#and not annoyed with myself for not putting more time and effort in towards whatever im doing on the site

[oflgtfol]

blogging about flight rising on main made me nostalgic so i took a quick look thru my flight rising art folder and i found this old wip that is unfinished and hasnt been touched since 2018. i still really like it, it hasnt aged too much really like a lot of my old art has, but maybe that's because its still unfinished. (btw that like, weird uncolored liquid was going to be lava lol </3)

really though it's making me a bit nostalgic for my old lineart style.. like man i kinda do miss having those types of lines. idk something about it just feels more organic and free flowing compared to my lines now, plus the pen pressure edges... but it always took so fucking long to do it that way and the inconvenience of having to bust out my tablet every time i wanted to draw... my current lineart style is quicker and more convenient which i like but i feel like im sacrificing something i used to have with my old style... </3

anyway this is my dragon ignacia btw.

[cindyss]

• — MY SHORTS DONT HAVE LACES — •

PAIRING(S): theodore nott x fem. reader !!

WARNING(S): smut

SUMMARY: Hermoine is aware of y/n’s feelings toward theo, therefore when she gets the chance, hermoine makes it her job to get them close to eachother

A/N: i hope you enjoy this and check my most recent post with tom riddle please show it some support 😭🙏 (this is edited)

——————————————————

You and Hermione were in your shared dorm, getting ready together for the pool party thrown.

You put your matching black swimsuits on and put your hair up so that it doesnt get wet from the water.

“Hermoineeeee” you sigh. “Is- is uhh is, is theo gonna be there?” You ask hesitantly.

Hermoine had always been aware of your feelings toward theo and she made no effort to stop teasing you about it.

“Ugh, y/n, yes he is” she spoke as she rolled her eyes.

“Do i look good, should i tie my hair or keep it in a claw-clip like this? Omg idk what to do i feel so ugly. Should i change this swimsuit?” you complain

“Y/l/n, one more word i swear. You look gorgeous, ur perfect. How many times do i need to tell you that?” She said.

You jump into her arms before she could finish, “god hermoine i love you” you say.

“Yeah i know bla bla bla bla, now we have a party to get to and boys to impress” she winked before dragging you out of the room.

You get to the party and ur eyes immediately begin scanning the room, in search of theo. In no time you spot him, sat in the hot tub with cormac, harry, ron, ginny, and luna.

Hermoine notices your intentions and grabs your hand leading you to the hot tub, “hermoine, no, im not ready yet!!” you sigh.

“too bad” she says before jumping in the hot tub. “shoot, y/n, there’s no more place for you, but im sure theo would be more than pleasured to keep you on his lap” she giggled.

You and theo didn’t hate eachother, you weren’t friends either. However, there was always tension between the two of you, even Neville could catch it.

He patted on his lap, gesturing for you to come over “c’mere” he said. You drag ur feet in the water and adjust ur sitting on his lap.

Looks and smiles exchange between everyone in the tub and you begin to feel the tension form. Cormac, next to you, starts talking about his previous experience with the ladies and other stuff.

And while ur listening, trying to act interested in whatever he’s talking about, you feel something poke from under you.

You also feel theo’s hands wrap around ur waist from under water which makes you let out a loud gasp, loud enough for the people in the hot tub to hear at least.

Everyones heads turn around to you, “sorry guys, thought i saw a bug” you laugh it off and all ur friends go back to their conversations.

The poking from under you only got more annoying, so you turn ur head, “theo, the laces of ur swimsuit are poking me, can u do something about it?” You speak.

“Cara mia, my shorts don’t have laces” he whispers to you, you could feel his breath on ur ear. “Fuck theo” you say.

He looks at you and then says something again “i say we get out of here darling before i can’t control myself anymore”.

You immediately jump up, and theo follows you. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some business to manage” he jokes pointing at the both of you.

“Get out of here man” Ron laughs.

“God please no” this, from Luna.

“Off you go” hermoine says smiling.

Theo then grabs your hand, two towels, and starts leading you back to his dorm. On ur way there, he wraps one of the towels around you, making sure you’re not cold.

When you get there, the Slytherin boy wastes no time locking the door and smashing his lips onto yours, immediately also allowing his tongue to slip in.

The kiss was not sweet, it was slow yet passionate and hungry. The boy was practically eating your face off while he has you pinned on the wall.

In a sudden movement, theo slips his hands under your thighs and carries you up into his arms. He carries you to his bed, the kiss ongoing, and makes you lay there.

He wastes no time unclasping your bikini and sucking on your tits. Your fingers meet his hair and you start tugging at it as he sucks on your nipples.

He leaves kisses on your boobs and cups them while he moves back up to your lips, also removing your underwear. They meet again and this time the kiss is faster, deeper, and hungrier.

“I- i.. fuck” he says in between kisses.

“Mhm?” you wonder.

“My friend down there, fucking hell, he needs attention.” the boy explains.

You laugh and start working your way, trying to remove his shorts. He turns over making sure to provide you with enough space to take control.

You make your way down, leaving kisses down his ab lines. You slowly lower his shorts and begin trailing his v line with your fingers.

You then remove his shorts completely and for a second, you are taken back by his large size.

His wet, throbbing cock was now inches away from your face. You begin by licking his tip, slowly and carefully before taking him in all in one go.

To that, he gasps, his hands then move to your head guiding you, he grabs onto your hair and leads you.

He even makes you gag a few times when he hits your throat, which you pinch his thigh for that.

You speed up your movements as you wanted to be the one to make him cum first, and you wanted to be the one that makes it happen faster.

“Cara mia” he spoke. “Im gonna.. soon. Im gonna.. fuck”.

You mumble a quick mhm as you speed your movements.

“Fuck you’re so good at this”. he praised

You smiled to yourself before he finally came on your mouth, he squeezed your hair as he released.

You move back up to him and stick your tongue out to show him you swallowed it. You then start kissing him again, slipping your tongue inside, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“You know ur actually gorgeous, youre so perfect. A goddess i swear” he said as you were sat on his lap, staring deep into his eyes.

“Tell me something in italian” you ask.

“Hmm? Something like what ehh?” he smirks.

“Anything” you smile.

“Well.. ti scoperò finché non potrai più camminare.” he said in a whisper.

“And that means?” you wonder.

“I’ll fuck you till you cant walk” he spills.

“Oh is that so?” you giggle.

he nods and then you give him the look of affirmation before he slams into you, which makes you let out a gasp before adjusting yourself to his size.

You then start working ur hips in sync with his, riding him while his hands roam ur body, touching every bit of skin he could get his hands on.

“Fff.. fuckkk, you look too good like this” he praised. “dannatamente perfetto”. (fucking perfect)

you smile and in a sudden movement, he flips you over so hes in control, he starts speeding and you grab onto the sheets for dear life.

He leans in and kisses you, you moan into his mouth and his swollen tip hits your spot, the one that sends you to the moon and back.

“FUCKING HELL!!” you scream, “THEODORE IM GONNA CUM”. He speeds up his movements and guides you as you release.

“è stato fantastico, bellissimo” (that felt amazing, beautiful) he spoke slumping on the bed next to you.

“You really gotta start teaching me italian so i can understand what ur saying” you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What if i dont want you to understand what im saying” he teased.

“Uhh oh, we might have a problem then” you both laugh as he hugs u tightly, kissing ur temple.

[girlboybug]

Shades of Cool

“my baby lives in shades of cool, cold heart and hands of aptitude.”

or the one where joel can’t seem to stay away from you despite his efforts to. but it’s not like he tried very hard to begin with.

what’s playing 🎧 : shades of cool by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, creampie, breeding kink if u squint, oral f receiving, fingering, loss of virginity, virginity kink if u squint yet again, tummy bulge, unspecified age gap and joel kind of has a thing for it, unprotected sex, (pls wear a condom guys im just a mf on tumblr) multiple orgasms, a tad of overstimulation, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, mating press, prone bone, light dom/sub dynamics, reader def has some unresolved daddy issues mean!joel but theres some soft joel

TRIGGER WARNINGS : minor character death/reference to his death but he literally doesn't exist in the show i promise, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of guns, implied/references to sexual harassment

a/n : this is my first time uploading to tumblr, forgive me if my layout is funky lol, anyways pls enjoy <3 read the second part here

you swallowed hard when you saw joel making his way towards the alleyway you two routinely met up in. watching as he did his typical side to side glance, casual in presence but it was muscle memory for him to ensure the safety of his environment no matter it’s location or the mundaneness of it. 

you quite disliked the feeling that pricked your chest and quickly spread inside the cavity, overflowing up into your throat and drowning out any coherent thoughts in your mind whenever you saw joel. 

it was annoying. pathetic even. just a silly schoolgirl crush you hoped would go away in time. 

you put aside the fluttering feelings for later, and waved, catching his attention. he sent a curt nod, rubbing his palms together before pushing them into his denim pockets. “hey.” he greeted you, if you could really call it that. 

you took whatever you could get from him, so you smiled, parroting it back with a nervous politeness. 

“do you have the uh…” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed that you struggled to even verbalize what you were trading. 

he raised a brow, folding his arms over his chest, looking at you expectingly. “i got it. you got the rations?” he finished speaking for you and you nodded enthusiastically, hurriedly pulling out the thick wad of rations you worked your ass off for. 

he shut his eyes with exasperation for a few seconds before hovering his larger hand over the wad, miraculously dwarfing your own hand. “don’t wave it around kid, jesus,” he sighed, shaking his head while palming it and sliding it away into his back pocket. 

“sorry…” you muttered embarrassedly. 

he didn’t reply, and instead handed you a box, bright purple and pink and your gaze slowly rose up to his face with a slightly ajar mouth. “uh. joel.” you started, voice leading into an upward trail of confusion. 

“if i wanted tampons i could have easily gotten this myself.” you wanted to hide the slight irritation in your tone but he caught on to it, unfolding his arms to jab the top of the box with his index finger. “how about you open it smartass.” he instructed dryly, moving backward and refolding his arms. 

your eyes lingered on him tryingly for a few more seconds, huffing quietly to yourself before flipping the cardboard flap up. 

again. tampons. 

you tilted it towards him and he dragged his hand down his face tiredly. he dug his hand into the box, the tampons shoved to the sides, revealing a small pistol. 

your mouth fell open into a comical O shape, laughing in awe. “oh!” you giggled and joel stared at you blankly, already feeling a hankering for a straight shot of whiskey at the bright and early hour of 8:30am. 

“very creative.” you beamed and it seemed as though joel fought back a smile behind a glare. at least, you told yourself that. 

“just enough for gullible people.” he pushed at a button of yours, just a little, and you paused for a second, shooting him a playful glare. “whatever,” you exhaled through a quiet chuckle. 

“thank you joel, i appreciate the um. tampons, i was running low.” you played along with the bit and he rolled his eyes, nodding, already ready to go back home. 

“sure thing.” he was about to turn and walk out of the alleyway but something held him in his spot. 

he took in a deep inhale before making eye contact with you, rendering you back into your nervous state from when he first arrived. 

“why do you need a pistol? we’ve only ever traded for small things. why the sudden big order?” he has absolutely no clue why he’s asking you this, or rather, he has no idea why he’s letting himself ask this. 

he shouldn’t care. he doesn’t. 

you stiffened, straightening your back and holding the box to your stomach, hands cupping the bottom of it. “just to keep at my place. thought i’d feel safer with it.” you answered truthfully, making sure to not go further into detail. 

his squinted eyes stay on you for awhile, unsure of what you needed to feel safe from. “are you uh…in any trouble?” he asks and you feel a little excitement ignite in your lower belly. 

is he worried about you?

“no! no not at all, i just…i don’t know,” you try to laugh it off but the silence between you two just feels heavy instead. “why do you ask?” you question and he shrugged. 

“if you’re in trouble, i don’t need it somehow coming back to me. i got enough shit i need to worry about.” he answered and the bubble inside you popped and deflated almost immediately. 

“oh, well no need to worry about that. it’s nothing like that, you’ll be fine.” you decided to end the conversation there, a cold feeling of humiliation that prods at your shoulders and throat alerting you that it’s best to just walk away before you can say anything else that might make the situation more unbearable. 

“thanks joel.” you added, quickly making your way out the alleyway. “be careful with that thing.” he called out after you, and you feel the bubble slowly start to shamelessly inflate itself once more. 

maybe he does care. even if it’s just a little. 

—

you hid the box in the shoddy nightstand you had lugged up into your apartment from off the street one night, and exhaled lowly, pursing your lips. “this is good.” you stated to yourself. 

the whole reason why you wanted a gun, was kind of useless if you really put some actual thought into it. 

it really was just for the comfort of your mind, putting the nerves you had at ease. like a security blanket of sorts. 

fedra soldiers occasionally conduct inspections, making a mess of people’s homes to look for any contraband, firefly propaganda, weapons, anything that so much acts as an eyesore to them is grounds for permanent confiscation. 

there’s a specific solider that just makes you uncomfortable, makes your skin prickle up into sharp goosebumps and makes your stomach churn like dry gears rubbing up against each other. 

the way his eyes follow you around, rejoicing in his power over you and how you cowered away from him. 

they come in as pairs to inspect and even if they didn’t, he was still taller, stronger, heavily armed and trained and could kill you in front of a crowd of people and still face no consequences. so a singular witness wouldn't stop him from breaking the rules.

if anything, you’ve probably just put yourself in more danger carrying a weapon. but you felt that if you had it, you maybe had a fighting chance in case push came to shove. 

you collected yourself into your very depressing excuse of a bed, lifting the fraying crotched blanket over your body, pretending you were anything less than semi uncomfortable.

the next morning, you woke up with a slightly sore feeling that resided in just about every crevice of your body but you ignore it, as it’s a common thing to wake up to if you’ve got what basically feels like laying on a napkin as a bed, and using what feels like an even thinner napkin as a blanket. 

you readied yourself to participate in street clean up, since you had to take on more shifts than usual to make up for the hefty chunk of rations you gave to joel. 

—

a bandana resided around your nose, neatly but tightly tied behind your head, doing…definitely not enough to cover the stench of cleaning the sludge off the streets. 

"the fuck would i need coffee beans for asshole? hit me up when you’ve actually got good shit to trade.” you overheard two guys a few feet away from you bickering, your ears perking up at the mention of coffee beans. 

you remembered joel vaguely mentioning how he’d kill for a cup of coffee, and you agreed on that sentiment, even though you’ve never once had coffee.  the point being, he’d been out of coffee for awhile, unable to find anyone who has it, and you figured maybe scoring him a bag would be a nice sign of gratitude for the pistol. 

you pulled down your bandana, walking over to the guy once the other one walked off. “hi, um i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard you have coffee beans? i’d be willing to trade for them.” 

“i don’t take kindly to nosy—“ he cut himself off mid sentence once he turned to look at you, his eyes dragging up and down your body and you wondered in that moment if it was worth the hassle of talking to this. thing. 

but then you thought of joel, and how maybe he’d smile at you, thank you with a tight bear hug and suddenly, it did all seem worth it. 

“yeah, yeah i’d definitely be happy to trade with you,” he grinned and you laughed, trying to hide your disgust with fake excitement. “great! what would you want for it? i have some spare shampoo bars, a pair of wool socks i was saving for winter, or—“ 

he cut you off this time, leaning into your space closer and you instinctively backed away. “i was thinking maybe something different.” he alluded to something that made cleaning up literal shit off the street seem a lot more pleasant. 

your face fell and you lifted up your bandana. “yeah, nevermind. thanks anyway.” 

you turned on your heel and he groaned, calling after you. “the socks…” he huffed, rubbing the side of his chin. “are they soft?” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

you tugged down the bandana again, smiling brightly. “very!” 

—

you scheduled another meet up with joel, excited to gift him the bag of coffee beans. 

you were slightly sad to let go of the socks, your feet always got so cold in the winter and the nights were already starting to increase in frigidness, but it’s okay, you could always find another pair of socks again, but you didn’t know if you’d have another chance to pleasantly surprise joel like this. 

against joel’s typical judgment, he said to just stop by his apartment, feeling too tired to lug himself down into the alleyway again. 

but all you heard from that was he trusted you enough into his personal space. which, as much as joel would deny it, is true. 

he could clearly envision you apologizing to a fly for so much as being in its way, so inviting you over posed as nowhere near a threat. 

you knocked at his door, hiding the bag behind your back before he opened it. the wind got knocked out of you once more at the sight of him. he was very much older than you, easily the age of a man who could be your father, but that didn’t erase any of his attractiveness. 

in the deepest part of your subconscious, you knew that that’s what added onto it. 

“hi!” you chirped and he stepped to the side, widening his door to let you in. “hi.” he repeated, drier but, not unhappily. 

“what’d you wanna trade for again?” he asked, his hand rubbing the side of his stubbly jaw, and you had to look away, knowing you’d just watch him in silence if you didn’t. 

“actually,” you hummed, nearly bursting at the seems with glee. he watched you curiously, unaware of the slight smile on his face as he watched you tip toe closer with your hand still behind your back. 

“i didn’t come by to trade. i got you a gift!” he rested his palms behind him on the small table, his broad shoulders seeming even broader now and you wanted to run your hands across the expanse of them. 

“a gift?” he asked, breaking you out of your trance. he sounded genuinely shocked, almost unable to believe you. “mhm!” you nodded, a smile still etched on your features. 

“close your eyes, and open your hands.” you instructed, and he tilted the side of his head to you, wordlessly saying really? 

you nudged your chin, motioning for him to listen, your way of replying with yes, really.

he eyed you before shaking his head, standing up straight and closing his eyes, his palms bared out for you, muttering a quiet, i have no idea why i’m listenin’ to you. 

you plopped the bag of coffee into his hands, sing songing a soft “now open!” 

he opened his eyes, his lips parting in awe. he laughed out of disbelief, and your heart soared with joy as you saw him smile, and widely at that. 

“kid…you…why? i mean, god, thank you, but why?” he asked and you shrugged, rocking back and forth on your heel to your toes. “take it as a thanks for my pist-i mean tampons.” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head and putting the beans down onto the table. 

“well, thank you, that’s mighty kind of you.” he looked downward at you, and you looked back up at him, trying to memorize the way his lips were curled, the sweet lines by his eyes and the way he just seemed so happy by such a small act of kindness. 

“no biggie!” you replied, and he darted his eyes away for a moment before turning back to you. “do you know how to use your gun?” he asked and you felt your face grow hot with slight embarrassment. 

“uh. i mean you just aim and pull the trigger right?” you asked honestly and he blinked a few times before shaking his head. “okay so you don’t.” and you squinted at him. “i could teach you. get you some extra bullets too.” he remedied the half joking comment with his offer and you perked up. 

“yeah? you would?” you asked excitedly and he nodded. “‘course. you just went from tolerated, to slightly more tolerated in my book. so i’m gonna help you not accidentally shoot yourself in the foot.” 

you didn’t like how you actually felt a twinge of sadness at his obvious joke about only tolerating you. he was kidding, but sometimes it was hard to tell because he had the same monotone, slightly annoyed at everything everyone has to say, kind of voice. 

and you were a sensitive person, and even the most harmless jokes could manage to sting you. 

“well jeez aren’t you sweet.” you complimented with sarcasm. joel threw on his flannel, ignoring your comment. you stepped aside while he made his way to the door. 

“you comin?” he looked at you, opening the door behind him, waiting for you to follow. you turned around to look behind you stupidly, then back to him. “what?” you asked confusedly and he fought the urge to roll his eyes and take back his offer. 

“we’re gonna start now.” he inclined his head out the door, motioning for you to come along. and who were you to decline doing anything with joel. 

—

joel was here. in your apartment. in your space, in your air. he was sitting on your bed, the place where you’d occasionally, frequently shove your fingers into places you just knew joel would be able to reach with no effort. 

he ran his fingers over the barrel of the gun, drumming against its ridges and for a moment you felt a bit envious over the literal inanimate object. 

“cmere,” he patted the space next to him, waiting for you to be seated so he could get started. 

with wobbly legs you made your way to him, smoothing over your jeans in an attempt to secretly wipe away your clammy palms. 

“show me how you hold it.” he placed it in your hands and it felt foreign to the touch. it was heavier than you expected it to be but you tried to conceal your inexperience by holding it the way you’ve seen others handle their firearms. 

you pointed it at the door, pretending that soldier was in front of you, finger on the trigger and hands at the bottom of it, supporting your grasp. 

he observed your hold, a low hmm coming from the back of his throat. “not terrible.” he adjusted your hands, your skin latching onto his heat, claiming it as yours as his body hovered around your side. 

“how’s that feel?” he asked and you cleared your throat, blinking a few times and avoiding his close stare. “it uh, it feels better.” you answered and he clicked his tongue, nodding curtly to himself. 

“alright. now, when you run out of bullets, the magazine at the bottom might drop out but if it doesn’t, you’re gonna take it out and reload, you wanna be fast if you’re in the middle of, well whatever situations got you needing to pull out a gun.” there was a slight cadence of a joke in his gun lesson 101, and it made a giddy feeling return to your tummy. 

he reached in his back pocket, pulling out what you assumed he meant by magazine. 

he explained the logistics of your newly owned weapon, trying to use terms you’d be able to follow along with, not unaware of how you were watching and listening intently, hanging on to every word he spoke. 

you were too damn obvious. 

—

you saw more of joel after that, bumping into him in places you usually didn’t see him, yet seemingly excited every time you met. 

his aloof stare slowly turned softer when it landed on you, maybe it never changed at all but to you it definitely felt different. 

he swore it was you that had been following him, an air of playfulness in his accusations of you stalking him, but really it was him. 

he unable to admit to himself that he  wandered around the areas he knew you were usually found in, wanting to scold you for having such an easy routine to follow but he kept it to himself. 

he watched you walk beside him, taking in the sights of the town, wondering how you could possibly appreciate the hellhole that surrounded you all. 

“so how’s the coffee? any good?” you asked, turning back to look at him, feeling a hushed breath pause in your throat once you saw he was already looking at you. 

a peek of a smile ghosted over his face. “it’s good. i, i appreciate that you did that. i hope you didn’t have to trade too much for it.” guilt resided in him at the thought of you having to give more than you had just for coffee beans. he felt he wasn’t worth all that effort. 

you shook your head, laughing lightly at the memory of the trade. “no no don’t worry, just a pair of socks. they were these brown wool socks that were so soft, so i’d say it was a pretty fair trade.” 

“i’ll be on the look out for a pair like that then.” he was already figuring out who he could trade with to get you another pair of socks. “no it’s okay you don’t have to it’s-“

“hey,” his voice felt rich, calling your attention back to him. your chest went tight. “yeah?” you whispered back. 

“shut up. i’m gettin’ the socks.” there was a backbone of sternness in his lighthearted promise.

you sucked on your bottom lip through a grin before you spoke again.

“i have a confession.” you exhaled, feigning dramatics and he tilted his head towards you, watching you with worried eyes. “yeah?” 

“i lied. i’ve never had coffee before.” you lowered your head with faux shame and he gasped, shaking his head with disapproval. he paused for a moment, then turned around. 

you caught up with him, holding onto his arm, feeling hot at the taut feeling of his limb, and how he didn’t push you off. he just peered down at you, keeping you there with him. “jeez i didn’t think you’d take such offense to that,” you breathed out through a chuckle. 

“inexcusable. you’re tryin it when we get home.” the twang in his accent was something so attractive, and it only had you feeling more and more willing to do whatever he wanted. you’d drink acid if he asked of it from you in that deep southern drawl. 

you two walked back to his place, shedding a layer out of many, holding onto it as you trailed in behind him. 

he glanced over at you, then your coat. “set it down somewhere, you can have a seat.” he pointed at the round table and you quietly thanked him, hanging your coat over the back of the chair before sliding it out and sitting in it. 

“i remember you have a sweet tooth. damn near talked my head off about trading for a bag of hard candies a few months ago, so i reckon you’d like it sweet.” he mostly talked to himself when he said that, fondly remembering the way you rattled on about how you were craving for caramel drops. 

“you remember that?” you were just about swooning, unable to hide it even when joel walked back over to you, two mugs in each hand of his. “how could i not? you never let me forget it.” he set the mug down in front of you, sipping at his as he leaned back into the chair in front of you. 

you picked it up, hugging the warmth of it with your palm. you took a light sip, your eye shutting, a low quiet moan leaving your lips from around the mug once the taste landed on your tongue. 

joel stirred in his seat at the sound, busying himself with drinking from his cup to avoid making any kind of facial expressions. 

“joel,” you crooned and he felt weak. “you like it?” he asked, his lips still curled over the rim of his mug. “it’s so good, i understand why you like it so much.” 

“well, i don’t make it as sweet as that, but yeah, coffees good. not a lot of people agree.” he shrugged and you set your mug down in front of you. “can i taste yours?” 

he slid it to you and you lifted it, tasting it and almost immediately wanting to spit it out. you quickly gave it back to him, sipping the sweeter coffee to cleanse your offended palette. 

“yeah, that tastes like shit, i don’t know how you drink that.” you smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, the burnt taste not quite leaving you just yet. 

he rolled his eyes, taking a loud obnoxious slurp. “my tastebuds are just mature.” 

“mature for what? shit? once you hit a certain age do just you grow accustomed to crappy tasting things?” you were dipping into a more casual way of speaking to joel, causing his gaze that rested on you to turn into a view of amusement. 

“rich comin’ from the kid who still eats like she’s 5.” he rested his arm against the back of his chair, and you expired, feeling a bit defensive of being called a child. 

“i’m not a kid.” you muttered and he chuckled. “alright.” he agreed in sentiments but not in actuality. 

breaking the comfortable silence that filled the room you and joel shared, a loud bang rang from against the door. joel slid from out his chair, hurriedly pacing towards the door. 

before he could even open it, you already knew it was one of fedra’s soldiers. things were starting to feel a little too lax, it was only a matter of time until they came knocking down doors again. 

your throat went dry, stomach cinching with anxiety once he stepped inside, the same soldier that had you saving up your rations week after week to be able to afford the pistol from joel. 

his eyes flickered between you and joel, scoffing to himself. “what’s this?” he asked you, ignoring joel who stood right in front of him. 

“nothing.” you answered, intimidation and fear already prickling at your skin and racing down your spine. 

joel stood in front of you, shielding you away from him, and slowly, the fear lifted itself itself away from you, but not fully. not while he’s still here. 

“aren’t there usually two of you who do these searches?” joel questioned, watching as the solider jabbed at various things of joel’s with the tip of his rifle. 

“partners out sick. so y’all get the pleasure of havin just me.” he flashed an ugly grin at you, bending to the side to see your uncomfortable face behind joel’s back. 

he walked around, haphazardly lifting and tossing things about. 

“oh?” he bent down, squatting by joel’s bed. “what’s this?” he waved around a baggy full of white powder. joel stiffened, his nostrils flaring in anger. 

“that’s not mine and you know it.” and surprisingly it actually wasn’t. 

joel had just sold the last of his pills to a sad sap unable to sleep without them, and that was a month ago. the asshole was planting drugs on him. 

“this is not only grounds for confiscation but imprisonment. tough spot you’re in miller.” joel exhaled angrily from a quiet ragged breath. 

“unless,” he came up to you, pushing past joel to cup your chin. “she wants to, convince me why i shouldn’t take you down for this contraband.” you flinched from his touch but it only made him hold on tighter. 

joel snatched his wrist away, stepping back in front of you. “you don’t have to involve her. what do you want? rations, half of my next haul? what?” he gritted and the solider just laughed. 

“you think i don’t have easy access to all that? i want something you can’t easily trade for.” he leaned to the side, waving at you. 

joel pushed him backward, triggering the response of a rifle being shoved in his face. joel didn’t so much as waver, grabbing the neck of the firearm, pointing it away from him while his foot came and rammed down onto the front of his shin, successfully knocking him down with a loud wail of pain. 

it happened so fast all you could do was sit and watch, frozen in place as joel lost himself on top of the solider, pounding and pounding and pounding his fists in relentlessly, not stopping despite the ache trickling over across his knuckles. 

you heard a sick squelch followed by cracking noises and you knew that should’ve made you fear joel. it should’ve made you run out the door and never look back. but it did the opposite. you never wanted to stay more. 

you watched with wide pupils as he rose up from the beaten and bloodied solider, breathing hard and loud, stumbling upward to a leant stance, staring at the lifeless solider on his wood floors. 

he wiped his nose with the clean, unbloodied slate of his forearm, before dropping it back to his side to lean forward and spit over the body. 

he turned back to you, scanning your face for any hurt, fear or disgust. 

but there was none. 

before you could say anything, he spoke aloud his thoughts. “i gotta get rid of the body.” 

“do you need help?” you extended a hand willing to assist and joel shook his head a hard no. “you saw enough, you don’t need to see more. i’ll be back.” 

you stood up, pressing a hand to his chest, looking at him with watery eyes. he wanted to wipe them away from you, but he couldn’t. not with the blood that was already starting to cake under his nails. 

“joel i want to help.” you admitted, soft voice trembling and joel leaned forward, his face close to yours. “you should probably go sweetheart, you don’t need to get wrapped up further in this.” his words traveled along the coast of a gentle but solid whisper. 

“i don’t want to go.” your voice barely carrying itself loud enough as a reply, eyes following joel’s actions of walking away from you to roll up the soldier in a thin fraying carpet. 

“you should.” is all he said, walking out the door with a body dragging behind him. 

—

you went against any logical thought process whatsoever and stayed. you decided you’d make yourself useful, feeling as though the events that continually replayed in your head felt like your fault. 

you sat on your knees, scrubbing at the blood that had already set in the floors. 

you scrubbed until it hurt, and you kept going despite the fact. you dunked the scrubber into the bucket of soapy water turned brown, squeezing the excess onto the floor before rubbing it in. 

the door clicked open and your head whipped towards it, heart leaping in your chest once you saw joel stumble in. 

“hi.” you breathed and he looked at you with surprise. he saw the work you busied yourself with, locking the door before making his way to you. “what’re you doin’?” he asked gently, yet again in shock at how unabashedly kind you were to him. 

“didn’t want the blood just sitting here on your floors. ‘least i could do since it’s my fault that all happened.” you sniffled, feeling guilty at what had transpired. though the guilt was there, a sense of gratitude was even larger. 

he did that, for you. 

he bent down to catch your watery gaze. “no, no that was not your fault. just got a little carried away. ‘don’t want you thinkin’ that you had anything to do with my choices, okay?” he leaned to the side, catching your eyes that were avoiding his. “okay?” he repeated, waiting for you to say it back to him. 

“okay.” you mouthed just below a whisper. he took the bucket and the scrubber, walking to the sink. you of course, trailed behind him. 

he lifted his sleeves, turning on the faucet to rinse off the dried blood on his hands. 

he picked at under his nails, scraping the blood off wherever he saw it. which was, every inch of his hands. 

his body faced back to you, his now cleaned hands picking up yours, seeing specks of blood and dirt splattered on your hands from cleaning his floor. 

he washed you clean, and all you could do was admire him. how gentle he was taking care of you. he rinsed your skin clear of blood, drying you up and letting your hands rest back to your sides. 

“i’m sorry you had to see that.” he apologized, feeling ashamed of how little he was in control of his anger in that moment. 

you shook your head, hands shakily resting on his chest. “no, i don’t want you to be sorry.” you murmured, eyes landing on his lips. you swallowed back any fears that held you back from showing your affections any longer. 

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. with a pleasant surprise, he kissed back, no hesitation in his actions. his hold fell to your waist, squeezing, pulling you into him. 

he took in your air, and you gave it to him, happily, willing to offer it in all its abundance. your hand rose to his cheek, palm resting over his beard. his thumb rested on your chin, rubbing it softly. 

he forced himself to pull away, his hands selfishly unable to remove themselves from your waist. “sweetheart this isn’t a good idea. you’re too young, and i’m not a good man. i think i just showed you that.” he tried to warn you, hushed and gently, with honest intentions of keeping you away from something you’d regret being involved with. 

but the only thing you’d regret is never being with him. 

“i’m not, and i don’t care what you do joel, i want you, all of you, want you so bad,” you all but whimpered, trying to press yourself against him more. 

he was a greedy man at heart, pulling you back up for a harder kiss. there was a hot hunger that was electric between you two, a burning ignition that pulled you two in, tying an in separable twine amidst your bodies. but neither of you ever had any intentions of undoing it anyways. 

he held the side of your cheek, the other traveling from your lower back to your ass, squeezing it hard, using his grip to pull you in closer, grinding up against you right there. 

you were so needy for him that it rattled your bones. a wet clicking noise elicited from your mouths, tongues brushing up together messily. your chin dribbling with saliva. 

you moaned in his mouth, feeling the hand that was on your cheek move to hold you by the back of your head, his tilting to kiss you deeper. 

he untangled your lips, keeping himself not even an inch away, just to share the breath between you two. your tongue flicked over his lips, biting down on the bottom one before lurching forward for him once more. 

he groaned in your mouth, lifting his hand to come down and spank your ass. you whined, back arching and crotch brushing up against his. 

you two stumbled towards his bed, your back falling into the mattress. he crawled on top of you, ridding himself of his boots and you of yours. 

his knee rested on one side of your hip, the other coming between your thighs. your chest rose up into his, your back lifting off the sheets and hands coming up to paw at his chest. 

without any reservations, you rubbed against his knee, struggling to kiss him back. “feel good little girl?” he sounded gruff, strained voice trying it’s best to not moan at the way your wet little cunt managed to create a wet spot on his knee. 

“so good joel,” you gaped, kissing his neck desperately. 

“shouldn’t be touchin’ you like this, sweet little thing like you gettin handled by someone like me,” he breathed through a series of heavy pants, his hands wandering all along your sides, your hips, your thighs. 

“don’t want anyone else but you.” you whimpered truthfully, holding his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest, right above your heart. you let it drift to the left, shuddering when he squeezed your breast. 

he kissed your pulse, teeth baring out against it. he rested his hand on your lower belly, rubbing the skin under your tank top. “can i touch you?” he whispered, his beard tickling the space just below your ear. 

you nodded, running your hands all along his strong back. “please,” you bucked your hips upward, begging with not only your words but your body. 

he exhaled out a quiet chuckle, fingers working to undo your jeans, tugging them down until they were forgotten on the floor. 

he dipped down beneath your underwear, his cock throbbing in his boxers at how wet you were. so soaked it was pathetic. he hadn’t let his hand drift down to the sweet place between those thighs of yours til then, and yet you were as wet as if he had his tongue pressed up against you. 

actually, that’s not a bad idea.

he circled around your clit, watching as you revealed in it, his fingers being thicker than yours, making the sensation all the more intense. 

“joel,” you repeated his name, voice wavering in breathy gasps, his fingers rolling the sensitive button of yours. he slipped a finger inside you, eyes peering up and watching as your back rose just a little, hips pressuring downward and further onto his finger, taking him all in. 

“so soft,” he murmured, lowering himself to press a kiss to your hip. he rolled his hips into the mattress, trying ease the pressure building up beneath his jeans. 

he was too turned on, this young pretty girl he’s had his eye on for a year was sprawled in his bed, soft and soaked cunt all ready and pliable just for him and him alone. 

he could die a happy man. 

his lips encircled your clit, tongue drawing around it while he pressed into a familiar spongy spot within you. 

you sucked in a sharp gasp, the sweet sound turning into a high pitched whine. “please,” you sobbed, hands flying down to keep his head in place. 

he fucked you with his fingers, curling right up against the spot that was making you dizzy, his tongue and lips working perfectly on your little clit. 

tears flowed down your face and on his pillow, your hand coming up to your mouth trying to lessen the volume of your cries. 

“j-joel, please i,” unable to formulate any sentences, you just gave up, giving in to your moans. 

the way you squeezed around his fingers, sucking him with greed and need, made him wonder how that’d feel around his cock when he’d get to finally shove it in you. 

he growled at the thought, sucking hard around your clit. you whimpered, pushing down onto his tongue more. 

“s’too much, i cant, i,” your head rolled around his pillow, his scent, his touch, his tongue suffocating you in the most heavenly way possible. 

you squirmed in his hold, unable to escape his grip, unable to escape the way his tongue pressed flat and hard up on your clit. his beard brushed up against your thighs, pulling a giggly moan from you. 

“perfect little pussy,” he grunted, kissing your clit before dragging his tongue slowly, up and down languidly. 

he rested his forearm over your lower tummy, pressing hard and feeling the corner of his lips perk at the way you gasped, shuddering loudly and trembling in his mouth at the action. 

“joel, i think i’m—ooh,” you spoke tearfully, poor little throat already getting hoarse from crying out his name. 

“feels good huh baby,” that little twang in his deep voice curled off his words just right. all you could do was whimper a shaky sogood joel s’good. 

his finger pressed up against that spot inside you, his tongue on your clit being the sweetest cherry on top of the tooth rotting sundae. 

you were cumming, hiccuping his name unashamedly. your plush thighs coming around to cage him in, to which he paid no mind to, if anything it excited him, his rough hands gripping your ass and pulling you deeper into his mouth. 

the wind up deep inside you finally released, flickering flashes of burning hot lights spread across your limbs, slowly fizzling out as you went limp in his bed. 

he didn’t let up however, his tongue grown addicted to the way your perfect clit felt on the wet muscle. 

you whimpered, struggling to push him away from your cunt. it was just too good and he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“joel n-no more s’too much,” you pleaded weakly, and he took slight pity, pressing one last kiss before rising back up to you. 

he pressed his fingers to your lips, groaning quietly with approval at the way you took them in with no verbal orders needed. 

you were so good for him, his sweet little girl. 

he pulled them out, resting on your plump bottom lip before moving it out the way to kiss you. you moaned deeply into his mouth, bringing your arms around him, hands traveling up to his hair. 

his salt and peppered hair felt soft, weaved through your gentle fingers. you lightly tugged on it, feeling mischief in your veins at the ministration. he growled, biting down on your lip and laughing as you yelped. 

he held your jaw, pressing hard kisses all along your face, speaking stilly, his inflection so deep, so masculine, so old and wise, had you hypnotized, his words that were reserved for your ears only, were something you’d cradle to yourself forever. 

“told myself i wouldn’t crack, i wouldn’t have you like this, you’re too young, you don’t know what you want, but fuck,” he dragged his fingers up your folds, chuckling to himself at the way you whimpered, curling into his touch immediately. 

“now that i got you, ‘fraid i can’t let you go sweetheart. i’m a selfish man at heart.” he admitted, kissing your jaw. you just about exploded in that moment. you had no idea he felt the same for you as you did him, and it was the most powerful, enlightening feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“i’m selfish too,” you whispered back, puckering your lips to kiss him. “didn’t let anyone else touch me but you. just wanted you,” you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, unaware to how that little admission made the precum collecting at his tip leak out even more. 

his grasp on your hip tightened, squeezing it as he buried his face in your neck. “fuck baby, gonna give this old man a heart attack sayin’ things like that.” 

your shaky hands went for his belt, tugging on it with need. “want you joel, please?” you begged, lips pressed to his ear. he didn’t need to be begged any more, he undid his belt with one hand, pulling it off his waist, letting it join the pile of your discarded jeans and boots. 

before he could take himself out, your hands found themselves under his flannel, desperate and anxious to see what he’s been concealing away from you. “off, please,” and he wanted to say no, feeling not as proud in his physique as he once was about 20 years ago. 

“nothin special to see baby,” he countered and you shook your head. “it’s you. it’s special to me.” you suspired airily, already feeling your tummy get tight at the thought of him hovering above you, shirtless. 

he took in a deep breath, letting you unbutton his flannel. 

you undid each button, trying your best to not rip them clean off despite your rushing efforts. you slid it off his body, exhaling in awe at the sight in front of you. 

you sucked on your bottom lip, hands traveling across his broad shoulders, fingers tracing his collarbones, dragging around the scarred areas from past wounds, admiring the few freckles on his chest that trail up to his shoulders. 

he watched you, never having felt so admired before. “enjoyin’ yourself baby?” he teased, his thumb rubbing over your chin. 

“mhm,” you nodded, not caring how it looked to be gawking at him. 

you could feel the muscle from the layer of life and age over his stomach, your eyes then falling to the bulge of his biceps, instantly growing obsessed, squeezing at the muscles. 

“you’re so beautiful joel.” you spoke with such true sincerity and he tittered quietly, shaking his head. “thank you baby,” 

your wandering hands finally fell to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper, eager to see what else he’d been keeping away from you. 

he let you, more than ready to feel your touch in the place he craved the most. he was tired of having to fuck his calloused fist, trying hard to pretend it was your cute hand touching him. 

you pulled him out, feeling your jaw go slack at the length of it all. “jesus joel,” you swallowed hard, steadily jerking him off, feeling slightly unsure if you’re doing it right. you were telling the truth, when you said you’d never let anyone touch you, too hopelessly in love with joel to even imagine allowing anyone to see you in the way he’s got you. 

he grunted, unintentionally bucking his hips into the tunnel of your hand. he was thick, heavy in your clutch, veins running along the side of it, his tip round and fat, almost red with droplets of precum leaking out. 

“gonna show you what those little boys could never give you,” he promised, and you believed him, gazing at the way he reluctantly pulled away from your hold, knowing if he let you stroke him any longer he’d cum all over your hand. 

he circled your clit with the head of his cock, shuddering a semblance of a breathy moan at the sensation. “gonna be a bit of a stretch baby, tell me if it’s too much okay? i’ll try to go slow.” he kissed his promises of gentleness into your temple. 

he inched in, hands around either side of your head, foreheads pushed together while your mouth fell open, sucking in all the air in the room. the stretch was very unfamiliar, but not unwelcomed.

you held onto his shoulders for support, grasping onto them tightly, pretty plump trembling lips crying out moans that would replay in joel’s head on lonely nights. you felt fuller than you ever have before joel was even fully inside you. 

he was nudging up against spots in you that you had no idea could feel so good, and if he angled his hips any higher, the fat head of his cock would be kissing your cervix. 

“can barely fit myself in ya’ baby,” he groaned, head falling from your forehead to bury itself in your neck, kissing your hot skin to try to calm him down before he lost control and rammed himself inside you. 

your calves rested on his hips, whimpering while trying to lift yourself up in an attempt to get him to push himself further in. 

“more joel, please?” your pleas were accompanied by sponged kisses just below his ear. “gonna take it all for me baby?” he questioned you, inching in just that much deeper, and you shut your eyes, nails already beginning to crescent themselves in his back. “mhm, gonna take it all,” you swore, more than eager to have him fully within you, as close as could be. 

he jutted his hips in, knocking the wind out of you. you bit down on his shoulder, whining a drool filled mess with the way he started to fuck you, rough hardened hands molding softly around the curves of your waist. 

he was bathing in the way your little cunt took him in, squeezing around him so good just like he knew you would. he took his time, rocking into you in and out, holding your shaking body close to him. 

you could feel every ridge and vein in you, hooked onto the way he filled you up, stretching you beyond belief, making you bounce upward with every movement. 

his hands slid down over the smooth skin of your thighs, widening them further open before pushing them up, growing impatient, achingly hungry to be deeper in you. you struggled for air at his fast actions, eyes immediately rolling back at the way he began to fuck into you. 

“can’t help myself, m’sorry baby, pussy’s too good, shit,” a gruff sigh of relief leaving his mouth at the way you took him in. you didn’t care, you were thrilled to take whatever he gave you, and however hard he saw fit. 

“feels s’good, feel so full,” you cried, translucent tears free falling, the aggressive pistons of his hips causing your swollen clit to ache, begging to be touched. 

“feel me right here huh baby?” he rubbed over the bulge in your tummy and you squealed, wriggling away from the overwhelming stimulation. “ha,” you strung out, arching up into him. 

“yeah, you do,” he taunted breathlessly, loving how you were a wreck beneath him. “in so deep joel,” you mumbled against his shoulder and he kissed your hair, nodding knowingly. “i know babygirl but you’re takin me so well,” he praised, feeling so proud of his sweet girl taking his cock like a pro. 

“never gonna let anyone see you like this?” he pressed deep there, corners of his lips curling when you weep, squeezing at his biceps. “never gonna let anyone have you like this?” you shook your head, sobbing a string of no joel no, never, just you.

“perfect, tight fuckin’ cunt is all for me, aint sharin’ with no one,” he held you by the back of your thighs even further, stressing how serious he was, set on fucking himself into your soaked hole until there was a permanent shape of him within you. a shape no man could ever fit into. 

sobs of uncontrollable pleasure were the only thing you could feel in your veins, pumping your blood full of dopamine. his balls tightened, hitting the fullness of your ass, and he let himself grow sporadic, let himself take you. his fingers found your desperate clit, chuckling to himself when you croon tearfully, thanking him pathetically for touching you. 

“can i cum, please?” your requests only made him twitch inside you, his sweet girl was so polite. “go ahead baby, let it out,” he leaned down to kiss you, swallowing up your moans and cries. 

your body jerked under him, the tight vice of your cunt gripping onto him while he rubbed over your clit, pulling out the second wave of an orgasm from you. 

you broke apart from his lips, still just a breadth of a gasp away from them, brushing up against the ghost of a kiss as you pressed your forehead to his, sobbing his name while your body trembled from how hard you were cumming.  

“shit,” he slammed a hand against the wall above your head, shoving himself impossibly further in you, your legs shaking on either side of him. “good fuckin’ girl, squeezing me so goddamn good,” he fucked you through your orgasm, kneading over your breasts, groping at them and pinching at your pebbling nipples. 

you fell limp, letting yourself drown in the unraveling lengths of your climax. 

“gonna cum baby, where d’you want it?” he asked, feeling his lower stomach start to tighten up. “inside, wanna feel all of you,” you whined, kissing all along his shoulder and collarbones, messy and ravenous. 

his face fell to the crook of your neck, biting down on your soft flesh when he came, impaling you once, twice, ending it with one last hard thrust as he came in you, pumping you full of his cum. 

he didn't feel himself soften inside you, but with each of the passing minutes he decided he’d better pull out then or else he’d never leave. you winced from the removal, arms coming around to hold him with a clinginess.

he collapsed on top of you, and you sighed contently, the full weight of him resting on you could’ve honestly sent you into the deepest nap you’d ever have.  

you felt his cock, still hardened on your thigh. with sleepy eyes you looked up at him, lips on his stubbly jaw when you spoke. "you're still hard," you murmured. his fingers drew up and down your spine, and you shivered, arching yourself into him.

"that's okay, it'll go down soon." his throat got tight when he felt you wrap your hand around him once more. "we don't...have to ignore it." you trailed off, bitten lips pressing delicate kisses laced with ulterior motives into his tanned skin.

you wanted joel to use you as many times as he wanted to, a new compulsion flowing rampantly in your veins. now that you had finally gotten a taste of joel, you wanted to gorge yourself on him.

"you sure you can take it?" he asked through a hushed breath of arousal. you nodded, kissing at his lips with need.

he didn't need to be told twice, he repositioned you, letting you fall back onto his pillow with him hovering above you. he rolled you onto your stomach, holding you by your hip to lift you just enough for him to shove his flannel right against your cunt.

his rough palms encased your ass, groping at the thick flesh. he dipped down, spreading your ass and watching as his cum poured out of you. he groaned quietly to himself. you whimpered, turning to look over your shoulder as joel pushed his fingers inside, shoving his cum back into you. your chin dropped, face falling back into his pillow when he pumped his fingers inside you, chuckling darkly to himself at the way your ass squirmed against him.

every little swivel your hips made was met with friction from his flannel on your clit. the hem of it just so happened to be pressed right there. he slapped his cock over on your ass, exhaling loudly at the way it jiggled from his actions.

he aligned himself once more with your little hole, pushing himself in with ease due to the slick left from a mixture of his cum and yours. you whined, hands flying backward, desperate for any solace from his hands in yours. he held your wrists at the small of your back with one hand, the other supporting his weight to lean forward when he pushed himself all the way inside you. you cried out, his name falling out of your mouth like a mantra, your legs trembling beneath him.

he was in you so much deeper this way, stretching you out more than you thought he already could. his hips snapped up against your  ass, fully within you and hitting every single tingly spot inside you along the way.

you were already out of breath, your lungs and brain vacant of anything except for him, for joel. "feel you in my tummy," you hiccuped, tilting your head to look at him through teary eyes. he breathed out a lazy, cocky laugh, moving forward to kiss your forehead, unintentionally shoving his cock in even deeper, feeling a sense of pride at the way you gasped and whimpered at the deep intrusion.

"i know huh baby?" he chuckled in your ear, and you shivered, feeling your face grow warm from how flustered he made you feel. he was so dirty, any filters he once had were gone, the tight grip your cunt had on his cock made him downright ruthless.

he pressed his hands at your lower back, letting yours fall free to cling onto his sheets. he held you down that way, fucking into you with a newfound source of energy, his grey hairs falling over his forehead, sweat glistening over the ripples of muscles along his biceps and abdomen, his whole being going into pounding himself into you.

he wanted you to be so full of him that everyone would know it just by looking at you. the possessiveness he tried to suppress for so long had come out, and he wasn't sure if he could go back to hiding it again. but that wasn't on his mind, not when you were clenching around him, sobbing his name loud enough for everyone outside to hear.

his grunting fell to your ears, it was near pornographic, including the way you bounced with each and every thrust of his, just watching it made his chest get tight.

he needed you closer.

he pulled you back up from under your arms, keeping you flush against his chest while he continued fucking you. you were growing limp, body worn out from the rigor he put you through. but he held onto you, keeping you in his arms. his arm went under your tits, a sneaky hand coming up and groping at one, pinching at the nipple.

he buried his face in your neck, filling your ear with the low growl of his groans. "such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this, but i think you like it, and you know what else?," he drew in a heavy breath, "i think you like being fucked like a little ragdoll," you couldn't answer, he was right, but you could hardly focus on any words, his cock rendering you a teary eyed moaning mess.

"can't even respond when spoken to," he slowed the roll of his hips, hitting you in deep and slow, letting you hear him instead of the loud wet rhythm of your cunt being fucked into. "that's okay, i'll still take care of you," he chuckled, returning back to his rough pace.

"so good, make me feel so good joel," you managed to finally cry out in a series of strewn moans. his fingers trailed themselves down to your clit, rubbing in tight little circles. " i know baby, cum for me, show me how good i make you feel."

you wriggled around in his hold, your third orgasm of the night was thick in heft, a heavy wave of intense stimulation clearing your vision and leaving a white glittering hue instead. you felt joel everywhere, from the way he was buried in your cunt, to the way his hips were clasped over the curve of your ass, fitting into you like a puzzle piece.

the fervent circles being drawn over your clit was the thing that pushed you over, your head falling backward onto his shoulder, his turn to be serenaded by a string of your pretty moans. "good babygirl, did so good for me." he cooed in your ear, pressing a kiss behind it. "thank you," you meekly replied in a breathless voice.

you were the weakest you've ever felt, your poor spent body still being held upright as joel chased down his own orgasm. "gonna let me cum in you again baby? want more of it?" he panted in your ears. "please, want it joel, please,"

he gripped onto your hips, feeling his own stutter, before he pushed in deeply, stilling inside as he came in thick ropes. he finally softened, slowly pulling out of you. you winced again at the loss, feeling suddenly cold and empty. you collapsed on his bed, reaching out for him.

he laid beside you, pulling your leg up and over his waist, running a hand up the expanse of your thigh. your eyes fell shut tiredly, enjoying the comfortable sound of the two of you trying to catch your breaths.

a part of you was worried he was going to break the silence, afraid he'd call the whole thing a mistake, and lecture you on how he isn't the type of man who does relationships. you knew all of that, you just hoped he wouldn't say it and just let you soak in the moment.

almost nervously, his hand came to dance across your cheekbone softly, wanting to memorize the way your skin felt to his. "do you regret that?" he murmured and you opened your eyes, shocked at the question.

you leaned into his hand, curling your own over his. "no, never joel, why would you ask that?"

he sighed, scooting closer to you. "I'm not a good man, sweetheart, i'm giving you a chance to leave." he spoke above an octave of silence. you frowned, shaking your head. "i don't care about anything that you've done in the past or what you'll do in the future. i just...want to be here, with you, in any way you'll let me." you admitted, wishing you could say the one thing you've been harboring for a year, but you knew you needed to keep that to yourself just a little longer.

"if i had a bigger conscious i wouldn't let you," his hands pulled you into the hold of his arm that came over your waist. "lucky for me then that you're not the good man you claim to be." you whispered, the scent of coffee on your breath enveloping his senses, and in that moment, he had a realization.

he thought about how nice, how domestic it would be to wake up and share a cup of coffee with you every morning, before you had to face the day, at least you could share a moment of peace together.

"yeah," a trace of a smile grew over his lips. "you're right. i'm not." he rolled on top of you, cupping your cheeks in his large palms. "you're makin' an unwise choice little girl," a quiet rumble rested on your lips.

your arms came around his shoulders and you sighed a half laugh. "i know. i don't care."

[cayde6feetunder]

i mentioned it in some tags fucking forever ago and I posted about it on twitter but might as well post it here too

"I can't be ableist, I'm [x]" has done so much damage to mentally ill and disabled spaces and or threatens to do so. and unchecked internalized ableism and unchecked ableism as a whole.

i am someone with unsavoury symptoms and conditions. There's no beating the bush about this one. My symptoms are considered ugly and there have been times where I've met people who have been all like, "Support people with unsavory symptoms" but when I actually started hanging out with them they ended up being more ableist than anyone I've ever met.

I have memory issues. On some days I forget things quite literally as they happen to me. There's no guarantee I'd remember what you've said to me. It doesn't mean I don't care, I literally sometimes forget what I was doing three minutes ago. no, I'm not making an excuse, I literally forgot that you were bothered by, say, bugs and it was not intentional. Now I will most likely remember but please don't be bothered if moving forward I ask you to clarify what you're bothered by.

I have issues with my emotions. I struggle to articulate what I'm thinking and feeling. PLEASE ask me to elaborate on things before jumping at me and accusing me of twisting things around or whatever, or inviting conflict, or a thousand other "UM ACTUALLY--"s. And please, PLEASE don't assume things, ASK ME THINGS. Let me speak.

I have issues with anxiety. I often distance myself from 90% of discord servers and even my own friends (even if they don't notice it) because I am deeply terrified that they secretly don't like me or they're seconds from snapping, or they find me annoying, or about a thousand fucking other things that there are times where I feel deeply, deeply ill. It's not that I don't like you; it's that I'm actively struggling with myself and putting forth a lot of effort to make things work on my end.

I have PTSD. That PTSD on top of the anxiety manifests in my fear of old terrible cycles repeating even if they're out of my control. This makes pretty much everything else mentioned way worse. Everything is a CONSTANT WAR within myself. I'm a perfectionist and I feel like even if it's not my fault I convince myself that I did something wrong and I rationalize things that way. There's also the bipolar and the BPD.

I am medicated and learning how to manage these things. But we need to accept that these symptoms are ugly, that while I'm doing my part, I and others like me still deserve grace and tenderness and we do NOT need our own community and/or communities who claim to have the exact same issues treating us like shit, spitting on us, or being in general hypocritical towards us in claiming that they support us but then do everything that seems to state the obvious.

it really is your own people sometimes. and it shouldn't have to be.

and whenever i try and say things like this I have people telling me I'm "DODGING RESPONSIBILITY," no I'm not, you cannot assume such things of me when you're only seeing me talking about a very real issue that I and many others face.

Stop reblogging and posting about how much you love and support "unsavoury" symptoms and conditions but then turn around and treat those very same people like absolute shit.

And don't get me started on how autistics like to treat other autistics just because their autism happens to be different.

I'm sorta fuzzy so it's super hard to really articulate or parse together what I'm trying to say properly but I hope what I'm trying to say comes across. Ableism within disabled and mentally ill communities fucking suck. Learn to actually care about and support people with symptoms and conditions you can't romanticize.

[vamossainz55]

grumpy reader and sunshine mick pls <33

a/n: this is long overdue so i am so sorry anon - but i rlly enjoyed writing this. micks always a sunshine and so fluffy to write it makes my heart warm. i hope you do end up seeing this. it's a really quick 1k drabble so would recommend if youre looking for some short fluff ❤️.

ps. i have a good amount of mick requests - i cannot promise i will do all but i am planning to release a few more ! xx

enjoy!

“Come on baby,” There’s a mix of desperation in Mick’s tone, dragging his words as his lips pull into a pout. His hand goes to rest on your leg, thumb gently tapping at your knee before he’s coming closer to you. His face comes into your view, and despite you trying to look away Mick’s body follows your gaze, making sure that your eyes are on him. 

“What?” You grumble out, looking away from your boyfriend once again as you look up to the ceiling instead, letting out a tired sigh. The only thing your brain was focused on was the weird pull you felt in your muscles and the way your back tightened at every single movement you made. 

You were tired and frustrated, having felt betrayed once again by your body as you did every single month. What annoyed you this time though is that it came onto you by surprise, almost a whole week early and perfectly aligned with the beach getaway Mick and you had planned for the weekend. 

Despite the annoyed look on your face, your boyfriend doesn’t seem phased, simply poking at your side in hopes to be able to catch your attention. “We can still have fun this weekend baby,” Mick says, leaning close to give your lips a peck and as annoyed as you were you still find yourself leaning into the peck, pouting as soon as Mick pulls away. 

“I wanted to go swim in the beach, and to tan a little bit, now I’m gonna be worried about bleeding.” You sigh, shifting a bit just to feel a sharp pain pierce your back. You let out a tired and exhausted whine and that’s enough for Mick to roll his eyes and get up. 

“That’s it. You’re coming with me.” He says as he extends both his hands towards you before giving you an expectant look. You refuse to get up, simply shaking your head before crossing your arms over your chest. You just wanted to mope on the couch. Mick lets it slide, but only for ten seconds. Soon after, he grabs your hands and despite your best efforts he pulls you up before wrapping his arm around your waist. 

Without hesitation he lifts you up, struggling a bit before he has you over his shoulder. You’re squirming, already flailing your limbs around in an attempt to get Mick to let you go. “This is ridiculous!” You argue, demanding him to put you down but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he carries you back to the bedroom before settling you into bed. 

“I could have gotten into bed by myself.” You huff, confused as to why your boyfriend felt the need to carry you. Mick can see it on your face, the way you purse your lips ready to argue with him but he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, holding his hand out to stop you from even starting. It was amazing how patient he was with you, already accustomed to your antics. “You lay down, put a movie on, a show, or whatever- and I’ll make you tea and get you your water bag okay?” Mick says, already knowing your usual go to remedies.

You look at him, suddenly a bit embarrassed with how good the offer sounded but you put your pride aside when you give him a nod. “That sounds good.” You murmur just as Mick hands you the remote to the TV. You fiddle a bit with the buttons, sighing softly when Mick leaves you with a gentle kiss on the forehead before going to the kitchen as promised. 

You curl up a bit in bed as you open Netflix, browsing the different shows that they had before going to the movies. 

Comedy, horror, documentaries, science fiction, you think to yourself as you look over the different options. Nothing seems too interesting, making you let out a sigh again as you try to stretch a bit still, still unaccepting of the tension coming from your body. 

By the time Mick comes back you’re still staring at the different options, only this time you’re laying down on your side, holding your stomach as you tried your best to ignore the pain that was slowly growing stronger. 

“Have you made a choice yet baby?” Mick asks, already setting down your cup of tea on the bedside table before he’s crawling back next to you. You shake your head just as his hand gently takes hold of yours before he’s pulling it to give your knuckles a gentle kiss.

He only lets go to hand you the hot water bag he had warmed up, shifting to sit next to you before he’s taking the remote. “How about we watch some Keeping Up?” Mick asks, already closing Netflix. 

“Keeping up? You don’t even like it.” You say, taken so off guard that you momentarily forget about the little prickles you could feel, traveling down from your stomach. 

“I don’t hate it,” Mick argues, already putting on the show and your eyes shift a bit to the TV, just as you pull the water bag to your stomach. The warmth of the bag already helps ease your cramps and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“Here, sit up.” He says, gently rubbing over your side as you scoot forward on the bed. Mick gently encourages you to shift forward even more. You’re confused at first, not understanding why you had to sit so low on the bed but Mick is already settling to sit behind you without question. His hand gently slips under your shirt to gently rub at your back which only sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Shh, relax. You’ll feel better soon hm?” Mick says, his hands slowly beginning to apply pressure. You can’t help the soft groan that leaves your body, already relaxing a bit more as Mick gently rubs into one of the knots in your back. 

“This, feels really good.” You sigh out, hugging the water bag closer to your stomach as Mick shifts closer. 

You can feel his breath gently tickling your neck and soon enough his lips are gently peppering kisses onto your skin. “Thank you” you murmur, too stubborn to say it very loudly.  “I’m sorry for being in a bad mood.” You apologize, extremely thankful for how patient Mick was. 

Mick simply smiles and shakes his head, “Hey, no worries. I know what I signed up for.” He teases, quickly stealing a peck from your lips before you could give him another complaint.

fin

requests are: open <3

interested in reading more? check my masterlist.

f1 taglist: @sgkophie @troybolton-14  @panicforspec  @storysf1ferrari @cosmicleclerc @writing-about-current-obsessions @thesurielships @micksmidnights

[coyoteprince]

Hi! If I may, this is not about Widderwood, but the way you talked about witchcraft in a recent answer, "Real world witchcraft is literally just moving with intention and cause & effect" and "it helps with being delibreate with my life": seems quite interesting, but would you care to elaborate, if you wish and have time? Or is there a previous post here or somewhere else where you already talked about your view on witch spirituality? Sorry if I bother, obviously you're free to not answer and ignore this message if it's too personal or annoying. Thank you for sharing your art and world!

Yeah I'll try to explain. Unfortunately when people hear magic or witchcraft they of the media fantasy version of witchcraft or whatever when that's not what it is at all. It's just like any religion in that it focuses on cultivating life morals, cause & effect (praying to a God for blessings is similar!), and can be utilized by less than great people for power and control over others.

Witchcraft varies greatly by culture and even the person, but I can only speak from European centric stuff and my own practice. For background, I've followed my own path since I was around 12 with no guidance from others.

Spells work by focusing intention. You want x, so you create a small ritual that helps to focus on the task and what you really want and how to get to that point, like any goal setting. Often rituals are repeated for greater power to achieve a result- just like a habit. Spiritually speaking, the reasoning is often considered that everything has an energy, and this energy can be manipulated, or that there are God(s) at work. Psychology speaking, these rituals simply help you realize what you actually want to work toward and give you the gumption to go for it. For both, it's commonly believed that spells won't work unless you put in the actual, real effort to work toward a goal- and that is part of the magic. It is the act of creation. And failure is just as likely, especially if you don't plan for it or are unrealistic. You can't make someone love you or win 1 mil, but you do have the power to be kind to others and better your finances by education or similar opportunities... and even if you fail anyway, there is always something you learn from it. You just have to be intentional.

I fully believe you don't have to believe in God's or ghosts or anything to do witchcraft. The fact it works to better our lives- even if it really is just in our brains at the end of the day- is enough. And just like how people has historically leaned on a Christian God to get through times of hardship- that's what I use it for. To better myself, to realize what I want to work toward in life, and to make a conscious effort toward it. It isn't a replacement for professional help, but the addition of witchcraft has significantly helped me in my own mental health, continued betterment as a person, and appreciate living.

Tarot cards are similar. They assume fortune telling = fate, which imo is wrong. Some people think theyre demonic, some think theyre "stupid" because of the connection to spirituality, and some people consider them too serious and scary, but like all tools you have to use them right, and by God do they work when you do! Tarot cards are absolutely amazing as prompts. Ask a reasonable question, get a card, and notice what emotions and thoughts come to mind immediately- you have all the answers within you, you just might not be paying attention... and Tarot works as a surrogate third party to reflect and help you pay attention to what you really feel. Witchcraft rituals all work essentially the same way.

There's also more woo-woo centric things like ghosts and fae and such. I personally am on the fence on it all but "believe just in case" lol. I've experienced many paranormal things but also know it could be caused by my autism, trauma, or whatever else. But it isn't hurting me or anyone else.. so it doesn't matter!

This is all a ramble and probably hard to understand if you aren't already very familiar with these kind of eccentric things. I work with a lot of chemistry so I've personally noticed how close witchcraft things are to science and even therapy- and likewise how a lot of past beliefs of magic were actually just yet unexplained science & medicine.

At the end of the day, I know everything may be an illusion from my various ailments and perspective. But that's perfectly okay, because it has done nothing but make me happier, more emotionally strong, and helped me focus to better my life and relationships. It's made me a much better, intelligent person and is the perfect fit for my life, though it may not be for everyone. Our variance, weirdness, and mysteries are the beauty of being alive.

[novosg]

Do you think you can do a headcannon w/. Monster trio with a s/o who has OCD? I'm OCD , and I know (just for me idk how other people react to theirs ) before I fall asleep , I have to recheck the locks on my doors , or check if the burners are off on my stove. Usually if I don't check atleast three times , I won't be able to sleep. Sometimes I try to fight it off, but I end up just checking because it literally drives me nuts! But yeah , a s/o like that, maybe they wake up in the middle of the night and see that their s/o isn't in bed , and went out to go looking for them ? Thank you! I love your writing , I love that's its diverse , and I'm always going back to your page to see if you have any new uploads. Thank you for your time and effort you put into your writings! Xxx Big fan !!

Of course! I myself have no experience with OCD so I hope I got this right! And tysm! I can’t even begin to express how much it means to to hear that! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my writing :) 🫶🏾🫶🏾

Monster Trio with a S/O who has OCD

Fluff, G/N!reader, the boys being supportive

Luffy

He doesn’t really notice at first

But when he does he's pretty blunt about asking you about it

He means well of course, just needs to be educated

He’s a bit confused at first, but after you talk it over with him he couldn't be more supportive!

Might pout a little that you didn’t tell him at first but he gets over that pretty quick

Has enough sense to realize it might’ve been a little hard to open up about

Every night he goes with you and chats about whatever comes to mind while you do your routines

And if you prefer to be alone he’d be right in y’all’s room waiting on you

Is like your own personal reminder-whether you need him to be or not

Will roll over and be like: “Y/N, don’t you need to go check the stuff?”

Even if you two are separated for whatever reason, his mind will drift over to you whenever that time rolls around and wonders if you’re still keeping up with your routine

If you’re ever feeling down he’s immediately stretching his face every which way trying to make you laugh and feel better

And if that’s not the type of support you need he’ll buckle down and get serious in order to console you

Will be there for you as much as humanly possible and then some

Zoro

Is one of the most observant people on board so he notices pretty quickly

Doesn’t say anything about it at first, just kinda deems it as a random habit of yours

Until he realizes you're doing it every night. Almost as if you need to do it

Thinks about what could the reasoning could be for hours on end before he finally decides to ask you about it

Follows shortly after you when you head into the kitchen and nearly gives you a heart attack in the process

“Y/N.” When you whirl around to face him he’s leaning over by the door giving you that knowing stare of his. “What are you doing?”

Is quiet while you explain it to him but that’s mainly because he’s super deep in thought

If he seems a bit annoyed please don’t think it's towards you. He’s more than frustrated with himself that he didn’t put two and two together and wasn’t there for you in all the times he could’ve been

Is a bit awkward in trying to offer help (but that’s mainly because he has the emotional availability of a rock), but he genuinely wants to help however he can

Even asks Chopper about what he could do to help you out

As much as he loves getting some sleep, he’s more than willing to stay up and wait for you

Has your routine more downpacked then you almost

Like he actually has a timeframe for the time it takes you to make your rounds. And trust and believe if you’re taking longer than usual he’s up and looking for you to see if anything’s wrong

Remember what I said about that emotional availability? Yeah..Zoro isn’t too good with sensitive talks (he tries, though) but if there’s days where everything feels like too much and you need him to listen or just simply be there, he’s right where you need him

Sanji

Has like a 6th sense for when people are in the kitchen when they’re not supposed to be so he finds out fairly quick. Especially when he wakes up and sees you’re not in bed

Is more concerned than curious when he asks what’s keeping you up

Once you tell him, he’s immediately ready to be at your service

“Oh, my love, how could I have been so blind? Tell me what you need and your prince will provide!”

If you don’t really need anything physical from him that’s fine too

Now if you need him to be there for you mentally and/or emotionally he’s right there by your side

Encourages you to come to him no matter what. He never wants you feel alone or like you can’t do so

Is very good at consoling people and never hesitates to offer soothing words or simply just a shoulder to lean on

Goes above and beyond and tries to do his own research. Just like Zoro, he’ll even ask Chopper for advice as well

Makes sure to leave the kitchen unlocked for as long as you need it open

Will also stay up and wait for you, even if you tell him he doesn’t need to

Once you get back into bed he’ll whisper all sorts of reassuring and sweet nothings to you before one of you falls asleep

To him, you’re in this together and any sort of helping hand you need he’ll lend

[palms-upturned]

Same anon from before. No, I still truly don’t feel like any of this is enough. I don’t trust myself or my own judgement to make the right decisions on these things and rely on whoever I believe falls into the category of “more right than not” (you would fall into that!) because I just want to not get yelled at. I want other people to be liberated too so I recognize that it’s not about my feelings but to that end I also believe I shouldn’t matter here and as a privileged person just be told (1/2

(2/2) What to do by people who know better than me. I know I’ll never be perfect or do enough so why shouldn’t the better among us just force us into a revolution right now? I’m too trapped by my job to be able to do local organizing. All the protests happen either while I’m at work or are already happening when I didn’t know it. People say to either take time for you or spend all your time on educating yourself and organizing but where does that leave my life? Worthless, I think. I wish someone Would just tell me so. Tell me yes or no; am I living correctly or not? Am I properly dedicating myself to what truly matters or not? I don’t want a revolution that happens after you and I are gone. I want one yesterday. I want one where we actually, ACTUALLY LEGIT force people to change their ways. Like, “sacrificing all your excess clothes and frivolus toys to the efforts” kind of force. I fucking hate living in this grey area where we could be trying our best but be unknowingly commiting evil At any time. I’m sorry, that was a lot. Just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what that says about me if I wish we just had hard and fast, unflinching RULES about how we should be acting right now and people to enforce it instead of being left to wade through our own flaws and imperfections and internal biases. I wish I could have them surgically removed and make myself a perfect fighter for justice

Well… I don’t really know what to say other than I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough and will never feel like enough. I know that uncertainty is painful and so is living under structures that we didn’t ask to be built. I don’t think that wanting to escape those things says anything particularly bad about you. I think all of us do. But the revolution didn’t come yesterday, and things just are what they are… At some point, you have to be able to make peace with that. Not to the extent of accepting the way things are, but to the extent that you can still see value in your life and in putting in the work to change things. Whatever work you can do.

Knowing whether or not you’re doing the “right thing” can only come from your own convictions. Those will solidify the more you learn and act on them and see the results. That, I think, is how you cope with the uncertainty. You do what is within your power, and you believe in what is within the reasonable scope of your observations. Even if there really was someone who you could rely on to tell you how to live correctly and what truly matters, you would still have to have a reason to personally believe that they were “more right than not.” I know it sucks, I really do. But you have to let go of the fantasy of being able to just give the reins to someone else. You have to see yourself as someone capable of conviction.

And believe me, I know how frustrating it is to deal with the limits. I am also annoyed at protests always happening on weekends when blue collar workers don’t get to have the day off to attend, including me. I’m annoyed at how many events I don’t get to go to because nobody requires masks indoors. I’m endlessly angry about how much time and strength I waste on my full time retail job just to be allowed to live in some degree of dignity when I could be putting that energy toward organizing. I hate how many layers there are to this beast that makes organizing inaccessible to the people who need it most. And I hate the limits of my body sometimes, too. But it is what it is and it won’t get better if we don’t accept it for what it is and work out what to do about it.

Regardless of any “value” that someone could assign your life, you have a right to be here like anyone else. And you are not as powerless as people would like you to think, nor as powerless as you would probably be relieved to think. We have an obligation to do what we can to improve things, and for most of us, there’s a lot more that we can do than we know. But there’s still a lot that we can’t do. And it’s so despair inducing at times like this, but we can’t let that stop us from doing something.

I know you’re probably just venting and I don’t really know what I can say to make any of this easier. I also don’t necessarily think it’s true to say that I’m “more right than not.” But I’ve hit suicidal rock bottom before and I don’t wish that for you. I know it hurts to work toward an ideal world knowing that we likely won’t live to see it if it even comes to exist at all. I know it hurts to know that our lives are dependent on the exploitation of others in ways that we can’t currently entirely avoid. But in the same way, our lives support other lives. And we can strengthen that support so long as we live and try. That’s what gets me through.

[diazisms]

Hello to one of my fav 9-1-1 writers!

I was just wondering how you find the motivation to write? I'm struggling with it right now and will appreciate any advice you can give!

HI FIRST OF ALL THANKS!!!! you're sweet :')

i'm in a bit of a slump right now mostly because all my writing juice is going towards my assignments for class (shocker, i, a writing and literature major, have to write about literature), however i think getting into the habit of writing consistently is so important. if not everyday than as much as you can. it doesn't even have to be that much but just a little bit of creative writing to keep the story going and you're brain used to having to work and think that way.

one thing that REALLY works for me in terms of longer writing is plotting as you go. i'll plot the first three chapters and then when i get to the third chapter i'll plot the next three. i like sticking to my outline it helps keep the story going in one clear direction, but i also get so frustrated when i plot an entire 90k fic or book and the narrative naturally starts unfolding in a different way. trying to beat the story into submission is...not easy. and then i always end up giving up. outline a little at a time but also having a general idea in mind to guide the plot works best for me.

also, for longer works, you can't just sit and write 90k in one go. that doesn't work and is probably not possible. but sometimes if you leave a scene you won't be able to go back to it, so i leave myself a little 1-2 sentence summary of where i planned for the scene to go so i don't stare at the words trying to figure out what the hell was supposed to happen next.

for shorter fics like one-shots under 10k i'll kind of just let it go where it wants to. and if i don't like where it's going i go back a few lines to figure out what changed and where the tone shifted into a direction i didn't like and couldn't continue in a way that felt...good or organic, i guess.

oh! one of my best tips and something i am ALWAYS doing in my writing that keeps it flowing because it keeps me really focused on the words and the story i'm telling is trying to make a conscious effort to not start sentences and paragraphs with the same letter. sometimes it's inevitable, but i do my best to make sure that doesn't happen.

for example, this is from a fic i'm working on

Tommy slows down like he’s about to pull out and Buck whines, high and throaty and embarrassingly needy. He hears Tommy laugh a little, teasing.

originally, i wrote it "Tommy slows down...Tommy laughs a little." but that felt repetitive in a way that had no real purpose or added to the story, you know? so i paused and tried to figure out how to reword the sentence so i'm not starting it all the same way.

it's really easy to get trapped in the "he did this. he did that. other character did this." which makes it feel stale and then it pulls you out of your own because you're staring at it like....this isn't fun.

and writing should be fun!

having to reword your sentences and rework your paragraphs so it's got a different rhythm to it and it isn't necessarily the same structure forces you to stay present in your writing and makes it more engaging. also, it makes for a better read as a reader.

it's annoying but sometimes you have to force motivation. you gotta sit down in front of whatever it is you use to write — laptop, cell phone, type writer, notebook, you name it — and stare at the blinking cursor until words come out.

shitty writing is still writing! you can edit a paragraph that you think sucks but you can't edit nothing. write. even if it's not the best thing ever. if you have a story you want to tell, put it in words. maybe it'll take you a day maybe it'll take you a year to write it, but that's okay. time will pass anyway, right? might as well create along the way.

no art is bad. no art is useless. if you're writing something and you scrap it, great, now you know what went wrong. what didn't work.

force it until it comes. that's my go-to move, to be honest. turn off distractions, write in a different window where you have no other tabs, really familiarize yourself with the text and story you're telling.

and you'll be golden :)

[riverofrainbows]

I don't know why it is but every time i read something or listen to something etc i really enjoy and there is suddenly a small moment where it is clear that the person forgot about trans people (especially trans men which is even more personal for me) it just kills my entire excitement and joy i had a second before.

It's usually not even a situation where i would think it was done maliciously, more like awkward phrasing or forgetting to explicitly include us where they should have but apparently didn't think of it in the moment. And that still sucks, but my reaction feels so big.

And i know it's probably because with how much transphobia there is i am always on the lookout for who is safe and who isn't, and if i really enjoy something (a piece of media) i tend to feel safe within that headspace, and so these moments really impact me. And it really annoys me because this ruins media i was, as i said, really enjoying (and god knows i can use any dopamine i can get) and it just sucks that even when actively trying to focus on joy I can't escape feeling unsafe and sad sometimes.

Like one example: i read a fic where a character was saying how he kind of ended up being a groomsman because his colleague didn't know many men because there were so many women at his workplace (gender studies university department), but the way he said it was "there aren't many cis men at our university". Which implies trans men can't possibly be groomsmen. And the author clearly put effort into learning gender terms because there was also parts about nonbinary people and positive towards the gender studies in university thing. But it turned me off the whole fic, one i had devoured every update of; i stopped reading right there and couldn't get myself to pick it back up (still haven't even tho i still think about it from time to time).

Or those unfunny jokes about what attraction someone has (specifically gay or not gay) by alluding to the potential target of attraction's genitals. Like this was a thing in the 2000s and early 2010s, and i know some people still haven't grown in any way since then, but these 'jokes' aren't funny or contemporary or in any way progressive nor helpful for gay rights, especially not in todays time and age of wildly rising transphobia (and weren't really before but whatever). And i will look past them in media from around 10 years ago or before, but not in new fics.

[golbrocklovely]

I’m not in the snc fandom by any means and I have no plan to do so but being just a causal fan of them, I have seen the way their fans act towards them, especially Colby. It always leaves a horrible taste in my mouth.

I sincerely wish these guys would start setting more boundaries with their fandom. There are sometimes where I see replies to their tweets or just looking up their users on twitter because I’m a nosy rosey sometimes and the things some of their fans say to them, especially Colby is just horrendous and down right yucky. It seems to be getting worse in my end too. The way some of their fans treat Colby likes he’s stupid, slow or like a child is just so gross. He’s a human being. It’s one thing to make a joke, but it’s another thing to treat him like he was born literally yesterday. It sometimes feels like infantalazation. Like this is a huge problem and I just wish that Colby would put his foot down about it. Hell, when everytime there’s a girl involved in his life everything goes haywire towards him. I just feel so bad for him at this point. if I had fans and they were pulling stuff like this, I wound definitely say something, and start muting/ blocking people if it started getting too much. Maybe Colby hates confrontation which I can totally understand. Maybe he hates drama as well. But if his fans keep getting away with basically being overbearing and weird, they’re never gonna treat him like a human.

I also have a hunch that he might be neurodivergent and has anxiety. I see a lot of myself through him. He does a lot of things I do. But I don’t wanna diagnose him because I personally don’t know him like that. I just hope he has a good head on his shoulders when it comes to this type of stuff. and I also just hope one day some of his fans grow up and stop treating him like he’s a dummy when he’s a very intelligent person. It drives me nuts when people do that to him. He clearly is very smart and very empathetic. A bright soul who deserves so much better. 🩷

this ended up being extremely long so... sorry about that haha

i getchu. i understand not wanting to join this fandom. tbh i only really enjoy the fandom on here and that's about it. insta there barely is a fandom, the tiktok fandom is too young and just makes shit up 90% of the time, and twitter…. is insufferable lol

and i completely agree with you about the treatment of colby. it's a weird mix of both treating him like a sex doll and treating him like a baby, which makes both behaviors all the more gross.

like i'll be honest, i don't love all the decisions he makes, and i have talked about that on here countless times. however, i don't actively tell him on social media how to live his life (aka i don't @ him on twitter when he does something that annoys me like a lot of other fans do). and at the end of the day i accept whatever he wants to do with his life. me complaining on here about some of the questionable ppl he has in his life isn't even half as bad as what i've seen on twitter, especially when it comes to some of the girls he occasionally is seen with.

over the years it's gotten worse, and i'm not sure for what reason. it feels like the fans started out on the right foot. they care about colby and don't want to see him get hurt. and i get that, i feel the same way. but at the same time, he's an adult. and in life you're gonna make some dumb decisions, and be friends with dumb ppl that you shouldn't have been. and that's your choice. and that's your mistake to make.

i think part of it is a lot of fans think they are owed a part of colby's life and having a say in it. maybe bc they've put time, effort, and money into being a fan, maybe it's bc they feel like they are friends with him and thus think they can say shit that a friend would say even tho they are a complete stranger to him. and while i can understand somewhat why someone would feel that way briefly, it doesn't change the fact it's not true. you aren't owed anything just bc you've been here a long time or bc you buy merch. so what. you aren't special in either one of those regards.

and when it comes to colby and his dating life… oh boy, that's where most of the drama lies. again, a lot of it comes from fans not wanting him to date a questionable girl. understandable. i get that protectiveness. however it has become very apparent that NO GIRL is good enough for him. fill in the blank on whatever reason, it doesn't matter. there is not a single girl that exists that everyone in the fandom can agree on. and that just shows that a lot of the concern comes from both jealousy and, if we're being completely honest, misogyny.

certain fans are jealous they will never get a chance to be with him, no matter how many y/n insert fanfics they read. and no girl is good enough bc nine times out of ten the reason is bc of something sexist like she's a slut or a gold digger or isn't pretty enough or is too pretty or isn't as good as other girls.

my favorite phrase, highkey, is when a girl is seen with colby, ppl start hating on her and then when asked why someone doesn't like her they respond with "idk she just gives me a bad vibe." lmao happens like clockwork.

all of this is to say that a lot of fans, while they love colby, don't respect him. they don't trust him to make his own decisions bc in their minds, he can't make the "right" ones. and thus needs to smothered into making the right one. and if he doesn't do that, then he deserves to be bitched at for eternity.

tbh i'm surprised colby tolerates half the fanbase at this point. if the fandom isn't yelling at him for breathing wrong, they're making fun of him. and while it's fine to be playful and banter with him, there's a difference between a one off comment and constantly picking at everything he does down to whether or not he has facial hair. like… why are we talking about his body hair? yall are weird for that one.

if i was colby, i wouldn't have fans anymore. bc i would blocking ppl left right and center. idc that you supported me for a long time, if you're mean to me, you're gone. and i ain't gonna listen to (usually) a child yell at me for fucking a random girl (or maybe not even fucking a random girl). that's why last year i wanted him to go chaos mode. i wanted him to fuck every and any girl that said yes strictly so fans would come to the realization that YOU DON'T CONTROL HIM.

get over it or gtfo. it's really that simple.

and as for whether or not he's neurodivergent, that's obviously something he would have to explore himself. i personally have always thought he might secretly have depression and definitely anxiety since he's talked about that part himself. there's a lot of things he has done in the past that make me think there might be something under the surface and reminds me a lot back when i was in denial of what was going on mentally. and there are times he gets into funks, and you can just see the light drain out of him for a bit. but in the end, that's for him to explore and seek help for if he so chooses and feels the need to. i would hope if he truly did ever feel bad he would ask for help.

he's a very strong person and has such a love for life. i just hope he lives it to the fullest. i truly just want to see him happy.

[fuck-customers]

i transferred to a new location of my store and this one has a drive thru. at my old location, i was always on register and i hated it, but i got us particularly good tips for whatever reason, despite honestly never making an effort to be particularly nice to customers because there were so many and the vast majority were so obnoxious i’d be standing there with a smile wishing i could kms, and i made the mistake of telling that detail about getting good tips to my new manager. so now i get put on drive thru a lot, which honestly is a step above regular register because idk there’s a bit more to do than just Talk To The Customers and talking to the customers is still generally my least fav part of my job but one thing about drive thru is that it provides an extremely repetitive example of why i hate customers that doesn’t happen at the regular register. working the drive thru window has multiple working parts: i have to organise the orders to make sure i’m giving each person their correct order, i have to take payment from each person and hand their drinks/food out, i have to check in with my coworkers on the progress towards people’s orders and sometimes i have to help them if our drive thru wait times start to hit 10+ minutes honestly, and lastly, i obviously have to actually take the orders through the speaker. i can always be reminded of how different other people’s lives are that they must’ve never had to work this kind of job because they roll up to the window and before ten seconds have passed they’re already rude and entitled with their tone when they go “HELLO??” which would be obnoxious even if their tone wasn’t as grating as it ALWAYS is, or when i say “hi, thank you for choosing *$, i’ll be with you in a moment” and they just start their order and make me repeat myself. it takes all my willpower to say “sorry, i’ll be with you in a moment” instead of “oh my god, shut up, did you even listen to what i just said?” 😭 my entire job is not to just stand there idly at the POS and take your order the SECOND you pull up to the speaker! sometimes i’m handing someone’s order out, taking their payment, helping out my coworkers when we’re extra swamped or extra understaffed (both to take pressure off of them and to shave down our drive thru wait times as much as i can), or i just need a second to myself to go drink water! and i have to deal with this so many times in a single shift. today was particularly bad, and i was only there for a little less than 5 hours. i’ve had full 8-hour shifts and even OT shifts where people have done this to me less than they did today!! something must be in the air to make every single customer interaction today be so terrible, honestly. i’m hitting the point that every customer is annoying no matter how they respond to me telling them to hold on a second, but i do still appreciate the customers who respond like “okay, take your time!” just because that small relief of pressure even for a second just feels so good.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

HELLO AGAIN. I have 6/10 scenes finished for Chapter 25 and holding steady at biweekly updates, so since it's an off-week... Snippet time!

Have some Essek!

-

Ludinus’s clock was exactly on time for the moment and Essek wasn’t certain if that unnerved him more than the alternative annoyed him. Unnerved, however, was his general state of being these days when faced with the Martinet, currently seated at his desk, a quill pen balanced on the edge of a knuckle like a butterfly that didn’t have the sense to fly away.

“The Marchen woman is apoplectic about the Dynasty’s attack on Felderwin.”

Still? That was at least a month ago. “Did she suspect an easier recovery of her asset? The Ashguard garrison is overwhelmed.”

“Indeed. Ikithon’s building an army that he claims is for the war effort, but we know better, don’t we, Essek?”

Essek schooled his expression. That was useful information for the Nein. “He is putting, ah… What is the Empire expression? All of his eggs in one basket, yes?”

Ludinus chuckled, paternally. “Well, he was mangled, humiliated, and his hard work was destroyed. Who can blame him for being distracted? If Miriam were less loyal, perhaps she would turn her anger towards that, rather than Xhorhas, but I’m not in the business of directing ire away from the Dynasty.”

No. Of course not. Essek never asked why Ludinus disdained the Dynasty and the process of consecution and trying to now would likely be spycraft suicide. His disinterest in Ludinus’s personal matters had kept him in confidence for so long- whatever crumbs he was given had to be feasted on lightly while resisting the urge to beg for more.

Still, he felt like this conversation was building to something, so he carefully asked leading questions, tapping his fingers on his knee underneath his mantle. “She scries on her targets frequently, doesn’t she?”

The Martinet’s smile turned predatory. “She does, indeed. She knows they’re in Rosohna, knows that they are responsible for getting the halfling free. She even dropped your name as a possible accomplice.”

Essek regretted never having an anti-scry amulet made and wondered if getting one now would court suspicion. How much had she seen? How much could he spin as espionage? He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. “I would not call myself an accomplice, Martinet. They did a favor for the Bright Queen and the release of the alchemist was what they asked for as a boon. It was transactional.”

He held his breath, waiting for Ludinus to drop something into his lap that was venomous and prone to strike him where it might hurt. Instead, Ludinus flipped the nib of the pen and caught it with surprisingly agile fingers for a man his age. “I would expect nothing less from the Shadowhand.”

He went on, tapping the pen on the parchment on his desk he had yet to write anything upon, leaving drops of ink in strange patterns. “Regardless, his obsession with this has turned his eyes away from me for the time being. Ever since DeRogna’s death, I have felt Marchen’s eye on me.”

“Is that why you refused to approve her promotion to Archmage?” The question was conversational, going back to an older conversation, back when this whole situation was less terrifying for him. Ludinus seemed pleased he remembered that little detail.

“I have no need for another Archmage that does not know their place in the hierarchy, especially not one so entrenched in loyalty to an enemy.”

Essek filed all these details away. It might be enough to take to the Nein, even if it only opened up more questions. He still hadn’t heard anything about Ludinus’s personal goals- the Chantry, those red-robed figures he spoke to often. He had not been offered a seat at the table just yet and he would not be able to back out of this corner he’d painted himself into without the invitation.

Curiosity was a double-aged sword, but Essek knew how to avoid taking the back-end by being an eager learner in the art of political machinations. He saw his opening and slipped into it, a rapier seeking a gap in the armor. “May I ask you a question, Martinet?”

Ludinus looked up at him, canting his head in such a strangely paternal way that if Essek squeezed his eyes shut, he could almost see the shadow of Lord Theylss transposed over him. “Such open-ended questions before teatime, Essek! But you have me curious now. Ask away.”

“If you hate Ikithon so much, then why keep him in the Assembly? He’s half-mad, hobbled and dependent on a system he created that you’ve claimed numerous times is outdated and borderline sycophantic. It would be easy to force him to step down with little political unrest.”

The Martinet considered him and then pushed his chair back to stand, pacing the length of his office in time with the steady tick-tick-tick of his clock. For a moment, Essek thought that he had dived too deeply and would not get an answer- or worse. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as Ludinus crossed behind him and laid on a hand on the back of his chair.

And then he said, “Do you know what the four most terrible words to a politician are, Essek?” When Essek’s silence formed his response, Ludinus’s chuckled, like he’d just made a clever little joke only to himself. “’Don’t they look tired?’ It’s a death knell. Those words would unravel even the mightiest because the second the heralds get a sniff of it, it’s suddenly everywhere. If the public knew of the full extent of Ikithon’s condition, he would not survive it. His career would be in shambles, his Volstrucker disbanded and either executed for treason or sold to whichever members of the Assembly would love an attack dog on their payroll. In a week, they would find him dead with a bottle to his lips. It would be a slow death.”

Essek felt every word as if it was a threat to his own safety. Still he remained, rooted to the spot, as if his mantle was weighted down. He had to fight the urge to shudder as Ludinus leaned in closer, his shadow falling across both him and the desk, backlit by the lamplight.

“But for the same reason a person might keep poison in their own cabinet if they believe an assassin could come calling, so do I keep that sick old man in his seat of power. He is a blunt instrument in my collection- the poison in my cabinet. The ways that he remains useful to me are greater than the inconveniences he causes me. Do you understand?”

There was poetry in every word, but Essek had not survived this long not knowing where to read between the lines to find the meaning. He’s your weapon against your detractors. The shovel you’ll use to bury them.

All Essek said was, “I understand.”

Ludinus remained where he was, his shadow consuming Essek’s like some great beast. It could not have been any longer than a handful of seconds, but it felt like eternity before he patted the back of the chair and stepped back towards his desk. “I’ll ring for tea. Perhaps you would like to stay this time?”

It felt like a test. He swallowed down his fear and nodded. “Yes. I think I will.”

His eyes fell across the desk and he noticed, before the paper was cleared away, that the strange patterns that Ludinus had been tapping out were carefully outlined calligraphy of a single letter.

Specifically, a J.

[solavelyan]

intro.

It's a Dragon Age sideblog! My main blog is @bogunicorn, and I go by Bog (or any type of nickname you can wring out of "bog unicorn"). If you're looking for more info about me as a person, that'll all be over on my main.

This blog and my main are both 18+. Please do not follow me if you're under 18. I don't keep close track of my followers, but I do check out blogs that follow me because of the spambots, and I block minors on sight.

eta oct 2023: given The Bullshit happening at bioware following their mass layoffs and their leveraging of the next game against former employees' requests for proper severance pay, please assume that none of my posts or words are an implicit or explicit endorsement of the company itself. i mean, they already weren't, i just want you to imagine that all of my reblogs have an invisible "EA/BW execs fall off a cliff challenge" tacked onto them.

regarding the veilguard.

Yeah yeah yeah, who ever had "Bog sees one (1) trailer with Solas's face in it and rethinks their Veilguard policy on this blog" on their bingo card is one square closer to a line, okay? So, there will be SOME Veilguard posting here. However, I am personally sticking to looking at official sources only for my Veilguard info, or people or blogs directly quoting official sources. I will not be seeking our nor acknowledging any leaks, and will be generally avoiding any in-depth speculation or theories or whatnot, even ones that come from Veilguard promo. All of my Veilguard posts (including images of Solas or Varric that are from anytime after The Missing) will be tagged #datv, and anything I think might contain any kind of spoilers will be tagged #datv spoilers. It's mostly just gifs, shitposts, and pretty fanart of the new companions and stuff. For my own sake, I'm really making an effort not to pre-plan my new character or romance or speculate on what specifically the Inquisitor has been doing, and am doing my best to go in with a very open mind while still being excited, and I've found that sticking to what's officially shared in promotional material is about the speed I want to go here. My "no DA4 chatter" policy for this blog was because too much intense speculation and headcanoning and Fandom Anxiety (you know what I mean) gives me a lot of anxiety. I always also hesitant to engage with it too publicly out of respect for the laid-off developers and not wanting to be supportive of Bioware. However, as Mary Kirby herself feels comfortable getting ~hype~ for this game even with all of the context around it, I'm not going to be precious and defensive on their behalf about the whole thing and letting myself be excited. I'm very consistent with my tags, especially game-specific and spoilery ones, so this blog is still a safe spot for anyone who wants to go in 100% blind.

Still might blacklist the fandom entirely when the game launches if people are annoying, though.

what to expect here.

Gifsets, fanart, jokey jokes, and sometimes (reblogged) meta posts.

My own Dragon Age thoughts, feelings, theories, random whatevers. My original posts of all kinds are tagged #bog post.

A general positivity toward queer shit, weird shit, horny shit, and kinky shit.

My fanfic and my OCs. I don't post fic too often, at least not in the last few months, but I have a ton of OCs (roster TBA). I write notes and profiles and little ideas for them as a hobby even when I'm not actively writing fic. Anything relating to my own writing will be tagged #bogfic, anything involving my characters tagged #my ocs and then #character name (oc).

Generally, I'm a multishipper at heart and can find something to love about any given ship, PC choice, character, or type of storyline. Chances are if I'm spending my time talking about something or speculating on it, it's because I'm having fun or enjoying myself.

Commentary on fandom trends and behaviors (and, sometimes, common sense reminders not to be a dick to each other about fake stuff).

To get blocked if you put rude or annoying shit in my mentions, including using any of my posts to character bash or otherwise go off-topic in order to air your personal grievances underneath my stuff. I don't care if you don't like Solas, or if you have strong opinions about Anders vs. Fenris, or if you think "supporting" the mages/Templars/Chantry is good/bad, or if you feel like your personal favorite character/PC option/romance isn't represented by my posts and you feel your specific criticism is the exception. Do not cite the deep magic to me, witch, I was there when it was written (like 8+ years and two US presidents ago). Mind your manners and blacklist or scroll if you need to.

what not to expect.

Untagged Veilguard spoilers, or in-depth Veilguard speculation or guesses. All my Veilguard posts with potential spoilers will be tagged #datv spoilers.

Consistent character bashing or character hate. I simply do not spend a majority of my online time thinking about stuff I hate.

Anonymous asks. Anon is always turned off, both here, on my main, and on my AO3.

Real world politics and news, or general (as in, not-DA-specific) Disk Horse. Honestly, probably not even that much Dragon Age Discourse, either.

Equating in-game choices or fandom opinions with real life politics and morality. I don't "support" any group in Thedas because Thedas is fake. My politics and activism are for real people, not Wizard Politics or whatever.

Egg or cheese jokes.

the tag system (tm).

#timeless posts - Anything reblogged from the depths of @bogunicorn in the last 10 years. Usually queued.

#bog post - Any and all of my original posts.

#bogfic - Anything involving my writing or my OCs.

#my ocs - My OCs. Often accompanied by #[character name] (oc).

#spicy bog - Ye olde horny tag.

#bogcrit, #[character name] critical, #dragon age critical, #[game] critical, #fandom bs - These are my Complaining Tags. If you never want to see anything truly critical or negative, just blacklist #bogcrit. If you want to avoid grousing or critique of a specific character, the games in general, individual games, or the fandom itself, blacklist whatever listed tag is relevant to you.

#fic, #art - Fanfic and fanart that I didn't make.

#meta - Meta or speculation posts.

#da au - Any kind of alternate universe post.

#ask meme - Blanket tag for any put-it-in-the-tags posts, as well as actual ask memes.

Characters are tagged by their full names. Origins and Inquisition PCs are tagged #the warden or #the inquisitor, as well as by surname. Hawke is always just #hawke. I don't specify gender in my character tags, this system is already complicated enough.

Ships are tagged #[character] x [character] in alphabetical order, with the PCs just using their surnames. I also use the more portmanteaus (like Solavellan, Fenhawke, Adoribull, etc) because that's what people are inclined to click/search, but I would still slap "lavellan x solas" on a Solavellan post just for consistency.

contact.

complain to my manager

send me an ask

read my fic

[glowyjellyfish]

OUAT Rewatch Report Part 5: Lady of the Lake through The Doctor, plus Forget Me Not and The Serpent

1. Emma’s far from my favorite, but her feelings are really doing it for me this time. Seeing her walls go up, and how hard it is for her to adjust to having a mom who cares about her. And seeing her walls come down, too, seeing her vulnerable when she puts so much effort into making herself tough. And I enjoy watching her fumble around not knowing how to handle Fairy Tale Land but also needing to prove she can take care of herself. I don’t think I realized it before, but there is an entire theme of parental dynamics in this arc, isn’t there.

2. Henry’s a manipulative little sneak, isn’t he? He came by it honestly, considering his many relatives.

3. I definitely made a mistake in setting up a viewing order where I get New Robin Hood before I even see Old Robin Hood.

4. I love Will so much. I love the way he talks about himself and his past, and how he has clearly thought everything through very carefully and figured himself out. I’m totally convinced that he had therapy sometimes in Storybrooke. And probably got diagnosed with depression, because that’s what his heartlessness looks like. And I love the way he admits to feeling like a monster and going through dark times, even when he can’t really feel it without his heart.

5. It does sort of bug me that Maleficent is hyped up as super evil and dangerous, but in practice we mainly see her as losing to Regina, her BFF, and vaguely chiding a group that stole from her. And she was a dragon, and there’s been talk of what she did to Aurora, but she just comes off a little weak.

6. rumple is the first person on the show to discuss deaging anybody, which is interesting given future plots and revelations.

7. I love rumple but he is in fact an awfully horrifying person. Like, The Crocodile started out and Milah was callous towards him and Hook was a bully. He comes back with power, planning to murder Hook for taking (and, Rumple thinks, raping and killing) his wife. Milah comes out and tells him she’s alive and admits to lying to escape him, and he still has to be bartered with to stop murdering Hook (which was supposed to be revenge for Milah). It’s understandable that he’s still upset, but then when his ex wife is trying to honestly explain herself, he murders her—CLEARLY projecting his own issues with abandoning Bae. I sympathize with him, of course, knowing that in the present he’s more or less trying to be better, and usually directing his energy in a more productive direction, but like… I don’t think Hook’s wrong for wanting revenge.

8. I’m not a fan of how they chose to make their version of Hook. That man is NOT CAPTAIN HOOK, and I could just call him Killian and convince myself he’s not the real Hook but just some other pirate guy, but honestly the name Killian bugs me even more. But in practice, the character’s perfectly good as his own character. More than anything else, it’s just annoying that they either did minimal research or threw virtually everything out before slapping a couple of Captain Hook traits on a completely new pirate character. Other characters are either super recognizable as the most well-known version of the story, or were cardboard cutouts in the original leaving room for whatever. Idk, it’s fine just irritating.

9. ANYWAY I think from Hook’s perspective, he played the role of a giant bully to discourage Milah’s weak husband from coming after her, and to help her escape her boring life and loveless marriage. And then later, he was trying to shield her from an ex who suddenly turned up powerful and abusive. I don’t know if this was old meta I read or what, but I immediately concluded that he plays parts an awful lot, and am trying to compare this to what I saw in other pirate media (ie mainly Black Sails). I maintain OUAT Hook is a giant weenie compared to most other pirates in media, but I guess the whole point here is that he’s a big softie underneath his exterior, going for revenge because his heart was broken.

10. I love how Ruby automatically protects any and all women without batting an eye. Ladies helping ladies!

11. I forgot just how bad Bae’s abandonment issues should be. Jesus fucking Christ. First abandoned by his mother, then he slowly loses his father to the dark one curse and becomes a social pariah, then his father breaks a promise and abandons him to another entire world. I’ll have to update this litany of tragedy as I go forward and remember more details; I know he is briefly taken in by the Darlings and then goes to Neverland, and he then has a short period of doing Treasure Island with Hook before he figures out this guy’s the reason his mom abandoned him, and then he’s stuck in neverland for a long time before getting to the real world in more or less the present day. And of course he’s then coerced into leaving Emma, and abandons his own son without realizing it. Neal’s gonna have so many issues, I cannot WAIT.

12. I adore OUATW’s Jafar, who I like to call Hot Jafar. They did a wonderful job of giving him motivation that’s so complex and interesting I want it to be the backstory of every Jafar, and making him understandable without making him less ruthless and terrifying.

13. recently on regular ouat, Henry was chilling in Emma’s car, so I’m not sure my timeline even has a fixed point anymore. OUATW could even have started during The Doctor, which features a storm. And the two shows were not designed to be watched like this—maybe with s3. HOWEVER, there continue to be fascinating parallels popping up between the two shows when watching them like this. OUAT had The Crocodile, OUATW had The Serpent. OUATW had an episode about Jafar learning magic and how far he was willing to go, OUAT’s next episode was about Regina learning magic and being pushed to go farther than she wanted to.

14. ugh I love the Will/Ana dynamic so much. It’s so spicy and interesting compared with all regular OUAT relationships!

15. it occurs to me that it’s also just possible that Regina chose to bring Jefferson and Victor along in her curse because she thought they might be useful, and Jefferson maybe was just able to resist the amnesia of the curse because of his portal jumping abilities. She doesn’t seem to be particularly pissed off with either one of them, and she had zero qualms about asking Jefferson to help her. And they WERE both useful to her; aside from keeping an eye on David for her and keeping Henry alive when he had the sleeping curse, Whale was probably very helpful as she tried to raise a small child.

16. Victor literally thought her curse destroyed his world and he was the sole survivor. And found himself the sole survivor of a whole world, living in a community of refugees from another world that all know each other and follow the same rules and logic as each other, while he only knows them from the curse. I think it’s interesting he (apparently) didn’t try to talk to Jefferson or Rumple until after his science failed and he couldn’t get Regina to send him home. Probably he didn’t know Jefferson was there until after he heard about Charming talking to him, and Regina absolutely relied on Whale during the curse and she was still a nice, relatively innocent young woman when he knew her, so it’s not really surprising he thought he might be able to convince her to help him despite leading an angry mob to her like a couple days ago. And of course, he was both intimidated by Rumple and too proud of his own methods to admit to needing magic until he thoroughly failed, and presumably didn’t trust anybody from the magical fantasy world to perform decent surgery to reattach his arm. (…I tried writing so many fanfics about him back in the day and it sounds like I may need to try again) I still think there were some deliberate light Wizard of Oz hints sprinkled into The Doctor. Maybe we were just meant to be misled for this one episode, but I am still convinced that SOMEBODY in the writers’ room wanted to make Victor also be the Wizard of Oz. Not gonna lie, I had an entire theory about that and I am still positive it would have been better than the nonsense Oz plot we got.

I finally came up with a selection of gifs describing each (regular OUAT) episode in s2 so far! Next time I think I might do gifs for all OUATW so far, because I have an absolutely perfect gif for the next episode… but we’ll get there.

(…I want to find a good collection of gifs for Emma, especially something resembling the FACES she makes when confronted with magical nonsense, but haven’t had much luck so far)

[incarnateirony]

I think I understand what you mean… less “try to do like they did” and more “try to understand why they did what they did, see if you get it, find something similar in your experience and build on top of it”? Is that it? And I imagined you didn’t go to acting school or took lessons in it, since your work was in writing (if I understood correctly), but I imagine you know how it’s seen by the industry, how it works and if it’s needed. For example, can I get a good agent if I never took acting lessons or went to acting school? And is it possible to not make a complete fool of myself in earlier auditions/work on set without having taken acting lessons to teach me that stuff? Like, won’t people be pissed if I’m learning as I go, even if I put in 100% of effort to learn? Is taking acting lessons or acting school really important?

To clarify, my work varied. When it comes to officially writing a show without ghostwriting or sliding an arena under someone else's door, I had to cancel mine about 12 years ago the last time my wife attacked me. Before that I was a sort of? Between the lines indie runner. Who do they need that didn't need a special license for a role? Hold the boom. Run to ask for a lens. Play assistant to the fashion designer on premise, et all. Which is why I say "I'm more the between the greenscreen or stage type". I just wanted to clarify so I do not mis-represent what I have or haven't done in time.

But yes, I have witnessed, and it's similar to the forms of character acting. You know how some actors get called really annoying because they character act the entire time for a role to get in the mindset? It's similar to that without being the obnoxious douche, by learning how to memory call similar things you connect with as minor personality states you associate. Yes, you have the right understanding. Less "repeat as they do", and more "understand as they do, and understand why you do."

When it comes to how people will take you, my biggest advice is, as difficult as it is, throw away the anxiety of how anyone will perceive you. Even the people judging you for roles. You cannot let yourself become ensnared in how anyone is going to take your art, and we should always accept that repeat failure is a process towards victory, the world tends to make us forget that. Practice makes perfect or whatever. But if you spend your time in anxiety inside your head calculating how someone is going to react or read what you are trying to pull from your memory, emotion, and spirit, you will be too wrapped up in their heads to think of how it feels right in yours!

I might suggest looking into anxiety management methods and basic breathing exercises as preparation, or a few meditation videos, that help clear out any built up anxiety you have when you're about to go in.

Messing up is fine, but in art, and emotion, there really is no messing up. Just learning and getting better.