met with the sight of Tahlia Braith commanding drones to kill Grimm around her, barely moving from where she stands. The two lock eyes, then realisation sets in and Tahlia mumbles “oh sugar,” censoring her own swear.

–

We see Raleigh’s ship fly overhead, his emblem clearly emblazoned on its sides as a silhouetted figure watches on. We quickly learn this figure is Otso Umber, kitted out with two fresh prosthetic eyes. Enraged by the sight of his teammate-turned-mortal-enemy, he roars and begins to charge after it.

That is, until someone tackles him from the side and both sail through the front window of a butcher’s shop.

When Otso comes too after a few moments, he’s pinned to the ground face-down. Gardner Braith has a foot on his back and is restraining him. Gardner’s cleaver now has a cable hanging from the base which ends with a meat hook. He uses the cable to try to strangle Otso and commands him to give up, but Otso pushes the man off of him and flees in the direction of a meat locker, firing his shotgun to prevent Gardner giving chase.

Shrugging off the gunfire, Gardner stands up, heads for the meat locker and remarks that “they always have to take the difficult option.”

–

Otso stumbles through the meat locker as Gardner again appeals to him to give up and die quickly, lest he suffer more if he drags this out. Otso retorts he won’t make Gardner’s life easy.

Gardner tells him that if Otso resists, Kamala will likely go after his family - but Otso is unconvinced; Kamala will kill them anyway… Gardner best hope Otso doesn’t get to the Braiths first as he could “snap little Tahlia’s neck like a dry twig.”

Gardner charges, angered, but Otso dodges and finds his back up against the exit door. Charging it open, he turns and uses his newfound sight to inflict his semblance (the ability to cause pain through eye contact) on Gardner, causing the man to fall to one knee as he suffers.

When Gardner recovers, Otso is gone, leaving him in an empty street.

–

Raleigh, now having parked his ship, begins to cut through Grimm with his dual hatchets. Before he can take a breath, a shot hits his ship and startles him. His name is yelled from offscreen, and Otso makes himself known.

Raleigh: “Well, look what the cat dragged in. About time you showed up. We’re well overdue for a few rounds in the ring, aren’t we? ”

The duo begin to pace around one another, slinging insults and incidents from their shared past at one another.

Raleigh: “You’re looking rough, old friend. Is it the eyes, or the fact you’ve been bulking on Grimm?”

Otso: “Don’t act like you’re any better than me. Walking out on your wife the second you laid eyes on a younger model. Maybe I’ll seek out young Cordovan when we’re done here. See how reacts once I’ve killed his father.”

Raleigh: “You leave my boy outta this.”

Otso: “That’s rich coming from the man who keeps tabs on my granddaughter. You roped family into this before I did.”

Raleigh prepares a charge.

Raleigh: “I think we’ve had enough chatter -- just follow my voice if your eyes aren’t up to it. Let’s get this over with.”

Otso prepares a charge.

Otso: “My goddamn pleasure.”

The duo leap at each other.

#rwby #rwby fan art #rwby art #rwby fanart #rwby oc #team rain #robin lincoln #irving hawthorne #nyssa noirette #akane amaranth

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akaviri-dovah · 1 year

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Do tell me all about your Mary Sue OC *rests chin on hands*

ahhhhh first of all I gotta say I'm so flattered that you followed me >w< I've been a fan of your art and writing for your while but that's another story for another day-

anyways about the character herself... I have A LOT to share, and the post editor doesn't like me so I apologise for taking so long on this, and thank you for your patience. I am going to start by saying that right from the start, before she even had a name, I thought her already dangerously close to being a mary sue due to her original purpose... shipping with one of my favourite canon characters.

this is Rumeranwen Malathelaere (or simply Rume), a 6'8 greatsword wielding high elf templar and my main character for ESO. though I haven't had much time to play the game I know enough to weave a story in my head about her, her love interest, and the forces threatening to tear them apart.

long ramble under the cut about her story, and all things about it I am worrying about making her a mary sue. spoilers abound. I'd like to hear opinions about this, also.

as is in the nature of all Elder Scrolls protagonists, it is in her hands that the fate of the world is placed. and not just once, either! though I plan to have multiple characters in my game and story, she is the one who takes the role of Vestige, completing the main quest as well as her alliance's questline, alongside the major DLC's.

Rume is a wonderful girl, for the most part: passionate, boisterous and energetic, righteous, and fearless (or at least claiming to be - there are some exceptions!). a true enjoyer of all the wonders Tamriel and its various peoples have to offer - see all the places, try all the food, pet all the creatures. but she is far from perfect: naive (especially after soul removal), stubborn, and a bit too impulsive for her own good, often learning things the hard way. not to mention that her engagement with other races puts her at odds with most of her fellow Altmer.

seems like quite a decent personality for the saviour of Tamriel, time and time again. but how did she get swept up into it all? why choose her (especially since she can put up quite the fight against any potential captors) to sacrifice and kick off the Planemeld, condemning her to an eternity of torment in Coldharbour?

simple, because she was the lover of Vanus Galerion. brought together by a certain Daedric Prince's playing matchmaker in an attempt to alleviate the Great Mage's troubled mind, and stayed that way for many years prior to the events of ESO. but sadly, it does not last, because Mannimarco (who in my and many others' interpretation is Vanus ex, who nevertheless wants him back) finds out and threatens them both. and so they separate for the time being, with Vanus going to confront Mannimarco alone and Rume left to wander Tamriel "as if she never knew him like she did" . but the Worm Cult's forces find her anyway, and proceed to capture her and drag her to Manni's lair, where he personally sacrifices her to Molag Bal.

but unlike so many others sacrificed in the same way, she returned to Nirn as if alive again due to her love for life itself being so deep and boundless, acting as an aedric force protecting her. but without a soul, she has no memory of her experiences from her previous mortal life. she does find Vanus again, much to his shock as he was given visions of her death. and especially since this Rume - though looking and sounding exactly the same as the Rume he knew and loved - does not recognise him at all.

things will get better for them, though. Rume will know him again, and realise her love for him even before she regains her soul. and their bond stays ever strong for the years to come - even though she travels far and wide, he is never far from her mind. and once her adventuring ends, and they retreat to a hidden estate to live out the rest of their lives in peace, she will be remembered by the people of all provinces for eras to come by myriad titles, with one of the most notable being "the Warrior Bride of the Great Mage."

if only it were so. for Mannimarco was not done with them yet, and was doubly furious for this perceived enemy of his to have escaped her fate, beat his ass, and stole his lover once again. and so came the fateful battle between Vanus's army of warriors and mages and Mannimarco's forces of death and darkness.

A thousand good and evil perished then, history confirms. Among, alas, Vanus Galerion, he who showed the way, It seemed once that Mannimarco had truly died that day.

from the book Mannimarco, King of Worms. this is canon.

Rumeranwen Malathelaere was among that thousand. sort of, but not quite. for she was a Vestige, and could not be truly killed, unlike her mortal lover who was then taken as an undead thrall by the King of Worms. but knowing this, Mannimarco sent his subordinates to the nearest wayshrine to capture her upon her resurrection, and imprisoned her in a pit at the bottom of a dungeon complex hidden beneath a lonely part of Tamriel untouched by man, mer, or beast, forced to die and come back to life over and over and over again with no way to escape nor anyone to rescue her. all written records of her were destroyed and word-of-mouth stories of her twisted into unrecognisability by the Worm Cult; by the tail end of the Third Era, nobody knew such a person had ever existed.

but rumour has it, that there is still someone who not only knows about her, but is searching for her, even after all this time. for immortals never forget their friends.

TLDR - "chosen one" oc who saves the world on multiple occasions, manages to defy fate due to "the power of love", nice for the most part but goes through awful undeserved things, has important canon character/in universe historical figure as love interest, is treated as a character who really existed in-universe

hope you enjoyed, nonetheless. and special credits go out to @titanwolfackerman for major inspiration and help in creating this story. please do check them out.

#aka's answers #aka's ocs #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls online #eso #altmer #high elf #vestige #oc: rumeranwen #aka's shipping shenanigans #oc x canon ship: galeranwen

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cookinguptales · 1 year

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You know... this really will be my last word on the whole accessibility debacle, but I was thinking this morning about ASL interpreting.

Now, I'll preface all this by saying that, while I do have hearing troubles and sign at home with my family, my hearing issues are only mild compared to the profound deafness that runs in my family. So while I've spent a fair amount of time around interpreters, I do not need to use them for my daily life.

Still. The reason I actually want to talk about sign language interpreters is because I think a lot of hearing folks don't know how one is hired.

Here's the thing -- like 99% of the time, Deaf people do not hire their own interpreters. In fact, most certified interpreters will refuse if a Deaf person attempts to hire them directly.

According to the ADA, it is the business's responsibility to find, hire, and pay for an interpreter. It is not the Deaf person's job to do the research. It is not the Deaf person's job to find an adequate interpreter. It is not the Deaf person's job to pay for it.

And this is a line that ASL interpreters will hold.

Why? Because of the precedent it will set. It is well understood that if disabled people (and/or Deaf; not all Deaf people ID as disabled, though some do) need to expend extra work, effort, and resources to get access to their legally required accommodations, that is still not equal access.

If I need to do hours of research to figure out how to get access to the same building as my fellow students for a class trip, I am being discriminated against because my fellow students don't have to spend their free time doing this; they can use that time to study and/or work. If I need to go in circles with a venue because the performers being paid don't know and don't care to know whether their venue is accessible, I am being discriminated against. Other paying customers do not face this barrier.

(And when I have gone through venues, I have had waiting periods of up to three months to get an answer, by which time shows have often passed -- and that's if they answer at all. They answer performers; they do not always answer guests.)

If podcasts charge extra for transcripts (I am looking at you, You Must Remember This), that is discriminatory and illegal because it is placing the burden of accessible accommodations on the people who need them. And that means many marginalized people will not get those accommodations. It's just that simple.

Guys, this is important. My family has struggled with doctors who refuse to provide interpreters. My family has struggled with mental health professionals who refuse to provide interpreters. My family has struggled with police who refuse to provide interpreters when responding to distress calls.

This places my family in acute physical danger.

It's easy for people to dismiss a post about accessibility issues for a live podcast recording. It's entertainment, it's not a life or death situation. It's easy to send me -- god, so many messages about how it's my job to take hours out of my day to fight with a venue instead of expecting the performers to do that labor for their disabled fans. But ASL interpreters know this: it's about the precedent.

It's not always going to be entertainment. Next time it could be a doctor's office. It could be a school. It could be an emergency. And when you expect disabled people to be 100% responsible for their own accommodations, that just dissuades people from getting them. Which is a form of systemic discrimination.

Because here's a fun fact: businesses rely on disabled people being too sick or too shy or too nice or too jaded to demand accommodations. The ADA doesn't have, like, inspectors who go around making sure places are accessible. The ADA forces disabled people to find and sue the people who are discriminating against them, and many businesses depend on the fact that this is difficult, time consuming, and intimidating.

(And boy, could I write an entire fucking post about how my university used this tactic on me to try and keep me from demanding accommodations -- is equal access to education sexier than me wanting to go to a live show?)

A lot of people have accused me of being lazy, of being entitled, of being ignorant because I contacted the podcasters rather than just the venue. Of course I know it's easier to go that route, though as the podcasters themselves found out, not always very effective.

(Venues are often uncommunicative if you aren't the one who booked the show. 🙃)

But seriously -- you think emailing a venue and waiting wouldn't have been easier than fielding harassment on this website for two fucking weeks straight? That it wouldn't have been easier than writing thousands of words explaining my position, only to have those words ignored by people who are just going to send the same criticism ten more times?

The way I went about this issue was much, much harder than all the times I've stayed quiet. Because I assure you -- this is not my first fucking inaccessible show. And I almost always deal with being discriminated against quietly.

But fuck, guys. Disabled people know: it is always about the principle of the matter. It is always about the precedent. Because these are not rights that we can allow to erode at all. Because next time, it will be a doctor we're expected to devise our own accommodations for. It'll be a school. It'll be the police.

And sometimes doing the right thing is more important than the easy thing.

I am very pleased that these podcasters realized that they were not going about things the right way and have committed to doing better in the future. I am very disappointed in their fans who are still sending me messages. And uh. Yeah, I hope this one last post on the subject will help the last few stragglers understand where I am coming from with this.

(Note: I am not going to debate this, my rights, or my responsibilities any further. Going forward, I'm going to use my block button liberally. Thanks for your time and consideration.)

#my sister is profoundly deaf and when her school in charlotte refused to provide an interpreter my parents balked #and they said 'fuck it sue us'#this is what we deal with every fucking day #cw:#ableism #disability

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llyncooljones · 1 year

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i'm snow longer - twelve days of rowaelin '22.

ao3 || masterlist || twelve days of rowaelin ‘22 masterlist

prompt: hallmark movie. word count: 1942 trigger warnings: language, smut, sexting tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck @letstakethedawn @rowaelinscourt

the staghorn mountains, almost christmas.

The first time Aelin had retreated to a ski resort for the Christmas period, she’d been shocked. Shocked, not only by many people chose to spend time away from their families during such a time of community and family, but also by how many families chose to spend Christmas in a hotel. and not in the ultra-decorated, ultra-comfort of their homes.

She’d quickly realised she was being a hypocrite because wasn’t she just the same as all of those people? Avoiding her family on Christmas, choosing to spend Christmas morning declining calls, and watching the messages pile up during the moments she wasn’t skiing down the side of a slope.

And it was the fact of her reason that made her feel so much worse, she was avoiding spending time at home because ever since her father had died, her mother had brought home increasingly old men, with increasingly deep pockets. She was avoiding all of her friends, all of her family—but not her presents, she always emailed the address of the local post office to her friends and family—purely because she didn’t like her new stepdaddies.

To pile even more guilt on herself—Aelin sometimes liked to feel shit about herself, liked to think it gave her motivation, really it gave her an increasing bill for therapy—she’d been avoiding home for so long, that she now exclusively skied down Black Diamond slopes. She’d started out without gear, or even a clue.

She only visited for two weeks out of a year, to make matters worse.

By now, she recognised the locals, and the locals recognised her. in fact, she recognised the regulars at the ski resort, too. She knew which ones lived in the neighbouring towns during the snow season, knew which ones visited just for the weeks of Christmas frenzy.

Safe to say, she knew how to live her life at a ski resort, she’d been doing it for a long fucking time. Which meant she understood proper conduct when it came to skiing. She was no fool. Nor was she one to accept foolishness.

And if it led to sore knuckles for the next week, who cared?

In conclusion, when some dickhead with a fucking complex of some sort—she’d never sat down to memorise all of them, sue her—cut her up repeatedly, and refused to show some common fucking decency or even respect for fellow skiers, she’d make sure he was out of line.

So now here she was, bent down slightly, as aerodynamic as possible, skiing for her absolute life whilst chasing after the dickhead in the green kit who’d cut her up. So. Many. Times.

She focused on the snow, planning out the quickest route—and even then, she didn’t have to work very hard, she had it memorised—to get to him.

Maybe Aelin had a penchant for vigilante justice served with a side of her fists—sue her. She’d encountered every brilliant, fabulous, perfect person in her life due to her penchant, it had only done her good.

Up until the point the police had knocked on her door and issued her with a warning over a bar fight in which she’d punched a dude so hard, his friends called him ‘bobblehead’ afterwards. Now, she had to watch herself.

But who was going to drag out an already overworked police force to break up a fight, to break up Aelin doing a favour to the entire community at the ski resort? That was it, they would herald her a hero after, for eliminating a source of danger on the slopes.

She can hear the chants and feel the exhilaration of crowd surfing over her adoring fans. Yeah, this was going to be her best match yet, going to be her most famous.

Before she could fully comprehend it, the skier in green was just in front of her, slowed down and instead—practising? He seemed to be going over one position repeatedly, working his body into shapes that she didn’t want to know about.

She had the urge to laugh but instead pulled to a stop in the middle of a Black Diamond slope, pushing herself to the edge. The edge he was also on—oddly considerate for such a previously inconsiderate skier, but people had depth and were like onions when it came to structuring, so she disregarded her doubts. Being a dick about others once was enough to discount him as a quality skier.

“Hey!” she shouted, fumbling to pull down the fabric protecting her chin, mouth, and nose. He hadn’t heard her, so she tried again, “Hey!”

This time, he looked up—similarly pulling down the fabric over his face. Only, with a lot less fumbling, and a lot more skill. She hoped he thought her flushed cheeks were a result of the cold weather and not her sudden on-set embarrassment. He made a motion, to point himself, checking it was him she was talking to.

“Yeah, you. D’you see anyone else around here? Don’t play coy with me, dickhead. You know just why I’m here; you know full well you’ve been dangerous, reckless, and careless on the slope. You’ve cut me up seven times, and almost embedded yourself in a tree four times—and we’re only a third of the way down! I don’t enjoy fearing for my safety, nor others’, and I especially don’t like watching some dude’s brain explode over a tree trunk.”

She’d torn off her eye protection at one point, pulling them up to rest on her head. He’d followed suit, managing to make it look effortless, where she had fumbled, and plucked at the tight strappings. It was as if he’d done everything a thousand times before as if he was some kind of skiing master, a fucking Winter Olympics gold medallist.

Which he certainly was not—he couldn’t be, because those people knew how to ski, and this man evidently did not. Aelin could have kicked him in the shin she was mad at him. Her perfect brand of perfect vigilante justice.

It would be a perfect way to spend Christmas Eve, it could even be her Christmas present to herself.

“Thank you, for the concern. But I’m not about to flatten myself to a tree trunk, and also, by cutting you up, did you mean skiing perfectly safely across you, roughly 20 metres ahead of you? and if you did, I suggest you learn what skiing means.” His breath didn’t make little clouds in the air, and Aelin assumed it was due to the ice heart that he housed in his chest. He clearly was just as cold and just as frigid as the air was, a third of the way down a pretty fucking tall mountain.

i.e., he was very cold and very frigid. Perfect for riling up, pissing off, and beating up.

One of Aelin’s favourite things to do—under the large, umbrella term of vigilante justice, of course.

“Give it a rest, you think you fucking walk on water—”

“—correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what snow is? Again, correct, but I do believe it is water in a frozen-ish state. But don’t catch me out on the science of it all—I haven’t gone to a science class in over fifteen years—”

“—you’re just the type to say that, you know. I could tell. The second I opened my mouth and said what I did, I got a psychic vision of you being a pretentious, pedantic arsehole and telling me all that. Telling me all that and going all shy and bullshit.” He let her finish her sentence, but she was immediately thrust back into his delusional environment.

“Please spare me the lecture—you’d be more useful if you were dead, than giving me, me of all people, about how to fucking ski.” Before she could consider his words, her hand was flying out, slapping him around the face.

“Don’t you dare—how fucking rude, and inconsiderate, and inhuman do you have to be, to wish fucking death on someone. Someone you don’t even know—I genuinely, genuinely, pray that I never see you ever again.”

She felt so strongly that she’d order room service for the rest of her stay, that she’d stick to the baby slopes with all the incapable children, and parents who wished they were on Black Diamond slopes. She hated him so thoroughly that she’d willfully immerse herself in a child-rich area.

Gods, this man was clearly doing funny things to her. not only regarding her choices to avoid him but in her style of violence. She typically would punch someone—felt as though it would hurt more, and leave a deeper, darker, more painful mark.

This idiotic, stuck-up-his-own-arse dickhead deserved something so humiliating as to be slapped around the face. So hard that he twisted around, and was almost knocked off balance. That was what he deserved, with a nice defined handprint across his cheek—the cherry on top of the already perfect cake.

He shook his head and opened his mouth, but Aelin had enough self-preservation to understand that she needed to get out of there. Soon. As soon as possible, or else she was going to find herself with a wonderful mugshot.

Before he could get his sentence out, Aelin was sliding her eye protection down, and tightening the thick fabric keeping the bottom half of her face warm(ish). It seemed that no matter which brands she tried, or who she consulted on the matter, she came out with a snowy chin, and a nose verging on frostbite.

Clearly, she didn’t care too much, given that she was still skiing with the pain, and suffering it ultimately delivered to her doorstep.

She let her anger flow through her as she skied down the mountainside, taking riskier and riskier corners and jumps, though still somewhat more careful than she would be, with the knowledge her newfound arch nemesis was somewhere behind her. the scenery was slowly shifting around her, the thick, tall pine trees thinning out, making room for rocks, and the pale blue of the winter’s sky.

The snow was practically untouched due to the early hour, just a couple of sets of tracks that never seemed to stray far from one another. The chance someone was training was low—but Aelin knew of some hard-core skiers who never took a day off. If there wasn’t snow, they’d simply find an artificial slope somewhere.

It was dedication in a way that Aelin couldn’t fathom, nor could she aspire to it. The only thing she was just as dedicated to, was not being introduced to her thirty-seventh stepdad in four years.

The trees dissolved from her view, leaving only the sky and the clouds, and the glaring sunshine. Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t look away—mesmerised by the twinkling of it against the snow, the shifting particles in the air.

It was gorgeous.

All until a fiercely cut figure in green smoothed his way across the snow but five metres in front of her, having come from within the trees. It was dangerous, and she was pissed off. She was more than pissed off—he’d disrespected her, and all the fellow skiers on the slope, just to be a show-off, just to seem cool, he’d been rude, cold, and inconsiderate in the most horrifying of ways.

All Aelin could do was watch on as he threw up a distinct middle finger, his dark green a stark contrast against the white snow.

Oh, she’d get him, she’d get him.

#twelve days of rowaelin #12 days of rowaelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #tog fic #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #llyncooljones' writing #my fic #my writing

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hyperfixation-brainrot · 1 year

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Miscellaneous DF headcannons :)

Okay, so

Eugene:

• A theater kid.

• Lies about his height. He is shorter than MC, canon is wrong.

• Tends to overwork himself when he's making music. Like, "I've just composed a hit song but haven't eaten in about 2 days-"

Harry:

• Uses a lot of tone indicators, and you'll probably need to do so too. If he thinks you're unhappy with him he'll panic.

• He downplays his own issues because he's worried about being a burden. It's very concerning.

• You are normally the one arranging days out. He doesn't want to put you on the spot or make you feel guilty, so he doesn't often invite you placed unless you are very obviously hinting that you want to go somewhere.

Ethan:

• I may be projecting but he is very much autism-coded. I'm autistic myself, so I may be biased, but still.

Continuing from my previous point, he's semiverbal, so he can speak, just prefers not to and finds it kinda difficulti sometimes. It's probably why he nods so much.

He comes across as intimidating and angry but he's actually just very shy. He's trying to figure out how to tell someone that he likes their outfit and they think he's about to beat them up.

A really good hugger.

Zion:

He says in his DM's that we're the first people he's told about his scars, but I sort of disagree. Personally, I think that we're the first people he's told the truth to. Other people have asked, and he's probably told them that he got in a fight with a gang of land-sharks and won.

Pretty possessive. Not as much as Lawrence, but he will give your male friends a death stare whenever you aren't looking at him.

His ideal date would be anything with dogs involved.

Lawrence:

He doesn't deserve headcannons. Joking, I just don't have many for him.

He talks to his plants. He wasn't allowed pets, or anything that would distract him from his studies, so plants were the only thing that his parents deemed sufficiently educational.

Surprisingly empathetic towards non-human objects, if you couldn't tell from the plant thing. It's kind of odd, because he'll treat a random leaf like a small child. Especially after all he's done.

He likes it when you're clingy and needy, because it makes him feel loved. You practically hang off of him when he feels down. It cheers him up.

Scarlett:

She was one of the "popular girls" before the apocalypse. She had a group of friends that she'd gossip with. None of them made it, and at the time that we meet her, she's in the anger stage of grief, which she takes out on us.

She doesn't actually love Zion, she's just convinced herself she does. She does it as a distraction and coping mechanism.

She craves validation, and when told she's in the wrong for her behaviour towards us, she blames us for "turning people against her" and refuses to acknowledge that she's in the wrong.

Jay

He's aro-ace. He doesn't tell you this though, because he hates you.

Very, very stubborn. He refuses to give you a single chance, because he said he didn't want you around when you first met and he's not backing down.

He and Scarlett are cousins, and he acts like this makes him popular. It doesn't.

Sue:

She loves true crime and mystery novels. It's why she suspected Lawrence to begin with.

She wore braces as a kid, and now she has perfectly straight teeth.

Scarily good at drawing straight lines without a ruler.

Judy:

Everyone likes her. She radiates positive energy.

Really enthusiastic about almost everything. She doesn't feel neutral about anything, her default state is "this makes me so happy I may die".

Really good at doing everyone's hair except her own, so she keeps it short and wears lots of hair accessories to make up for it.

Haliey:

Her coat is a comfort item.

Got teased a lot in school, took it to heart. She spent the majority of her day hiding out in the school bathrooms before the apocalypse.

Knew Scarlett before the apocalypse. Scarlett kind of took her under her wing, which is why Hailey's nice to her even though she's a brat to us.

#dangerous fellows sue #dangerous fellows judy #dangerous fellows lawrence #dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows headcanons #df #df headcanon

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serenanymph · 9 months

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author ask tag game

tagged by @scribbling-stardust! you can find her post here. putting this whole thing under the cut because boy is it Long. as for the tag... uh whoever I've tagged below who wants to hop in ig (no pressure tho!!)

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it? Honestly my themes kind of grow from the story instead of the other way around, but overall I'd say it's something along the lines of discrimination and how dangerous hate can be. (<< sounds cool, has no idea how she's going to actually write this) But I will say there's a lot of like - mini themes in it too, because each character has their own issues and needs to learn different things to grow. Stuff about communication, about self-care, about finding yourself, about courage, etc etc. Very scattered, ik.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)? I'd say there's a lot of like?? Mythological creatures?? Y'know the classics like vampires and werewolves and selkies and what not. And then I just. Turn it all on its head. All the myths of them still exist in-universe - they're just wildly inaccurate because humans have been passing the stories down for decades. In actuality, Beasts are much more different. (Also and this is rather embarrassing to admit, but I've been stealing aHeM taking inspiration for characters from all of the media I've been watching. Which is. Mostly anime. Plus some worldbuilding details from fanfic aus I've thought up.)

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person? Honestly? I have no idea. As of now, he's mostly trying to survive. I think the issue with Crys is that largely he's not someone who actually has a goal he wants to achieve?? The growth he experiences is not a thing he really decides he wants, but more something he needs, which the narrative basically has to drag him into. As for me... mostly I just want to write my stories and have them reach someone somewhere. It's probably the same for a lot of us who share those stories.

How many chapters is your story going to have? No idea. 40-something?? 50??? I always underestimate my end wordcount and my chapters vary wildly in length.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? Original content!! I've been thinking about tweaking some stuff in Crow Wings (book 1) after I've finished first drafting Witch's Book (book 2), then I'll probably throw it up on ao3 and maybe simultaneously post it here.

When and why did you start writing? Sometime when I was a kid I think?? I'm pretty sure I was vaguely upset and bored and then I just picked up a pencil and started going at it. It was titled 'Survival' and it was basically a ripoff of I Am Number Four, littered with grammar and spelling mistakes, and all the cringefail, mary sue tropes small me could think up. I kid you not, the main character was named Emma, she had blond hair and blue eyes, and she was so good at fighting she was better at it then boys, even. Gasp!! Color me surprised!!!!! Anyway I still have it with me due to nostalgia reasons but it is hidden in my drawer under my bed where the light of day will never reach. Don't judge me, I was like nine.

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow? We're all friends here and we're all still learning, so don't be afraid to share your work!! Something you feel might not be "good enough" is a story someone out there will love - and take it from a person with low self-confidence, your writing's often not as bad as you think! :D (also c'mon. it can't be worse than what nine-year-old me thought up.) As for writers... well I am following a lot of people but I'm just gonna tag a few of my mutuals. There's @lyssa-ink (my first ever writeblr mutual!!! she does fantasy with a lot of immortals, fae and court politics), and also @reneesbooks (go check out lacuna. birdie is adorable and jack is so funny to me). Also @macabremoons (vampires. lots of vampires. also super fun to talk to!!!), @sidhewrites (love graveyard lesbians. kaz is an absolute disaster and lucy is just so!!!), and @loopyhoopywrites (the Ex-Quest is peak comedy. every excerpt I read leaves me wheezing). I don't talk as much with @space-writes, @e-klair, @sapphos-scientist or @squarebracket-trick, but they're all lovely, talented writers and I really appreciate that they let me yell about Beast at them!!! There's also @scribbling-stardust (one of my most recent moots. her oc dahlia and my oc dahlia are literally twins. it's hilarious). Lastly, closing off with @allianaavelinjackson, who isn't very active on tumblr but is nonetheless always available to brainstorm (read: listen to me go insane) over Beast. Love ya <3

#this has gotten insanely long #if I forgot any of you I am so sorry #writeblr #my posts #tag game #beast #wip: beast #I feel like this last part is basically a repeat of the writeblr positivity tag but!!! reminding yall once again that you are awesome!!!!

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fondueforme · 1 month

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CLOSED STARTER @askingrachelberry

Once the song ended, Brittany gave their partner a quick wave and got out of there. The guy had stepped on their feet twice. They wondered if they could find Jake or even Mike for a dance that wouldn’t disappoint. They scanned the room, but only saw one lone figure sitting off to the side. With a snap of their fingers, the Cheerio with the neck brace was by their side instantly, camera ready. “Let’s go.”

They’d already shot a lot of footage since arriving at the dance, even getting some of Sue’s bowl getting spiked by Lauren. Not to mention the fiasco of crowning the new Homecoming Queen, but they’d definitely lacked any interviews post game, which was why Brittany was making their way over to their fellow Glee Clubber. “Rachel!”

They took a seat next to her and held up their small mic. “If you’re still watching after our short commercial break about the dangers of feline AIDS, I’m Brittany and I’m here with the one and only Rachel Berry. So, Rachel, tonight seems to be the night for the underdogs, but here you are sitting like a sad galago. What gives? Did they stop making your favorite animal print sweaters?”

#askingrachelberry #f2f.#f2f: rachel.#wmachomecoming #wmacevent001 #/I SWEAR I REMEMBERED I OWED YOU FROM THE WANTED CONNECTIONS CALL

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twinanimatronics · 2 years

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In my personal au Y/N was wronged by fazcorp and breaks into the pizzaplex every few days to document some of the horrible things fazcorp has done in an attempt to get enough evidence to sue, and they end up befriending animatronics along the way and trying to save them. Usually they have a camera they snuck in to gather evidence with that at first is Super Serious and then they end up taking pictures with the animatronics and letting them keep the nice ones in their rooms on their mirrors, and Y/N ends up having a cute little cork board at home for putting their own pictures up. Usually after Gregory sets the pizzaplex on fire and skedaddles with Freddy, Y/N's Beloved Animatronics (usually Sun and Moon if I'm being honest) are taken with them to their house so they can work on finding someone to fix them up, and there's Angst because now they know the first time they met Y/N was gonna get them scrapped because they're Infected and Dangerous, but then they couldn't go thru with it because they caught feelings and became aware that there's hope for saving the fazcrew and that their A.I.s are Shockingly Human, bonus points if Vanny caught on and also tried to get Y/N killed to keep the virus going only for the Beloved Animatronic Partner to freak tf out abt it and end up either saving Y/N from her or they end up tending to their wounds. (Sun wailing loudly as he covers Y/N in bandaids is a Very Funny Thought, and bruises hurt a little less when you're distracted anyways, so technically Sun really is helping)

Sorry to attack your inbox like this but I wanted to get the idea out there, I thought some fellow fans might enjoy this idea, and they're free to use and change it however they'd like! But I think Y/N doing Very Not Legal Things and being a "Bad Influence" on the animatronics, teaching them how to break and bend the rules and get away safely, is a Very Fun Idea. (Especially when Sun learns to detach and leave one of his loose petals that management never fixed inside the daycare, so he technically is Still In The Daycare and Not Breaking Any Rules while also Exploring and meeting the other Animatronics)

Thanks for letting me rant, I hope you enjoyed this even a little bit :)

Yoooo .o.

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anxietysslave · 2 years

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Hi!:D can I ask for a dangerous fellows x klee! reader like literally klee with the bombs and vision(^▽^), headcannons pls

Of course. :)

It wasn't specified if you're a child like Klee or not, so to follow the plotline of the game you aren't.

Characters: Ethan, Harry, Lawrence, Eugene, Zion, Jay, Sue, Hailey, Scarlet, Judy

Pronouns used: They/Them

Child platonic version: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/anxietysslave/691407920842293248?source=share

Ethan:

-Okay, so this man would probably be very confused. I mean, the first time he met you, you were probably blowing up the zombies-

-Since he's so quiet, he probably wouldn't ask many questions about it. But you can see in this man's eyes that he's curious about how you form the bombs.

-He probably sees the vision a few times but probably would think it was a type of jewelry-

-Please explain it to him. Man's is curious but doesn't want to ask- XD

-As his way of being kind, he'll probably drop off random designs to help you customize your bombs. If you ask him about it, he'll look at you weirdly and proclaim it wasn't him with a red face-

-Even though you can protect yourself, baby would still be protective of you-

Harry:

-This man would never admit it, but he's low-key kinda afraid of you-

-Like he just watches you blow up the zombies with no care

-If you become friends, he'll ask you questions. He won't understand the whole vision thing but will try his best-

-He's too sweet for this world <3

-If you let him, he'd probably look at the vision and would be so invested in it. Wouldn't understand it, but would try for you.

-If you give him a bomb that doesn't explode, he'll treasure it greatly. Every time you walk into his room, you'll just see it in the center. If you point it out to him, he'll just laugh and say you're special to him. I want to hug him so badly. Man deserves the world.

-Literally so helpful with it. Like if Lawrence stole your vision again, he would do his best to help you find it. Would also assume Lawrence took it, and would probably lecture him behind the scenes. Please don't die-

-He would also be the type of person to watch you use your vision because he's nervous you'll injure yourself. If he sees you get injured, you can expect him to be the first one to come to your aid. Alongside Ethan-

Zion:

-No questions asked. You'd be a chaotic duo-

-He'd probably take you on patrol just to blow things up- Weather it be zombies or actual buildings-

-Would probably ask how the bombs are mad, but would tune out that answer once it became overly complicated- :')

-He'd see the vision quite a lot, but wouldn't really care. He'd think it's some weird piece of jewelry you keep with you- Probably doesn't like it either

-He'd take you to the roof of the school building and would just beg you to throw bombs on unsuspecting zombies. It's so fun to watch them go boom-

-Would also ask you to make bombs that won't explode so he can prank the others- And he'd get yelled at for it too-

-If you explain that a god granted you that power, he'd look at you so weirdly- He didn't take you as the type to be religious- This man is a sweetheart sometimes, but doesn't understand much- So you'll have to explain it to him what you mean- And even then he might not understand

Eugene:

-He's probably the only one out of these boys who wouldn't make you blow stuff up and wouldn't ask much about it-

-He'd see you use bombs and would just look the other way XD

-As for the vision, would also think it's some sort of jewelry you decide to keep with you. May ask where you got it from, but would ask you to shut up if you gave him the full story-

-Wouldn't admit it, but he watches you when you're blowing stuff up- He does find it interesting and quite helpful for the team

-Once you become closer, he'll ask you if you can get injured. If he finds out you can, he'll be so worried and would probably spend a bit scolding you on how to be careful-

-If he hears something about other visions and how other people can get them, he'll be so concerned- (Especially if it's anemo or cryo he hears of) Would ask you if you're mentally okay, and if not, then he'll give you a hug- If you are then he'll try to declare he didn't care and just asked because you looked down- Please forgive him- He means well

-Would ask you why you don't kill them traditionally with a weapon. Like why you have to be so violent about it? They were once human, you know- would stop asking once he heard your reasoning. And depending on what it was, he might lecture you or just make a "tch" before walking away.

Lawrence:

-Oki, this man is probably the only one who actually understands it somewhat-

-Once he sees you using bombs, he'd be so concerned but would also be so interested in you. Like, how can you do that?

-He'd definetly dedicate some research to it- Would spend literal hours just trying to find out who gave you that vision, and if there were other people with visions like yours.

-However, it's not all sunshine and rainbows with this man-

-He'd definitely scold you if you use it too much. He's scared you'd injure yourself or would escape his grasp.

-He's also the type to hide your vision away on multiple occasions just because he's so concerned- Obsessed

-Would give it back to you though because he sees how miserable you become without the vision

-You would notice that he's gotten a bit more stressed because now he has to make sure the basement is bomb-proof- What would he do if you escaped his caring obsessive grasp?

-Would try to research if there is a way to take it from you without causing you any damage. Might take the risk in the basement, but would never destroy it. He loves you so he wouldn't want his darling damaged. Seriously, can someone please grab a newspaper and bonk this man?-

Scarlet:

-Vision? Bombs? Yeah, she doesn't trust you-

-Would definitely try to get the others to kick you out. I mean, why would you trust someone who just shows up and explodes everything-?

-Would see the vision and would definitely call it ugly just to anger you-

-Now if the whole enemies to friends or enemies to lovers thing comes up, then she will start being nicer about it

-Would secretly fear you-

-She'd probably ask you how you make bombs and would be way too confused if you explained it comes from your vision.

-Like, "huh? The ugly piece of jewelry gives you power?" Yeah, she doesn't understand-

Judy:

-Bruh, she's the female version of Zion- She'd see like a horde of zombies and would beg you to blow them up-

-She will 100% still your vision just to observe it and see if it'll grant her the same powers

-But once she sees it affects you, she'll stop and instead ask if she can see. She'll feel so bad, so please give her a hug-

-You know when Lawrence throws her at the zombies? Yeah, you can prevent that with this ability- Maybe even kill Lawrence if you hate him.

-If you do that, she'll forever be grateful to you- And would also find you quite attractive after that-

-Would ask questions here and there, and would probably try to find out how she can get a vision

-Would also be disappointed to find out she can't- Please comfort her. She deserves it.

Hailey:

-She'd be quite scared of you at first- Wouldn't even come near you-

-I mean, what if you hurt her? What if you hurt her friends? She couldn't take the risk.

-But once she sees you don't want to harm any of them, she will slowly trust you.

-She asks so many questions about your vision- Like you could talk about something completely different, and she'll just look you dead in the eyes and say, "Are there multiple gods that hand out those visions?" And then the entire conversation could turn into vision this or vision that- If you let it.

-If you look over in time, you can catch her observing your vision and also watching you intently when you're blowing something up. She might ask you if you can make her a bomb that won't explode as like a gift. Please do that- She strikes me as the person who rarely gets dreams

Sue:

-Definitely know a bit about visions.

-She'll look at you and once she sees the vision, her eyes will brighten-

-She'll ask you quite a lot of questions about the vision. Like how you got it, when you got it, if you grew up with it, how you use it, etc etc. Please answer her- She's so invested in it.

-Just like Hailey, she'd ask you if you can make a bomb that she could study. Of course, she may just ask for one that can go boom just to see how it works-

-Will bring books to you about the vision and will ask if this is the right information and if you knew this or not.

-I can see her as the type to secretly give you ideas for new bombs just because it's her way of giving you a gift-

-Would always be the type to praise you for your ability. Not in front of others, and definitely would praise you in not too noticeable ways. For example, "I've never seen people make bombs like that." It means she's very impressed with you-

Jay:

-Vision? What the hell is that?

-Yeah this man knows nothing about them- He'd think it was some sorta bullshit you made up- :')

-But once he sees you use a bomb on a zombie, yeah boy is scared-

-Would always stay a few feet away from you and would not make any sort of offensive remark. Low-key acts like a trained dog- XD

-If you ask him why he's suddenly stopped, he'll just get defensive and say he didn't want to hurt your feelings too badly. You're too useful to the team. Him-

-Once you get closer to him, he'll ask like one question and that's it. He strikes me as the type who doesn't really care enough to ask questions. He sees you have a unique gift, and that's it- It doesn't matter who gave it to you or how you got it, you're just powerful-

-Would stick up for you against Scarlet because hah, he doesn't wanna go boom- Please don't actually explode him- He's just a scared boy-

Hopefully, this is good! It was quite fun to write, so thanks for the request! :)))

If you have any more requests, then please lemme know. <3

#dangerous fellows #headcannons #x reader

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