#also yeah i do have a chronic problem of just running up on people and punching them to death but as you can see it works sometimes ....

[the-deadlock-south]

posting cause 1.) i made their ana tilted during this match 2.) i dishonored the rules of sniper duel but i also killed everyone on their team so i think im exonerated this time

[icewindandboringhorror]

feeling sick constantly in the background all the time is like.. usually negligible-ish.. until multiple various chronic background issues all happen to overlap at once and then it’s like 

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

"It's so unfair to the Rat Grinders that they are killed instantly and the Bad Kids get to roll death saves." SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUP

THIS IS LONG, AND HONESTLY FOR MYSELF, SO YEAH READ IF YOU WANT

I swear to god, this discourse is going to fucking be the end of me. Idk what kind of mind boggling spell Brennan Lee Mulligan wove into the fabric of the universe that spread through the data center of Dropout in order to absolutely hijack y'all's brains when it comes to Cocklord Assgape and her ragtag of character foils but whatever it was has made you Rat Grinder stans INSUFFERABLE in this site.

The levels of treating fictional characters as if they were real people have reached a level I honestly have never anticipated, to the point of y'all actually being mad AT THE CAST for "mistreating" them and ACTUALLY QUESTION BRENNAN'S CAPACITY TO DM. Do you not get how fucking insane that is?

We can't make fun of Copperkettle, one of the most pathetic, petty and incompetent villains in D20 history anymore (even though she is masterfully written and developed to generate this reaction from us) anymore because it's bullying apparently. I saw an account flip the fuck out because someone compared her rivalry with Kristen to Drake and Kendrick's beef. KIPPERLILY IS NOT A REAL GIRL. SHE IS A MAKE BELIEVE CHARACTER IN AN IMPROV SHOW SPAWNED FROM THE BRAIN OF A 36 YEAR OLD MAN

And then what truly pissed me off the MOST about this whole hell is the fact that, being chronically online avid consumers of this goddamn show, I would think you would have but a grasp of the main cast of characters' characterization.

Why the uproar about Riz saying they should chop Oisin's head off? The same Riz who tortured that pixie from Freshman year by shooting off their finger one by one? The same Riz who murked a disarmed and unconscious Coach Daybreak without battin an eye? The same Riz who ATE THE CORPSE OF KALVAXUS?

And the whole Fabian vs Ivy debacle MY GOD, THE GIRL WAS RACIST TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AND USED HER LAST BREATH TO CALL MAZEY "OBJECTIVELY UGLY". And the funniest thing is that is not even the most unhinged shit he has ever said.

And finally, Death Save Gate: THE RAT GRINDERS ARE NOT PLAYER CHARACTERS. THEY ARE NPCS! THE RULES FOR EACH WORK DIFFERENTLY, ESPECIALLY THEM BEING BOSS ENCOUNTERS. Imagine having to still hit Ivy or Oisin 2 more times to kill them when there is 14 foot tall Porter throwing legendary actions left and right, with Jace, and other 3 spell casters + Mary Ann and KLCK up and running. It's called balancing the fucking game. Also, game masters are entitled to break, mold and make up any rules they want if they find necessary in order to service themselves and their players. IF YOU PLAY WITH ALL THESE RULES AS THEY COME, GOOD FOR YOU AND YOUR TABLE. THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE.

Not only is Brennan DMing for his CLOSEST FRIENDS EVER, he is also shooting and producing an ENTIRE TV SHOW. So yeah, i think he knows wtf he is doing.

"But the Ratgrinders had no real development": True. But it wasn't for lack of trying from the players. Everytime they tried to know more, the dice didn't let them, so they decided to focus on the mystery. It simply do be like that sometimes.

"But they are just kids!": And so were Penelope, Dayne, Ragh, Zayn, the Bloodrush Players, Aelwyn and Biz. Why wasn't it a problem then? Because most of them were evil to some extent and were about to bring the fucking apocalypse to the world? Yeah, sounds familiar right? And the ones who were manipulated or had any sort of redemption worked their way into earning it, right? Yeah.

In conclusion, I fucking love the Rat Grinders, I truly do, and not unlike 90% of this website, i'm still holding on to hope that they have any sort of development and redemption in the last episode, because I agree, they ARE children and they WERE manipulated by Porter and Jace, but like, can we also agree that they are fucking assholes and had it fucking coming? Also, the BKs are children too y'know. SO STOP BEING FUCKING ANNOYING.

[sacredtime]

If the boys had a chronically ill mate:

Possibly ooc

David: the minute he’s told (or realizes) Angel is chronically ill he internally panics and frets about them and how they treat themselves and how he treats them. He knows Angel has been living with this for a long time knowingly or not, their usual laidback attitude and usual lack of thought towards how they take care of themselves makes him concerned. He’ll focus more on making sure Angel is accommodated for in the home and they can be as comfortable as possible in their house.

David makes sure Angel is also treated well in day to day life. They come home complaining of how they’re getting treated or how they have to go into the doctor and how shit the doctor was to them when they told the doctor their problems he’ll come in next time as scary dog privilege and back up bullshit detector since unfortunately they’ll listen to him better than Angel. David is also on top of any medications and the conditions and location of possible mobility aids. Angel will never run out of medication or misplace any aids they need. If any of their medications have bad side effects or reactions with Angel David’s written it down in detail along with when they started it. Anything needs maintenance or needs to be replaced? There’s already an appointment set before Angel can forget or procrastinate about setting one.

Asher: Asher doesn’t worry like David, Babe is responsible and has their shit together out of the two and they probably have a steady routine; and despite his goofball, carefree personality he’s extra attentive to Babe once he’s told and help them see the positive side of things. Yeah he might try to get out of things but he’ll become their personal runner for anything, he’ll even ask David to try and teach him how to cook again so then Babe doesn’t have to make meals when they’re not up to it or has to power through making meals because Asher can’t really be trusted in the kitchen. He’ll also move anything around to make things manageable for Babe, he’ll also carry them and any mobility aids around if need be any time they ask.

Asher isn’t as intimidating as David off of looks alone, he lacks David’s murderer face, but he is very much a people person and I think he’s able to guilt trip people very well. Someone talks down to Babe or touches their things he makes the person feel so bad the person can’t help but apologize and depending on the situation avoid the two. He’s also naturally Babe’s biggest hype man, things are getting hard for Babe and he can’t do anything? He’s there encourage them and then comfort them after. Physio? Asher’s right beside them being literal support and not backing out no matter how hard they hold onto him or how much of their weight Babe puts on him. Asher is also great with positive reinforcement, if Babe struggles to take or remember to take pills he has a timer and little treats to make it all worth it and bearable few minutes.

Milo: Sweetheart is pretty self sufficient and tries to work through hell and high water so when they crash, they crash hard. When Milo realizes they have a chronic illness he makes it his mission to alleviate their stress and pain. He knows sweetheart is a workaholic and they are set well in their ways no matter how unhealthy it is. He has pain killers, massages and a good show/movie on hand. Even if Sweetheart tries to keep going despite everything Milo will pull out the big guns: ✨Aggro✨. He’ll plop the cat on their lap and sweetheart can help but stay put for as long as possible no matter how frustrating it is to be kept from their work. Milo also makes sure that in sweetheart’s work frenzy they eat well so they don’t feel even worse. He has ice packs, heating pads, pain killers and if worst comes to worst his mother to help manage sweetheart’s conditions.

Milo also makes sure he that they keep any mobility aids in arms reach for them. It’s not that sweetheart doesn’t acknowledge that they need them, it’s just that it’s another thing they have to bring with them that they also can’t cloak the aid so they try to go for as long as possible without it. He’ll start to nag if they’re at home and refuse to use it. Milo will also get sweetheart excellent comfy formal wear for work so they don’t have to wear anything uncomfortable or if they have braces they can wear them comfortably under their clothes and are able to look fashionable. I feel like sweetheart carries enough respect naturally with their job and just the attitude they have on their own they don’t need Milo’s help when it comes to disrespectful people and doctors in the empowered world but both would bounce off each other excellently and damn near kill someone with their words alone.

Sam: in short he is stressed. When Sam finds out Darlin has a chronic illness they shrug it off as ‘not that bad’ and that ‘everyone’s bodies do this.’ that if Sam weren’t a vampire and immortal he’d have had so many years taken off his life by the stress of this revelation alone he’d probably be on his deathbed. In the early stages of their relationship Darlin has nothing but a sketchy ziploc bag of Tylenol/Advil and a brace and/or cane from like Walmart. He goes all in looking for their medical history to confirm what they have if it’s there and if they should be on medication and then takes them in to the doctors for various tests whether they think it’s serious or not. Sam is there no questions to make sure Darlin goes to their appointments and he makes sure Darlin gets answers and proper treatments, he is unbelievably persistent and determined to get their health back on track. He is the ultimate mother hen early on and focuses on getting Darlin into better habits while also keeping them safe from their own recklessness.

Sam later in the relationship is far less stressed since Darlin is considerably more stable. He keeps tabs on their medicine still and can’t help but monitor their condition just incase they try to hide it again as to try and not worry him. In the rare time that Darlin finally crashes Sam comes in with old man comfort as they sit on the couch under a blanket. He uses his lack of body heat as a human sized ice pack, putting his hands on the areas that ache the most and apply subtle pressure while murmuring affirmations of how they’re still strong and how he doesn’t see them as lesser or love them any less for times like this.

If darlin has a cane and Sam picks it up Fred and bright eyes joke that it’s his now and to not rush his weary old man body and a whole bunch of grandpa jokes.

[sincerely-sofie]

I just realized how crazy Opal’s family is on paper. Imagine you’re a greedy crook so you kidnap the child of the random Charmeleon lady who you know has more money than she lets on. Then you send a ransom letter and set up a dungeon so this Charmeleon woman can give you the money for her child back. It’s fool proof!

And then you find out said Charmeleon lady is not JUST a Charmeleon lady, she’s the lady who stopped the world from getting paralyzed with her friend. Okay, no problem. They probably haven’t fought in a serious battle for years. It’s still an easy job- oh she still goes into dangerous mystery dungeons and so does her previous partner Kip. Okay, startling, but you can still pull through on this- oh wait, Grovyle the time gear thief, Dusknoir the hit man, and the time traveling mythical Pokémon Celebi are also part of the family? They also care about this Charmeleon lady?? And they’d also be apoplectic about this? Okay, now you’re a lot more worried, but it’s nothing that hiring a few accomplices can’t handle! Wait. The father of the baby is the guy who actively tried to cause the planet’s paralysis? The one who managed to torment an entire town? And all have of them practically stared Dialga in the face and said “yeah I can win this/I have to win this” and actually did win? Or at least one of them caused Dialga’s insanity?

You now realize you have only a few options:

1. Lie to potential accomplices about who exactly you messed with because no one sane would look at the full implications of this and go “yeah let’s do it!”

2. Hope the Charmeleon lady won’t call for backup, and that said backup won’t find out and come anyways, therefore plan proceeds without a hitch.

3. Just give the baby back and apologize.

If you’re really greedy or desperate for money, you’d choose one of the first two options. Otherwise, you’d choose option three and run for the hills.

And that’s before said criminal realizes they kidnapped a baby legendary.

The best part of all this is that her family never talks about the craziness of their lives. So you think you're just kidnapping some rich lady's kid and then a brigade of highly competent, highly dangerous individuals come swooping in simultaneously, but the brigade is comprised of:

That old man who you saw agonizing over what cookware to buy at the market the other day and apparently knows how to corner people who are running from him with startling efficiency

A scrawny, ugly grass-type you crossed paths with at the clinic when he was getting some medicines for his chronic pain and who is also unbelievably fast and hits like a truck

A marshtomp who, despite having famously (and shamefully, according to many) retired from exploration, is arguably even more dangerous now despite his calmer occupation, because he knows everything about the ruins you’re hiding out in, including where all the traps are

The rich lady whose baby you stole and also has apparently BESTED MULTIPLE LEGENDS IN COMBAT with the help of that marshtomp we mentioned earlier, and is currently tearing her way through the countryside and rapidly closing in on your location

And two entire legends who are not only extremely capable on their own, but can destroy your psyche by showing you the exact location, date, and cause of your death (right here, right now, her disemboweling you personally with her bare hands) or locking you in a perpetual nightmare. Also that one over there is the baby's dad? Oh heck you're so dead—

AND THE BABY HERSELF IS A LEGEND WHO KEEPS TURNING INTO DIFFERENT ROCK + STEEL TYPES WHO WEIGH VARYING UNHOLY AMOUNTS AND IS SHRIEKING LOUD ENOUGH FOR ANYONE IN A 30 MILE RADIUS TO KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. OH HECK YOU'RE SO DEAD.

Beyond this scenario, imagine being an older Opal who's chilling with the fam during the holidays. Everyone is having a nice time hanging out and soaking in the good company. And then your uncle who cries whenever you call him Uncle mentions that he hasn't had this good of food since before his parents kicked him out of the house when he was a kid. You don't say anything, but you're extremely confused. Did he say he was evicted from his family home as a child? Maybe you misheard...

And then your other uncle says that he got the recipe from some bidoof during that window of time that your mom didn't exist. Your aunt nods sagely and says that it was very kind of the bidoof to share such a treasured family recipe with him during that time. He probably needed the comfort food while grieving his best friend.

At this point you are very much baffled by the conversation, and then your grandfather politely asks if we can stop talking about this, because he'd rather not be reminded of the fact that they all died when he's still finishing dessert.

Your dad then chimes in by saying he'd appreciate a topic change as well. His appetite is rather soured by the reminder of his part in their deaths.

You have never been more confused. And they all just move on to chat about the weather like nothing about what they said is absolutely unbelievable. So later you go to ask your mom about it and she has the audacity to reply:

TFW you’re finally old enough to comprehend The Family Lore™️

[alpaca-clouds]

The Pain Scale is kinda useless

Yes, this has to do with neurodiversity. But also about general disabilities, about sexism and racism and other things.

I spend a lot of time last week in hospital, because I had a biking accident last week and was in the ER, as well as going to two check ups, the last one earlier today. And there I once again realized how useless the painscale is.

See, the entire idea of the pain scale is that you should tell doctors the pain you are in on the scale of "no pain" to "worst pain imaginable". But... the thing is that this runs into several problems:

How bad the worst pain imaginable is varies a lot depending on what the worst pain someone has ever experienced is.

People, who have to fight chronic pain, generally have a very shifted pain scale.

A lot of neurodiverse, especially a lot of autistic people, have problem with interoception - so actually telling what they and their body feel. And this can at times include pain.

And then of course there is the issue that because of a lot of people who genuinely just at the moment are experiencing their worst pain imaginable, even though for someone else it might just be a 5 or 6, makes doctors always like "Yeah, sure" when someone arrives and tells them "yeah, I am at a 9". While also saying: "So, its not that bad," when someone arrives saying "Yeah, I am at a 4 or 5?"

Just two examples for me. Earlier last year I had done something to my back and I was in so severe pain that I barely could move. But of course I did not call the ambulance, but had my roomie bring me to the hospital. So, I hobbled into the ER there, and when they asked me about my pain, I was like "8 to 9?" And they were like: "Oh, you came here on your own, it could not have been that bad."

Another one was last week. You should know, that as a teen, I had a really, really bad internal infection, with really the most horrible pain imaginable. Like, "I was screaming until they gave me morphium" bad. So, trying to focus on how my body was feeling, I came to the conclusion: "4 or 5?" And the doctor was like: "Well, than it cannot be so bad." Welp, psych. I ended up having a fracture. And the doctor just looked at me like: "... How can you still move?" And I was just: "Well, I know much worse pain."

And it should be noted. I have had several fractures during my life and... I never considered the pain of a fracture as that extreme. I do not know whether it is because of messed up interoception or something. But yeah. I move around quite fine with a fracture.

Really, I kinda feel like even for doctors it is not really the most useful evaluation tool. Because I see a lot of doctors go "Well, it is not that bad that you need treatment" if you are telling them a number smaller than 5, but as soon as you go above 7, they basically go: "Press X to doubt".

And that is without going into the problems of sexism, racism and the like. Because when a woman talks about her pain, doctors will go like: "She is just very sensitive." Meanwhile if the person is not white they will also assume other things. And of course men in general often are made to underplay their pain, to be ruff and manly.

Don't get me wrong. I know why the pain scale exists. But... I do not think it is very useful as it is right now for the reasons named above.

[min0uet]

wait if you started playing isat what do you think of it ? :O im considering playing it but i need an opinion 🙂‍↕️👍

i'm not that far in so take all opinions with a grain of salt ok 👍

gameplay wise very good so far i think. all combat is based on rock paper scissors which is funny but also makes things really easy to remember. also despite the pitfalls of timeloop gameplay, a bunch of different systems are set up to prevent you from going crazy trying to remember what you haven't done this time or where that one key was etc. story wise again i'm not that far in but up to this point it's been pretty intriguing i think. i love the worldbuilding we've gotten so far and i love my party members. there's smth wrong with these people and by god i'll get to the bottom of it no matter how many times i have to die

ok now this is a super personal min thing so your mileage may vary, but a few recent video games i've played have had characters talk in a very specific "the writers have tumblr accounts for sure" type of way that for SOME reason annoys me. there's nothing really wrong with it, it just rubs me the wrong way and it turns me off from wanting to keep playing although i could not tell you why. [sample type dialogue: "i'm being bullied by a preteen? please advise?"]

not going to name what those other games are since they were all really well liked on tumblr, but anyway; the reason i bring this up is because ISAT also does this but for some weird reason it actually doesn't annoy me this time! the characters all feel like real people to me which was always the main problem with the dialogue, and i'm genuinely excited to find out more about them and save us all from a horrible death. also they're all transgender.

TL:DR the whole time i was out at a concert this evening i was just thinkin about getting home and loading the game up again. probably the best min recommendation you can get since i have a chronic problem with continuing and finishing video games. isat is on sale on steam for 20% off rn so yeah i'd grab it

EDIT: and the soundtrack is great imo. very important considering how long you have to listen to these songs while you run around

[tellmegoodbye]

Look, I finally made a banner for this!

I have a bunch for y'all this week, so buckle up. We've got two Carlos songs, two TK songs, and one Tarlos song.

Fear - Blue October

The beauty is I'm learning how to face my beast Starting now to find some peace Set myself free, yeah

Today, I don't have to fall apart I don't have to be afraid I don't have to let the damage consume me My shadow see through me

'Cause fear in itself Will reel you in and spit you out Over and over again Believe in yourself And you will walk

These lyrics have always felt very raw to me (as is the case for many Blue October songs) and I specifically love this one for Carlos.

He said in his vows that he lived his life with so much fear, and that TK was the key that unlocked him, but he also had to do that work himself. He had to learn how to be comfortable in his own skin and let himself be free, and I think this song speaks to that journey.

Burning Bright - Shinedown

I feel like there is no need for conversation Some questions are better left without a reason And I would rather reveal myself than my situation Now and then I consider my hesitation

I wonder if the things I did were just to be different To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation Here and now I'll express my situation

The more the light shines through me I pretend to close my eyes The more the dark consumes me I pretend I'm burning bright

Carlos, my beloved, our chronically avoidant king.

This song is about about putting on a mask. Carlos has done this for so long that he's grown comfortable with hiding his feelings from others, and he's afraid of what will happen when he's honest with people.

Easier to Run - Linkin Park

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

If I could change, I would take back the pain I would retrace every wrong move that I made

It's easier to run Replacing this pain with something numb It's so much easier to go Than face all this pain here all alone

This is one of my favorite TK songs! These lyrics are a great representation of his self-destructive tendencies and the guilt he feels when he hurts the people he loves.

Unlovable - Diamante

Is there anyone left to believe? Is there any good still left in me? I keep slipping further underneath I just want a love that never leaves Thought I had a heart of gold Everything I touch turns to stone Is it my fault I always end up alone?

Well, maybe I'm just difficult Maybe I'm impossible Maybe I'm just one step over the edge You're one foot out the door Maybe I'm emotional Too much to handle Maybe I'm unlovable

All of those times TK pushed Carlos away was because he was scared of being hurt again. He carries this underlying anxiety with him that he's always going to be the one that's the problem.

Heavenly - Broadside

I love the sound of your voice on the back of my neck when were tangled up in each other And I love the nights we spend, where the hours blend and were still hidden under the covers

I must be dreamin' heavenly, you are my remedy I want you to bury me in your reverie

TK and Carlos are just really into each other! No other explanation needed.

Tags!

@strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @goodways

@heartstringsduet @carlos-tk @literateowl @herefortarlos @welcometololaland

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @bonheur-cafe @honeybee-taskforce @paperstorm

and anyone else who would like to join!

[ang3l-core]

Way past exhausted

Yeah I wish that I could get more sleep cuz I know that right now if I could just let me give myself a little bit it would probably would work some wonders but I don't think that you know for me just exactly how hard it is

I feel like I'm running on fumes most of the time just to keep this body, yeah just to keep on functioning

I'm kinda mad in a way that this is only vessel that I have and that I ever will and I have no spares for it so I can't just up and abandon it

I would probably would never be able to even keep it working without a schedule

Cuz if I had maybe just took a nap or ended up wanting to go to bed early I could miss the deadline to give it all the fluids, artificial foods and medicines that are now apart of my everyday regimen to make sure that I don't end up in even worse shape than this

And trust me I would protest but hey, god made the rules I didn't

So now all I have to do is just keep on figuring out how to live my life this way

So I'll stay up just to make sure that I take my heart medication just so I don't wake up a dehydrated tachycardic mess

And then maybe my nurse won't look at me so sad when she sees my bad vitals in the morning and then looks back at me to smile and say "don't worry it's okay, we'll just try again and hopefully it might be better the next day"

One thing that I hate most about having my chronic illness is that through every part of it I feel everything

Even right now and I know that I must also be a little extra tired and weak because I know that overnight that I didn't get to but I should've let my immune system do what every night it's supposed to do

I didn't get to give it the little extra rest that it really needs to keep on going like this and repair itself and keep me straight up so I can do the things I'm supposed to do

But it feels like I really have little choice cuz I feel way worse when I fall asleep a little bit earlier at the time when I'm actually feeling like I want to and then I'll have hours go by and I forget that I'm going without the stuff I'm supposed to take and then it makes all of my problems even worse

So yeah it gets kinda frustrating when it's like "damned if you do, damned if you don't"

I have alot of up and down, on and off days

I guess there's never gonna be this whole "normal functioning system" that's gonna completely perfect for me to hold my expectations to and it's kinda fucked that even probably if there is a way that I somehow do I can't really expect perfection when my body isn't even all working perfectly too

So I guess for now I might take the slight insomnia if it means that maybe for a few hours until I have to take all my things again I can pretend that I'm almost actually "normal" when I get to my baseline again before I get back to the same way I was that crushes all my hopes for that and makes me feel like I may break again

Or need to go to a hospital

But that's just how it goes health is a luxury and not everything is easy for everyone

It just sometimes seems like it is sometimes for the certain people who like to talk about things to you cuz they don't actually know what it's like to live life inside your body

Cuz it seems like people always forget to remember that experiences are different so don't expect everyone what's your face the same easiness or difficulty to live life the same way that you do

And I know that explain that to everyone isn't always easy cuz you can always make people listen and understand

But really all they need to know is we're both different you're not me and I'm not you

Cuz I really get that feeling like you're wasting your time getting tired trying to overexplain yourself about something sucks

You know I think that's why also I feel like sometimes I choose just not to talk to people about my moments when I'm in pain or when I feel like I might be suffering and I'll at times just stay silent but I also feel like I shouldn't have to though

It shouldn't have to matter what you're talking about, you talking about how you're feeling while you're going through what you're going through is valid

I feel just like that's how some of alot of us feel when we're going through these things and we don't feel like we're being heard or we're dismissed and I think that that's why by now I can see why the most of us right now just feel like we're way past exhausted

[greenandhazy]

re: that last post, one thing I've been thinking about lately that aggravates me so much is how, at some point in my childhood, I picked up this idea that I was just never going to be good at "that stuff" because I was fat--with that stuff being, like... non-sports fitness.

because I was good at sports. I rarely, if ever, had that experience people talk about, being picked last in gym class etc--when I was, it was very clearly because boys were picking all of the boys first, so skinny, widely-known-to-be-athletic girls were also being neglected. I played three rec league sports as a kid, knew the rules to everything we played, and genuinely enjoyed the hand-eye coordination and competitive aspects of gym class sports, so that still put me ahead of like 60% of the class.

however, I "knew" from a young age that I "just wasn't flexible." I took the goddamn presidential fitness test and just barely passed the sit and reach every year, and no one ever bothered to teach us ways to ease into it, modifications to build up our flexibility, etc. our time for class was so condensed that stretching was optional and not teacher-led. Likewise, things like weight-lifting, running, aerobics, pilates, anything that's relatively easy to get into as an adult, they were just never really offered, or at least not on a consistent basis.

and otoh I get why some people are like "doing those boring exercises makes kinds hate exercising, let them play games!" but... I don't know, reflecting back on it I think my experience of sports was that ultimately they alienated a lot of kids. ESPECIALLY once we got to be 5th grade and above, when travel sports and school teams got to be a thing and so everybody knew who was especially good at sports, and those were the kids who really got to play during class while the rest of us stood around wishing someone would pass to us so we could do something--or the kids who didn't want to play were relieved they didn't ACTUALLY have to.

and part of it was also that we did so many different things, and cycled through them so quickly, that I don't think I ever felt like I ever really improved on something during a gym class. there was no real consistency and no sense that, oh, actually, I was getting stronger/more flexible and thus it was something I could do.

but yeah. it's been something I'm thinking about a lot lately as I am going into my [thunder clap] 30s, and reading more about how oh this is when your flexibility starts to go and your joints start to hurt, and I'm kind of... angry... that I never had any of that to begin with? like, I know that I am lucky to have not had any SERIOUS health problems, no real joint issues or diagnosable chronic pain or whatever. but I am still frustrated that, in the past ~decade and a half, I have not felt like I was flexible or mobile at all and that I've often dealt with very low-level pain and stiffness that actually could have been entirely avoidable if I had not absorbed this idea that fitness was less important than athleticism, that it was something that only had to be suffered through during testing time as opposed to something we all could and should be tending to regularly.

[nylon-vintage]

"Hmm."

☓ ⁑ all below is /ooc

erm,, hi. i don't know how to do a 'good' introduction so uermm uh yeah lets like. do this. i do not know what the fuck i am doing. help.

this blog is run by @x-z0ne !! call me kir, please !!! cough anyways

also, heres a masterlist of most other coroika askblogs, courtesy of my mutual @/violethursday.

asks i will not accept

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* anything thats like, overly sexual towards the character or just something like that in general

* please just don't be creepy ngl

* i don't really plan on building some sort of story or any plot points, so please don't try to do that for the time being

* basic criteria of shit that people don't accept on askblogs

(i might add more.)

asks i will accept, and somewhat encourage

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* interactions with other askblogs. i love interacting like that, its pretty fun

* generic questions!! i love being boring!!

* more than one ask from the same person/spam asks that have no intention to be irritating. i don't actually mind this at all, i think its fun :3

* annoy the fuck out of vintage i don't care, its funny as hell

*PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!! GIVE ME FEEDBACK. I WANT TO IMPROVE WITH THIS ASKBLOG SHIT. GIVE ME TIPS AND ALL THAT CRAP!!

tags i will use i think. what the hell am i doing

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general asks ➡︎ '#vin - ask'

anything ooc ➡︎ '#vin - ooc'

posts with no asks attached ➡︎ '#vin - general'

replies to other askblogs i might interact with ➡︎ '#vin - reply'

might add more here later if needed!!

some side notes

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* please use tone tags/indicators if it feels necessary, i suck at differing tones in messages rgrgh

* i am not expecting very much from this askblog, it's simply something i'm going to do for fun.

* let me know if i shouldn't answer asks so quickly, because i do that on my main.

* asks will probably always be open, idk why this is important enough to note, but just saying

* i am not good with different personalities. vintage might be a bit, or a lot, out of character. let me know if i fuck up badly

some info about my interpretation of vintage used in this blog

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* he gets quite emotional under the mention of skull, they're exes in my headcanons

* he's a bit gay for a specific cocky spiky haired guy, but he's in denial (hes been getting bullied alot for this its kind of obvious. sorry im a chronic doublevin believer)

* he is a bit forgetful.

* vin has a bit of a problem when it comes to eating food. he'll only eat it if it's super spicy, if it isnt spicy at all or not spicy enough he refuses to consume it. water and other beverages are exceptions

* he growls sometimes. like. animalistic growling. he taught himself how to do it a long time ago and now it's just an instinct for him to do so when he gets pissed

* double egg is a salmonling in this blog!!

* vintage has three cats, (exclusively in this askblog) named nexus, leo & army. (blame the anon who gave him that cat.)

anyways, i think thats all i need to note down?? anyways yet again, this is my first askblog, i'm going in blind. this might be fun maybe!!!

☓ ⁑ buh bye..

[profound-bouquetbird]

Hello! I saw this about another fandom and thought I would love to see it with toh, can I ask for some hcs about the modern social media pressence of them? (Any you want, but my favorites are king and the veterans but in their young version, like eda, raine and lilith) about, how they spend their time online, their favorite app, how they are on instagram?, or their texting style. Ty!

I seperated everyone so that no one gets confused :)

Edit: omg, why did this take me so long??? 😭 😭 😭

I'm so sorry you had to wait this long for your request to be posted, and I'm sorry to the seven other people in my inbox that left a request 😭

I'll try to write it as quickly as possible, but writers block is hitting me like a brick rn 😔

Eda Clawthorne!

I'd say she'd be pretty well known, has a good amount of followers

She's not famous by any means, but there are a few teasing comments from her classmates and or friends. For example: "Oh my god, is that (insert her username)! Can I get an autograph???" Y'know, stuff like that

I'd say she's chronically online, constantly quoting the latest memes and is sort of up to the trends. Would do the typical dumb dares people have made up, but is always doing them on the brink of the trends end

I'd say her favorite app is... Tiktok? Yeah, looks like she'd be obsessed with that app

Knows more about the news and global warming and all of the stuff that the adults are supposed to hear and worry about. I'd feel like she'd have multiple weird facts pop up on her FYP and would either spill the horrors of her 'fun facts' to her mother, or would run to Lilith to tell her yet another fun fact she managed to find

And as for the Instagram bit, as previously stated, she'd have quite the amount of followers. I'd feel like she would post her 'epic stunts' that she did in the backyard, you could hear a faint voice of her mom yelling her full name before she cuts the video short. Also is the type of person to post horrendous memes on her page (I am guilty of that crime 😔)

She always leaves encouraging comments on her friends Instagram posts and stuff, I feel like I should put that in

As for her texting style, it's caos. No commas, no new rows, no punctuation, no nothing. Literally texts like this

hey lilly mom said we r gonna get mcdonlds be out of UR ruum in 5 mins

She knows grammar and has the ability to type correctly, she just doesn't feel like being grammatically correct when texting. It's your problem you can't read it 😒

Lilith Clawthorne!

Is actually pretty famous... Well, at least on her other profile

She's that 'aesthetic smart girl' you see on your page that never shows her face. Also does bomb powerpoint presentations and posts them on her account (ppl eat that stuff upppp)

Eda would be the only one to know about her secret account and she swears to keep her mouth shut. Although the secret account does slip out of Edas mind often, so Lilith doesn't have to worry all that much about the word spreading

But, on her main account which she shares with her friends... It's literally just her friends. Of course, you have her sister and people she hangs out with/is cool with, as well as her club members, but thats pretty much it

On her main, she mostly posts stuff about her school and her successes, such as the awards she gets in contests of the medals/trophies she recives

Again, Eda will the the one hyping her up in her comments, but she doesn't dare to hype her up on her secret account, as to not rish accidentally spilling the beans in the comments somehow

For her favorite app... I'd have to say: 'Instagram'. I would've said Pinterest but it doesn't quite sit right with me fully... Instagram feels like a better fit

Always scrolling through reels, but also opens Tiktok from time to time (specifically to search for the memes Eda is quoting so that she isn't as confused)

Texts normally, like how you'd see people text on the daily. But, if she's mad, I can also see her writing painfully grammatically correct sentences with words that everybody forgets the meaning of

No, I'm not gonna set an example because that's too much thinking.

Raine Whispers!

Raine would be avarege in the followers count. They wouldn't be all that famous, but they also wouldn't be completely invisible

Definitely is the type of person to have their account private for a few years before toughening up and macking their account public. That was oddly specific but we'll move on

They'd mostly post selfies with their friends, of course an occasional recording of their progress with their violin as well as some bard magic tricks (like that whistling in the cup)

Doesn't get that many comments on their posts, but when they do they make sure to either like it or fully reply

Isn't as chronically online as Eda but is up to date with the memes. Is always able to quote with or continue a quote Eda began. Trends always somehow end up on their for you page when they're scrolling on Tiktok

Favorite app? Oddly enough: 'Twitter' 'X'. Loves to read the drama people have, and when there is nothing to do they just scroll onto people's accounts

And for the texting style: the perfect middle. Just enough punctuation to make it make sense, but not too formal to make it look like a business e-mail

[awellboiledicicle]

So the polycule talked me into playing Corruption of Champions under the me-bait of calling it research.

It's actually very fun, the problem is i keep having the rpg worry of "oh no i just spent 5 days looking for wood and nails, what if i miss Plot Events?" and then remembering those really only depend on me popping up with specific stat levels.

So far I have an ant wife with 25 children [and counting] building a subterranean network down the way, a monk named Jojo helping me stave off corruption while watching me try very hard to not drop shit on myself while building a house. Because he's not helping. Which, fair, he's in his anime meditation of angst. I have 6 kids with this goblin lady that keeps showing up at random. And a litter of mouse babies with a mouse girl that was like "listen i need to repopulate my village/rebuild my people and you're not a rape happy corruption beast. Help?" and i was like "ok sure" and then we became friends and i think she likes me after i helped deliver the babies. I keep trying to visit her and check on the kiddos but a ghost in the ruins is super into me and keeps intercepting me. C'mon ma'am they're all gonna think i'm skipping child support. I'm also in a relationship with a chronically ill lizard guy that's teaching me magic. A wolf lady on the guard of the only safe town i've found so far that's got severe loneliness issues that she drowns in alcohol [we talked about it, and i told her she doesn't have to change things if she doesn't want to, but being aware of why she leans on drink is important]. A catgirl i'm slowly trying to train into being a guard so she can have literally any life that isn't "i live in an alley behind the pawn shop and live off stolen milk". She's sweet but also slow going on the authority learning because she's seen the other side and yeah. I wish her story was more "and you can come adventure with me c:" instead of "listen, the only skills you got are be a cop because all that takes is hitting things".

Also i found a gargoyle that was abused by her former master and has trauma around sex. I take my time to reassure her and learn about her and help her clean up the cathedral she's in.

Also there's a bunny dancer that's zero'd in on me but since i keep forgetting to go to the bar i've seen her 1 whole time. Also there's a cupcake seller that i'm 90% sure is supposed to just be nymph pinkie pie.

All this is very fun but also i'm sitting here wondering how the reality warping that lets you travel around easily effects the environment. And how the time dilation wrapped into the pregnancy kink would effect the ecology. Because if a goblin takes like 3 days max to have two kids, and i can fuck more than one at a time, that means there should be hella goblins. The game mentions, however, there are factors that curb the population but doesn't say what. Am deeply curious. Also deeply curious what importing the ant wife from the desert is going to do to the forest, but that's more long term.

Also there's like. dungeons? to clear and explore? but i keep being very sure i'm gonna die if i go in there so every time i see one in like. the desert the sphynx is like "you gonna go in?" "maybe next time" "you wanna fuck?" "nah im looking for nails"

I also keep trying to fight the antlion monsters. Which just leads into it cooing that we're not so different because my character isn't 100% Big Man Of Fuck Mountain Masc, before knocking me up with eggs. Which is fine, but i can only assume my pants are a fucking lost cause at this point.

I also befriended the giant turtle lady in the lake.

A narrative running trend i'm noticing is a wild amount of loneliness and isolation brought on by how others react to peoples bodies. The violence of the actual demon invasion is one thing, but the knock on effects of how its changed the biology and culture of the remaining survivors is very interesting. I'm also noticing a heavy amount of "so the environment is also fucked up" in terms of literal and figurative pollution.

But what deeply keeps hooking me is that like... the premise begins with "If you, Chosen Yearly Sacrifice, do not enter this portal and Die Fighting, bad things will happen to the rest of us." Not demons, not monsters, not some incursion of horrible energy... just like. People getting sick. Crops failing. Bad weather. Which sure, could be related, but it's a much more mundane and expected-- grounded, i suppose-- occurrence. Meanwhile people on the other side of the portal are just like "listen, if its not trying to fuck me or kill me on sight, maybe i can talk with it bc goddamn" bc that's the every day for them. Its not even particularly shocking a danger to them anymore. Bad, certainly horrible, but very much a "yes this could happen" in the same way running out of water in the desert is an assumed danger. A matter of time sort of thing.

I know the creator most definitely did not intend someone to sit there and ponder, while doing fifty explore rounds for nails, the sociological impact of this whole thing. But i'm me and the game only manages to make me horny a few times every couple hours so i gotta ponder something.

Also my character's name is Fifi. He's very canine in appearance while also managing a v long beard and shaggy hair because i keep forgetting the barber exists. I forget many things exist. It's a problem.

[clatterbane]

I am feeling greatly vindicated about now, in a way that I am very aware is probably verging on bitchiness on this end too. But, some people just affect me that way.

What do we have here, through the portal? Starting cortisol levels toward the lower end of normal for that time of day. And also well within the normal range? The cortisol-stimulating hormone which is what goes screwy and gets overproduced to make your adrenal glands pump out too much cortisol, if the problem is on the pituitary end.

The point of this overzealous testing?

The dexamethasone suppression test is used to diagnose endogenous Cushing syndrome by assessing the lack of suppression of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis in response to exogenous corticosteroids.[1] The first use of dexamethasone for diagnosing Cushing syndrome was in 1960 by Liddle; he developed a test based on the non-suppressibility of endogenous cortisol production in Cushing syndrome versus the physiological suppression in nonaffected individuals achieved by dexamethasone.[2]

So yeah, if you give someone even a single dose of dexamethasone (never mind the sledgehammer 8-dose multiday protocol they hit my endocrine system with!), their body should cut way back on its own cortisol production to compensate. If the regulating mechanism is borked, it will just keep pumping out the ACTH and then a bunch of cortisol anyway.

What happened in this case?

Whoosh!

Straight down within the expected time frame, from totally fine levels starting out. The usual low single-dose test would have more than done it, without fucking my blood sugar up or giving me its own version of the Prednisone Crazies to anywhere near the same extent. They are apparently looking for at least a 50% reduction in levels, and we have more than met that goal!

(Yeah, they are close enough drugs to have similar effects. I've unfortunately had to take courses of prednisone multiple times, mostly for particularly nasty allergic skin reactions. But dexamethasone is stronger stuff and the effects apparently last longer. 👿 I am very relieved to be done taking the shit as of like 6:30 this morning. Probably a few more days of lingering fun to look forward to.)

It was a dramatic enough drop during that first day, that the nurse actually went ahead and reassured us this morning that things were obviously perfectly fine there when I went in for the second steroided-up blood draw.

Gotta say the lab was quick! They drew the samples just before 8:30 again today, and the results were up on the portal when I logged in somewhere around noon. That clinic is right in the university medical center complex, but still.

They took so much blood the first time because the endo also decided to throw in All The Tests while she was at it. Including a bunch of the diabetes-standard ones that she already ordered before the recent routine check-in appointment where she sprung this xenophobic concern-trolling bullshit on me in the first place. Also got expanded kidney and liver panels, what seemed like every other major hormone in my body checked, and a whole new battery of tests prompted by the chronic anemia. A lot of those repeats of what primary care just recently ordered (and she could see the results of) after she kicked that over to their side. At least it was just two tubes for the cortisol and ACTH today.

But yeah, at least nothing out of that huge battery of tests came back looking weird in unexpected ways! I am still slightly anemic, my sodium and potassium levels are still running just barely under range, and a couple of kidney indicators are still looking borderline wonky in a very diabetic way.

(Which seems to be staying pretty stable for years now, not even far off enough that anyone has seemed to feel like it's needed treatment--and it's frankly a miracle that my renal function isn't way more thrashed than that, after the number of years of earlier negligence and uncontrolled blood sugar. Ruined kidneys was honestly one of my big nagging worries while all of that was still going on.)

Anyway, one thing I WAS actually glad and somewhat relieved to see while scrolling through that huge mess of reports:

Because it was primarily a pituitary prolactinoma that I got removed back in high school. And especially with the healthcare mess back in the US? I am not aware of that ever having been checked again within the past 30 years. My family ended up uninsured within a year or two of the surgery, and the last follow-up probably happened in 1992-93. The symptoms thankfully did go away over time--along with the freaking cortisol side bonus staying distant history!

(None of which was the endo aware of when she decided I looked weird enough to constitute a medical problem, I just can't restrain myself from emphasizing again.)

The little fuckers do have a distressing tendency to come back sometimes. But yeah, BTDT and I am pretty confident that I would have noticed if that were causing problems. But, I am still glad for the confirmation that my prolactin levels are fine now.

This whole thing was, indeed, uncalled for. And I am still perversely gratified to be proven right about this, when it's been taking up so much rent-free space in my head. (Thanks, PTSD!) And also to see that I am honestly looking healthier across a whole slew of bloodwork measures than I was half-afraid I might.

[edwinspaynes]

Saw your answer yesterday, about how you don't feel like the TLH characters are teenagers, except for Lucie. AND I AGREE. I still need to reread TLH to have a coherent thought, but from what I remember of the books, the way the characters reacted to certain situations felt very mature for their age. I'm currently rereading the series in publication order, and I can 100% tell that the TLH characters are more aware, and solve their problems in a more "grown-up" way. They have adults issus, and they fix them in a very adult way (except for the miscommunication trope, but that's the YA genre). I don't know how to explain it, but when I was reading TID, they have heavy issues to deal with , like, accepting death, and dealign with chronic illness, the trauma of being the reason your sibling died, and the torture Tessa went through, etc. but how they act around these stuffs is still very childish sometimes, which makes sense because they are 16 and 17 years old. One of the example that comes to mind, is when Will storms out of Jem's room, when Jem was going to tell Tessa about his illness, or him leaving Tessa wondering the halls of the Institute the first night, just because she pissed him off. Like, that's very childish, and I don't see any TLH character do that, except for Lucie (when she got pissed at Cordelia in Chot, and had their fight). Personally, I never minded Lucie in the books because for me she was the only teenager character in the series. We read that she was very well sheltered and loved, and never had to deal with big problems like the others (abuse, alcoholism, neglect, grooming etc.), and most of her reactions to situation (running away to save Jessie) and not thinking of the consequences, reminds me of the some of the rushed decisions the TID trio took (getting engaged at 16 because Jem is dying, Jem becoming a silent brother because he was scared of what was gonna happen to Will and Tessa, and Will rushing to save Tessa on a horse in the middle of night, with zero back ups).

This turned to be a long rant, just to say that James, Cordelia, Anna, Alastair and Matthew are way older than their ages in the series.

"...when I was reading TID, they have heavy issues to deal with , like, accepting death, and dealign with chronic illness, the trauma of being the reason your sibling died, and the torture Tessa went through, etc. but how they act around these stuffs is still very childish sometimes, which makes sense because they are 16 and 17 years old."

YES!!!!! This is why I roll my eyes when people say "it's just the historical setting." The TID characters DO feel their age, maybe like 18 or 19 if we're going to be pedantic about it, lol.

"We read that [Lucie] was very well sheltered and loved, and never had to deal with big problems like the others (abuse, alcoholism, neglect, grooming etc."

Honestly, I think this is why Lucie feels so out of place in the story to me. I very much view TLH above all else as an exploration of trauma and how it sits and festers in the space between people and those they love. But with Lucie, there's very little deeper impact for her story, and it makes her appear extremely frivolous. And also the way that she behaves toward Cordelia, who is going through some deep shit, makes me want to rip my hair out. I think you're right about her acting her age, and honestly I might be less annoyed with her if she were in a novel that felt YA - but compared to everyone else, I'm like, "why is this preteen having a temper tantrum?" Lol. But yeah, I think that you're correct that she acts her age, and perhaps I'm unfair to shirk her for it, but my point stands.

I do feel weird likening her to Herongraystairs, though - a torture survivor, someone who's literally in the process of dying, and someone who's going through the daily trauma of having to be someone else. Like, I get their decisions. Especially Jessa engagement. Let that bro carve out a little happiness for himself before he meets the reaper at 17, lmao.

This turned to be a long rant, just to say that James, Cordelia, Anna, Alastair and Matthew are way older than their ages in the series.

Oh, yeah. They're definitely core offenders, but I also think that Thomas, Grace, and Christopher feel older than they are. Especially Thomas, he reads as like a clumsy adult to me which is Relatable. But Grace feels so in place in this trauma exploration, and I feel like Thomas and Christopher occupy unique spaces in it too both as traumatized individuals and as those who spur healing in two of the most traumatized characters in the narrative. Maybe one day I'll unpack every TLH character's place in the character study of trauma that I view the series as, that might be a fun little essay. Because that's why I love TLH so much, and why I love the miscommunication so much.

ANYWAY YEAH thanks for this ask <3