#I'm not even gonna bother putting it in the main tag

[dizzying-faust]

You guys know you can criticize SMG4's current writing and without making up shit you know.

It's one think to have criticism about it but making up stuff about what's going on behind the scenes just says more on how desperate the fandom is to just look for stuff to hate.

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[antimony-medusa]

With three people asking Phil subtle points of his boundaries via TTS within 25 minutes of the beginning of his stream, I am clawing at the walls. Are we in hell. Have we not heard all of this before? Has this not been discussed? Do you really have to ask the streamer if it's okay if you draw him with a missing eye? What are you saying about injuries and disabilities when you bring this one up like he's going to bring a moral hammer down on it? Do you really think he's gonna say no, because when has he ever said no to these things, or are you just putting down a sop to your conscience? Is this necessary?

Begging people to embrace the idea that they are not drawing comissions for streamer's approval, they can draw fanart for other fans. I'm on my knees here. This is so incredibly overfamiliar, to barge in and ask for the specifics of his thoughts on body horror and injuries, and this is so unnecessary. Just think to yourself about if it's appropriate or not, and maybe don't put it in the main tag if you think maybe it's over the line. He'll tell you if he thinks it's over the line. He's seen his cubito covered in blood and gender bent with prodigeous boobs and twinkified and holding his friends as babies. I think he's gonna be okay with scars.

If the streamer's approval is so important to you, you are welcome to go through his likes and target your art that way. If you want to draw something that you don't know if he'd like, then why are you looking for his approval. You are not a comissioned artist! You are not a friend! You are a fan drawing things for the enrichment of fans, Phil is not even on twitter even to check the art any more. Are you honestly concerned about this or are you just bothering someone so you can have a clip you can wave at people? Do you think a clip is going to satisfy people eager to cancel? He's BUSY. Let him play block game I am BEGGING you. Just use your brain and give up on this need to get dadza to approve of you. Please. PLEASE.

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you all for the tags @run-for-chamo-miles @monbons @forabeatofadrum @rimeswithpurple @ileadacharmedlife @artsyunderstudy @noblecorgi @you-remind-me-of-the-babe! You're all making me very emotional about fandom, and my TBR has gotten out of control.

So. It's 2024 for a little bit more. I'm not sure what's going to happen as I write this post, but I know it's not going to be succinct, so we're just going to start below the cut and see what happens.

I'm waffling over where to start, but I've decided on what we're here for, which is the fic recap. I did actually make fic goals in 2024, and I did actually meet some of them, which I'm trying to focus on instead of the parts I didn't meet. Here's a nice lil screenshot to sum that up.

I did give Bait and Switch a checkmark after some hesitation, because it says ongoing, and I did keep it going. I just didn't finish. (The new goal is before CORB 2025 I guess.)

So I completed 2 fics. Continued 1. Posted 60,917 words, AO3 says, even though that's including the chapters of the WIPs I started last year, and by my clumsy calculations with that in mind, it's actually 32,990. Did not meet my goals, struggled to write most of the time, but when I was looking for these stats, I found AO3 doesn't even give me a 2023 tab (rip first chaps of Bait and Switch and Musical Chairs, I guess), so it's an improvement over last year.

It just doesn't feel like it, because so much of what I did is unposted. So those are the stats I'm gonna give.

Words that didn't get posted: 23.5k

Fics this close to done that I just couldn't get any farther on: 4

Fics started: 3

Fics lovingly revisited after being abandoned for a long while: 2

Number of projects I got really excited about writing: 3

Number of times I wrote AHAHAHA in brainstorming documents because I figured out what I need to do to fix the problems I was having: 5

How long it will take me to turn those ahas into action: I cannot possibly say

Number of times I should have reached out for brainstorming help: 50, probably

Number of times I actually reached out: 3, I think

It's these last two points I actually care about. Well, no, I care about all of it, but it's these last two I've been thinking about. I had writing goals for 2024, I'm going to have writing goals for 2025, but I also had a more nebulous goal to participate in fandom more, and that's the one I'm actually bothered about not meeting.

I have a bad habit of thinking the only way I can participate is by getting fic done. Sharing it. Posting snippets if it's not done. Like I can only rejoice in other people's WIPsday posts if I have my own, instead of just being inspired by other people's writing and art. Or I can only share excitement or progress if I'm sure it's going to go somewhere, instead of just posting what I have and letting the community of it all be its own excitement. Or I can only comment if I have the headspace to put together a stunning review that perfectly encapsulates what I liked about a fic/art/anything, instead of just saying what I can or messaging someone to tell them I loved the thing they made, as if I don't know how wonderful it feels when that happens.

I'm getting sappy and maudlin on main, but I appreciate this fandom so much, even when I revert to lurking, and I want so much to get back to participating and talking to people and sharing in all the amazing wonderful things this fandom does. Y'all are some of the most talented and creative and kind people and I adore you all. So that's my main (fandom-related) goal for 2025, and any fic completed will just be bonus points.

But! Since we're here for fic at the end of the year, I will round out this rambling post by saying there are at least 3 ideas I'm hopeful I'll be able to maintain my current level of enthusiasm for, and beyond that there are about 5 that are a few sentences away from done, so there's hope for seeing at least some fic from me in the new year. Related, here's a peek at the first three documents on my drive.

Two of these fall in the "a few sentences away from done good lord why can't you just finish this" category. The other one falls in the category of things I'm actually very excited about, and hope to at least have a WIPsday post for it before too long. Because I'm thinking keeping things secret for fear of never finishing them is actually kind of silly, and I don't need to keep trying to create things in a vacuum.

Finally, a mess of tags that is me waving hello with both hands: @fatalfangirl @moodandmist @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission

@mostlymaudlin @sillyunicorn @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @alexalexinii

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @iamamythologicalcreature @ionlydrinkhotwater @thewholelemon @bluedahlia912

@youarenevertooold @cutestkilla @raenestee @confused-bi-queer @basiltonbutliketheherb

[mybelovedwoo]

i'm glad i have you with me

bff!san x f!reader

fluff, comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (slow burn) / wc:1.3k

warnings: cheating, crying, swear words, cuddling

note: so tell me how you liked this one. i am a bit nervous because this is my first non-wooyoung fic, but i really enjoyed writing it. please stay tuned in the future for other members' fics too. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

san masterlist - main masterlist

Sitting on a couch at a house party all alone with people you don't know, there's literally any other place you would rather be. Originally you came with you're boyfriend Seungjun, but you haven't seen him in hours. You weren't much of a party person, but this time you accompanied him, because he begged you for days for it, but now you are starting to regret it honestly.

You take out your phone from your back pocket, but before you open it, you look around once more to see if your boyfriend pops up somewhere, you are out of luck, so after you unlocked it, the first thing you open is your messages. Your fingers linger over Seungjun's name, but it says he's been unavailable for hours, no shit Sherlock, you think. Instead, you scroll down a bit and open the messages for your best friend, San.

You know well that he probably not gonna answer, because it's Saturday night, and he is most definitely out with his friends too. You don't care, you try it anyway, he is your best chance to rescue you out of this hell. "Hey, San." is the first you send, you're not sure what to write him, you don't want to bother him. "What are you doing?" you wait a few minutes, but he's not responding, his phone is probably on mute. "I'm kinda bored, I don't know where Seungjun went. I need your rescue ㅠㅠ." Nothing, no response. You feel really annoyed at this point, but not because San, poor boy did nothing wrong, it is just a bad moment. "You know what I'm gonna look for Seungjun. Don't worry and have fun." You lock your phone and put it back in your back pocket.

You look around the kitchen, then in the yard, but you don't see him anywhere. You are getting kinda worried that maybe he left you there. At last, you walk up the stairs, the hallway is full of kissing couples, who must have only met tonight. The moment you enter one of the rooms, you regret everything you did until now. Your boyfriend was there with another girl you had never seen before, doing things you never expected him to do with anyone except for you. 

You didn't know what to do in the big shock, but you didn't speak up, maybe they didn't even notice you or just didn't care. But you turned around and hurried down the stairs, unable to control your tears. You just needed some fresh air, you had to get out of this place immediately. You crashed out of the entrance of the house and fell down to the stairs. Sitting there you didn't even think, you were already calling San. This is urgent now.

Your phone didn't even ring for two seconds when they already answered it. "Hey Y/N, is everything okay? I'm sorry my phone was on mute I haven't seen your texts. Have you found Seungjun? Wait, are you crying?" You couldn't even speak, though you wanted to tell him everything. "Y/N please say something! What happened? Are you hurt?" You took three big breaths to calm yourself down enough to talk a few words. "He cheated on me. Could you come to pick me up?" You didn't have to say more. "I've already sat in the car the minute I saw your messages, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

He wasn't lying, he got there in record time. You watched as he pulled up with his car to the driveway of the house. When he gets out of the car, is only when you get up from the stairs you've been sitting on. San rushed towards you at a high speed, so you didn't have time to move even an inch in his way.

"Where is that dickhead?" He asked with blunt words when he got to you. He seemed really angry, maybe even angrier than you, you had never in your life seen him like this before. You shrugged, implying that you don't know and don't care either. But that was not enough for him. "Is he still inside there?" You started to get a little worried.

"I think so. But please don't make a scene, let's just go home." You pulled him through his forearm when he already started walking to the entrance. "Wait for me in the car, okay? I'll be quick, I'm not gonna do anything he doesn't deserve, I swear." He said to you, while he stroked your face with his right hand. You hesitated, but who are you to tell him what to do, so you went up to his car and sat on the passenger side for like five minutes.

At this point you didn't care much about waiting a little longer, that's what you did all night long. San slammed the door behind himself, and somehow he looked even angrier than before. He got in the car next to you and when he looked at you his expression softened. "What did you do?" You asked him with a sobby voice. "I just showed him where he belonged. Let's just say he went swimming." You look down at his hands and you see it's all bruised up.

He started the engine. "San, I don't wanna go home. What if he comes there?" You didn't know what to do, since he had a key to your apartment. You couldn't bare to see his face once more.

"We're going to my place." He didn't even hesitate. You slept at his place many times now, but not since you started dating Seungjun. San was worried when you found out you are going to different colleges, he was afraid that you wouldn't spend as much time together as you used to. But you thought that was nonsense since you have been best friends since you were very little, you grew up together.

He never liked Seungjun, he always said he didn't deserve you. But he was your first boyfriend, and you were blinded with love, at least that's what you thought. Looking back, you also know that he didn't treat you well, but you don't know that when you're in it.

-

Entering San's apartment, all you could think about was that you needed to get some sleep asap. Weariness hit you the moment you got hit by the heat of the comfortable room. You didn't want to bother San with your presence, you don't know what plans he had. 

You've been quite comfortable in here, so you decided to lie down on the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?" Asked San, entering the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Sleeping. I'm really tired." You mumbled, not able to speak properly.

"You can't sleep here. Go to my room, there is my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." You sat up at his statement. "No, you can't. This is your place." There's no way you letting him sleep out here in the cold living room when he has his own warm bed just a room away. "Let's sleep both in the bed. I think it's big enough for the both of us." You said. It's not like this is the first time you sleep in the same bed, you always fell asleep next to each other when you were little.

"Are you sure?" He hesitated. "We are not so small anymore." The joke made you both laugh, it made his heart clench to see you happy again.

After you took a warm shower, he gave you a big shirt of his and a jogger pant that was definitely too big for you. You got under the cover, San was already there, lying down. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, which illuminated the whole room until now. 

As soon as it got dark your eyes started watering again, you remember everything that happened today. All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands slip on your waist. San hugged you tightly from behind. "I got you." He whispered in your ears. He didn't let go of you all night long, you woke up in the same position the next morning.

-

[jschlattgirly]

I'll Be Here (Part I )

Hey everyone! I am still an avid AO3 and Wattpad poster, but after lurking in the Jschlatt tags for a while I decided to start some fanfics here and see how they do. I'll still be cross-posting these on both AO3 and Wattpad. Here's a little Intro to Me: Name: Katie/ Kat Age: 24 Pronouns: She/ They Main Interests: YouTube (Jschlatt, Ted Nivision, Game Grumps, Smosh, etc) Sonic the Hedgehog, PJO, My Little Pony: FiM, Arcane, Cosplay, Crochet. This mini-series actually came to me after actually being hospitalized because of a kidney stone and my main comfort through the ordeal was other fanfics. So, thank you to the fandom! ❤️

Parts: One(This One), Two, Content Warning: Emetophobia, Blood, Hosptials, talk of disease and illness. Word Count:1,702 Description: After waking up in severe pain, Schlatt decides to take you to the hospital just to make sure you are okay. Turns out, it was a good thing he took you. (Based off of my actual experience of being in the hospital and coping with JSchlatt content.)

Searing pain. That's what you felt when you woke up, the lights in the bedroom were still off and it was still dark outside. You rolled as best as you could onto your other side, whining a bit at the pain as you looked at your alarm clock, 3:30 AM. You hear some shuffling from your boyfriend beside you as you feel tears stinging your eyes from the sudden sharp pain in your side. 

"Hun?" The thick New York accent of your boyfriend muttered out to you in the dark, "What's wrong?"

Schlatt sat up, Jambo who had been resting on his chest tumbling down the bed at the movement. Schlatt immediately noticed that you were visibly not only upset but curled into an uncomfortable position, a hand latched onto your left side waist to try and alleviate the pain. 

"I-I don't know but I'm in so much pain, Jay" you whined, unable to hide the hurt and panic in your voice. You closed your eyes to try and fight the inevitable tears. 

"How bad is it?" Schlatt asked softly coming closer to you and attempting his best to move you into cuddling with him. 

"I feel like I can't breathe" you explain feeling your breath quicken. 

"Honey, if it's that bad maybe we should take you to the emergency room?" He asked softly petting your hair. 

An involuntary whine left your mouth as you spoke, "Maybe,"

He sighs, hating to see you in this amount of pain, "Yeah, I think we should. I'm gonna get some of your things together, take your time getting out of bed" 

You followed his advice and took your sweet time getting out of bed. Every small movement shot pain through your side and back like nothing you had felt before. Not even bothering to change out of your sleep clothes, you struggled to put on your slip-on shoes grabbed your little backpack that kept your wallet and keys, and hobbled your way to the front door. As you finally made your way to the door, Schlatt was in full protective mode and opened the door for you, furiously texting on his phone. 

"Who are you texting?" You asked still seemingly breathless.

"Just letting your mom and my mom know that you're in pain and that I'm gonna get you checked into the ER to make sure you're okay" He hummed quietly kissing your temple as he guided you out of the apartment and to his car. You guys have been dating for quite a while and moved in together when he was still in Texas. Your mom wasn't super happy about you guys moving away to New York, but knowing his parents weren't far away did make her feel better. Knowing his mom was worried about you made you smile a little through the struggle. 

The drive to the ER was a whole different struggle. You couldn't sit comfortably or lay back without constant pain. The pain was also causing dizziness which was concerning to your boyfriend. You weren't one to get car sick, so when Schlatt looked over to see you squeezing your eyes shut tightly, his anxiety worsened. 

Soon enough, Schlatt pulled up next to the front doors of the ER and let you out of the car promising to follow you in as soon as he found a good parking spot. You made your way inside and to the front desk as they began to grab your vitals and ask about what you came in for. 

"Have you had pain like this before?" the nurse asked recording your blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate, you shook your head still feeling dizzy.

"Alright, Sweetheart, go ahead and go sit in the waiting area and triage will call you in shortly" Just as the nurse said that, Schlatt walked in carrying his small backpack and standing behind you. 

"And you are?" The nurse asked politely to Schlatt.

"The boyfriend" he smiled setting a soft hand on your shoulder which you immediately attempted to rest your cheek on for comfort.  

The two of you made your way to a plastic couch-looking seat in the waiting area, only waiting a couple of minutes in the surprisingly empty ER before another nurse called your name. Schlatt remained seated knowing they were just gonna ask some questions, get some blood samples, and send you back to the waiting area. You followed the triage nurse to a small office area.

"How's the pain on a scale from 1-10?" He asked typing away on his computer.

"Um... a 10" you spoke still slightly teary-eyed. 

"And what kind of pain is it?" He looked up.

You looked kind of at a loss for words since the pain was so unlike anything you had experienced. He elaborated, "Like stabbing, burning, cramping?"

"S-Stabbing" you mumbled unconsciously grabbing at your left waist again to try and soothe the pain. The nurse nodded and explained they would need a blood test and moved you to a small hallway outside the phlebotomy office. 

The phlebotomy specialist called you in and attempted small talk, but you were feeling more and more anxious and dizzy. The pain, mixed with a fear of needles was not faring well for you, and just as the specialist attempted to get another sample you spoke up, "I- I think I'm gonna faint" tears coming back to your eyes.

The specialist called in a nurse who grabbed a wheelchair for you just in case as they laid you back and let you calm down a bit.

"M-my boyfriend. H-he's in the waiting room can you go get him?" you asked the nurse softly and they nodded.

"His name is Schlatt" you spoke again and the nurse went to retrieve him. 

You were quickly moved into a room, given a hospital gown, and onto a hospital bed as a new nurse came  in, "Hi can  I get your name and date of birth?"

You gave her the information.

"Alright," She spoke softly sitting on a stool next to a computer in the room, "So we will have to try and get that blood sample from you still, and we will need to get an IV in you to give you some fluids because you're probably dehydrated. Then we will need a urine sample. Any chance of pregnancy?"

You quickly shook your head at that. 

"Okay," she spoke softly, "So once we get all of that taken care of we will get the doctor in here and she can kind of go over the plan for you, okay?" you nodded and Schlatt walked into the room immediately taking the empty seat next your bed and taking your hand. You felt hot tears slide down your cheek and you attempted to move closer to him. He sat up and gave you a small hug. 

"How are you feeling, Honey?" he asked softly.

You frowned, "Bad," he chuckled softly at that.

Sadly the struggle was still not over. The nurse had a bit of a hard time getting an IV in you with how dehydrated you were and finding your small veins. They ended up using a mobile ultrasound machine to find the vein and after almost half an hour got a proper IV in you, which would bruise later. You gave your urine sample and laid back quietly watching the barely working TV in the corner of the room while Schaltt sat close to you, continuously stroking your arm and your hair in comfort. 

The doctor came in after the blood and urine test results came back, she sighed and clapped her hands together, "Okay so, we think you might have a kidney stone"

Your eyes widen. You had never had a kidney stone before but knew that it could be extremely painful to pass. The doctor continued, " So, we are going to do a CT scan to see if we can see how big it is and see if we will need to intervene at all" You nodded cautiously and Schlatt squeezed your hand reassuringly. 

As the doctor left Schlatt once again placed a kiss on your temple as he spoke, 'Well I'm glad we decided to take you in" he smiled.

You laughed a bit, a little more relaxed after getting some high-level painkillers in your IV, "Yeah yeah you were right..."

"And it's something treatable. They're gonna take good care of my girl" he hummed softly.

Eventually, the CT Specialist came in to collect you and Schatt gave you a quick kiss with a joking, "Come back soon!" as you were carted off to the scanning room.  The CT scan itself didn't take longer than 20 minutes and it was not as scary as you thought it was,  the nurse who was assisting the specialist even let you take the pillow back with you to your room which you showed off to Schlatt when you came back, making him laugh. 

After the CT results came back, quicker than expected, the doctor came back in and smiled, "So good news, the kidney stone we found is only about 2 millimeters, which is pretty small for a stone. It should pass on its own. The bad news, it's pretty high up in your kidney so you'll probably be in a bit of pain for a few days until it passes. So, we're gonna send you home with a big painkiller that you can take as you need for the pain. Since it is so strong, you won't be able to drive with it in your system. I'm also gonna prescribe a medicine that should help relax those muscles to help with passing the stone as well" she smiled. 

"Don't worry, Honey," Schlatt cooed softly, knowing you hated being home bounded, "I'll drive you anywhere you need to go"

You nodded and thanked the doctor, preparing to be discharged and changing back into your pajamas from the hospital gown. After finally leaving the ER and getting all your discharge paperwork, Schlatt held your hand and hummed, "Well it's breakfast time now, you wanna grab something to eat on the way home before we grab your drugs?" 

You laughed a little at his description and nodded, "IHop?" you asked hopefully.

"IHop" He happily agreed pulling you into his side as you continued walking, glad that you were feeling better.

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows. 

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel. 

Just take a deep breath. 

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again. 

It was nothing more than a dream. 

Stop making up monsters. 

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal. 

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie. 

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

You aren’t really. 

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother. 

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs. 

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens. 

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you. 

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you. 

He makes it too easy to forget your fears. 

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt. 

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass. 

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up. 

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter. 

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours. 

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns. 

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug. 

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly. 

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens. 

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.” 

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey. 

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates. 

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face. 

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast. 

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck. 

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

“Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go. 

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to. 

You decide to throw her a bone. 

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face. 

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response. 

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air. 

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside. 

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs. 

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup. 

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window. 

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot. 

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove. 

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music. 

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot. 

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you. 

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle. 

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices. 

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula. 

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook. 

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here. 

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from. 

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say. 

“It’s good.” 

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it. 

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.” 

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question. 

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.  

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.” 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning. 

“That’s nice.” 

You’re glad he thinks so. 

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests. 

Your palms are getting clammy. 

This is, by his count, your third date. 

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex? 

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance. 

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours. 

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio. 

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face. 

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you. 

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now. 

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans. 

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down. 

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night. 

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely. 

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs. 

How sharp are his teeth? 

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job. 

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you. 

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more. 

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs. 

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely. 

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in. 

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out. 

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.  

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand.  You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat. 

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes. 

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out. 

Did he just lick up a tear? 

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him. 

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more. 

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark. 

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.  

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips. 

Fucking salted caramel. 

Sweet and sticky on your tongue. 

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift. 

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be. 

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror. 

You’re bleeding. 

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood. 

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.  

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite. 

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him. 

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms. 

And you aren’t haunted by dreams. 

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off.  [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise. 

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking. 

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more. 

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all. 

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it. 

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?” 

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.” 

“She worked from home?” 

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop. 

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop. 

But that’s not what interests you the most right now. 

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one. 

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it. 

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?” 

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?” 

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place. 

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you. 

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable. 

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up. 

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down. 

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago. 

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember. 

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck. 

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. 

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him. 

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone. 

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit. 

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint. 

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement. 

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back. 

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life. 

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you. 

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline. 

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right. 

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ] 

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing. 

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door. 

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation. 

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news. 

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality. 

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod. 

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy. 

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table. 

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day. 

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down. 

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ] 

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage. 

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds. 

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise. 

How didn’t you realize this before? 

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you. 

There’s no blood. 

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack. 

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained. 

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table. 

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise. 

So you do just that. 

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum. 

Nothing. 

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry. 

He’s been completely drained of his blood. 

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home. 

Joel doesn’t text you back. 

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again. 

You feel like you’re gonna be sick. 

An image flashes through your mind. 

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl. 

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier. 

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses. 

It’s a coincidence. 

Or it isn’t. 

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong. 

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day. 

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds. 

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her. 

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties. 

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw. 

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense. 

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. 

Joel doesn’t answer your calls. 

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts. 

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake. 

You’re completely alone on this. 

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening. 

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest. 

Something is out there. 

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster. 

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you. 

You have a plan. 

Well sort of. 

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out. 

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town. 

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it. 

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop. 

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel. 

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses. 

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort. 

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence. 

You don’t have any other options. 

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points. 

“Back left corner, dear.” 

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop. 

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying. 

People in search of ghosts and myths. 

Are you any better than them? 

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up. 

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover. 

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters 

You aren’t going to find a better place to start. 

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime 

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover. 

Ellie might like that. 

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father. 

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket. 

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table. 

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit. 

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing. 

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters. 

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar. 

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize. 

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off. 

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely. 

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo. 

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you. 

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted. 

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time. 

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did. 

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust. 

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood. 

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal. 

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you. 

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense. 

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it. 

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Maybe it’ll make you feel better. 

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream. 

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far. 

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll 

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye. 

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today. 

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer. 

How comforting. 

Fuck it. 

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ] 

Monsters aren’t real. 

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet. 

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it. 

It’s a coincidence. 

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death. 

So you take the bus home in silence. 

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork. 

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning. 

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.” 

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity. 

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs. 

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms. 

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs. 

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.” 

Six massacred corpses in six days. 

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten. 

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now. 

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms. 

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.” 

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods. 

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.” 

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment. 

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen. 

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere. 

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing. 

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her. 

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered. 

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers. 

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees. 

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious. 

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings. 

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point. 

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on. 

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at. 

A monster. 

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster. 

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page. 

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options. 

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown. 

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head. 

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset. 

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak. 

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.” 

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag. 

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover. 

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited. 

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky 

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt. 

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life. 

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight. 

A camera. 

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film. 

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right. 

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel. 

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight. 

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out. 

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer? 

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home. 

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.  

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point. 

The tearing sound rips through the air. 

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it. 

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise. 

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps. 

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight. 

You almost didn’t catch it. 

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure. 

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it. 

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with. 

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating. 

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore. 

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped. 

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter. 

Fuck. 

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it. 

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head. 

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers,  you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out. 

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place. 

Recognition. 

Like it knows you. 

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature. 

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you. 

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it. 

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead. 

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost. 

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it. 

This is it. 

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it. 

He smells like cinnamon. 

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore. 

You scream. 

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath. 

He’s a few feet away now. 

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it. 

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.” 

It speaks. 

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous. 

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer. 

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click. 

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up. 

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice. 

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that. 

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore. 

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead. 

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement. 

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you. 

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness. 

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper. 

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy. 

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots. 

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

He’s lying. 

Why would he lie? 

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera. 

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.” 

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons. 

Except you can’t. 

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is. 

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.  

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated. 

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was. 

Every bit of this confuses you. 

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing. 

And he knows something about it. 

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows. 

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind. 

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights. 

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him. 

How presumptuous. 

Correct, but presumptuous. 

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight. 

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off. 

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened. 

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches. 

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages. 

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face. 

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth. 

Your blood.

He tasted your blood. 

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down. 

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head. 

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.” 

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you. 

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic. 

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side. 

“Are you sure?” 

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you. 

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him. 

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home. 

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way. 

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him. 

This is more than just attraction. 

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap. 

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.” 

He looks at you like you’re something to eat. 

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.  

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties. 

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds. 

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours. 

You do. 

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his. 

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate. 

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do. 

He’s purposefully showing restraint. 

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you. 

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.   

He’s holding back. 

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist. 

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl. 

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago. 

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back. 

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out. 

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that. 

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him. 

He makes it look effortless. 

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already. 

Not good, just better. 

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms. 

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.  

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

 “You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him. 

It’s better if you know where he is. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest. 

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you. 

You know that growl. 

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you. 

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to. 

But tonight is different. 

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement. 

This can’t be happening. 

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body. 

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously. 

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move. 

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on. 

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to. 

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces. 

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut. 

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic. 

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.  

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away. 

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel. 

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality. 

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.  

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry. 

And then you wake up. 

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face. 

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal. 

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.  

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” 

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.  

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[gunnrblze]

Mischaracterizations are prevalent in fandoms. I'm curious, which ones of the CoD:Ghosts franchise bug you the most, and make you want to pull out your hair once you see them in fics/other materials?

This question created several additional thoughts, so I’m putting all my yapping below the cut lmfao.

Tbh it doesn’t bother me a whole lot except when it’s a large part of said character, or one of their only canon descriptions/facts/etc. I think it’s great for ppl to create what they want, esp when a lot of the ghosts have little/no info so we quite literally have to make shit up and fill in the likely blanks, but if you’re straying so far from who a character is…😟

Like, Keegan is described and shown throughout the game as being a very quiet man…so it does make me side eye when people portray him as this talkative guy, or someone with a really big personality lol cause that’s just not the vibe. That’s why I rb’d that thing, because I was thinking about how he’s the most popular ghost by far, and I think a lot of those fans aren’t necessarily into the rest of the ghosts game (and they don’t have to be, just an observation). I think that’s why so much of the content made about him outside of the actual ghosts fandom seems out of left field, bc people just kinda take a hot character and do whatever with him (which again, is fine, free will in fandom is good and necessary). I also think that’s why so many people get him confused as being part of other CoD games, because they aren’t aware of where his character even comes from in the first place.

Now this may be a bit of an unpopular opinion bc I know a lot of ppl hate some of the smut aspect that’s written about these characters, because they include themes that are/seem ooc, but I’m gonna be honest…that part doesn’t bother me so much because at the end of the day, people just want to put their fantasies and ideas onto hot masked man…and I get it lmao. Not to say im necessarily gonna read it, esp stuff with hard kink type shit, but it’s more so bothersome when people mischaracterize them because they don’t pay attention to the actual canon character in other fics/materials.

That’s why I kinda separate smut fic from everything else a bit, because a lot of smut I’ve noticed, especially with Keegan specifically, is written ooc, because making it canon/character correct isn’t the point, the sexy time shit is. Now I still prefer reading smut that seems largely in character lol, but I do have to defend the larger idea here that it’s not a crime to write an ooc smut fic because half the time…the smut is the main focus, not the canon/implied personality of the character.

I completely understand the shock of seeing certain smut in the first place (talking about the more fucked up shit here…), especially when it’s then placed on a character you know and love, but it honestly doesn’t bother me that much-and maybe it’s because I’ve been on the internet for too long💀- but that’s kinda the point of fandom I think…doing whatever pleases you, having an outlet. That’s the type of smut I think is very obviously written with the idea in mind, and not necessarily ‘would the character do/behave like this?’. Because yea, these ghost boys would most likely not do all these fucked up things, but I think people still deserve the freedom to write it, and they’re going to anyways lmfao (IF you’re tagging disturbing content correctly, you owe people that much!)

I’ve been having those thoughts for a while now so I had to yap them out of my head lol, but to answer the actual question, aside from Keegan, I hateeee seeing the Walker fam mischaracterized. I think because (it seems) they have more info available on them compared to the other ghosts, so when I see people just giving their personalities a 180 I’m like…Hesh would NOT act like that😩. Especially with Elias because he’s my husband obviously…so people missing larger parts of his character or stuff that’s implied about him makes my eye twitch a little lol.

Also, I don’t typically see a whole lot of ooc stuff for the ghosts in the first place tbh (minus Keegan, bc he has reached the CoD masses of course). Because we’re a smaller fandom, and I think people tend to stay in character more in smaller fandoms (at least from what I’ve seen) because there’s so little content available on characters, and it’s like we’re all clinging to what we DO know about them lmfao.

Thanks for attending my ted talk 💋

[buggerzz]

Was thinking about @shapeshiftersinc 's binders and wanted to review them on here :D

Im gonna be fully honest because. Why the hell would i lie???

Overview-

They are a great binder company. I fully reccomend buying from them- they have the best chest binders ive been able to find and are extremely inclusive and helpful. If you have the money to get one and are worrying it wont be worth it. Trust me. It is.

Pros-

Extremely comfortable.

I mean it. I have sensory issues- other binders ive had have been way too itchy and uncomfortable for me to wear regularly. Id always have issues with the tags- even after i cut them out, it always bothers me.

Shapeshifters have been WAY better. I dont know if it's the materials, the construction, or what but they are wonderful to wear. Ive had the occasional issue with the tag, but its small and pretty ignorable. Plus, I'm about 90% sure you could ask them to just not add it to avoid it entirely. Ive had no issues with scratchiness. Their mesh is breathable, not itchy, and stretchy :D half the time i can completely forget that im even wearing a binder, which says a LOT.

Fit & Bind-

Shapeshifters. Amazing once again. Theyre custom sized to your measurements, which avoids unnecessary tightness in the ribs, gaping at the top, or inconsistent/nonexistent binding. Im a 38DD-40DDD depending on brand, and literally no other binders have had anywhere near this level of bind. Obviously it doesnt get completely flat- but it gets as close as possible. Id say its about the same prominence as laying on your back with no bra- maybe a bit bigger. That being said, thats a HUGE improvement from every other brand ive tried.

Plus, if you have issues with things digging in anywhere or not fitting how you want, they do free alterations. WHICH IS INSANELY HELPFUL BY THE WAY.

Variety-

They have many different patterns and styles and types of binders. It's a lot of different options- undergarments to normal tops, gothic to pastel to flat colors. If youre somewhere hot they have purely mesh binders for extra ventilation, etc.

Plus, if you want a specific pattern you can custom order your own fabric design! Im doing this for my new one and am very excited. (Its the same pattern i have as my banner :>

Customer Service-

Actually wonderful. Eli has been the one talking with me on both of my binders, so i think theyre the main (English) customer service worker! Theyre wonderful and very helpful- straight to the point, speedy, and patient.

I had no clue I needed to upload my pattern to spoonflower and proof it, and they helped me with that even though I could've just. Read the product description 😭

Lots of love to Eli. Also Im so sorry im stupid???? Youre wonderful.

Ease of use-

Im disabled- big shoulder issues. If i angle it the wrong way it dislocates. Bit uncomfy. That being said, most binders are literally painful for me to put on. Especially to take off. It hurts and is a whole mess. However. Shapeshifter's stretchier fabrics make it easier to take on and off. Putting it on is usually completely fine. Taking it off can be an issue. But its way easier than other brands thankfully.

HOWEVER. shapeshifters offers zippers to be built in. Which seems bad because of uneven pressure, but they have stiff inserts in all zipper binders to evenly distribute the bind. When I ordered my 1st binder, i for some reason got the zipper on the side of my bad shoulder?? I usually only use the zipper to take it off, so its fine, but zipping it on is a nightmare. But thats on me because i ordered it stupidly. That being said, zipping it off is actually amazing. If theres any discomfort from the binder, I can just zip it down for a bit. Or i can fully take it off so much easier. 2nd binder from them, i havent ordered the zipper because its not that difficult for me personally to take it off without, but i would recommend it if you need that extra ease!

Durability-

An old binder had tearing stitching after 2 months of semi-regular wear. Bad. My shapeshifter binder ive been wearing up to 5 days a week for up to 8 hours a day. The only signs of wear it has is some deodorant stains. Need I say more. It also hasnt stretched at all- it has the same bind and comfort and fit as it did the day I got it.

CAN YOU SEE WHY I LOVE THESE.

CONS NOW!!

Time

They do take a while to be made and arrive. Because theyre custom made by a small team, it takes a couple months to get one. I ordered one in July and got it in August, for example. I personally do not care about this one because it is such a high quality binder.

Price

Once again, small team making high quality custom products. It gets pricey. My first one was $116 including shipping, taxes, etc. Its important to note that i got a zipper (+$20) and a lot of customization options not everyone will need or want! Once again, i think its worth it as it will probably last me a WHILE. Also they gotta pay their team fairly. WE LOVE PAYING PEOPLE LIVABLE WAGES!

Overall, I do reccomend. In fact I've gotten a friend to get themselves one aswell lmao

Theyre actually an amazing team and i wish them lots of love, appreciation, and success!! Cant wait to get my new binder >:D

[fabbyf1]

Hi!

I’m not sure of this is how to go about this correctly.

I’m not sure what your position is on others drawing inspiration/directly from your incredible fan fiction writing but, on Ao3 there is a fic called ❤️lestappen- One shorts💙 by lestapeeen. The most recent chapter (14) is very similar to the monza chapter of long live(twwct) specifically the piggy back and proposal promise. some of the dialogue is exactly the same.

I figured you should know. If it’s a cool with you or if you knew already, sorry to be a bother.

DISCLAIMER: This post, by no means, is asking for ANYBODY to send this author mentioned (and tagged) below hate. On anon or main. I have been pretty damn clear with my feelings on the matter below. They know what they've done, and I won't stand for it. Nobody needs to make this worse by sending them death threats. With that out of the way, let's deep dive, shall we?

YOU KNOW WHAT?

First off, god bless you, bestie. God BLESS you. I want to smooch you on your incredibly wonderful forehead. Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention. I cannot be everywhere at once and cannot possibly read every fanfic posted to AO3, but it's not fucking cool for people to straight-up plagiarize my shit.

Secondly, I'd like to ask that if ANY of my followers come across something that looks very suspiciously similar to my fics, please let me know. You can for sure send it on anon, or send me a dm.

Now, with that being said, I clicked on this fucking fic not knowing what to think. I went into it with a pretty open mind, knowing that there are quite a few authors currently posting fics that are verrrrrrrrrrry similar to my writing style. I've gotten pretty close to calling a few of these authors out but haven't for a few reasons.

Fanfics based on the same ship, in the same canon setting, are always going to be... let's use the word "similar" here. The plot can only change so much when you're following canon events, you know? I don’t write AUs, so I’m only going off canon-inspired fics. My fics generally follow along with canon timelines and therefore, other author’s fics that follow the same timeline are going to be... similar. I get that and accept that.

Characterizations are bound to be... well, fuck it, let's use that word "similar" again. I'm gonna be pretty forgiving when someone's Max is damn near the same as my Max because one: I'm a good and forgiving person, and two: I think my characters (while totally fucking fictional) are very life-like to the real person. So, with that in mind, when I read a fic with characterizations similar to mine... I will usually give somebody grace... and accept that maybe, just possibly, they see Max Verstappen (the person) the same way I do (fictionally) and it’s a big old coincidence that our fics read so similar. You know? Does that make sense?

But with all that being said, I’m not a fucking idiot. 

And honestly? I give more grace than I should on this goddamn website. (lmfao, respectfully.) This is sadly not the first time that somebody has very much written in my likeness, and I know it won't be the last. But this is definitely the boldest version of plagiarism I've seen. I haven’t clicked on any chapter except for 14, and I heavily skimmed the first part, but let’s take a little deep dive into some of the highlights. Because I will show the receipts, bestie.

from their story:

from long live:

..... right, let's move on.

from their story:

from long live:

okay................. sure

from their story:

from long live:

If you're going to plagiarize my shit... you could at least put it in a different font, so to speak. "Hey, can I copy your homework?” “Sure, but change it up a bit.” 

Girlie pop, you stopped even trying to change it the fuck up. 

Let me be clear: I do not authorize anybody to translate, re-post or distribute my work without my written consent. This is in a disclaimer (that I will post below) in every single one of my fics. Taking MY dialogue is NOT okay. 

Direct quote from the beginning note of Long Live:  DISCLAIMER #4: This is 100% fictional, and I do not own any person, team, or sponsor referenced in this story. I mean no offense to any person(s) mentioned and characterized in this story. I am not affiliated with any part of Formula 1 or its subsections. Please do not translate, re-post, or distribute my work without my written consent. I will cry.

To sum up, writing is not easy, and it takes time and effort. Time away from my friends, my girlfriend, my family. Time away from my job and my other hobbies. Long Live is 76 thousand words and took me countless hours to write.

To have somebody so blatantly and disrespectfully post MY SHIT as their own and not even try to give me credit? To not write a note that said, “Heyyyyy go read long live, which I [clearly] really enjoyed!” or even a “Some of this dialogue was inspired by @fabbyf1” or even just a “lmfao some of this i didn’t write but the rest i did” really pisses me off.

Why did it ever have to come to this?

I am SO disappointed right now.

Happy fucking Friday, I guess.

For full transparency, here is the link to their fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55255699 and here is the link to their tumblr: @l-estappen

Here is the link to MY fic, which was posted on April 2nd, 2023, and written in Google Docs with revision history about a month before that. I have receipts out the fucking ass, my dear. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46190509/chapters/116284915

Be well.

[reel-fear]

I’m sorry but I don’t really understand what’s wrong with the Bendy books not being canon. I should put into account that I haven’t read any of them so maybe my opinion will change if I do end up giving them a read but let me get back to the main point. I’ve been in the FNaF community and let me tell you, they don’t take kindly to the TFTPP books. They constantly complain about what is canon or not and how it stinks that the books are now reliant to understand the lore when back then they were optional. If you ask me I think Paul and Mike dodged a bullet with this decision by just straight up telling the fans if the books are canon or not while Scott keeps it ambiguous. My final point is that there are other franchises that do this sorta thing, not just Bendy. Take for example, Sonic the Hedgehog. There’s a lot of spinoff tv shows and comics but most of them aren’t considered canon to the main games (Although I think Prime and IDW are canon though I’m not sure) so I don’t see why Bendy gets flack for doing the same thing while Sonic gets a pass.

What do you think?

I think you should read the other posts where I have literally explained this so many times instead of explaining to me stuff I already know. I am literally so sick of people like you expecting me to write a new response EVERYTIME you need it explained to you those situations are DIFFERENT. Here are the links, they are all in the Ramblez tag on my blog, it's not hard.

There. Go read my other posts I know you have nothing else to do but expect strangers to treat u like a baby and hold your hand through these topics but I am not being paid to be ur babysitter. Also if you can't even bother to read the books you think shouldn't be canon, you're not allowed to have an opinion on this. I'm literally gonna make a fucking banner at this rate just telling people to check my ramblez tag before asking me a question on a topic I've gone in depth on. If you still have questions that's fine but you're literally explaining to me shit I already know and being rude about it.

[thecountesstribe]

I think the interesting thing about the inevitable judgement day implosion is that it literally could come at any angle and from anybody. It has so many different variables and factors it's fascinating. The obvious ones being Rhea/Dom betrayal or the Finn/Liv/JD betrayal but it totally has more. We all agree Finn is most definitely a main instigator though. There's also a Damian/Dominik angle to consider. I'm assuming he hasn't forgotten those you're just like my dad/ I'm understanding your father better jabs. Finn and JD turning on Dom cause he's probably still Mami's lapdog ( highly unlikely) last night kinda gave it away in an odd kind of way. Liv/Finn/JD turning on everybody else. Shoot they could just hit a grand swerve and have Carlito be the head perpetrator for the hell of it, nobody really suspects him. Damian is obviously branching out to being a baby face, Rhea is so over that she's a baby face; though realistically speaking in the feud she's supposed to be the heel. So we could rule them out.

That leaves Finn, Dom, JD and Carlito. I'm not saying Liv. She made her intentions clear from the jump. Also they set up a way for Finn to get his hands on the World Heavyweight Championship, which he has been eyeing since the jump so nicely by them attacking Sami and Jey leading to them probably getting a shot at the tag titles. They lose the tag titles if Finn/JD/Dom/Carlito turn on Rhea and Damian. Finn attacks Damian, JD and Carlito go after Sami and Jey if they win the tag titles and Dom puts himself into the running for the intercontinental title. The feuds could literally write themselves there. I still think Jey should've been in the running to get the intercontinental title after that fumble at Money in the Bank but whatever.

Dominik's motivations could be for his obvious mistreatment by the other members of the group. He was essentially their plaything at the start and sure he grudgingly earned their respect but certain wounds don't heal and Liv presented him an opportunity when she injured Rhea. When they were looking for Jey last night he obviously was going to follow Liv even though Finn led him to her to set him up. Finn/Liv and Dom could be in cahoots together. Also Rhea had to force him down to the ring last night and threaten him to address a problem he should've handled from the jump if it bothered him so much. Plus I know when someone is bullshiting their way out of something. He gets Rhea to lower her guard cause she was his main antagonist and then he cost her the match. Whether accidentally or on purpose or accidentally but totally on purpose is where the question lies. I still think he's enjoying the best of both worlds until Summer Slam or after Summer Slam.

JD is just following somebody's lead. May just want the Heavyweight title himself as well. He's also a wildcard.

Carlito could be the swerve of the century. The Heavyweight title and him still practically being an outsider in the group certainly helps things on his end. Plus he's wishy washy as well.

Then it all comes down to who's the real leader of the gang. Rhea was the unofficial leader whether they wanted to admit it or not. She got injured and it immediately caused a power strife between the group as we all saw. I'm gonna hate seeing my Chaotic Goth Family implode cause I love them together but this could be fun if done right.

[somethingsomethingeyyymacarena]

(SCRIPT PREVIEW)

Hey ya'll. Hope you're all having a great afternoon! I'm here to bring you a little update about this post.

After watching some video essays for inspiration, I began developing a draft for a script about Robin: Son of Batman (2015). Analyzing the story implications, themes and motifs! :)

And because ya'll been so supportive of my nerdy endeavours, you guys are getting a special preview of the aforementioned draft! (criticisms accepted of course!)

Part of the script avaliable under cut

tagging in: @fancyfade @fluffykitty149 @cleoeatsit

The first issue of the comic run starts with Damiam returning some sort of cultural artifacts to their rightful owners; an order of monks in mainland China.  So, immediately, we got this Tomb Raider/Indiana Jones kind of plot point.  

(Man I sure hope it doesn’t get abandoned halfway through and pivots to portraying  the replacement of an autocracy with another autocracy where the head of state its not even from the country as a good thing)

ahem…

He gets interrupted by League of Assassins members which he fights off with the help of his pet, Goliath the Bat-dragon. He wins said fight and is lavished for returning the sacred object by the locals

All while a masked figure is observing the scene while saying: 

“(...) there cannot be redemption for the year of the blood”

This introduction to the comic is interesting because it highlights the main narrative theme and framing device of the whole story: The Quest for Redemption.

Before we even know exactly what Damian is doing and why he's doing it. We know he's looking to mend a rift. To make a past wrongdoing right. And then we find out someone wants to stop him…

This forms an interesting parallel with real life survivors of schoolyard abuse aka bullying.

Now, hear me out…

 Many kids (especially those with conditions such as autism) are manipulated by their bullies into doing bad things to other children. They generally do this by preying on their loneliness and desire to be accepted by their peers. And so said kids carry out acts of hazing to other children, perpetuating a cycle of harm.

A cycle which is hard to escape from. Because if you hurt someone, regardless of if you were manipulated or not, that person will probably not trust you after the fact. And if you add into account the environment of a school, where rumors spread like wildfires, there's a high chance you develop a bad reputation. Cause other people have no way of knowing you did it while being threatened into being a social pariah. It's a no win situation.

Damian's story is simile to this. Sure, the acts he carried out were far more extreme and he was not manipulated by an outsider but by his own grandfather, Ra’s Al Ghul.  But the effects of his psyche, development and public perception are all the same.

Think about it: His claims to being either the Blood Son or the Grandson of the Demon  are basically him trying to justify his existence  to a family that, for all he knows, could abuse him again. Which leads him to having a thought process where he has to be the best of the best in the room, cause the only other alternative is death. and for that he’s punished. Even though no one ever bothered to teach him the normal social protocols for a boy his age. 

So when you make that reading of Damian, and put into the context of a story where he, by his own volition, decides he’s gonna try and reverse all the harm he caused while being essentially groomed. You get something really powerful.

Well…kind of…

There’s a few things that stuck out with the framing of this arc. The most glaring one being: this arc takes place after he comes back from the dead. After being trapped in hell for the better part of a year after being killed by his own clone.

By making Damian’s journey for redemption take place after he’s been through literal Hell, there’s the subtle implication that he’s not doing it out of his own free will, but to avoid some sort of celestial punishment.

And that’s not a bad idea per se, if the comic acknowledged that implication. Because it does put an interesting question into the table. “Does it matter why we do good things? As long as we do them?” Does it matter if Damian doesn’t kill anymore because of “selfish” reasons. After all, why would an orphan he saves from a fire care if he used to be bad or not? Should that matter to anyone?

That last part is a testament, I think, to how much better executed some ideas that writers at DC have would be if they played them straight. If they acknowledged the implications of their writing instead of just doing something because they thought it would be cool or dramatic. 

[butwhatifidothis]

It's just so genuinely frustrating to me that almost every single other female character always gets pushed aside in this discourse. Doesn't matter what you think of or how you treat any of the other women, some of whose morals could be discussed just as extensively, the only opinion that matters to judge you is Ed3lgard and Ed3lgard only.

You really just gotta look at how they treat Rhea to see how shallow their care for misogyny is.

Rhea is someone who went through unimaginable suffering and due to that suffering did things that were indeed morally questionable, but (other than Fhirdiad) never cruel. She did everything she did because she wanted to make sure that everyone in Fodlan was safe, and mostly left the humans to their own devices (save for when either the Church was directly threatened or they asked for her assistance). She is someone who puts her own life and safety on the line to protect her people, up to sacrificing her own life to do so.

She gets called an abuser. A tyrant. Crazy. Because when her trauma is not simply left untreated but actively attacked and she reacts poorly to that, that is when her "true" character comes out to Edelstans. Everything she ever does, ever, in any context, gets deliberately misrepresented into being villainous.

Edelgard is someone who went through unimaginable suffering and due to that suffering did things that were not just morally questionable, but undeniably cruel. She did everything she did because she wanted power and wanted Fodlan to go back to how it once was (completely under Imperial control), up to attacking people who went out of their way to stay out of her way (the Alliance). She is someone who won't just endanger the lives of her citizens, but will outright have them killed if it means she can gain more power, by her own admission and as shown in her actions.

She gets called a liberator. A hero - the hero. A victim of a world who hates progress. Because when Edelgard says that she's doing it for "the weak" (ignore that she will sacrifice them as soon as it would help her), because she says that she wants to get rid of the importance of Crests (ignore that Plain Jane inheritance-based systems, which are arguably even more unfair, are still around in her endings), she must be telling the truth! Because Edelgard would never lie!

Even if we were to do a No No and fight in their pit wrt Rhea's characterization, the way that they portray Edelgard is literally no better than how they portray Rhea. She also sacrifices people "for the greater good," she also lies to keep up a certain image to her people, she also colludes with murderers because it suits her wants, and she also rules Fodlan tyrannically - everything that they accuse Rhea of doing, they portray Edelgard as doing, only with hoards and hoards of excuses and Fine Print and Um Ackchually's tagged on.

And that's their main like, way to say that they totes fr fr care about misogyny; villainizing Rhea as a devil while uplifting Edelgard as a pinnacle of morality and heroism, and "debunking" any defense of Rhea/criticism of Edelgard. It's not out of a genuine care about sexism against women, but just a tried-n'-true Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card to pull out for their fave.

So it's like, I'm sorry, but at this point unless a non-bot, non-troll, actual person comes out and vomits shit about Edelgard needing to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen or some garbage, whenever anyone says that they found a misogynist talking about Edelgard? I'm just gonna assume that the "misogynist" said something like "oh they must have said that genocide is bad," because that is how wrung out and insincere they're made their usage of the term out to be. Especially when they can't be bothered to treat actual breathing women with any kind of decency the second we say something Mean About Edelgard, which is its own conversation by itself

[tubbytarchia]

i don't think i understand your point about the shipping thing? (genuine question, open to discussion) like cause i find that having distinction between different kinds of relationships is helpful in both fandom spaces and irl boundaries. theres a difference between platonic (friends, family, even professional) and non-platonic (romantic and sexual) relationships. and having a word to refer to the non-platonic fandom stuff is useful, plus it's the way it's always been in my experience. putting the platonic stuff over on the same side as the non-platonic confuses me? if im misunderstanding, i would love for you to explain more. (hopefully this comes off as genuinely confused and wanting to discuss! and if you didn't wanna explain more that's ok, thanks for your time either way)

You're fine anon no worries!

Shipping to me is just that - shipping. It's a middle ground for any relationship you like. If you want to specify your ships further, you can do so, but now that "shipping" just means romantic by default, I feel like there is no middle ground and suddenly I'm forced to pick a side between romantic and platonic strictly when I almost never think of that in the creation process. I just feel like I'm handicapping my art and people's ability to interpret it by having to choose when I don't view it as either or

For me personally, I have never seen fandoms handle shipping the way traffic does, and maybe I'm just biased then in that regard but it's been bothering from the start. For me, it's very difficult to distinguish platonic and romantic. And that distinction is different for everyone. I have many times seen art of characters kissing and it being proclaimed platonic, whereas someone else would label anything of that sort strictly romantic

Most times when I draw art, I get afraid of tagging it as "shipping" because then people will think it's romantic, but in my mind it makes sense because I'm still drawing a relationship I like, even if I don't think of it or am unsure as to whether or not it's romantic. To me it's just my ship. People can absolutely specify stuff as this or that if they want to! Because I've never had to think of that before, it stresses me out a lot that so much emphasis is put on strictly outlining what sense your art was drawn in, to the point that other people start labelling my art FOR me when my thoughts are "it's just my two blorbos..." and that's it. In the end, I've resorted to tagging most of my ship art as "trafficshipping" anyway just because then, people who might interpret it as romantic, and not want to see it, do not see it, even if I didn't draw with romantic shipping in mind. It's a precaution I guess

I'm not opposed to the idea of having certain terms to help filter stuff, I'm just bothered that "shipping" is entirely interpreted as romantic foremost. And if it's NOT romantic then you either don't use that tag or you make it very explicit that it's not romantic. That's where it bothers me cause I don't think of that when I draw. I view some of my ships as romantic but labelling the others as strictly this or that stresses me out. Shipping in my experience in previous fandoms, again, just means "relationship". It's not just "romantic relationship". Like I really like Doc and Jimmy with a bit of a father/son dynamic but if I tag it as shipping then people are gonna think I want them to kiss or something. If I tag Bad Boys as shipping, people will think I want them to fuck or something. If I tag my toxic FH takes as shipping, people will get upset because "clearly you don't ship them" etc. But I'm also someone who half of the time feels uncomfortable tagging individual characters in my ship art (especially when CCs have expressed to keep the shipping art out of main tags). I still want my art to be seen - I'd happily just tag it with the appropriate ship and maybe duo names if there are any, but then sometimes that doesn't even exist. And then there's a whole other conversation of, say, "team rancher" is platonic and "solidaritek" is romantic. To me they're just ranchers so I'd tag both but to some people they're very different tags, and then, again, I get stressed out because I've made it harder for people to filter art, when I don't even know if anyone wants my art filtered or not. It depends on their perception

Furthermore, about the CCs saying "keep shipping out of the main tags" - that then becomes another issue of what counts as shipping? Because I also have seen people who very evidently ship something romantically, but claim "it's not shipping!" so that then it becomes fine for that stuff to be posted outside of the shipping corner and not breaking any boundaries. I swear to you, it's not just my interpretation, it's very clearly romantic shipping for these people who I'm thinking of. And again, that distinction between platonic("not shipping") and romantic ("shipping") differs for people. Eg platonic art of characters kissing. And then it gets maintagged because it's platonic for the person who drew it, but might not be for others I could not care less how people interpret my ship art. I would prefer if they didn't label it as if it were fact, but interpretation is like, the whole beauty of art. I have no idea if this art I made is romantic or platonic, especially to a specific viewer who distinguishes those two things differently, but I'm happy for them to interpret it as they want! There is no middle term between romantic and platonic, which is where I feel like my ships usually lie, and "shipping" as a term is thought of as romantic. Anytime I talk about or draw ship stuff without proclaiming that it's platonic, people will probably just assume it's romantic, so... What do I do, y'know? Sorry for the wordy response haha I feel like it's a bit hard to explain my stance but I tried my best. It's ultimately not that big of a deal, I feel like most people are fine with this kind of system, I just have an incredibly hard time with it and am someone who gets really paranoid over me or my creations being taken as some specific thing rather than the viewer's freely formed interpretation

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

oh sHIT I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER i had an idea for an epilogue scene to an au I haven't written yet and I needed @jaynesilver to see it so I typed it as a warm up for once which i NEVER DO but because it's typed you all get to see it too!!

all you need to know if kylo is a beauty youtuber at abt jeffree star's peak fame levels and Hux is a guy with an engineering job who also streams stardew valley speedruns as a hobby and they're very in love at the end of the fic (that again I haven't written yet)

ANYWAY have 1.6K of beauty blogger au under the cut, I'm gonna keep it out of the main tag bc It's not for a current au and I don't wanna clog it up

Armitage doesn’t read Chat while he’s in the mines, with the small exception of checking to make sure he hasn’t missed a ladder. Most of his viewers are used to this. When the first good luck day of a run comes along, and he makes the loop for foregables around the map, when he skips several cutscenes using exploits and puts years of animation-canceling muscle memory into his keystrokes, Chat dies down, mostly talking amongst themselves. 

Commentary is easier; he can talk and click, talk and type, talk and debate using a cherry bomb on a group of copper ore to save himself a few seconds. 

“I’ll save it,” he tells Chat, shifting in his chair. “If I can use it on iron later, it’ll save even more time.”

This run is going well, so far. It’s his third reset of the stream, but Armitage already has all the copper he’ll need for basic sprinklers and he’s almost through the dark levels. Huffing under his breath, Armitage imagines explaining any of this to his coworkers, can already see the glazed-over look in their eyes. He’s familiar with how they stop paying attention when Armitage talks about his hobby. Gaming, they can understand. Replaying the same niche farming simulator over and over to get the fastest time on a silly leader board? More of a stretch? Do that for strangers on the internet to watch as they pay him money? A step too far. Most of them don’t know what Twitch is, let alone understand why anyone would watch it. 

Kylo shifts in his chair on the other side of the room; it’s quiet enough that Armitage can’t hear it over his headphones, so he doubts the microphone picked it up, but the movement catches his eye. This is their first time having him in the room as Armitage streams. He’s editing, an oversized t-shirt hanging off his shoulder, and Armitage wishes there was time to have more thoughts about that, but he gets one last ladder and moves on to the iron floors. 

“I’m suspicious of how well this run is going,” Armitage says, eyes darting to his second monitor as he works his way through dust sprites. “I’m good at the mines, but I’m saving this seed to see if I can work out a perfection run from it.” 

It’s as he’s reading through other people agreeing that this level of luck is unusual, including a stranger accusing him of using mods as if Armitage would dare bother to cheat instead of just ‘getting good,’ as the kids say. 

BornToSlay: what’s ur skincare routine jesus

The huff of laughter is involuntary; he upgraded his web camera at Kylo’s request, and now it feels like his every fucking pore is captured and streamed. He��s gotten a few comments about it, but beyond technical questions and a single curious person asking why he upgraded, something Armitage lied about, the new image quality has gone unnoticed. Because he’s a good mod, Mitaka has already messaged him that the same user asked about Kylo earlier, and Armitage just missed it. 

They expected this, and they were prepared for this. Kylo’s channel has millions of subscribers on YouTube, he’s arguably a D-List celebrity at this point. Armitage speed runs Stardew Valley as a hobby. They’re operating on different levels of internet fame in different niches, but people have been curious, and some of those people are bound to stop in and watch him break rocks for fifteen minutes while hoping for a bounty of cave carrots. 

Still. Most of them have dropped in, decided his content wasn’t for them, and gone away. Apparently, this user has stuck around for a few streams, and Kylo said it was up to Armitage how much or little they interacted. He’s right there, and the run is going well enough he can afford to waste a few seconds entertaining this line of questioning. 

“My skincare routine is whatever Kylo forces me to do, now,” Armitage says, popping his headphones around his neck. “Kylo?”

When he looks over, Kylo is editing; he’s just also got Armitage’s stream up on his second monitor. He doesn’t bother to pretend he was working when he looks at Armitage, turning in his chair. 

“Someone wants to know what my skincare routine is, and I doubt you trust me to explain it properly.” 

Kylo laughs, and when he stands, Armitage can finally read the text on his shirt, and - Jesus, he’s wearing Armitage’s merch, they’re never going to hear the end of this. He can already see the stream compilations, and Armitage thinks he’s wearing Kylo’s sweater. 

Armitage finally uses the cherry bomb on a chuck on iron and Kylo settles behind him, his chin resting on Armitage’s head and his arms around Armitage’s shoulders. 

“It’s not consistent,” Kylo says, looking at the camera. Armitage can see him in the Streamlabs window, a lazy face of makeup and his hair piled on his head in a messy bun. He looks fantastic, which is to be expected when his entire internet presence revolves around beauty, but Armitage will never get tired of looking at him. Kylo keeps talking, but Armitage tunes him out, focuses on hitting floor forty, getting seven more iron, and then passing out so he can start building furnaces. 

Chat has started speeding up; Armitage doesn’t even have to ask Mitaka to turn on slow mode so Kylo can read anything, he just already does it. Kylo doesn’t have his contacts in, so he shifts his glasses up his nose to read the screen. 

“They want to know if I ever put makeup on you,” he says, and as Armitage makes his way into town to buy seeds from Pierre, he huffs. 

“I’m wearing makeup now,” he mutters, and he knows the mic will pick it up clearly, but he almost wishes it could be an aside. “I’ve been wearing makeup from streams since my first few months. Someone wouldn’t stop talking about my freckles, so I bought some shitty foundation at the grocery store so I wouldn’t have to ban the word.”

Kylo laughs, and Armitage can feel him look down, can feel his thumb drawing circles on his chest. 

EmilysWife: Beauty icon Hux PierreSucks: omg is that how you met

Now it’s Armitage’s turn to laugh. In the few weeks since someone recognized him out with Kylo, the few weeks since Armitage tweeted to confirm that was him, that he wasn’t Kylo’s assistant, it hasn’t come up how they met. They’ve not talked about keeping it a secret, although perhaps Armitage would like some parts of their relationship to stay between just them. 

This seems harmless enough, though. 

“Kylo tells this story better,” Armitage insists, because he loves Kylo, but he’s also cruel. Kylo’s breath is warm against his skin as he hides his face in Armitage’s neck. “Would you like to tell Chat how we met?”

“No...” The words are groaned, drawn out, a tone that perfectly conveys both Kylo’s embarrassment and his willingness to share. He stands up straight, and Armitage misses the press of his body, but he can hear the shuffle of his shirt, can see the chat as his absolutely ancient merch is on display, the screen printing cracked and faded from wear and hundreds of washes. “I was a fan.” 

“That’s shorting them the full story.” Armitage’s tone is teasing as he sleeps, wakes up, loads his furnaces and waters his crops. It’s a cycle of days he could do with muscle memory alone, has done blindfolded for a video on YouTube. “Phasma is a friend of mine, and when she did a video with Kylo, they had to pick up something she left at my house. What were your first words to me, Kylo?” From his spot hiding again, Kylo’s words are muffled. “I’ll tell them, then. He said, and I quote: ‘You talk me to sleep every night.’ That, Chat, was his opening line.” 

Kylo’s head pops up, and Armitage can see his pout on the screen, his playful glare. 

“It worked.” 

Armitage laughs. 

“After seven attempts to make yourself not sound like a stalker, I suppose it did work. Or, alternatively, I didn’t know you were hitting on me until we were on our third date.” Armitage could sound sad here, but he decides against it. He hadn’t been able to imagine a world where Kylo found him attractive. It never occurred to him that Kylo might be interested, so he lusted in quiet, alone at night with his own hand. “I still maintain that those dates don’t count, since I was unaware they were dates.” Kylo’s acrylics dig into his shoulders, and Armitage hisses in mock pain, as if Kylo’s nails aren’t rounded at the tip. “Don’t put holes in your own sweater, idiot.”

Though he attempts to fake angry, the last word comes out soft and fond as he looks up, doing his best to forget they’re on camera for a moment, to forget that he’s streaming this live and that he’ll be hearing about this for weeks. Phasma has already messaged him on Discord; Armitage will deal with her after the stream. 

The press of lips on his cheek is welcome, the loss of Kylo’s warmth less so. He waves to the web camera one last time before heading back to his own desk, putting on his headphones. Half of Chat is talking about his insane luck and all the pumpkins he’s going to plant while the other half still can’t quite believe Kylo was there, and is speculating how many streams he’s been just in the background of. Armitage won’t answer that; he doesn’t want to encourage them to ask for Kylo every stream, though he imagines they will anyway, now that the flood gate has opened. 

KyloAmidala: I normally just watch from the other room, though now I have to settle for replays if my sleep schedule is messed up. 

Armitage can hear Kylo snickering even as he puts his headphones back on.