#edit: added a read more because I care about you lovely souls

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[seas1mping]

Jackmas Day 22/23: REDESIGN!!!!

My redesign is done, this time in COLOR!! or at least digital instead of pencil. BUT YAY!!!! I love LJ so much I love my redesign she's so cute I love her anyway yap in the read more <<3333

EDIT: I put a little red silhouette behind her so you could see her hair better cause the image is transparent <333

tw: child death (1 year old),

cw: oc x canon, implied canon x canon, fankids, angsty themes (see above tw)

in her last one it was mostly about her backstory and stuff but i want to explain some of the design choices here too as well as some minor beginnings of polycule lore (mostly just her and reena)

If you have eyes, you'll see that she has hearts broken and unbroken all over her. LJ was born to take care of Isaac, and when he went to boarding school and abandoned her, she finally experienced all of those negative emotions that he did. When she killed him, she was left with all of them, and she became heartbroken, because she was made for love and to be loved.

Candy Pop comes along, and LJ feels like they've been reborn. The love feelings they thrive on come back in full swing, and they have hope that this feeling will last forever and they can finally move on from Isaac. It doesn't.

Candy gets nervous, scared to be in one place after the Night Terrors assimilation, and leaves. LJ doesn't want to leave, they're content where their house is, and they don't see why he's trying to uproot everything just because he's being a baby.

Candy Pop leaves LJ a couple days later, and their only correspondence is a few text messages here and there for years. LJ falls back into that pit that she was sure she wouldn't ever go back to.

When Reena comes through, struggling with her newfound visual impairment and her baby, they begin to become friends, and this makes LJ feel nauseous. Reena could try to leave her all alone again, especially after getting on her good side and being understanding about her aversion to Nari.

LJ tells Reena she can have the house to raise Nari and anybody else who she wants, and says that Reena doesn't have to worry about LJ anymore, that she's leaving first so Reena can't leave them.

The surprising note, Reena immediately freaks out, asking LJ what she did wrong because she can't leave her too. She'll give her anything. Please don't abandon her too. And LJ realizes how stupid they were, just because it happened more than once doesn't mean its a cycle.

LJ betters herself from then on, helping to take care of Nari, mourning Nari after her death, sitting with Reena while she grieves, making Nari's new doll body so Reena can have her daughter back.

what

Nari is next in line for CREATION, and its gone so long without a proper host that waiting for the next generation isn't an option. Meaning that if Nari dies, so does it. LJ, being CREATION's personal (and favorite) assistant, is tasked with creating a vessel for Nari's soul to stay in until she grows up to be merged into the entity. (froggy reference??? /j)

So LJ works tirelessly to create the best possible doll that captures everything about Nari, even pushing little pins in to resemble her horn bumps, or adding boning to the lower to make her digitigrade legs.

When she's all finished, and Nari is infused in the doll, LJ leaves her in a drawer because she's technically not alive yet, the soul needs to attach to the body (PLEASE DO NOT REALLY DO THAT TO BABIES)

They kind of. forget. about Nari. whoops.

It isn't until LJ comes home from a meeting with CREATION that she sees Reena holding a real baby and looking up at them. Neither of them say anything, LJ can tell Reena knows, and Reena can't believe she's holding her daughter again.

Reena sets her baby down on the bed (surrounding her with pillows so she can't get hurt by some invisible force (or roll off)) and goes over to LJ.

LJ and Reena's first kiss is a memory they both look back on with fondness, salty from Reena's tears, and suspiciously candy scented from LJ (they just naturally smell like that)

Reena squeezes LJ so hard, they're sure if they were human something would be dislocated, and they stay like that until Nari makes a loud noise because it's hard work connecting to a vessel!! She's hungry!!!

sighs i love my goobers....... sighs,...........

[stesierra]

Writeblr ReIntro!

I'm posting a new intro because now that I've been on Writeblr a little while, I realize how much information I left out! Hi, I'm Stephanie, I live in the desert with my husband and baby and three cats, and I'm an ace, bipolar fantasy writer! When I was a kid, they said I had ADHD but then I got my Masters degree in biology, so they claim I can't have it. Online tests say I'm probably autistic.

I used to write sci fi twelve years ago but only low tech sci fi about weird aliens, which nobody likes. Now I write fantasy novels! Lots of fantasy novels! I am beginning to post them on my website so if you want to read them, please keep an eye on this post.

My books often but not always have some romance (either m/f or f/f because I prefer female protagonists.) Since I'm ace (and demiromantic), my interpretation of romance and attraction is not exactly what you'd expect from, say, a romance novel.

I am not going to tell you about all my books! I've written eighteen! Four of them are shelved forever! Here's some recent ones (written or revised since 2018) that I haven't given up on. Please ask me questions about them! I LOVE talking about my books! Also, if you want to be added to my taglist for writing samples let me know! Please also tell me if you're interested in alpha or beta reading and for which book! Mutuals only, please!

My books are beneath the cut! As I add WIP intros, I'll update this list with links.

Cast Out

YA fantasy! On her sixteenth birthday, Zisha is cast out of the Plenary Cities for the crime of being born deaf, like her grandmother before her. In the wastelands, she meets Thesil, a depressed and bitter young woman. Zisha wants nothing to do with her — until she sees Thesil's face in a vision. But before she can find out what the visions mean or reach her grandmother's holdings in the wastes, the plague returns to the Plenary Cities. If the disabled really caused the plague thirty years ago, and were cast out to stop the spread, how can it be back when all of them are outcast?

Status: Finished. Being serialized.

WIP intro here.

Now being serialized here. First five chapters up, one posted weekly.

The Bone Queen

This is my NA fantasy about the aftermath of freeing an undead queen and her skeleton army. They take over the kingdom, of course! The main character, Elise, is trapped in Bandrum palace by Aubrey, the ghost who tricked her into falling in love and freeing him (plus everyone else.) He's an animated skeleton now with plans to marry Elise and force her to carry his children. The bone queen has promised him she'll make it happen. Too bad no one cares what Elise wants. If only she had magic of her own...

Status: undergoing a rewrite after developmental edit. Was 109k before revisions. Not available for beta reading.

Draft number? Hahahaha. It has two complete sequels (The Spellbound King (106k) and The Matriarch's Daughter (96k)) I must also rewrite. This series is going to kill me but I love it. My mom, who loves everything I write, complained that it was weird. I'm very proud.

WIP intro here.

First chapter here.

School of Souls

This is my YA contemporary fantasy about a boarding school in the Bighorn Mountains! It's supposed to be a place parents can send "bad" teens to have their problems sorted out, but secretly the founder is using it to train the kids as sorcerers. Even more secretly, the school devours the souls of the students sent there, and the teenagers who graduate aren't the same as the ones who arrived... Warning: does include teenage addiction to sleeping pills and ghosts and and parental death. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet.

Status: Complete first draft. 83k. Available for alpha reading.

WIP intro here.

First chapter here.

The Many-faced Princess

This is YA fantasy with a historical vibe but set in a made up world. Vaguely inspired by ancient Phoenicia. It's about Princess Ameryi, who was blessed by the genderless trickster god, Akihel, to be able to change her face. If her father the king ever found out, he'd have to execute her, of course. Akihel is just plain evil. All the other gods say so. A daughter who's their champion? Impossible. An abomination. So Ameryi will just have to make sure her father never finds out. That was easier to do before the Asirtinsa Empire threatened to invade and her father sent her to secure an alliance with a neighboring king. She's supposed to marry him. Not steal his face and frame him for murder. But sometimes plans just don't work out.

This book was supposed to be about two lesbian princesses who frame the king for murder so they can elope, but both princesses decided to be ace and there was nothing I could do.

Status: Complete first draft. 83k. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet. Available for alpha reading.

First chapter here.

Map here.

Court Phoenix

This is my NA fantasy! Kerra is a blacksmith's apprentice. Not because she wants the job, but because her mother sold her future to him when she was still a toddler who crawled into live fires and giggled as the flames consumed her clothes. Now she's a woman, trapped by the expectations of her family and her village. Until one day, a phoenix crash-lands and dies in her arms. When it's reborn, it chooses Kerra as its keeper. Soon, her dreary future is swept away. A princess from Skyfire, the moving city, offers her a job in the royal court. How could Kerra refuse? Her family's claims that she'll die if she ever leaves the village are just manipulative lies. Aren't they?

Status: Complete third draft. 104k. Available for beta reading.

First chapter here.

The Revenant Trilogy

Adult fantasy. Solving a murder should bring good fortune, but all it brings Mindral Thideet is disaster. Her fame and peaceful life as head researcher at the city of knowledge end abruptly. In retaliation for her investigation into his crimes, Payar Cheref, the head of the powerful Cheref family, burns her beloved cousins alive and scars her face. The scar marks her as a revenant, a body possessed by a godkin, one of the gods' evil children. Her life as a researcher is over. All that's left is revenge.

No one believes her when she denies that godkins have any power over her. But godkins, real ones, are far closer than she realizes. Tearing down Payar Cheref could destroy Mindral, her family, and the nation itself.

-The Halfway Revenant (rewriting draft 4) 120k. Not available for beta reading.

-The Soul-Seer (draft 2) - 130k

-The Godkin's Gambit (draft 2) 121k

First chapter here.

As Immortality Fades

Adult fantasy. Five hundred years ago, one of the immortal and unpredictable Valteifur visited the kingdom of Kathild and granted the young queen Nelone immortality. But there was a catch. She'd live forever, youthful and strong, just so long as her subjects were happy. For centuries, she's met her part of the deal. But when the Valteifur returns to check on her progress, he grants her a new gift: the resurrection of every single person in Kathild who's died in the last two hundred years. Then he disappears.

There aren't enough houses for them all. There's not enough food. And winter is here.

Status: Complete first draft. 98k. Available for alpha reading.

Bi MC, enemies to lovers.

First chapter here.

Stitches and Memories

This one's adult fantasy. Antea's father ripped her mind apart, left her for dead, and vanished twelve years ago, and she's going to find out why. But when constables try to kill her and strange truth magic grows inside of her, hunting her father starts to look like suicide. Too bad going home isn't an option.

Status: I exchanged this with a critique partner and now it embarrasses me. Fourth draft. 122k. Available for beta reading.

Trigger warning: magic seizures

First chapter here.

WIP intro here.

Triangle Park

Contemporary Fantasy. I have no idea who it's for. An elf exiled to the middle of nowhere ends up stuck with an unexpected child. It's about reluctant parenting and protecting the needy. And elves and faeries slumming it in a mobile home.

Status: Complete first draft. 86k. Available for alpha reading.

First chapter here.

Mud-Child

Adult fantasy. Rebeka has always heard that a woman who goes through menopause loses her spark (the magic that lets her create children). If she's had children, it just makes the neighbors a little more fertile. But Rebeka never wanted a man, and she never wanted to raise a child. Not since her twin sister died and her beloved Suza left her for a man. The problem is, the spark leaves a childless woman differently, everyone says. A bitter hag? She'll curse her neighbors. A sweet dim biddie? She'll give her spark to inanimate objects and create a monster. Rebeka doesn't know which she is, but she believes it's a myth.

That was before the clay in her clay pit woke up and called her mother.

Status: Third draft. 109k. Needs a rewrite! Not available for beta reading.

First chapter here.

WIP intro here.

I GUESS I'M WRITING A NEW BOOK

The Giant's Gamble

First chapter here.

I started writing this on Friday the 13th, 2023. LET'S SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES TO WRITE WITH A BABY.

Short stories

The Unfamous Dead

VERY OLD CRAP

The Scribe and the Sphinx

Adult historical fantasy

Status: second draft. Shelved for good. 85k.

The Adrift series

The River's Drift. 100k.

The Waking Mountain. 106k.

Low-tech alien sci fi. Shelved for good.

My first book whose name I forget. About 50k. Exists only as a hard copy in my parents' house.

Taglist so far (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Tag list for everything

@harleyacoincidence

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@the-dragon-chronicler

@teacupsandstarlight

@vorskra

@wrenofthewords

@amostdelectablescribbler

@mysticstarlightduck

@phantommill

@gracewritesbooks

@aziz-reads

@owlsandwich

@symbioticsimplicity

@squarebracket-trick

@koala2all

@rmgrey-author

@atomatowriter

@cheerfulmelancholies

@delusionisaplace

@janec23

@writing-is-a-martial-art

@authortango

Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

For The Many-faced Princess

@deadlyessencewhispers

@serenanymph

The Halfway Revenant

@acertainmoshke

For Stitches and Memories

@space-writes

@acertainmoshke

The Bone Queen

@janec23

@holdmyteaplease

@digital-chance

@thecrookedwriterspath

@tea-and-mercury

@coven-archives

I love you all!

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 2 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller!fem reader

chapter summary: when joel and ellie's stay turns out to be longer than expected, you have to figure out how you're going to deal with having him around. word count: 1.9k warnings: insinuated smut, angst, mentions of death, mentions of abortion, little bit of fluff(?), and ellie being a cool big sister! let me know if i missed anything please. also this isn't edited lol sorry authors note: GUYS!!!! WHAT THE HECK! thank you all so so so much from the very bottom of my heart for all the love on the story. comments, reblogs, and likes feed my angsty writing soul <3 y'all are the best! please take caution to the warnings for this chapter and read safely <3 if anyone wants to send thoughts, suggestions ect, here is my ask box. and lastly, if you want to be added to my tag list please fill out this super short form here <3 oh one more thing! I know last chapter was in past tense but I hate writing that unless I’m doing flashbacks so from now on, it’s all present tense unless I do a flashback

masterlist what i write series masterpost

Boston 2018

The first time you could blame it on the bad liquor. The second time, you could say it was the adrenaline from nearly getting killed by a pack of clickers but the third time you found yourself underneath Joel Miller, there was nobody to blame but yourself. You’d been working with him and Tess for a couple years and always thought the two of them were together. However, while on a supply run with just Tess about a year after you met them, you discovered that while there was an initial attraction, things were strictly business between them. You really had no plans to deal with the man further than supply runs and trades but after you had a taste of what could be, you didn’t want to go without. 

You knew that things weren’t exclusive and never would be. It was simply a way for the both of you to blow off steam in this shitty world so after you missed your period not once, but twice, you realized that things might be more complicated than you had planned. Approaching Joel about the situation was not something you were looking forward to so you confided in Tess, who after scolding you, said you had two options. She knew a person who “took care of these problems” and could get your situation resolved with little to no damage or you could do what she thought was unfair, and bring a new life into the world that had become so cruel, most didn’t want to live anyway. You weighed your options for about a week, avoiding Joel whenever he tried to get you alone because all you wanted to do was blurt out that you were pregnant to get it off your chest but somehow, you knew how he would react. 

Everybody had lost someone during the outbreak and although it was never confirmed by Joel, you knew he’d lost a child. Somewhere inside you, there was a small hope that maybe this tiny little life inside you could help fill some of the void but it was smashed when you eventually told him.

His cold expression and cold words were hurtful but not unexpected. 

“How could you be so careless?” 

You’d argued with him for over an hour, the whole “it takes two to tangle” argument but eventually you had enough and told him if he wanted nothing to do with it, this was the time because you weren’t going to wait around forever. So when his last words to you were “leave”, you decided then and there that you were done with Joel Miller. You’d waited a few weeks after Tess asked you to even though you knew that he wouldn’t come around. The day you left, you said goodbye to Tess, telling her where you planned to go and told her if Joel asked about you, not to tell him anything. If you could help it, you planned to never see Joel again.

Jackson, Wyoming 2023

Much to your dismay, Joel is at the dining hall the next morning. He’s sitting with Tommy and Ellie but you can feel his eyes on you while you watch Jack eat his breakfast. It’s like a repeat of yesterday, only this time you’re worried that Hazel may have actually poisned his food. She grumbled when he walked in the doors but didn’t say much. 

Ellie eventually makes her way over to where you and Jack are sitting, shyly asking if she can sit with you and play with Jack. You hesitate but Jack gives you puppy eyes and you can never say no to him. Some of his facial expressions always reminded you of Joel but with the man actually being here now, you’re noticing it much more. You look over at him and his eyes are locked on the three of you sitting together so you look back at Ellie.

“So…” you begin, waiting for her to look up at you and when she does, you can see the mischievous look in her eyes. 

“You’re gonna ask me about Joel,” she grins, “y’know, he was talking to Tommy about you last night. They thought I was asleep but there was a lot of yelling.” 

“What exactly were they saying?” you ask, and she looks back at Jack, taking the piece of food he offers her. 

“I dunno, Joel was grumpy that Tommy didn’t tell him that you were here but Tommy told Joel that you didn’t want him to know,” she says, “he’s always grumpy though, so that’s nothing new.” 

You weren’t planning on asking her but you’re dying to know how exactly Joel ended up dragging a teenager all the way to Wyoming. 

“What’s the deal with you and Joel?” you ask, “not a long lost kid, are you?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head, “nah, I mean he acts like a dad but he’s just fulfilling a request from someone. I’m just cargo.” 

She says it non-chalantly but something in her expression changes, so small you barely notice. It’s there though but before you can question her further, she turns the tables back to you.

“What the deal with you and Joel? I mean, clearly the kid is his… did he-”

“Ellie,” a voice cuts in and you both jump, not noticing that Joel somehow snuck up on the both of you. Before either of you can answer, a little voice speaks up.

“Hi,” Jack says, waving at Joel who once again, looks shocked that there’s a child there. The boy offers him a handful of mushed up fruit and you watch as Joel hesitantly accepts it. 

You’ve watched Joel take down countless clickers and raiders so it amuses you that a toddler scares him. 

Jack takes a loud slurp of his water and tries to hand it to Joel before you take it from him, rolling your eyes. Ellie is watching the interaction with amusement and you can even see Tommy from across the hall, watching closely. 

“Who’re you?” Jack asks, trying to pass Joel more food. You take his plate, ignoring his grumbling. Another thing that Jack does that reminds you of Joel are his mood swings. Some days he is a chatterbox and others, you can barely get a peep out of him. Those days, he reminds you of Joel. 

When Joel looks at you, this time with panic written across his face, you shrug. You’re beginning to find this amusing because who knew all it would take is a toddler to break the big Joel Miller.

“Ellie, I have to go with Tommy for a bit. Don’t leave the four walls of this town,” he points at her when she raises her hands in defense, “I told Maria to keep an eye on you.”

“Don’t worry old man, I think I’ll hang out with these two,” she tells him but then shyly looks at you, “if that's alright.” 

You nod and watch as her face lights up. She goes back to talking to the little boy sitting next to her and you look at Joel who is shifting uncomfortably. 

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles without looking at you before quickly walking back to Tommy. You watch the two of them leave, the older man casting one more glance you way before his brother pats him on the back firmly.

“He’s got it bad for you,” Ellie says absently, “like real bad. Were you two like, together?”

You stare at her for a solid minute, wondering where the hell this kid came from. Was she this blunt before? Or has Joel corrupted her?

“It’s complicated, and a long story.”

“Is it longer than a week? ‘Cause I think that’s how long we’re staying,” she says and you hide a frown. You’re still trying to find out exactly why they’re here and now you find out they’re only staying a week? You can’t decide if you are relieved or disappointed. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You offer, wanting to get out of this conversation because talking about your non existent relationship with Joel to a 14 year old is at the bottom of your to-do list. “Jack likes seeing the sheep and horses.”

Ellie grins and you can’t help but smile when she offers her hand to Jack who accepts it eagerly. You can tell she’s trying to fill a void and you’re beginning not to mind.

. . .

Later that night after Jack is long asleep, you sit outside on your porch wrapped up in a winter jacket and blanket. It’s cold but you need some fresh air to try and get your thoughts straightened out. Ellie tried to bring up yours and Joel’s history multiple times but eventually gave up on it once she realized you weren’t going to say anything. You haven’t seen Joel since this morning, spending the day with Ellie and Jack, then eating dinner and dropping the girl off at the house she and Joel are staying at before going back to your own and putting your kid to bed.

Joel showing up out of the blue is bringing back too many memories, some good but some bad. 

Suddenly, a voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you curse Joel Miller again for sneaking up on you. Being in Jackson so long is making you let your guard down too much.

“Hey,” he says, standing at the bottom of your porch steps awkwardly, “the kid gone to bed?” 

Small talk. He is trying to make small talk. 

“What do you want, Joel?” You ask shortly, half wanting to leave before he says anything else but if he is seeking you out, you want to know what he is looking for from you.

“I, uh, I wanted to say thanks,” he says stumbling over his words, “for entertaining Ellie today. She was real pleased-”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you snap, “she’s a good kid.”

He just nods, staring at the ground and scuffing his boots on the dirt. You watch as he clears his throat and looks up at you, a sadness in his eyes that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen.

“Tess is gone,” he says, and even though you had your suspicions since she’s not with him and he travelling all the way here, his words feel like a punch in the stomach. 

“How?” 

“She got bit on our way here,” he tells you and you just nod, swallowing back tears. Six years ago, you might’ve let him comfort you but all you want now is to yell or scream at him. Ellie wouldn’t tell you why they were here or why she was with Joel and you know you won’t get anything out of him. You know the only reason for his late night visit is to break the news about Tess.

When you stand up, his mouth opens to protest but he just offers you the closest thing he has to a smile. It’s pitiful. 

You turn to walk inside but his voice stops you. Refusing to look at him, you pause but stay facing the door.

“He seems like a good kid,” he says quietly and you know he’s referring to Jack.

There’s a million things you can say to him, you can turn around and yell or scream at him. You could ask him why? Why did you push me away when I needed you? Why didn’t you want Jack? What hurt you so bad, that you couldn’t accept him?

Instead, you walk inside your house and close the door behind you.

. . .  

tag list: @sloanexx @wandering-poetess @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibii

@chiogarza @jellybeanxc @iranispunk @imonmykneessir @wakaladjarin @sleepylunarwolf @pedropascalfan221 @abovenyx

@starjoyyy @shuriri4life @cavillary

if i didn't tag you & you asked to be, it's cause you didn't show up when i tried! if it didn't work, msg me & we'll figure it out :)

[bears-ao3-blog]

(TF2 x TLOU) Dead Mann Walking - Prologue: When All Hell Broke Loose

(Edit: Small Clarification - You do NOT need to know anything about The Last of Us to read this fic!! I made sure to write this in a way that did not make that a requirement. Ok love you bye)

Chapter 1

CW: Implied Violence, Explicit Violence, Injury, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Mick didn't remember anything about Australia. No surprise, he wasn't even a year old when they moved to Massachusetts. The only pieces of his country of origin that he really carried with him were his shoddy accent - compromised by its mix with a Southern drawl - and borderline stereotypical phrases, both of which he picked up from his parents, of course. 

He was young – barely pushing on two years old – when  it  happened; when monsters emerged from the confines of their own homes, ripping the ones they love to shreds with snarls and howls and sobs. He didn't even remember the day of the outbreak, but he knew plenty. His parents were gentle souls, but they were also honest ones. So, when he asked, they told; even when the answers were far from pretty. They would often combat the grim knowledge they’d have to bestow on their only son with times before the infection. Tales of potlucks and kids playing in the street. Tales of stores filled to the brim with anything you could ever need one hundred times over. Tales of birthdays. Of his own birth. His short childhood before everything happened. 

He often wondered what his room looked like at the time. What color the walls were. What sort of childish paraphernalia littered it. He wondered what his favorite toy was. He wondered what it was like to live without that constant fear of death and destruction of not only yourself but the people you care about. Sometimes it provided solace but, more often than not, it simply made him sad.  

He wondered what life was like for Dell; before his grandpa was infected and he had to blast the old man's brain to bits with his own shotgun. Before he joined their family. He wondered if he was happy before the outbreak. For Mick, it's all he's ever known. His parents used to joke about how there's no reason to feel homesick anymore because things then weren't too different from the deep Outback. The isolation. The danger. The need to fend for yourself because there's no help around for miles. They used to say it was almost nice; "Like we're right back at home!"   

Mick knew it was all bullshit. They never would have immigrated to America in the first place if they wanted to live in a place like that. His parents’ experience proved fruitful, however, and it was their teachings that served as the only reason Mick and Dell had been able to survive so long on their own. Mick felt guilty that Dell wound up being stuck taking care of him. The man had barely been on the cusp of being a legal adult when everything happened. When his parents… 

He doesn't like to think about it, despite the watch on his wrist being a constant reminder. Just another piece of them to carry. It had been his dad's since before the outbreak. Cheap but effective. It even had a small hinge that revealed a compass underneath the timepiece. The images of those trembling, weathered hands pressing the cool metal into his own; that hoarse voice of his father’s telling him "Keep it. Reckon I'm not gonna be around ta use it meself."; his mother wrapping him up in a hug with trailing tears and quiet sobs; Dell adding another two to his list of “guardians I’ve had to shoot dead”: it's something he won't ever be able rid his mind of. Watching your parents die right in front of you is something no seven-year-old should ever have to go through, but that’s just life. The timepiece didn’t even work anymore, but Mick still got plenty of use out of the compass with the hours him and Dell spent scanning maps, looking for their next town and praying it hadn’t been stripped to nothing; praying they got to survive another week. 

And then, a whopping 8 years later, they finally ran out of luck. It had been a tough winter. The snow had been insistent, blanketing and pillowing every square inch of land their tired eyes could see. The chill was extra bitter, nipping at their skin, their flesh, their blood ; their resolve. The two very quickly began to feel the effects of improper sleep and nutrition once the shivers began to wrack their frames, desperate to find any sort of reprieve. They had miraculously stumbled across a town so small it may as well have been a village, and further on, an abandoned taxidermy shop. Mick remembered the beady little eyes of every creature in that old building, strewn about. Some half-hanging off the wall, some littering the floor; the pungent scent of chemicals that still lingered in the air despite none of them being put to use for over a decade, if not longer. He had asked Dell if they could find somewhere else to sleep for the night, but it was so, so cold, and the shop was the most insulated, even if that didn’t say much. So, they pulled out their thick blankets and plopped right onto the ground, and in mere minutes the two were out, the promise of safety from the elements and the things that went bump at night finally letting their bodies surrender to slumber. 

A slow, drawn out, crooning “Oh Mickyyy~. Time to wake uuupp~” had roused Mick from his deep sleep, and he had awoken to two lifeless, black orbs right in his face, surrounded by the old, grimy fur of a dead raccoon. It had scared him so badly he screamed, and in his panic, he had kicked the possessor of the dingy taxidermy, Dell, right in the leg with such force it had sent his kneecap right out of place with a sickening pop. Dell’s snickers were swiftly replaced by his own scream as he collapsed to the floor, holding his leg and breathing through his teeth. Mick’s blood ran cold and before he even had a chance to fully wake up he was scrambling over, his hands cupping the air around the other’s knee, horrified at what he had just done. Dell had just kept saying “its alright, Stretch. It’s alright. I’ll be ok, I’ll be alright. It’s alright-“ in that soft, comforting voice and it just made Mick angrier at himself. And then Mick heard it. That drawling croak that had been a source of white-hot dread time and time again: the clicking of a clicker. Dell and Mick had both looked straight at each other with wide eyes, and the two of them fell dead quiet in a rigid tensity. But it was too late, the damage had been done. The croak turned into a screech, and Mick realized in terror that it wasn’t just one. It was multiple infected. Mick looked over at the small window of the door and he watched as three figures sprinted towards them, janky and uncoordinated. Air was sucked into his lungs in a jarring motion as fear iced his bones over, freezing him in place. They were already so close- 

Dell had shot up, using the wall behind him as leverage, and grabbed Mick, tugging him close to harshly whisper as he began dragging the younger across the room. He kept nearly tripping on the taxidermized animals beneath his feet with his lame leg in his urgency. 

“We need to get the fuck outta here, now! Cmon, let’s g-“ 

The already weak door proved to be a meager safeguard as it easily broke off its hinges as the weight of 3 bodies slammed against it, the infected crashing onto the floor with cries and groans on top of the sad piece of wood. Mick barely had time to look around before a vertigo overtook him and he was being thrown into the back room across the hallway, his shoulder painfully nicking the doorway. Mick cried out quietly as his heavy knapsack thudded into his chest, his arms barely making it in time to catch it. He looked up to see Dell already turning to face his three opponents and wielding his gun and machete with a grim but determined look on his face. Mick felt his heart drop and bile rise as Dell turned back around and shouted. 

“Go! Run until ya can’t run anymore, ya hear me? Run! ” 

Mick would never forgive himself for his cowardice. He listened. He ran. He ran until he couldn’t anymore. And when he couldn’t, he walked. And when he couldn’t, he dragged himself until he saw the geometric outlines of man-made buildings once more. He collapsed as soon as he saw the figures of watchmen looking over at him.

He had stumbled across the Boston Fortress.  

He was finally safe for the first time in his life. 

And it had cost him everyone. 

[curio-queries]

So, this original post was all about the undocumented usage of tumblr, I'd like to share a few of my opinions on the more cultural aspect surrounding some of these items.

(The word OPINIONS is important, these are just my personal viewpoints)

Comments/Likes/Reblogs: above, I detailed HOW tumblr functions regarding reblogs but the WHY it's important will come down to personal preference of each blogger. There's been a lot of vocal hate for Likes recently but there's nothing inherently wrong with using this function, it just depends on what the bloggers motivation is.

For example, I'm personally more motivated by discourse. I'm so excited when I see a comment on one of my posts. I love the back and forth in comments. (Some of you know how wordy I can get in DMs too but that's beside the point!) I genuinely get a little sad when I see an interesting post but I'm not able to leave a comment. I realize many bloggers do this because they want to encourage reblogs or the post is getting a lot of traction. Sometimes adding my comments via reblog feels like I'm taking the blogger's idea and using it to shout out at the world instead of having a conversation with them. I realize that's not how the culture of tumblr has grown around reblogs and I absolutely never think anyone that reblogs my posts has Ill intentions. I'm just saying personally, the comments feel more like having an actual conversation than reblogs do and that's a more motivating aspect to my personal presence on tumblr. I try to reblog when I specifically want to amplify the discussion, or when I have too much to add for more than a few comments. (That character count limit and the inability to edit are my actual nemesis.)

I also have absolutely no hate for the Like button. I use it frequently when I want to acknowledge that I agree with the post, that I've read it, or just to show that I support the poster. Usually when I don't have any actual words to say.

Fandom Rivalries: OK, let's be real here, rivalries can be fun. That's kinda the whole point. BUUUT it's also easy to fall into a place where genuine negativity and harmful behavior can blossom. As someone who spent decades surrounded by and caring for people with vastly different political viewpoints, let me share a little advice:

You will NEVER convince anyone to change their viewpoint by spouting 'reasoning' AT them.

There's a lot more to be said about the why behind this but it boils down to human nature and autonomy of thought. Once someone has decided on a viewpoint, the only way to change that viewpoint has to come from within themselves. And we won't trust anyone to influence our innerselves if we don't trust the speaker either as an expert or as someone that has our welfare as a genuine motivation (and even then, there's ways we justify not trusting ppl).

Suffice it to say, if you're spending your time with genuine heartache because 'The Others' just won't listen, I'd advise you to reflect on why you joined those spaces in the first place. Were you on a mission to try to convert and save as many 'lost souls' as possible? I doubt it. You joined that space because you were finding joy in something and were curious how others were experiencing the same thing. You wanted to know more about something. You wanted to engage with others that also knew about the thing.

Blog police/Cancel Culture: look, the fact that we're on tumblr in the first place means that we recognize there are alternate ways of enjoying life than the mainstream likes to imply. That also means that some ppl will enjoy something in a way that is different from yours. The idea of regulating how others utilize their space us actually problematic. The 'court of public opinion' via cancelling someone if they interact with others that may have disagreeable viewpoint is tantamount to fear mongering.

And yes, I understand the irony of this point in a post about other's behavior. I think a view to help keep from falling down the slippery slope of judgement is to view this discussion as behavior that I would like to exemplify myself rather than calling out others for. I don't claim to be a good example of these ideals but it's definitely something I'm trying for.

Tumblr cultural knowledge

The phrase 'cultural knowledge' is basically an insult and a criticism in my industry. If something isn't written down and shared in a way that's identifiable, accessible, and clear to the applicable individuals, it doesn't exist. Meaning that the correct usage will be lost as time and people change.

Here are a few things I've gleaned in my relatively short time of being an active tumblr user. (NOTE: 95% of my time here is via the mobile app). Please correct me if I've got anything wrong. I'd adore to see any that you've picked up as well.

Continue Reading Button: it's the last one in the tool bar. Looks like a zigzag line between two straight lines. I've added one to this post after this point. Even if you've selected the 'shorten long posts' option on your profile, that won't apply to reblogs. Save everyone's feeds and add it yourself to posts longer than three standard paragraphs.

Gifs: the search utility for gifs legit sucks. There is a logic applied but I can't say I've fully cracked it. What you CAN do if you want to add a specific gif to a post is paste the url of the gif's post into the gif search. Grab this via the three dots menu of any post, there'll be a copy link option. This will only grab the first image of that post though. BUT it will include the proper credit below the gif. Here's an example:

Gif credit: tapping the username below gif will open the source post.

Reblogs: the reason reblogs are so important for tumblr specifically is because the feed doesn't present posts to you outside of your parameters. Those parameters are mainly: 1) blogs you've followed and 2) tags you've followed. You reblogging a post gives it a chance to be seen again within the parameters you influence. So if you don't have any followers, you've got to add tags that ppl may have followed. If you don't use tags on posts, it can only be seen by those who follow you (theoretically, I've chatted with a few moots about the fact that we don't see each other's posts in the feed).

Post Edits: Reblogs don't sync with the original posts. If you edit a post, all of the reblogs will not update with the edits and will exist exactly as the post was when it was reblogged.

Was this helpful? I've got a few more oddities I've encountered but they seem more like workarounds to defects and I've tried to list the pain points I've personally noticed that seem to result from the intended design of tumblr.

[ichiroutas-other-eye]

Okay I’m back at finding birthday dates again this time with Kazemaru! I thought of him as Capricorn Sun, Pisces Moon, Cancer Rising at first but then after thinking a bit more about it (and thanks to @lunemarii ’s precious contribute) I do believe Virgo Sun would be more fitting!

So Kaze was born in 1994 (being 14 in 2008) on September 18th/19th (around midnight). I was then again not sure about which day to pick so I turned to numerology! (Yes I do believe in all those things ahah) and people born on September 19th, 1994, are life path 6: The Harmonizer.

The Life Path 6 looks for ways to make harmony with everything you encounter. Whether it is art, music, or relationships, no other Life Path can make things coalesce as naturally as you can. You will find that your life will revolve around your family, and friends. You have an innate ability to nurture the people around you.

I think this fits him pretty well! Better than the other one at least which I don’t remember huh.

September 19th, 1994 at midnight. Virgo Sun, Pisces Moon, Cancer Rising. That’s Kaze!

Look at all the Water and Earth in his chart I’m– I’m living (SCORPIO VENUS HE’S SUCH A JEALOUS BOYFRIEND THAT ONE FITS HIM TOO)

I’m gonna tag @superpaulina10 too! Since you were interested in best boi’s chart~

[thedarkplume]

Hey, guys I hope everyone's day is going spectacular! As you all know, today is Chris Evans 40th birthday!! I wanted to do something special for such a special day. Thus, I have compiled a list of my absolute favorite stories written for Chris Evans's characters.

Be advised, however, some of these are dubious consent, non-con, daddy kink, spitting, squirting, oral m/f receiving, creampie, anal, and all other manner of kinks I did not realize I enjoyed until joining the site.

It took me a very long time to compile this list and I may have to do some for Sebastian Stan later since some people want to cancel him. But we're not going to talk about that right now.

Here is a list of some of my absolute favorite Chris Evans stories in no particular order.

Golden Boy (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @angrythingstarlight

What sets this one apart from the rest of her stories, is that there's a deep resentment from Steve to Bucky in the very beginning of their friendship.

What The King Has (Soft!Dark Steve Rogers) - @sincerelythedarkside

I just read this one this morning. This was sooo good guys!

Hidden Solace (Andy Barber) - @ozarkthedog

This was difficult. I kept thinking I'd pick Reparations or Cock Worship, but Andy being a little touch starved did it for me.

Burning Desire (Andy, Steve & Ransom as Triplets) - @sinner-as-saint

She really gives you the best of 3 worlds here!

Ticking Clock (Dark!Andy Barber) - @syntheticavenger

Another tough choice. Synth comes straight for your heart and vagina, and you'll love her for it!

Stealth (Steve Rogers) - @afriendlyblackhottie

I may have bitten off more than I can chew, guys! It's so hard picking just one because there's nothing she's written that I can say is not one of my favorites. I'm telling you, get some wine or your favorite drink (alcoholic or not), put your feet up, and enjoy this lovely lady's artistry!

Back Rooms (punk!Me from Playing It Cool) - @fineanddandy

Not only did she use the fabulous @nix-akimbo edit for this one, but she makes you question if loyalty to a friend is worth walking away from a guy that genuinely wants you.

A Different Kind of Love (Alpha!Andy & Beta!Jake) - @river-soul

Can you imagine having both Jake and Andy in an A/B/O world? Read this story and you won't have to imagine!

Wear Me Down (Ari Levinson) - @navybrat817

Her fight is commendable, but you can't fight fate!

The Valentine's Cock Up (Steve Rogers) - @drabblewithfrannybarnes

God, this makes me laugh just thinking about it!

Original Sin (Dark!Bryce Langley) - @stargazingfangirl18

This had to be my hardest pick yet. What can I say about this ridiculously talented author? She made me lust over Robert Pronge which I promise was not an easy feat. I went kicking and screaming, but I'm here. Honorable Mention to her latest series Necessary Arrangements & Devil's Advocate.

Good Little Wife (Soft!Dark!Mob!Andy Barber) - @donutloverxo

All of her stories have a sort of soft and gentle reader that the men trip over themselves to take care of. I love it!

Goodbye Again (Endgame!Steve Rogers & Avengers!Steve Rogers) - @sweetlyscared

I can go on all day about how much I love this story! The emotions, the love, the loss, gah!!! I'll never not reblog this story.

Snowed In (Ransom Drysdale) - @the-iceni-bitch

Another author who has me lusting over Robert Pronge! I love her Ransom stories, beginning with Snowed In, because while he's still an ass, his girl gives it back just as easily.

Renewing Vows (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @gotnofucks

Dibs is one of my favorite authors. She's one of the few authors on this site that when you read her stories, especially the dark ones, you feel the obsession and single-minded desire to possess you no matter the circumstances. I love how she incorporates her culture in some of her stories as well, particularly the Happily Ever After series. You know it's wrong, but seeing the Avengers in their desi apparel still makes me go, "aww! They really want to make her feel welcomed!" P.S. I really, really came close to choosing Murder at the Whorehouse!

Dark Assassin (Dark!Silverfox!Steve Rogers) - @kleohoneyao3

It took me forever to find this story again. I've always been attracted to older men, but Silverfox!Steve is the goat! My second favorite is Of the Earth.

Little Red series (Steve/Curtis/Andy/Ransom/Johnny) - @autumnrose40

This proud Omega always gives you the best C. Evans characters stories. And she's not afraid to push boundaries with different species(werewolves, mermen, octogods, etc). I'm always so happy to see she's posted something.

Creamsicle (Robert Pronge & Dark!Andy Barber) - @sapphirescrolls

I don't think I need to list Robert as dark, do I??? While she has a cornucopia of dark writings, this is my favorite!

I Have Questions (Steve Rogers) - @royallyprincesslilly

Accidentally dirty-talking Steve Rogers? Hell yeah!

Unhappily Married (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @cherienymphe

This is a wonderfully talented dark writer. I almost chose Twice Bitten several times because (1) she writes vampires the way they're meant to be written, and (2) Steve is so unapologetically hot and cold with the reader it makes me weep. But I do love kids (set in fiction only) and poor Nathan needs a real mother!

Hirsute (Werewolf!Andy Barber) - @avintagekiss24

Whew! This was tough. I literally love all her stories, particularly Blue Ocean Floor and her latest, 'with the weight of the world at the tips of my fingers.' There's a sleek elegance to her writing that is unmatched.

Let Me Teach You (Jake Jensen) - @vannybarber

Jake Jensen does not get enough love. Luckily, he's starting to come up. This writer gives him all the love and appreciation he deserves with this story.

Tell Me You Love Me (Steve Rogers) - @lotusss-flowerbomb

We all have pasts, but if you're going to let your co-workers get drunk around your girl, give her a heads up that you may or may not have hooked up with the gorgeous red-haired spy. Loved this so much!!

Mr. and Mrs. Ari Levinson Invite You to...the Worst Wedding. Ever. (Mob!Ari Levinson) - @caffiend-queen

I've never seen Ari written like this. He's wild and crazy and utterly addicted to his new little wife.

I loved everything about this wedding, especially the author letting us see the different Jewish wedding traditions. If you didn't love Ari before this story, you will after this story!

This was fun you guys! And it gives me a point of reference in case I once again lose some of the stories listed here.

As an added bonus, here are some of my favorite @nix-akimbo edits:

[oops-aquarius]

tainted kisses

summary: steve needs some relaxation, which you provide to him

warnings: smut (!!!!), praise kink, slight degradation kink, a little bit of angst cuz a hoe is sad, oral fixation (duh), slight dom/sub dynamics (?), mentions of sadness/depression, tiny mommy kink (like barely there)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

note(s): not edited well at all, also i used a prompt generator to get the promt i used (which is below !!)

prompt: “baths or water (tubs or jacuzzis; hot springs; water houses or steam rooms; the ocean; swimming pools.”

kink: “Oral fixation or fetishization (lips, tongue, or whole mouth; french-kissing; licking; oral displays using food or beer bottles; smoking cigarettes, cigars, or pipes; biting or chewing one's lip(s))”

--

***this is post-endgame except nobody died, cause im a hoe for all of the avengers***

Steve never realized how much he liked things in his mouth. Not always in a sexual way, at least not until after fighting Thanos.

After fighting for so long, bottling up his emotions was not at all how Steve needed to cope. He tried the yoga and meditation route Wanda had so kindly suggested. Yeah, after one session of hot yoga, Steve decided that it wasn't going to happen. Tony, obviously, suggested sex. Said something about it being a “healing experience for the soul”. That’s bullshit were Steve’s first thoughts when that came out of his mouth. Bucky told him to get some goats and raved about how therapeutic it was to raise them. But Steve could barely take care of himself, how would he even take care of a goat? Steve felt a hot sense of hopelessness burn against the back of his eyes as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the adjoined bathroom door.

“Steve?” A soft knock came from the front door. He took his thumb away from his mouth, he had resorted to subconsciously nibbling on the tip of it. Pulling himself off the door and towards the voice, he rubbed his tear-stricken cheeks in attempts to clean himself up a bit before seeing you.

“One sec, Y/N/N.”

When he opened the door, your face softened a bit before the smile that Steve, secretly, loved so much dropped off your face completely. “Stevie, what happened?”

Stevie, a nickname he hated for his entire life. A name that reminded him of the days before the super solider serum where he was a little guy getting beaten up on the streets of Brooklyn. Stevie, a nickname he loved hearing from your caring voice. Nobody else’s. 

“Just tired, Y/N” he sighed, “so,so tired.”

“Stevie,” your voice caught at the back of your throat. Seeing him in so much pain made your life turn upside down. He doesn't deserve to be in pain. “ S’there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just stay with me? Please?”

You took him back into his bed and sat with him, just talking about life until his breathing turned back to normal and he seemed partially-okay. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” you asked, still stroking the blonde strands of his hair.

“Are you saying I smell?” He took his face out of the crook of your shoulder, feigning a look of hurt.

“No, punk, I meant to relax. You seemed pretty shaken up and I just wanted to help. I mean, that’s what I do when I feel down, relax in a bat-”

He cuts you off, “I appreciate it. Really, Y/N, I don’t know many people that are as loving and caring as you, sweetheart.” The nickname made a pang in your heart. You had like the super solider since you had met him, but never felt like he reciprocated the feelings. Even though you both cuddled often, and had movie nights, and he always let you beat him while sparring, and that one time you came down with a stomach bug and he fed you soup and-holy shit. Did Steve like you? “Sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘A bath does sound nice’. What’s got you so suddenly zoned out?” He says, donning a smirk.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you into that bath, mister,” you had a faux grumpy look on your face as you got up and walked to the bathroom, starting to fill the white, ceramic bathtub with warm water. “Okay, big boy. You need help getting up or are you okay?”

Rolling his eyes at your inauthentic tone, Steve pushes his tensed frame off the body and managed to stumble into the bathroom, while you following him closely to make sure he doesn't fall over from exhaustion.

“I get it, I’m old, but damn Y/N. I can walk perfectly fine,” He chuckles as he pushes himself up to sit on the counter top.

You start to fill up the bathtub with warm water, adding bubbles and lighting a few scented candles. He looked so pretty, hair sticking out in every direction, lips pink and puffy from biting them, his ocean blue eyes still misty as he looks down at his cuticles, picking them slightly. 

“Okay, I’m gonna leave so you can take this bath,” you say, shutting off the faucet, “Got it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Stevie.”

“Stay, please.” His eyes were watering more than earlier. He had those puppy dog eyes, lip quivering as his voice cracked and wavered even with just a few words. He looked so vulnerable, how could you say no to him?

“Of course, Steve. I mean, the bubbles with kind of cover everything. I’ll just sit next to the tub with you, alright?” You awkwardly giggled and scratched the back of your neck. He nodded, hopping off of the counter and starting to undress himself with a wobble. “Stevie, you’re shaking like a leaf, let me help you.”

His eyes never met yours as you helped him pull his t-shirt over his head and looped your delicate fingers through the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down his muscular thighs. “You’re not gonna finish your job, doll?”

His boxers. The only clothes he had left on were his grey boxers. You wanted to give him privacy and not look, especially in such a broken and vulnerable state. But god, you could see the outline of his partially-hard cock through the soft cotton. You thought about what it would be like to have your mouth around his hard length, chocking on it as he rammed himself into the back of your throat.

“Ummm, I just--I thought--I mean I can---Only if you want--” The dirty thoughts clouded your brain. It made speaking a speaking a sentence almost impossible as your mouth watered just thinking about his cock.

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he laughed heartily, “You’re too adorable.”

Pulling his boxers down his legs, he waddled tiredly over to the tub before stepping in. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water encapsulating his exhausted body. You imagined that’s how he’d groan if you sucked his cock so hard he was seeing stars.

You were still facing the door, like you were as Steve got completely undressed. You knew if you turned around and look at him, naked and at ease, you’d jump his bones in a heartbeat. “Come sit with me, Y/N”

And you did. You turned around cautiously, like you expected, the bubbles covered his body enough for you to be able to handle yourself as you sat down next to the tub. You grabbed his hand away from his lips, running your soft fingers over his rough calloused ones. “I always see you biting your nails or cuticle or lips or your pens. Why?”

He sighed, “I’m not sure, I guess it just distracts me?” He said it more like it was a question rather than a statement. “I guess I don’t truly know why I do it, I guess I just enjoy having things in my mouth.”

You could read Steve like a book, his pupils blown with lust, his lip stuck between his teeth, a blush heating up his cheeks. You took a leap of faith.

“Yeah, like what?”

“You.”

His lips were on yours in a flurry, it took a second for you to react, but as soon as you did it felt amazing. Neither of you seemed to care about the water splashing over you as his hands trailed up your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

He pulls away panting, “F-Fuck, Y/N, I need you. Please. Oh my god I need you so bad,” His eyes looked as if they were welling up with tears and he looked so pretty still in the relaxing bubble bath, whimpering and whining for you. 

“God, I need you too, baby,” you stop to look in his eyes sincerely, “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do or that you will regret.” Your hand caresses his cheek.

“Just get in here with me and I’ll show you how much I want you,” he whispered, “Need you, really.”

You sighed before your hands moved shakily to take off your t shirt. As much as you wanted this, you were still scared of how the ripped super solider would feel about you and your body, As soon as your shirt was off, Steve was whimpering, dipping his hand into the soapy water to massage his aching cock. This only spurred you to take off your clothes and join him faster. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself, puppy?” Your stern voice caught him off-guard, making him pause his actions with a look of fear on his face. You step into the bathtub, straddling him. Your nails raked up his milky white thighs, trailing up his body admiring the beauty of it. “Y’Know I was planning on being nice to you because you’ve been so good to me, but you might need to be punished, baby? Do you need to punshied like a brat?”

He mewled, bowing his head in shame. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the second and you were starting to go crazy with the empty feeling inside of you that on he could fill. “No, ma’am. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Mmmm, that’s my good boy.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested on his cheeks, hearing him preen at your praise, as you repositioned yourself over his cock. “Are you sure you want this?”

“If you dont ride me into next week right fucking now I’m going to scream, Y/N,” He breathed out with a chuckle, Grabbing your thighs, he helps you sink down on his cock. Both of you were moaning and whimpering messes by the time you were sitting at this base of him, trying to get adjusted to his large size. 

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes as soon as you lifted yourself up off of him, only leaving the tip of him inside of you, and slamming back down on his dick. 

“Baby-please,” he whimpered, “n-need, shit, need your fingers, bad.” 

You were confused, slowing down a bit to make sure he was okay. But his puppy dog eyes showed that he was okay. Slowly taking your wrist from his cheek, he puts your fingers in his warm mouth. Moaning around them and swirling his tongue around them. He did it the same way you always dreamed about sucking his dick, chocking and gagging on his length.

“Yeah, you’re such a needy little slut for me, for this pussy. Look at you, so ruined and fucked out just because I’m fucking you.” He moaned sensually at your words making your core tighten impossibly. 

You had gotten a good idea as you were riding him. Slowly, you start to thrust your hand in and out of his mouth, watching the saliva dribble out of the corners of his mouth as he choked on you. The band in your tummy starts tightening as you feel yourself getting close. 

“Shit, fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. Oh my god, you’re make me come with your beautiful cock, puppy. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your free hand dips into the water, cupping his balls and rolling them around your soft palm.

He nods, choking on your nimble finger yet again his you massage his sensitive balls. “Gonna come,” he slurred and spit around you.\, “almost there.”

“I didn’t” you moaned as you feel his balls tighten, fall back down on his cock at a faster pace, “give you permission to do that. I thought you were going to be good for me?”

“I am” he spluttered loudly, “i am good, I swear. Just please let me come. I need it, oh shit, mommy.”

The name went straight to your core, making you grow weak as you feebly give him permission to come as you come undone with one more bounce on his large member. His hands come up to grope your breasts as he come with hot spurts inside of your tight cunt. 

“Oh my god,” you stifle a giggle as you stand up on shaky legs. You wordlessly helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a white towel, walking him to bed while you dried yourself off. Collapsing on the bed with a grunt, the solider hollds out his hand to you, signalling you to lay down with him. You could easily tell he was still coming down from his sex high, starting to regain his self back.

“I dont know what possessed me to,” he pauses, trying to figure out a way to word the rest of his sentence, “to suck, I guess, on your hand. I’m sorry, Y/N, that was really weird of me.”

“What do’ya mean, baby? Having an oral fixation isn’t something to be ashamed of.” The words make him smile with droopy eyes, tucking his head into your neck and starting to fall asleep, happy and comfortable, cuddling you.

“And to be honest, puppy. I think it’s really hot.”

[statixzcoffee]

adding more. still sick, gonna project my sickness headcanons wooohooo... (EDITING: I am not sick anymore, thankfully, but I will still read sickfics. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS.)

Craig Tucker: Pros: So, not sleep-deprived unlike Tweek. And Tweek won't come into his room (sorry tweek.)!!! He finally gets peace and quiet and sometimes he lies that he is sick still, but that can still backfire. Weakness: Non-observiant, he also just wants to cuddle in a blanket and fell asleep, he also wants to be near the people's warm spots, (He will steal chairs, mainly his friends' chairs.) and did you know that (Tweek drank meth, so his body temperature is high, but damn if he has his own spazed movements, Craig will be more irritated, even if he knows it's not his own fault. Anyone with the highest temperature, please watch out for Craig, unless you are the main four, unless you are the exception, then maybe, probably.)

Jason White: Pros: Has a normal sleep-schedule. Has a normal life, but wow... Even the sickness forgets about him, most of the time. Weakness: But, not even Death forget. So, once he is sick. No one cares about the Whites, except for the whites, and oh, his best friend, Tweek Tweak! He is uh, he is very persistence, aggressively so. It's very :3

Clyde Donovan: Pros: Will leave the toilet seat up even more. His sickness will make him more selfish and empathetic: It's like a bleeding cut. Goes to the Raisins Girls for affection and love, until it is like after TFBW, and they just felt guilty that he is even trying, and so, they decided to display their (angelic) mercy, and gave Clyde "Free food", after he got discounted on it and can visit a couple of days when he's sick if he wants discounted good foods. (Also for anyone saying that is out of character for Raisins... Well, they are a business, and honestly, one of the characters could simply just feel bad, and they could tell that he needed some affection deeply. Why not humour the guy with extra pay (Discounted.) for the day, and once he is not sick. They will stop feedin' the guy for after the day. then the price to the debt probs raised up or something. Clyde's soul is probs there atp. He is with the girls but is he truely free. NO?) Weakness: Whenever he is not-sick anymore, and deals with the consquences of his sick actions.

Tolkien Black: *Squinting at the friend Group on this page* Pros: Uhh, he is a healthy kid with a curfew; rarely goes sick. He washes his hands, and whenever he does get sick, he remains considerate of others. Weakness: He will not ask for help. He just wants to go to school, but he will be a bit aloof though, and also will zone.

Jimmy Valmer: Pros: Does not really get sick? But once he does. He will make so much puns whenever sick; It will be very horrible. (Taps on the mic; Sick!) His patience is genuinely handicapped; He will and can have the ability to roast. Do not test him. Weakness: 50/50 do not want to be in the bed whatsoever, he wants to get up, and clingy, so will be attached to the phone.

#2. I'll probably add more. (Tbh, I was kinda stuck on Tolkien and Jimmy while I was sick, because words do not words. And there might be typos, lol)

guys im sick. so i am going to project my sickness headcanons onto the characters. It ironically makes me feel a lot better to see the characters taken care off when they are taken care off ahaha i love sickfics.

Tweek Tweak: Weakness: Sleep-Deprived, eats meth unknowingly with coffee, sunken eyes probably. How to get better: Sleep, but coffee habit is too strong. You need like a rhino to split the coffee and tweek. But, luckily someone is there to the rescue, tea and honey and a warm lavender bath. <3 (Ddi you know guys that guinea pigs love lavender?)

Kenny McCormick: Pros: He rarely gets sick... But, sometimes it is like really random, even IF he eats stuff from the ground to gain money. Weakness: Sleepy sleepy creature to a huge extent. Honestly, he is more of a carrier, so I tend to see him avoiding his family, which includes Karen. So, he tends to be infectious. How to get better: 1. Death. 2: Drugs to gain the sterotine. 3: He wants to feel better, and not Death.

Eric Cartman: Pros: He also rarely gets sick. He may be fat, but technically he goes on trips, so he is technically active on that. Weakness: He still eats unhealthy food. But listens to his mommy. Temperament: Oddly enough, he would be a nicer person or maybe a meaner person, depending on the sick spectume he is on. He is either a very delirious, just wants to chill, cry baby and/or a very mean person... LOL.

Kyle Broflovski: Weakness: He gets sick a lot. When anyone is sick, he'd be far away as possible. Germophobe basically. How to get better: Mom; skips school. Genuinely would probably sneak out to be outside and near Stark place. It is a pretty place thank you. And fresh air is good for you.

I will add more lol

[solntepyok]

Under the Blue Sky

Characters: Lord X, Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: The Bird takes off for the first time, but the cunning Hunter is not about to yawn.

Warnings: murder, death

This is an experimental read, so please forgive me, fellow poets! This is my first time writing a poem in English. However, if there are mistakes here, feel free to point them out to me! It will help me improve.

Writing a poem was a completely spontaneous idea. Why X here in particular? Because I'm experimenting for a future work, which will (I hope) come out in the near future. There is symbolism here. The Reader is the Bird and the Lord is the Hunter.

Art belongs to JoeDoughBoi.

EDITED: I've added notes to some lines to make it clear what I wanted to convey with my verse. See all the notes at the bottom of the post.

Sky and clouds, clouds and sky

I'm a Bird and I can fly

High and fast under the sky

Sky and clouds, clouds and sky

I have always dreamed about this

Even more than to get a human kiss

And a tender touch and sight

I can see the light.

Sky and clouds, clouds and sky

Now I'm flying, I can fly!

And my wings are trembling too

I'm the Freedom, this is true!

I wish I could always fly

Under the blue sky

See how clouds are flying too

See how my dreams are coming true

I love a Life, I love the Freedom

Sure that everybody needs them

I'm the first to get it*

Under the blue sky.

But the Hunter doesn't care**

And he extends to bare

His fowling piece.

I am scared and I am screaming

This is not what I was dreaming

Of.

A short rang out, in the blink of an eye

I am flying down under the blue sky

My wings don't tremble anymore

I lay in my own gore.

The bloody Hunter is full of lust

"This is the first, but not the last!"***

Life gave me a deadly kiss

Thank you God for this.****

Ground and grave, grave and ground

The welcome Freedom I have found

Left me under the red sky.

My weak body is aflame

Life has played a rotten game

Life will never be the same

Fate was Hunter's name.

___

* What I meant here is that absolutely everyone has some kind of purpose in life. The goal and the most cherished dream of this Bird was to fly up, and when it did, it felt like the happiest bird in the world, that it wanted to share its feelings with someone else. The same thing happens in real life: one achieves a goal and sets a new one.

** Lord X doesn't care what sex, age, nationality, sexual orientation or denomination a person is. Simply because the demon doesn't recognise his victim as an individual — people are just living toys to him.

*** Here I wanted to show the Lord's consumerist attitude towards absolutely all people. The Bird and the Hunter are two completely different, so to speak, estates that interact with each other ONLY on a prey → predator/hunter basis. This perfectly describes the Lord's attitude towards the entire human race. Today he played with some, tomorrow with others. Took the soul of the first, dismembered the second, ripped apart the third. The Lord doesn't care about people at all, for him they exist only to amuse him.

**** And there is an ironic subtext here (believers, don't mind me). If memory serves me correctly, according to the canon, X is very dismissive of religion and considers God and the Devil to be charlatans, incapable of governing mankind. The disdain, however, is conveyed here through the Bird, as it was shot under the open sky, a portal to another world, where God resides. He could not protect her from the bullet, for here Fate proved stronger than he.

[ladyhindsight]

Hi! So I'm re-reading TMI these days and can't help but feel for you anytime I stumble upon something frustating or laugh when a limb is having a life of its own lol. I don't know much about editing or the quality of the writing in general because I'm not a native english speaker so reading in english kinda makes it better, if that makes sense (even tho I now notice things thanks to your blog, and let me tell you, I had the displeasure to read a small part of the translation in french and it is so much worse that I'm fine with not getting how shitty CC's writing truly is) but omg I want to facepalm so often… Particularly now that I'm almost done with CoFA and I can see so clearly the influence of TID in it. Like in one of the first three books, when Valentine killed the Silent Brothers to get the Soul Sword, everyone insist they were ALL dead (which was stupid) but now some Brothers were away at the time so no worry, Jem is well and alive! Or Luke and Magnus could always get into the NY institute, but Simon had to stay outside because he's a vampire but now there is a sanctuary they never thought about using before because it was "out of fashion" (sure Jane) and they suddenly remember it exists! Poor Simon, knowing they could have hang out with him there all along but wouldn't bother to just think about that big room standing in front of their eyes. I was also very frustrated with the fact that no one seems to care what Valentine was doing for the last seven years after giving Jace to the Lightwoods and before coming back in CoB (yes, we do kind of find out at some point that he was probably hiding in Hodge's cabin or farm or whatever but why no one ever WONDER at least to themselves where he was?). There is also, of course, all the BS with Malec in general plus the fact that it makes no sense anyway with The Red Scrolls of Magic, but this is too painful for me to even think about. Nothing makes sense, really, as if we all knew those books better than the person who wrote them, can you imagine? I could go on for hours but I won't, I just needed to rant for a second and I felt so sorry for you who go so much deeper into that hell hole for your wonderful blog that I love. So kudos, stay strong and I can't wait to read your next post! (and sorry if this makes no sense, as I said I'm french and we all know french people can't speak english).

Hi! Thank you for the love, it means a lot. 🥰😊 I am slowly working towards the next post.

When I go through Clare’s writing, more often than before I have to just stop and think whether some things in the text are worth pointing out, because at this point stuff just begins to repeat itself a lot. Like noted in the previous message, Clare’s writing has barely improved in the course of 15+ books. I’ve made a PDF file of City of Bones with bunch of footnotes that never really made it to the blog, but the content of those notes apply to the following installments as well because of that repetition of writing mistakes, weird or weak sentence structures, choice of words, story structure, plot etc. And sometimes my opinions are just made of weird noises and frustration that I can’t put into words. 😂

Clare adding these new elements to the Shadowhunter world really show how little thought went into it in the beginning of the series. I was originally so confused when I read CoFA for the first time ever because I truly thought Valentine had killed every Silent Brother there was previous to that, and why wouldn’t we think that? It is exactly how the writing presented the case. The first three books of The Mortal Instruments feel so disjointed from everything else that came afterwards, because the world started getting bigger after them but none of those new elements were present in them (obviously they couldn’t have been, but you know). Jem as a character did not exist before Tessa appeared at the end of City of Glass to herald a prequel series. Similarly how Jace probably wasn’t Herondale when City of Bones was written. His scar appeared first in CoA, and then it was relevant for Imogen to notice it. Not that it had been an essential part of his character before the plot demanded it.

Similarly this case with Simon and the Institute Sanctuaries. In the original TMI trilogy the vampires appeared through Projections. There wasn’t such facilities mentioned before that. Clare just added things as she went along. Similarly to this, the Shadow Markets and the Scholomance. Imagine how bigger the world had been if there was even a mention of these places in the first three books? Especially since everyone has been visiting the Shadow Markets, like, always if GotSM is anything to go by. But there is that absence because, again, none of these concept existed, and retroactively writing stories about how, for instance, Jace as a kid went to a Shadow Market does not bring that same magic to the original trilogy where such concept is unheard of.

In Born to Endless Night the Sanctuaries are rendered effectively useless when Magnus’ magic can give Lily an access to wander the halls of the Institute. Aside from other grievances with that story, Clare effectively broke the rules of her own world to make it easier for Lily to be present in the party instead of writing them having a party elsewhere where Lily as a vampire could safely attend, and without this rule-bending as a surplus.

Valentine’s whereabouts, like you said, well he just kept training Sebastian and that’s about it. Every character never really thought about it more or questioned why he waited seven more years to finally resurface. Most things were just taken by face value. The first three books especially were really half-cooked, if even that, when they were published.

[sscoutregimentss]

LUV for eren? thank youuuu

so i have actually already done L and U, but i'll add on a drabble/extra hcs as a treat edit: added a read more

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Eren is a good dad. 100% a DILF

I see him wanting to adopt kids, considering his childhood and how that was how he found his dearest, closest friends.

He gets along with all his kid's friends, so everyone knows that the Jaeger household is the place to go for hang outs. He has a tendency to project the positive parts of his upbringing onto his kids, and since his friends were so important to him growing up, he wants to make sure his children have that same support system. Yeah, he wants to be in the know about his kids lives, but there's some things parents just don't understand. Does not help that he's incredibly good looking, even as he gets older.

Super supportive of his kids interests. Sports? Let's go practice! Academics? What's the quadratic formula? Gaming? Teach me how to play! Performing arts? At every single recital. He also doesn't mind if they change their minds constantly about what they do. They're kids, so it's good to have many interest while they still have the chance to feel things out.

Can be strict when he wants to be, though. Doesn't mess around with the safety of his kids and their friends. Tries his absolute hardest not to get angry at his children despite his temper and he really only does when it comes to their safety. But he was wayyyy more reckless when he was their age (and lacked parental supervision) so he tries his best to just keep them out of trouble instead of having to scold them when they do. I touched on him being a good apologizer in a different post and that's still true in the case of his kids. Always apologizes if he raises his voice at them, no matter what happens.

Also he is one of those dads that loves embarrassing their kids with PDA. He will wrap his arms around you from the back and pepper you with kisses while you're making dinner in front of your angsty 13 year old just to hear a "UGH DAD YOU'RE SO GROSS"

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

"(Name)," Mikasa calls, lightly jogging over to your seat the coffee shop Eren works part time in. You knew he didn't work that day, but you've gotten kind of used to studying in the seat closest to the barista counter, even if Eren isn't throwing cheesy pickup lines at you or ranting about a professor. "Have you seen Eren today?"

You shake your head no, raising an eyebrow at her distressed expression. She was one of the most caring people you've ever met, but her cool façade rarely broke, making your own concern skyrocket.

"Is he okay?" You ask, pulling out your phone to check for any messages left by your boyfriend.

The dark haired girl sigh, pushing her bangs out of her face as her short hair moves along to match the shaking of her head. "He does this every year, on the exact same day. Just... disappears and comes back like nothing happened. I hoped at least this year he'd stay with you... but..."

You bite your lip in concern, letting Mikasa know you'll call her if anything turns up.

to: eren 💌

from: My Sunshine ☀️

can you call or text me asap? just let me know you're alive please a simple "hello" will suffice

you don't have to shut everyone out like this

i love you through it all. the good, the bad, and the ugly, you dummy. nothing could change that.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Mmm, mildly. He doesn't wear makeup, but he takes good care of his skin (which is just naturally flawless anyways...), makes sure his clothes fit him well, keeps his combed and moisturized, and generally doesn't leave the house feeling very dissatisfied with his appearance.

On that makeup note, once he used an eyelash curler, either yours or Historia's and he was just. blown away. He already has naturally long, dark, curly lashes, he just thinks he looks really nice with the extra help of the curler. Too lazy to invest in doing it daily, though.

Keeps up with his physique because he's an athlete, but also because he just likes how he looks in tight tops and shirtless. Eren is one of those hot guys that knows that he's hot, he just doesn't really care that he's hot. Unlike Reiner, who just is insecure in how he looks, and Jean, who knows that he's sexy and flaunts it, he just... knows. He only really cares for your opinion.

No set clothing aesthetic that he makes himself stick to, just wears well fitting and neatly pressed clothes. Mainly black or dark basics. Keeps some jewelry if he wants to elevate an outfit. But his usual top, pants, shoes, maybe some earrings and a necklace if it's fancy. Doesn't get complicated with layering like Armin does.

I like to think he has a few piercings and tattoos, simply because he likes how they look. Not like a full sleeve because he is still a broke college student, but a couple tattoos on his arms and two or three piercings on his ears, plus a tongue piercing? I am down bad for him. I'd say his tattoos are pretty meaningful. Eren does everything he does, from choosing his major to eating cereal, with purpose. Even if it's dumb it has his heart and soul behind it. At least, that's what he says when he explains why he is going to put hot dog wieners in Jean's parents lawn.

[the-last-kenobi]

I... don’t have a reason for this one. it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here we go.

_-_-_

Pale tiled floors, shining from regular cleanings and scattered with a few mismatched rugs in warm, rustic tones, each one made from different fibers and threads, each one showing signs of wear.

A long window, curtained over with sheer fabric that still permitted the light of dawn to suffuse the room. It filtered lazily over the furniture, just as mismatched and well-loved as the rugs, and the less tidy kitchen, a grey pot still spattered with an orange sauce left absent-mindedly on the stovetop.

A pair of boots discarded sloppily in the small space before the entry door. Large, mud-spotted, scuffed — Qui-Gon’s, abandoned in a fit of sarcastic humor when he kicked them off the afternoon before, returning at last from a months-long mission.

A book, an actual paperbacked edition with edges made soft by use, by fingers lovingly and unthinkingly caressing the ridges and the binding, lying on the side table next to the coziest chair — Obi-Wan’s, deliberately set aside late last night when he realized he’d been reading much longer than he’d meant to.

Now, just after dawn, it was not surprising that the Master was the first to wake.

Qui-Gon exited his own room and paused in the common area, drinking in the familiarity, eyeing the book with knowing amusement. He went to the window and with what some of the crankier Masters would have called flagrant laziness, waved his hand and let the Force gently part the curtains.

It was not much brighter without them; they were sheer as it was and the smoggy vista this morning did not allow for much sun.

Still, sunshine was sunshine, polluted or not, and Qui-Gon relaxed as it washed over him, barefoot and still wearing his nightclothes under an old robe that had grown so ratty he had cleaned it and resigned it to the realm of comfort clothing.

He looked at the book again and smirked, shaking his head; as he walked past it towards the other door in the room, he ran a finger over the cover, feeling the ridges of the embossed title. Still, he thought, no excuses. I warned him we’d begin today with meditation. He can sleep in tomorrow.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, and opened the door to the boy’s room, a smaller and more cramped version of his own.

The light was greyer, here; the sunlight didn’t quite cross the threshold, and the solar-lamp on the desk was unlit. Shadows played with his eyes for a moment, and then Qui-Gon focused on the form on the bed, folded messily in the soft white sheets, curled on one side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other dangling off the side of the bed.

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, cheerfully speaking with totally unnecessary volume. “Good morning.”

No response.

Snorting quietly, Qui-Gon approached the bed, reaching down to ignite the lamp as he did.

Golden light spilled out, and Obi-Wan’s soft golden-red hair burned like fire in response. Still, he slept on, his face turned towards his pillow and the sheets half-covering his cheek and nose.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, exasperated now. “Good morning.”

He tugged on the braid that he had helped retie less than twelve hours ago, and Obi-Wan’s head twitched on the pillow as he was pulled, but the boy didn’t even blink.

“Star’s sake,” mumbled Qui-Gon, and pulled harder.

Obi-Wan’s whole head turned, his neck limp and unresisting at that mild tug, and the stark white face with its closed eyes and slack lips stared upwards, completely still.

Qui-Gon’s soul felt like it had lurched right out of his body.

He collapsed on his knees on the bed, kneeling over his apprentice, hands moving to frame the pale face and finding cool, stiff skin without a trace of the grouchy blush the poorly rested teenager would have given him any other day.

Frantic, Qui-Gon’s hands searched for a puff of warm breath from the open lips, for a heartbeat from the chest, for a pulse in the limp wrist that still dangled inches from the floor.

But there was nothing.

Qui-Gon shook his head wildly, lifting Obi-Wan’s head from the pillow, trying to make him sit up. The boy rolled limply in his arms and hung there like a rag doll, his face pressed against his Master’s overly worn robe, unknowing and uncaring of how awkwardly he was being held.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon tried to say again, but this time it came out stretched and broken, wavering like a child’s uncertain attempt at handwriting. More of a moan than spoken word. “Obi...Obi-Wan? No, no, no no no...” Begging, denying.

He’d do anything—

Obi-Wan was twenty. Twenty. Young, healthy, a few years at most from Knighthood, which was only the beginning. He was strong and well-trained and he had laughed when Qui-Gon left his boots on the floor last night and shaken his head, saying he was going to stay up and read and have to deal with that eyesore in his peripherals all evening, and he’d smiled when Qui-Gon reached over to tug on the Padawan braid and added a casual, paternal caress of the thumb across the freckled cheek as he did, and —

“Obi-Wan, wake up,” he begged his Padawan, pulling the boy closer, bowing his own head down to touch the slumped shoulder. “Please come back. I don’t understand. I don’t — Obi-Wan. Please.”

The words devolved into hyperventilating breaths, which turned into ragged sobs, which turned into... a blur.

A comm call. Someone asking him to breathe. Hands separating him from his Padawan. Someone he didn’t know casually moving the boots out of the way, as if they didn’t matter, as if they weren’t there so Obi-Wan could laugh at them again. Being led to the Halls. Questions being asked of him. Condolences being offered. Again and again. And again.

“A heart problem,” a distant voice saying. “Insignificant enough that it wasn’t picked up on. We think he had a startling vision, or a bad dream, and his heart-rate spiked but his breathing didn’t match it.”

“A small heart problem,” they said.

“Rare,” they said.

“Might never have caused problems, except...” they said.

“I’m so sorry,” they said.

But nothing they said was making anything make more sense, nothing they said was making reality any less nightmarish.

Obi-Wan was twenty.

He was supposed to wake up grumpy and meditate with him, he was supposed to make the tea because he liked to make the tea, and he was supposed to laugh about the boots while Qui-Gon teased him about his book.

He was not supposed to go into cardiac arrest in his sleep because his heart and his lungs weren’t working together as they should have.

He was not supposed to die.

“I would have felt it,” he heard himself say weakly. “I would have sensed it.”

“We’re not all-knowing,” Mace’s voice said heavily. Had he been talking to Mace? He supposed he must have been, but then he stopped caring and tuned the rest of the conversation out.

Then Qui-Gon was standing in the common area again, fixated on the book, well-loved, gently used, waiting patiently on the side table next to the coziest chair — because Qui-Gon preferred the sofa or the floor cushions, and because Obi-Wan liked to cross his legs and dangle them over the arm and he had been doing that since he was thirteen and lonely and still bearing bruises from when he’d been kidnapped and enslaved when he should have had a Master to protect him, and so that chair was Obi-Wan’s, really, just his — and the book was waiting and waiting and it was going to wait forever.

And that did it.

The boots, shoved aside, unremarked.

The book, waiting innocently on the table.

Obi-Wan was gone, and wouldn’t be coming back. Despite the dawn, despite the chair that was understood silently to be his, despite the promises of early meditation, despite the affection in the touch across his cheek, despite the boots waiting to be smiled at, despite the book waiting to be read again, despite a Master’s protection — a Master’s love —

Obi-Wan had been stolen away again, this time for good, and everything, everything was as ashes.

Qui-Gon stood rooted to the spot and watched the night pass and a new dawn creep up on its heels, hoping for golden light that would chase away some of the cold.

But the light was grey this morning, and he was alone.

Qui-Gon blinked aching eyes, feeling dried tears across the lids as he did. The lights hurt, and he groaned, turning away.

A face slid into view above him as at the same time two gentle hands held his head still, examining his face, and Qui-Gon froze, staring up at the person holding him.

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t, his throat swollen and throbbing from abuse.

“Shhhh,” said Obi-Wan, his face pinched with concern. “Go back to sleep, Master. You’ve been drugged. It’s almost over. I’ve got you. The Healers say you’ll be all right. Go back to sleep.”

Qui-Gon reached up, straining impossibly just to make his shaking hand obey him, and felt his callused fingers glide across the young, sun-freckled cheek, felt warmth and saw a dimple appear as Obi-Wan smiled down at him.

“Shhh,” said Obi-Wan again. “You’ve been dreaming something awful, I think. Nobody has hurt you, Master, you’re all right.”

“So...are you,” Qui-Gon rasped, his voice thin and unfamiliar to his own ears.

A strange look crossed the boy’s face, like realization and confusion all at once. Still, he nodded, and lowered his head down to rest his forehead briefly against his teacher’s. “I’m all right, Master. It was only a dream.”

_-_-_

[moonsquaremars]

11th house thoughts

Hi everybody.

I have an 11th house stellium, and I love it. Probably because my venus is in there, der planet of luv, as well as mars, lust et aggression, and mercury, th’ intellect. 

My sun missed it shy of 1° ; had i been born just a few minutes earlier, I would have been an 11th house sun. But I’m a twelfer. Why, might you ask? My mother has an 11th house stellium afterall, so did my ex-boyfriend. Well, if you ask, my father is a twelfth house sun. 

And I’m learning to live with that. 

Just kidding. Anyways, I love my 11th house stellium. If you’re unfamiliar, the eleventh house is ruled by aquarius. Each of the twelve houses in astrology corelate to each of the twelve signs of the zodiac. The planet which governs both this house and sign is the planet of Uranus, which is my favorite one in our solar system :) I did a random generator a guy posted on reddit to find out which planet is dominant in your chart, and when I plugged everything in, I got Uranus. I was actually quite surprised by this, but overjoyed. I love everything uranus represents. Eccentricity, humanitarianism, chaos.

I am a cancer sun, though, and virgo moon. Cancer rules the moon, so wouldn’t that be my dominant planet? Or is it just my chart ruler? I don’t know. But the moon is so fleeting. Kind of chaotic, actually. Since the moon passes each sign every few days, that’s what makes us cancers so moody. We feel the energy of all the signs within a months time. Can you imagine how that feels? constantly knowing what other people are feeling and thinking? Or maybe I’m just imagining it. I am crazy, after all :p

I digress. The 11th house is fabulous. It rules the finer things in life. My ex-boyfriend was a dandy man, took me to fancy restaurants and hotels, the works. I need that sort of thing, I admire and crave it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very in tune with income inequality and the social issues that plague the world. But I still love dressing up in fancy clothes for a decadent night out. I suppose this is attributed to my stellium, but I’ll take it. A stellium by the way is when you have three or more planets in one house.

It’s kind of odd that my mom has an eleventh house stellium because we grew up quite poor. Nothing about her really screams fancy besides the fact that she adores drinking wine, is beautiful, and we live fancier only if you put us in to comparison with poorer people around us. We did grow up wearing nice clothes though. My mom would buy us second hand designer brand clothes like tommy hilfiger. Maybe that’s not designer, maybe that’s just brand name. I’m from Kentucky, give me a break. But we Kentucky fancy, baby.

Uranus being my dominant and favorite planet, is in my 7th house, the house of libra and relationships. Perhaps someone could pull up my chart {in the tags] and enlighten me on why it might be my dominant planet. I might also add that my draconic moon is in aquarius, which is supposely what your ‘soul’ truly is. I don’t quite believe that, because I think the soul is larger and smaller than the twelve signs of our universe. Or maybe just our solar system. At least of our conscience understanding of things at this time. Astrology is just a bunch of symbols made of our world to organize and communicate ieas n information. It’s not much more than that.

I recall being very internet savvy in middle and high school. My north node and chiron are in my third house, house of gemini and communication. All of my 11th house stellium planets are also in gemini. I see this being accurate because I am rather small in frame, standing at 5 foot 9 and weighing 125 pounds since I was thirteen years old. My mouth gets me in trouble, whether it’s from accidentally offending or just not being able to shut up! I would constantly be editing my myspace profile, using html codes, messing with the layout and how it interacted with my profile picture and song, and anything else I added to it. I loved it, and then that transitioned to my tumblr blog which I did in high school. Hopefully tumblr doesn’t die out, it’s definitely not what it used to be. Later when stumbleupon was something, I would look up things about futurism, humanism, design. I loved reading about the future. It made me so freaking excited. Like what will life be like in 2040? So cool! Or 2600? Then it made me sad once I accounted my age into the picture. I don’t wanna be 40! and that’s so far away! I hate waiting. 

I’ll end this post on something interesting I noticed. My boyfriend of a year had an eleventh house stellium. After we broke up, I had two guys I was interested in. I was actually quite torn, because they were both so amazing, but so different. One was elegant and familiar with astrology and addiction issues and had money. He was like this worldly man with fantastic package hehe helped cure this mundane “what’s the point?” feeling I had about learning languages and stuff. He made me feel like there was in fact a point to all of it. He’s a scorpio just like me mum and we just had great chemistry. But I was already seeing a nother guy, who was this gentle, down the earth, all around manly man’s man. I loved him, but in a different way. He was simple, but the first time I slept over at his house, he picked me up in this kinda old but kinda new like beat up stick shift hyudai sedan. He reminded me of Wario. But he had an amazing package as well. we mostly just slept though ,and when I slept with him, I felt like I was back in bed with my father when I was like five or seven years old. I already know how that sounds, and I know the childish bunch of you or dommage who lack a healthy relationship with your father if y’ar, are going to come for me and say that’s gross or messed up or perverted or weird. It’s not. I don’t want to fuck my father, I never have, and I never will. I really don’t want to open this can of worms because I could go on about people I’ve met who have been sexually assaulted by their fathers or who have an incest fetish and I’m not trying to shame any of those people. But, I felt like I was back in bed with my father like i was when i was a kid while I was laying with him, and that was a really, really, really good feeling. I never forgot it. He had an aries sun, which I used to hate aries. It was my least favorite sign, and probably still is tbh, along with aquarius LOL. Oh and his moon was in taurus which explained everything. My dad is a taurus sun, as are my two sisters, my grandpa, and one of my good friends, Chelsea. My moon is in virgo in the second house, which is the house of taurus.

Well, mr. fancy pants had an 11th house stellium, and my down to earth sweet S had a third house stellium. Finding these things out did nothing to absolve my confusion, only added to the ache of not knowing which to choose. Talk about love triangle though. It did make me realize why I was in this predicament though, and I suppose it worked out because I don’t really talk to either guy anymore. But The seventh and third houses are also air houses, just like the 11th. 

11th house - Aquarius/uranus, 

7th house - libra/venus, 

3rd house - gemini/mercury

That’s all for tonight. I’m ever behind on french homework, so I oughtta go take care of that. I want to write on the twelfth house, since my sun is in there as well as my father’s, and why I don’t appreciate its doom and gloom persona. If each house correlates to a sign, then the twelfth’s would be house of pisces. Pisces is the last sign with a bad stereotype. At least from my perception, it’s one of the best. So humanistic and kind. So why is its house the house of prison and addictions and psych wards and have all this hubbub, this &thatt?

Au revoir! -K  ý ll

[loudestcloud]

BNHA Character Theme Songs!

Pt1

Pt2

Pt3

Pt4: Here we are lads! Final part because I do just keep forgetting to update this. Ive had this actually playlist done for literally 4 months so. Sorry lol but here we go. Villians & Vigilantes! reminder that this is spoiler free but I am up to date on the anime, and almost with the mangas

Edit: it's been a year now. Sorry about that 💀 I think I lost the motivation because a lot of my villian choices just make sense and I can't explain much about them because they are easy picks for me. Also please check out the other parts

Explanations vvv

Stain: I was gonna pick Killer by The Hoosiers but I think this one is better. I can really see an AMV to this one and tbh it's a good song that no one reall talks about anymore. Also, blood quirk, blood song ect.

Overhaul: This man thought he was invincible, he thought he was incredibly and that no one would ever stop him. Now he's nothing 🥰 Also, people still make AMVs to this song and they slap every single time, I'd sell my soul for more audio inclusive AMVs. The presents of this song is very similar to that of Overhaul. It's very overbearing, powerful kinda iconic in a small way but at the end of the day, I mix this song up with so many others. The style, beat and vocals are just so similar to so many others like it.

ReDestro - This was chosen before I read the arc. I think it's still good. Keeping it spoiler free, while he may not be the most remembered for events he helped in, he should won't be forgotten in the Bnha history books.

All for one - A slow piano start, Soft high vocals, an ere vibe leading up to heavy metal! Add the lyrics and it's perfect for him. It feels like his into then the ground zero fight.

Shigaraki - " Everything you love turns to dust " and " You'd kill for answers but learn to live with questions " is very on brand. The vibe is also what's I see him as if that makes sense at all. It's kinda chaotic in a way. 🎵Don't get attached to live🎵

Kurogiri - This is a joke I like to make about something and I can't explain because this is a spoiler free zone. But that aside, Kurogiri gives me mother mother vibes, anyone else?

Dabi - okay I cave, I have to say it. Spoiler warning: I picked this before it was cannon and was fully just gonna say "we all know it's true by now, come on" like!! 🎵bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life🎵 Get it bitch! Headcanon this was his dance song? I think soooo!!!

Toga - 🎵the boy I loves got another girl🎵 💃🏻I just feel she would like this song choice💃🏻and vibe it a lot💃🏻 na but for real, Vibes, style, lyrics, voice? Very Toga

Twice - This was all I could come up with that wasn't wildly ablist towards him. I will be taking replacement request lol cos I think something better could be out there but for now, we have this. It feels like twice having a panic attack alone and then remembering that the LoV are his family now.

Spinner: Hahaha, gamer boy villian song. I just wanted to include him but both he and this song is very cool.

Compress - This was also added before the thing you may think. This song is here because I had a Yung Gravy obsession for about 2 months while also having a thing for Compress. I think it works but I'm bias.

La Brava - It's literally her quirk, it's kinda cheesy* and the lyrics are very VERY her.

Gentle Criminal - Old YouTuber boy! He's definitely getting rickrolled over and over, not understanding anything going on. I actually really like this song, 100% unironically and it's a romantic vibe. Gentle is loyal to La Barva too n that's most of what the sing is at its core.

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Knuckleduster - He is a natural but at the start his vibes are low key ominous. He slaps tho and it's not a spoiler but I miss him.

*Koichi - It's a soft song, kind on the ears. Kochi was really out here living this song almost to a t, huh? Damm boy. No one in the Bnha fandom seems to care about him and this song is also very underplayed.

Pop⭐Step: * not as cheesy as this one, baby! Okay so this song is from a 2007 movie and in the fictional universe the song came out in the 80s. No one cares about this movie at all, even less people care about this song and I'm almost curtain my mother and I are the only ones who actually know the words anymore. That being said, Pop would 100% sing this once a show and shed think it's amazing. No one in the Bnha fandom seems to care about pop at all either.

No.6 - He really can't, can he? He's a strange little man.