#and yes I'm bitter about that still lol

[joeey-dee]

Okay, so this is like not my usual thing but I finally found a way to watch Heels with Stephen Amell and that show is amazing! Seriously, the best thing I've seen on TV in a long, long time!

If you haven't seen it yet you need to check it out. All Episodes are currently available for free on youtube (you need to change your vpn to US, though, at least all my fellow Europeans or non US people do).

Stephen's acting is off the charts and just shows what the man is capable of if he has an amazing script to work with... Arrow wasted his potential in the later seasons which is just sad. But he's got a great show now with people who seem to appreciate his skills and push him.

Again great show, great writing and great acting from everyone involved, I know nothing about Wrestling, I couldn't care less about it if I tried but that show got me hooked, those characters draw you in and you just want to know what will happen next.

Okay, I think I'm done now. Just, check it out, give the man some love for his amazing work. The show deserves to be recognized as the masterpiece it is.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[thebirdandhersong]

.

[ifyougoillfollow]

real talk tho i know there's exactly zero (0) chance of romantic erasermic ever being canon, but i'd just like to put it out there right now in no uncertain terms that if it ever somehow does happen i'm FUCKING suing

[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

[moon-mountain]

Now that I've recovered from the drowley of it all I have to say. That scene where dean is naked in Crowley's bed and flashes his pits. Why the fuck does Jackles have less armpit hair than me?? Life is so unfair. I want that twink obliterated 😑

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[flametrashiraarchive]

Possessive Giyuu who can't stand the fact Tengen keeps flirting with you, his favourite kakushi / nurse.

Possessive Giyuu who is a lil bit yandere and a lil bit delusional and fuck you hard, to remind you who you belong to.

Possessive Giyuu who makes sure you can't walk the next day and your whole body is full of hickeys.

You're his, and you would do damn well to remember it.

- Beer anon 🍻

I think about a quarter of my asks are for Giyuu lol. Yandere is not my thing so it may be a bit more toned down than you wanted but I hope it's still okay.

Enjoy!!

Mine- Giyuu x fem!reader

Giyuu couldn't stand it. 

The way you laughed at Tengen's childish humor as he sat in the infirmary bed made the water hashira's mood even more sour than usual. He and the sound hashira had both been injured on their latest mission– which he had initially thought of as something of a blessing because it meant he got to see you again. But he was hating every second of it. 

"I'm just saying," Tengen smirked as you handed him his medication. "These bitter pills go down easier with a little bit of sweetness, and you're about as sweet as they come. I'll be back to my full strength in no time"

You laughed adorably and shook your head. "You're too kind, Lord Tengen."

Giyuu's hands gripped the bedsheets.

He couldn't even blame Tengen. He wasn't even sure that the sound hashira was actually trying to make a move on you. The man was happily married to three women he adored. Tengen was just a naturally charismatic and flirtatious guy, and you… well, he couldn't blame you for blushing. It's not like you were doing it on purpose. 

And it wasn't as though Giyuu could legitimately claim you as his either. You'd kissed a few times and he'd used his fingers to make you cum once in the medical supplies closet, but that had all been over the space of a year and neither of you had ever discussed making it an official thing. 

Still though…

His eyes were as still and serene as the deepest lagoon, but inside he was raging. It shouldn't matter, but it did. It mattered a great deal. You were one of the only good parts of his life, one of the only people he didn't feel like he had to be so closed off from. And tucked away safely in the infirmary instead of out there with the demons, you were safe enough for him to trust that you weren't about to die on him. 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Tomioka-sama. Your medication…" 

Tomioka… sama? So damn formal. So detached. He took the medication from your hand and swallowed it without a word, turning away from you. 

Did you have to have such pretty damn eyes?

Later that afternoon, the sound hashira was napping, but Giyuu simply couldn't. Your footsteps padded softly through the infirmary, making his heart beat faster when it sounded as though you were coming close, only to fill him with disappointment when they faded.

No, he couldn’t stand this a minute longer. 

He was injured but not so badly that he couldn’t walk. With a pained grunt he got out of bed and began his search for you. It only took him a couple of minutes. 

“Giyuu,” you hissed, a look of surprise and annoyance on your face. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the storage closet, kicking the door shut behind him as he pinned your arms to the wall above your head and pressed a heated, claiming kiss to your lips. 

The way your eyebrows shot up and then slowly relaxed as he kissed you, the way you were immediately silenced by his lips and your body went from startled stiffness to relaxed compliance. Oh yes…this is what he needed.

This was much better. 

He pressed his body against yours, loving the way you moaned against his lips. His heart fluttered as you kissed him back; so soft and deep, your tongue caressing his as you sighed longingly. Releasing his grip on your wrists, his hands followed the curves of your body, clumsy in their desperation to feel every perfect inch of you.

Finally he pulled back and gazed into your eyes.“Do you want me to make you cum?”

You nodded and he could see the desperation in your face. “Yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” His kisses trailed down to your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. 

He worked open the buttons on your uniform as he began to suck your neck, harder and harder, intent on leaving a mark. He wanted every damn person who saw you know that you were his.

You moaned as he pinned your hips with his, his body heavy and warm against yours. “Giyuu…”

A low hum of approval emerged from him as his rough, battle-worn hands caressed your skin. "So soft. I could do this every day and never get tired of it." He kissed you fiercely, as his hands moved downward, slipping under your skirt.

His fingers circled your clit, and the corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. You were so wet already, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, and knowing this made his dick painfully hard. Every little moan you made, every gasp or sigh of pleasure made him ache.

The way you gasped his name made him feral. He pulled his pants down to the tops of his thighs and took your hand, bringing it to his cock. The sight of your hand wrapped around it made his balls tighten.

"Stroke it for me," he whispered, tugging your earlobe with his teeth as he continued stroking your clit.

The moment you started to pump his cock in your soft hands, a shiver ran through his body. He was so damn needy for you, groaning as he rutted against your palm, baring his teeth as you swiped your thumb over his tip and coated it in his precum.

“You’re getting me so hard.” He couldn't stand it a moment longer. "I need to fuck you," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Mm…Yes."

"Yeah? You want me to fuck this pretty pussy and make you mine?" 

"Gods, yes, Giyuu…" Your breath was hot and hard against his lips as he hoisted you into his arms and set your ass down on a table stacked with supplies. 

He pressed his cock to your entrance, sliding it up through your folds and coating it in your wetness. “I want you to watch. I want you to see me take you.”

You did as he asked, your breaths coming in shallow pants as he pushed into you. The sight of his cock disappearing inside you made you both choke out wanton groans. 

“So wet for me,” he grunted as he began to thrust into you. He pressed his teeth to his lower lip as his brow furrowed. He fucked you hard and fast, making damn sure you felt every inch of him pounding into you. You weren't about to forget him. You were going to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.

The table squeaked with every thrust, supplies falling off and rolling across the floor. He'd deal with that later. All that mattered now was that you were his.

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the supply closet. The sound of your wet pussy taking him was so beautifully vulgar it made his back arch.

You put your head back. "Oh Gods..."

"Yeah, I'm fucking you good, huh?"

"S-so good."

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Giyuu, please… I’m so close.” 

He stopped thrusting, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as your muscles clenched around him. “No, that’s not what I said. Tell me you’re mine… say I'm yours. Those words, or you don’t get to cum.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, out of your mind with desire. “I’m yours.”

“Good… now, the next time someone is flirting with you, I want you to tell them that, okay? I want you to tell them you belong to me.”

You nodded, desperation cracking your voice. "Yes."

He leaned down, cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you. "Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Who fucks your pussy better than anyone else ever could?"

"You do, Giyuu."

He smirked, thrusting hard into you and pulling a cry from your lips. His fingers gripped your hips, pulling you onto him with all his hashira strength. "Good. Fucking. Girl."

Your muscles pulsed around his cock as you came apart, your hands grasping at him as he kept on fucking you throughout your orgasm. He wasn't much further behind you, pulling out and shooting hot ropes of cum all over your thighs and your belly, staggering as he rode the waves of his release.

As he came back down to earth he pulled you upright, his lips crashing against yours as he gripped the back of your neck. "I'm gonna remind you who you belong to tomorrow," he whispered. "And then every day after, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. "I might have forgotten by this afternoon though. You might have to drill it into me."

Giyuu laughed, cupping your face in his hands. "Deal."

Yes... this was much better.

[thehigherseekerastro]

Astrology Observations: Non-chart Edition 💻

This is just a quick post, a short list of astrology opinions – my own –, about the world of astrology online itself, not the actual placements described, but that I think are worth noting to help better analyze and understand the astrology content found on the internet. Enjoy!

(♠) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️)

Beware of "roasting placements" posts –

regardless if it's on Tumblr, X or TikTok. Those are VERY broad "descriptions" (if we can call it that). Anybody who understands how astrology works would never generalize to such a level that they think they can roast an entire placement, as if there was only one possible manifestation for that placement. There's an entire chart that is very unique to everyone. Your (and other people's) chart can be set up in a way that makes you behave the complete opposite of that stereotype, so people can't just be accusing others of things without knowing them lol.

Not to mention that they are usually plain rude and ignorant for no reason, just to be spiteful.

Astrology is not "Projection Land" –

so don't use it to, nor fall for someone else doing it. It's nobody's excuse to trash their ex, their mother, the friend they had a falling-out with, through you, making you feel horrible about yourself, just because they are projecting their own feelings onto a particular placement.

So, yes, there are patterns to signs, placements and even elements, but that needs to be handled with a lot of responsibility. It needs careful analysis, and the person needs to be able to separate their personal grievances from the actual information before they vomit their disdain on the internet where anyone can see. I always make sure to include a blend of positive and negative POSSIBLE manifestations of placements, and I make that clear, so that people know it's a MAYBE, and also not about everyone. It's not to insult others, more so to inform them of what you should be aware of IN CASE THEY ENCOUNTER IT.

So the people who are like "X-Y-Z placements are TRASH!!!! I dated so and so and it went horribly blah blah blah"...

Keep on scrolling. Move along. They're bitter and they're either trying to make you feel horrible too or antagonize you against someone else. Remember: misery loves company.

Don't use astrology to save face either –

so don't be hyping up your own toxic trait that is in fact present to excuse yourself.

"Oh, Tauruses are stubborn," (stereotype) "but that's because they are consistent and see things through."

NO, BABY. Tauruses are consistent AND they can be annoying as hell with their stubbornness and acting a fool, but still refusing to act right. The two things can coexist.

If you happen to manifest one of the more challenging stereotypes of a placement, it's not there for nothing. It's a lesson for you to work on and heal as soon as you're made aware of it. So don't be using astrology to justify staying in your troublesome habits just because there might be a quality attached to it. That's not maturing and growing. Growing is realizing all things work in balance, and there's downsides and potential to most things. So hone the positive aspects of that placement, but continue to try to heal the challenging ones.

Avoid astrology content creators who use their blog/profile as their little Burn Book –

just attacking people and placements right and left. "This sign is manipulative!", "that planet in such house is a jealous and bitter person!", "females with such rising are fake!".

They don't know shit. They just want to air out their anger. If you absorb it, that's on you. So, if you notice somebody only has negative things to say all the time and never praises anybody... RED FLAG.

And yes, I'm also talking about the people who exclusively make content like "How will your relationship end based on your 12H in Composite", "Synastry aspects that indicate you will be cheated on", "Signs of a narcissist in a birth chart", and just overall fear-mongering and negativity.

Avoid astrology content creators who use their blog/profile as a space to boast and compliment themselves –

because it also happens often, and it's usually a combo with the previous one I mentioned above. They shit on everyone else, but the placements they love and praise are ~ coincidentally ~ their own.

If you see a take that starts with defending or praising a placement a lot and it is followed by "because we are...", I'd immediately log off.

It's one thing to speak from experience and empathize. It's another to be like "Virgos aren't judgemental, because I'm a Virgo and I'm the best person on the planet, you're the problem if we don't like you!"

Again, people who cannot be self aware should not be sharing advice or opinions on other people. They're attention seekers. And surprisingly, it's often NOT the people with Leo placements.

CAUTION WITH THIS ONE, as I'm making a broad observation that is not describing everyone, just a pattern I see often, but my perspective could be limited here –

like I said, from most problematic posts I've seen, and I've seen quite a few, it's not from people with the stereotypical "egotistic and self obsessed" signs, like Leo, or even other fire signs.

I've seen it most often happen with people over-praising their personal EARTH placements, and then attacking everyone else.

Which to me makes sense, because when an Earth placement is great, they're GREAT! But when they're not... Good luck convincing them that they are just a human being and aren't better than everybody else and always right. You'd have to be constantly hammering the cold harsh reality on their face 24/7 to keep them humble. (A job only fire sign placements are up to, bc they don't give a shit if you're offended, and don't get tired of having to fight to death).

Earth signs being preceded by fire signs means their need for validation and praise is often hidden from plain sight, but it's deep within them. And being opposed by water signs can mean falling into delusions of how they actually impact the outside world, often overestimating their value.

So if you mix that with the Earth practicality and pragmatism, it becomes very hard for them to see that they will not feel more in control if they criticize everyone else around. It's them judging themselves, but not knowing how to deal with that self-hatred, so they project it onto others. Just because one got a lot to say doesn't mean they should, nor that what they have to say is correct. People CAN be loud and wrong, and these types of folks over here on these posts often are.

The top 5 most judgemental and lacking self-awareness I've seen here on Tumblr are:

Virgo

Capricorn

Aquarius

Sagittarius

Taurus

Apply it to (rising, sun, moon, Mercury and Mars).

PS: This is very specific within the context of astrology content creators. I'm not saying all of the people from those signs and element are like that, or attacking them personally.

Women are not perfect. Men are not inherently bad –

so also be cautious of people who trash any type of men, regardless of their sign, planet or houses, but claim only the women of that sign are good.

Yes, we know that, systemically, our society is patriarcal and men's toxic behaviors tend to be encouraged, so it's not uncommon to run into issues with masculinity. Regardless of that, men are human beings. And so are women. Everyone has potential for good and bad inside them.

"Cancers - all the men are cheaters and manipulators! But the women are the sweetest people you will ever meet!"

No. Cancer when it's expressed in its most toxic side is highly manipulative and fake. Which is historically a "skill" used by women to survive in this world. So if you run into a "good Cancer man", he will be a light in your life. If you run into a "bad Cancer woman", that'll be even worse, because she will be a horrible person, all the while projecting an image of innocence and acting like she has no idea what you're talking about and is just a sweet victim.

(just look at Ariana Grande, for example, and her history of cheating on her partners with other men who were ALSO in committed relationships at the time, ever since she was 21, but she always tells her stories as if she's the one getting unfairly bullied and that people are making stuff up about her.

I'm not making personal judgements about her, because I don't know her personally. I'm just using her as an example of the same cheater-manipulator dynamic people attribute to all Cancer men, applied to a Cancer woman).

Use your critical thinking skills. Again, that's a projection. Specially if someone goes as far as making an extreme comment like "ALL MEN of the zodiac are trash"... That's clearly a lot of bitterness, hurt, and bad PERSONAL experiences, that they are now vomiting onto the internet.

Men and women are equally beautiful creatures, each dealing with their own sets of potential and challenges. Astrology doesn't pick and choose, and certainly does not care about hookup culture or the dissolution of human relationships in the 21st century.

Just because someone is talking about spiritual practices does not mean they are evolved –

anybody can talk about anything. That means nothing. Does not mean evolution. Does not mean maturity. Does not mean understanding. Does not mean knowledge. Does not mean awareness.

So don't think that just because someone has an astrology blog or they say they're an astrologer that means they are some evolved soul, wise beyond their years and with only good intentions. Oftentimes, people will obsess over analysing others to avoid taking a long hard look at themselves.

As I've given many examples here, many people can be using astrology to live out the most childish and troubled parts of their personalities and character. And instead of identifying those challenges in their chart – since they claim to be such fans of astrology – and working on them, they prefer to hop online and start pointing fingers at other people and their lives.

Now, let's also exercise our own empathy here and understand that sometimes those people themselves don't even realize their struggle. They're a human, after all. So it's up to you to curate what you consume and how you consume it. Don't discredit people's experience, but also, do a background check on the info before you internalize it, because a lot of the times people will be hurting you without realizing they're just looking for company in their sadness. They'll convince themselves they're helping.

Be conscious in YOUR OWN spiritual journey and learning. Know who YOU are. And then other people become helpers along your path, not the commanders of your destiny.

That is it, my dears. I hope this was clear to understand and it was helpful. Hopefully, it will aid in your understanding of things when you come across astrology posts online, leaving you less confused as to what is and isn't pertinent. And I hope it sends you on a path towards good and love.

Be well! ❤️

MASTER LIST

[kingkat12]

september in paris (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: none (for now lmao)

summary: your September vacation in Paris is polluted by the sight of sickeningly loving couples— what happens when you finally find someone who shares your frustrations?

word count: 1,715

a/n: currently in Paris for vacation right now lol, so enjoy this little drabble that I wrote for that occasion!! tihi

I hate September. It's either when school starts, or when I'm on vacation having the time of my life. 

Now, don't get me wrong; I love vacations. Especially since my recent get-aways have taken place in France because my father got a job there. And who am I to say no to free accomodation in the most romantic city in the world?

But being single in the most romantic city in the world is absolute torture— why had no one bothered to inform me of this? 

September was the peak month for tourism in Paris; the place was swarmed with couples, either completely fresh or on their honeymoon. Everything about it had me rolling my eyes— My favourite activity was to sit at different cafés around the city, giving rude stares to the happy couples passing by. I suppose it made me feel better about myself... although I would never say that out loud. 

My activites of bitterness would eventually end up being interrupted by a young man who sat down next to me one morning, completely uninvited, with a newspaper in hand. Something about it felt old-school, classic, but also annoying— did he not know that you shouldn't seat yourself this close to a stranger? Especially when there are other seats around?

I moved my nasty glare from the young couple passing us by, now watching the man next to me push my morning tea to my edge of the table to make space for his coffee. That was my last straw; "Pardon?"

He looked up from his paper, quirking a brow at me. "Yes?"

Okay, good-- I was relieved to hear that he spoke english. To demonstrate, I glanced around the practically empty café, waving my arms at the vacant spaces with a rather outraged look in my eyes. "Are you maybe new to Paris? There's a certain etiquette at cafés' here. You don't sit down next to strangers like this when the whole place is available,"

The man shrugged, folding his newspaper in his lap. "I think it might be you that is new to Paris," he said, his strikingly green eyes finding mine with intense challenge before he continued; "My family are patrons of this place, and this is my table. And it was my mother's before me, and my grandfather's before her. I thought I was nice by not telling you to move, but I most certainly could?"

My jaw fell, outraged. "What is this, middle school? There aren't assigned seats and tables out in public!"

"Actually, there are. And you're sitting at my table," He reached for his cup of coffee, not breaking eye-contact. "Care to move?"

Something about him was terrifyingly intimidating, but there was no way in hell I'd back down. Just as I was about to open my mouth and snap back once more, I couldn't help but take a few seconds to take in the sight of him; he was wearing a suit at around ten in the morning, his brown hair was gelled back tastefully, and I recognized his enormous watch from the ads around every bus stop in Paris. Was that seriously the newest Rolex? My mouth started to feel drier than a desert— who was this guy? Had I not seen him somewhere before? 

However, no matter what watch he wore, whether his mother and grandfather liked this table too, he still deserved to be told off for being such a stuck up prick. "I'm not going to move. I was here first,"

The stranger rolled his eyes, letting out an obnoxiously loud sigh. "Could we please not do this before the clock has even struck twelve? Be a good little girl and scram, please,"

"Excuse me?" Everything about this was outrageous; did he really think he could talk to me like that? "Sorry, who the hell do you think you are?—"

My rant was quickly cut off; "Hold on," he said, holding out his finger in front of my face as he watched a seemingly new couple pass us. His mouth curved up into a sneer, shaking his head in dismay as he glared at them; "I think these couples all around town are more annoying than you, can you believe it? They're fucking everywhere." He eventually turned back to me, now holding his hand out for me to take. "I'm Roman. And you?"

Roman? I was getting closer and closer to piecing together where I had seen him before— it was right on the tip of my tongue. Introducing myself, I warily shook his hand, unsure where this was leading to. "At least we can agree that the lovebirds are polluting the city,"

Roman's eyes rounded out, an amused look shimmering in his eyes. "I think I said that exact thing earlier today... Funny," 

It was clear that the atmosphere had changed. This would be the first time I ever bonded with a stranger over something so bitter. "Earlier than this? What were you doing up so early?" I decided that I'd entertain whatever this was.

With a shrug, Roman ran his fingers through his styled hair, checking whether it was still holding its form or not. "Just a meeting. I think I slept through most of it, actually,"

I held back a snort, nodding along with words. Then suddenly, it was as though a lightbulb appeared above my head— meeting? Just as I was about to ask him what he did for work, a rather loud bus passed us, and I couldn't believe who it was on the ad on the front of it.

Blinking rapidly, I kept waiting for the face on the bus to morph into someone else. Were my eyes deceiving me? Unable to keep still, I moved to the edge of my seat, my lips parting in shock at the realization that the man on the ad was the same as the one sitting next to me. 

Godfrey Industries - A Brighter Tomorrow. Beneath the bold text was his name, along with the title of world's youngest CEO. 

"There is no way in hell," I mumbled, turning to Roman with a horrified look on my face.

In turn, he bit back an obnoxious smirk. "I fucking hate that bus,"

"It has your face on it,"

"I hate that picture,"

I shrugged; "Why? It's a good one,"

Raising his brows, Roman snickered, leaning back against his chair with a casual manspread. "What, so now you say I look good? Quite the girl I've met on the streets of Paris,"

"Not on the streets," I mumbled, reaching for my cup of tea. "That makes me sound like a hooker."

"... You're right, my bad," Roman watched as I sipped my drink, and he put away his newspaper on a chair close by. "I bet a hundred bucks that your face will be all across the next bus that passes, though."

My brows drew together, huffing as I put down my tea. "You might as well just give me the money right away, then,"

"Why?" Roman tapped his fingers against the table, fighting the amused smirk that threatened to creep up his face. "You're telling me you're not a model?"

I was very happy to have swallowed my tea already— I would've spit it out on the whole pavement, if not. "No, I'm definitely not a model. Just visiting the city," Was he flirting with me? I couldn't quite put my finger on how we had gone from bickering to whatever this was. "So... Roman Godfrey, world's youngest CEO, what brings you to Paris?"

Roman chuckled as he reached for his coffee; "I'm here to roll around in self-loathing at the sight of happy people in love. You?"

I couldn't help but giggle— weirdly enough, I was starting to like this guy. "I have a week before I go back to college, and I have family in Paris. Just taking liberties of free accommodation, I guess,"

"I see," Roman nodded, his green eyes engraving themselves into my mind. "Would you maybe also like to take the liberty of a free drink later tonight, then? I have my own booth at Club Palais down by the Arc if you want to stop by."

Why was I getting so flustered? I wasn't about to show it— I somehow managed to look away from the most charming man I had ever met, hoping my hair would cover the blush creeping up my cheeks. "It seems you have your assigned seats all around town,"

That made him laugh all over; I couldn't help but notice how much I enjoyed the sound of his amusement. "Yeah... But the difference is that you're very welcome to take a seat, this time," Roman finished his coffee, grabbing his newspaper as he got up from his chair. I couldn't help but notice how tall he was— how was he even a real person? He reached into his blazer, pulling out a sleek, beige card. "Here's my number. Feel free to call if you can't make it tonight, or if you ever feel bored during your week here. There are many fun things to do in this city... Especially when you're two."

I accepted the card between my fingers, trying not to think too much about the feeling of his hand against mine. What was that last sentence supposed to mean? I didn't have time to think it over— "Will do,"

Roman nodded, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a satisfied smirk. "See you, then," 

Just as he was about to leave, another sickeningly sweet couple passed us. Roman gave me a look, imitating the urge to throw up, and I had to clasp a hand over my mouth as the couple turned towards us at the sound of my laugh. 

Roman tucked his hands into his pockets, shaking his head as he let out a hearty chuckle, disappearing into the crowd of people passing the café.

I couldn't help but sigh-- I still hated September. But this vacation seemed to turn into the best time of my life, just as I had predicted it to be.

[harunayuuka2060]

MC and Malleus: ...

MC: I didn't expect one of them to hatch first... after two weeks.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: What an adorable princess.

Silver: To be honest, anyone would mistake her as a stuffed toy.

Sebek: How dare you, Silver! You are talking about Her Royal Highness!

Lilia: Fufu~ It seems she wants to take care of her sibling. Look at how she's sitting on the egg.

MC: ...

MC: Boop. *touches their dragosheep child's nose*

The dragosheep: *flaps her little dragon wings a little*

MC and Malleus: *chuckles*

Lilia: *takes photos of them*

MC: Alright. I hate to leave early, but the brothers will be complaining if I don't get home on time.

MC: I'll come back again in the morning to give my share of magic to the kids.

Malleus: Thank you, child of man.

MC: And about the name of our daughter, I'll let you decide. *smiles*

Asmo: Darling! How could you?! *received the picture of their dragosheep daughter from Lilia*

Asmo: That could've been our daughter! And she might've been more beautiful if I was the dad!

Satan: Come on now, let's not argue about this. We all had arrived at a decision and we should all leave it at that.

Lucifer: That's surprising coming from you, Satan.

Satan: Huh?

Mammon: Y'know, Malleus should start bringing his children here. I mean, technically, his children are our children too.

Belphie: No.

Levi: Lol. Belphie is still bitter.

Beel: I'm sure Belphie will be the first one to love MC's daughter.

Belphie: What are you saying, Beel?

Beel: She looks cuddly.

MC: *chuckles* Right?

Belphie: ...

Belphie: *pouts* I don't care.

Asmo: *received a new message from Lilia* *bursts out laughing*

MC: What is it, Asmo?

Asmo: *shows the video of MC's dragosheep daughter flying after Crowley in an attempt to burn him*

MC: ...

Lucifer: Interesting. She's already showing that she takes after you.

Crowley: What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment?!

Professor Crewel: It seems that the saying about children seeking revenge for their parents is true.

Professor Trein: Professor Crewel.

Professor Crewel: I'm only stating facts.

Malleus: *is holding his daughter*

The dragosheep child: *still frowning at Crowley*

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I will report this to your other parent!

The dragosheep child: *tries to get out from her father's embrace*

Malleus: Crowley, did you just scream at my daughter?

Crowley: ...

Crowley: No.

MC: I know it's wrong to say this. But now I feel reassured that I have someone to watch things over here in case I get busy in Devildom. *went to see the situation but decided not to interrupt them*

Barbatos: *chuckles* I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that, MC.

Diavolo: In that case, you should inform your friends—

Diavolo: —that we will be returning to Devildom in a few months.

MC: Yes. Let's hold a big despedida party.

[walpu]

I'm coming at you with the speed of thousand asteroids affectionately and hit you with a "your writing is awesome!"

Also, may I request an Aventurine x The Nameless!reader.

Thank you very much and have a nice day :D

Thank you so much for your kind words and for the request, it was so fun to write <З

Hope you'll enjoy it, have a good day as well 💛

Aventurine x The Nameless!reader

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. Once again, no beta. I'm so sorry.

Aventurine

Considering that the Astral Family and it's members are pretty well-known (everyone seems to know at least their names) he has probably heard something about you even before you first met him.

I can imagine your first meeting going like this: he casually approaches you, acting all buddy-buddy, and says something like "ah, mx , who knew I would meet you here of all places <З".

If your first meeting was during the Penacony quest get ready for him calling you "friend" in this sassy voice of his 💀 Yes Aven we all get it you don't have any actual friends calm down

Can imagine him trying to get closer to you by painting your potential partnership as something mutually beneficial. You could use a friend from the IPC, right? And he wouldn't mind having some connections with a "brave and honorable" Nameless. So why don't you join him for a glass of wine, hmmm?

When the two of you will eventually get closer this mf will get clingy af. Yeah I've mentioned it already in my previous post but you being one of the Nameless opens up so many new perspectives.

Visits you on the Express regularly. If he comes when you're not here, he'll wait for as long as he can for you to come back. Sadly, Aventurine is a busy, busy man. So he can't wait for long. Will leave small notes for you tho, to let you know that he was there but you didn't grace him with your presence

If you come back when he's waiting, Aven will play it off as if he himself just got there and didn't have to wait for you at all, saying somethin like "Oh look, here you're! And here I thought I would have to wait for you, haha. Seems like luck is on my side today~"

He doesn't want you to worry, after all. Also. He wants to save some face. Pom-Pom will rat him out anyway.

Speaking of Pom-Pom, they're probably sick of him at this point lol.

Would ask you about your adventures and listen very closely to every story you may want to tell. He can't help but smile softly while listening to you, he just loves seeing the passion in your eyes. Doesn't matter if the story is about you dragging the Trailblazer away from the trash cans in Belobog (or worse - admiring the trash cans with them), he will still look at you with the same adoring smile.

If you ask him what he's been up to during the time you where gone, Aven would simply laugh it off and say that his boring IPC stuff cannot compare with your bizarre adventures so it doesn't even worth mentioning. Reassure him that you don't care if it's boring, you just want to hear about his day regardless of how it went.

Sometimes he can't help but feel jealous. You're free to travel, to do whatever you want. You have this sparkle of excitement in your eyes every time you tell him about your travels. And he has nothing of it. Simply can't have.

He doesn't have any negative feelings towards you, of course. Mostly some bottled up bitterness toward his fate and himself.

He gets a bit lost in his own head every time he starts feeling this way. Please take his hand and invite him to join you during your next adventure. He will laugh softly and tell you "maybe next time, darling". Even if he doesn't know when this "next time" will come the thought of it, of you wanting to share your precious moment with him, fills him with hope.

Adores when you bring him small gifts from the places you've been. It doesn't have to be something big, really. Just the thought that you were thinking of him when the two of you were apart is enough.

Don't forget to send him pictures of yourself!!!! He wants to know how his dearest darling is doing even when they are freezing their ass off in Belobog.

Would sometimes surprise you by showing up on the planet/space ship you're currently staying on. Aventurine rarely can't stay for a long but he cherishes those short moments when he can just walk around and do nothing in particular with you.

Usually when he visits a planet it has something to do with the IPC's business so he only has time to do his job and. Well. Gamble. Maybe buy some new clothes too if he has enough time.

But with you he can actually explore the planet. You bring him to the local restaurants, small tea shops, seemingly small and insignificant places. But it’s places like these that reveal the real beauty of the planet. He slowly learns to appreciate it when you're by his side.

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Ok I have so many thoughts about painland ending up canon or not and I. Just.

Listen I AGREE that their bond goes beyond being romantic or not. It's obvious, it's beautiful, I love it and I love them and their friendship and I truly do think it is important that media has this kind of relationship portrayed.

But.

But.

I would be lying if I said I wouldn't be disappointed if it doesn't turn romantic. It involves a lot of things.

1: I want Edwin to have that. He'll still be happy without it, yes, but god can't he have that? He's been through so much. He had a speedrun through his sexuality issues and confessed in hell. Like wtf. Can't he have that???

2. Bisexual Charles would actually be so important to me. And yeah he can be bi and not in love with Edwin but come on lol. The thing is, there's not many bi men in media. Even less bi men figuring out their bisexuality. Even less bi men figuring out their sexuality when they were raised in the 80s and knowing their best friend is in love. Do you see how many layers exist here? How amazing his story could be? Charles has so much we still don't know about him. And yes, I would like that one of those things could be something I relate to. Besides trauma. Call me selfish. And like he's so bisexual coded it would be offensive for him to be straight I'm sorry.

3. They exist in other universes. Let them be platonic there. Let them be romantic this one time.

4. I know falling in love with a straight person is a very common story and I don't think it's wrong for it to happen in a show, but honestly, it's not what I sign up for when I'm watching queer stuff. Think Our Flag Means Death. It probably changed my brain chemistry because anything less than that gets really hard to swallow. I know, we all have queerbaiting trauma, and I know this wouldn't be the case, and it never claimed to be something as queer as OFMD. But I got so attached that... Well, I wouldn't stop watching if this happens, but it wouldn't sit well with me. It's a bitter feeling, you know?

5. They didn't have anything be explicit, but come on, they did set us up. Charles got jealous at Monty, and only Monty, for that matter. I wouldn't say his thing with the Cat King is necessarily jealousy, more like protectiveness, but that can be disputable. And both George and Jayden said more than once that Charles' response to the confession let things open. So I mean if that door wasn't closed, then please don't close it now! The road until things happen can be long, dramatic, tortuous, whatever, there's many ways to tell a love story. But if I'm sitting for it, then I don't want to get shot in the face later on (unless it's for plot reasons which ok).

6. Have I mentioned that bisexual Charles

Anyway I feel kinda bad for wishing so much they get romantic because I see and agree with the whole platonic discourse. But yeah those are all the reasons why I can't stop myself. Have a good day everyone

[neverpathia]

crappy rant/analysis about the Voice of the Paranoid because I'm very normal about him

with that said.

It's pretty clear that he's not just scared. Anxiety isn't his only personality trait, and the game makes it incredibly prominent that he's no helpless victim. He's a starved animal backed into a corner, straining his chain thin, clawing and biting. He's desperate and frantic and charging at it all with nothing left to lose.

But I don't really think people talk about his spite and resentment as much, and it's a little surprising given how much he moulds it to his advantage. Still, he's not just sassy for the hell of it: he genuinely hates what he's being forced to do. He's incredibly frustrated. He's very, very done with your bullshit—and that includes his own bullshit too, because he's the scared part of you (Quiet) that turns your fears into reality.

So he despises everything that he's being put through (by you, himself and the other voices), and I think he definitely despises the rest of the Quiet to some extent. He's mainly driven by sheer desperation, but petty spitefulness is also very much involved—in Nightmare, he gets very quick to snipe at Hero despite having a job to do. He even prolongs the argument for a while before Narrator urges him to resume the chant.

And I think that just like the Contrarian, the Paranoid hates what he himself is too. Granted, @/sssilverspades and @/salty-an-disco brought this up, but all the voices probably have that same capacity for self-loathing and I think he's no exception.

He's the most perceptive voice, but at the same time he twists his perception against himself a lot. He's the reason Nightmare happened. He's the reason his fears manifest. And given how quick he was to figure stuff out in Cage and Apotheosis, I think he'd figure that his biggest problem by then was himself.

It's because he's not okay that they could stand a chance against Apothy...but it's also because he's not okay that she happened in the first place. He's very far gone here. At that point, there wasn't much left for him to do but pretend it all away—just a dream, just a dream—and shut his fears off.

He wants it all to be over with, which is especially apparent at the end of Apotheosis's Grace ending, or at the beginning of Nightmare-Wraith. He's doing what he can and keeping it going, but it's not because he wants to. It's because it's the only thing he's even capable of doing anymore. And it's turning him bitter, turning him resentful.

This is what you've done, and he's a part of you. He's regretting and atoning just as much as he's fighting, yet it's what he must do.

Let's not completely rid him of accountability, by the way, which is another thing I wish fandom acknowledged more. You often get him by abandoning the Princess and denying her what she wants. This is what you did: what he did from beneath you. And he's suffering for his own actions.

This is what fear does—it's perfectly natural to be scared and anxious, but you're not the only one it affects. Let it fester, and you lock yourself in. Let it fester, and you hurt yourself more and more. Let it fester, and you lash out against this hurt. Let it fester and you turn others as hollow as you've become. Fear helps no one. All you can do is amend and atone, which in a way is kind of what he ends up doing sometimes. Or you get Moment of Clarity.

As much as I love him, it's a bit hard to see people just praising him for being the goat (even though he is lol) because of how much he helps. Yes, he's a very useful voice. But he's the very reason he has to be useful, not that he even wants to be here.

I might just be completely misinterpreting his character here, though.

[phoenixyfriend]

Remember my post about Anakin pulling a Mike Murdock? Yeah, no, I have a full on AU concept now (with contributions by @threebea! indented)!

He lies so hard about having a brother that the universe invents a twin from scratch for him. It happens when Anakin is like twelve.

Anakin was just committing to the bit on a mission because he was bored.

The Force was also bored.

Oh no Anakin force manifests a sibling Obi-Wan: …That's not how the Force works. Anakin: You tell the Force that. Obi-Wan: Well, I suppose this would be your half-brother since the Force is your shared parent. Obi-Wan after the initial shock: This might as well happen.

New brother is better at some things and worse at others, as any person is. Anakin is, naturally, a fucking mess about all that, worries he'll be replaced, etc.

Obi-Wan just brings this to the Council and nobody can DENY this Skywalker from the Jedi after they already took the first one. So. Mace volunteers.

This Skywalker is a bit more Force than Anakin, got glowing eyes and visions and the Animal Communion buff. But is worse at flying, worse at tech, and unfathomably worse at people. Which is a FEAT, since Anakin's not too hot at social skills in the first place.

Mace has his hands full in many ways, including "keep this child from walking face first into the wall."

Obi-Wan: We are not calling him Anagain.

Anakin had many mixed feelings but! If he's going to have family then he's going to commit!

The other option is that the brother is younger by enough that the Older Brother instincts kick in, but I think the one-sided twin rivalry is funnier.

Anakin: I'm a big brother now. Anagain: I think we're supposed to be twins. Anakin: I have more worldly experience. Anagain: I'm taller. Anakin: wut Anagain: alpha twin alpha twin (that's his nickname until you come up with actual name lol) Obi-Wan: Well, I'm taller than both of you, and while that is the case you both need to listen to me. Anagain: (flash of foresight) So, not for long Obi-Wan: What? Anagain: Nothing. Mace: (the Shatterpoints are blinding) Yeah, I'll be taking this one. More seriously tho, Anakin definitely torn between what if everyone likes him better he's born from the force what if he's the chosen one what if and also: I have a brother I have family I need to take care of him. Probably some fun twin force bond too. Oh man Sheev after digesting all of that would definitely try to get some jealousy going.

Anakin talks about the new brother with terms like Freshly Hatched and Innocent Baby and it's mostly a joke except that now HE thinks Palps is a creep when it's aimed at Not Him.

Palpatine: When do I get to meet him? Anakin: [absolutely not] Mace won't let him [Yeah that'll work] Mace: Yeah, absolutely not, he didn't help save Naboo there's no reason for my Padawan to have a relationship with the Supreme Chancellor

I've decided to call the brother Aion (EY-yon). I like the whole thing about Anakin's name being based on Ananke, even if it's a disputed thing, so I go for Greek myth when doing alt names for siblings.

Mace still bitter about having to let Palps get time with Anakin not about to do the same if he can help it. Although that comic takes place later eh (handwaves) still The Jedi might try to be hush hush about where aion came from anyway since he would fall directly under Jedi business

Help I'm imagining Mace and Obi-Wan on a walk and the twins are on child leashes. Anakin because ADHD will have him trying to run off to look at something. And Aion because he's going to be so distracted by visions that he will walk into traffic.

"Can we send a letter to mom so she knows he exists?" The other thought was ANAKIN holding the child leash for Aion, and then Obi-Wan or Mace holding the one for Anakin. Lil chain.

Aion: Hey… I know I've only existed for a few months, and yes my memories of before are sort of built by the Force, but I'm pretty sure the Supreme Chancellor is evil. Mace: You saw that in a vision? Aion: No, he's just super creepy. Bad vibes.

Obi-Wan: Of course he's evil, he's a career politician. Anakin: What about your friend from Alderaan? Obi-Wan: That's different.

One of these boys is constantly zoning out. The other is smiling, but the smile contains murder.

They're both adhd but with wildly different sides of it.

EXACTLY

Also.

Aion: [silent, a bit upset but mostly chill] Anakin, holding his hand: He asked for no pickles!