#i can feel it thru the entire bone now

[joelsdagger]

only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory. 

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up. 

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed. 

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again. 

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer. 

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.  

Joel. 

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious. 

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.  

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him. 

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again. 

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately. 

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed. 

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought. 

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible. 

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.  

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak. 

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.  

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright? 

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find. 

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own. 

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.  

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time. 

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this. 

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact. 

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him. 

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?” 

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly. 

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.  

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose. 

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips. 

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently. 

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more. 

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it. 

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken. 

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away. 

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn. 

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”  

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.  

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.  

“Uh-huh,” you murmur. 

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command. 

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.   

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of,  ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on. 

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm. 

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin. 

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.  

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release. 

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.  

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.  

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

[hyenaswine]

NEW LINK! The German Central Bank has canceled Abood's campaign so he's been forced to move to a new platform. With the border presently closed, he is just trying to collect cost of living funds for himself & his family, which includes his parents, sister, & nephew. As you certainly know, basics like food, water, & gas for cooking/heating have become exorbitantly expensive in Gaza.

You can read all of Abood's story & updates here, though donations thru that page have been disabled. Abood was a digital marketing student, then an ice cream salesman, then he was detained & tortured by the IOF for 25 days. Here is his own description of the time he spent in IOF detention:

I was tortured in various ways, such as being hung by my hands on a metal grill for hours until I lost feeling in my legs, or being forced to stand for long periods until I fainted. The pain in my bones and nerves still plagues me daily, as I cannot sit for long periods due to the severe pain in my knees.

In addition to the nerve damage detailed above, Abood still suffers from symptoms of PTSD from this experience, including nightmares, flashbacks, & hallucinations.

Abood is only 21 years old, being forced to survive a war & manmade famine, with the heavy burden of trying to support his entire family. I have been promoting his campaign since May & have watched him battle the language barrier & the constant stress & exhaustion to keep donors up to date on his situation in the hopes that people are spurred on to give more money. Nobody should have to work this hard to justify their right to continue to live. He's lost everything; now all he wants is to survive.

DONATE HERE

Abood's campaign is verified by the Butterfly Effect Project, line #1162.

[itsgirlcraft]

Ehhh I'm bored so have my Humanoid Beast AU

Soooooo...tbh Sabre's beast form is kinda like Indigo's Flesheater AU, just like- the body shape idk.

I can't believe it took me like 2 and a half years to get good enough at anatomy to successfully draw him, lol. I've legit had his design rotating in my mind forever hah

Anyways- actual au timeeee- so this is basically just a "what if Sabre's chicken onesie was part of his body" plus college au.

Several of the Steves are students, but under the guise of human forms, except for a couple. Rainbow Steve is actually human...sort of. When he was younger, he was brought to the Steve Realm (as in the Steve Saga Origins era) to take on the role of hero. It played out much like your average preteen fantasy isekai book, more or less, but still follows the og story. Most of the og Steve Saga isn't included here, at least not at first.

Rainbow kept his powers when he finally returned home, and they grew with his human form. His Steve form stayed mostly the same, never losing his bright colors. Thanks to him, those native to the Steve Realm were able to come to earth. Like the Galaxy family, at first, it's only Time, Galaxy, and Elemental.

But Sabre is more than just a human with feathers. Starting in middle school, he grew wings, which he could make vanish. But when he didn't fly regularly, they would get bigger, more antsy, and would reappear more. But eventually something different happened, after they grew to their largest after a long week in high school.

His body, his bone structure, it shifted around into something entirely different and animalistic. His final form is a sphinx-like harpy-ish creature, based on a chicken. For a while, he couldn't control this at all, only going on flights regularly would let him transform back. Stress makes it worse, so you can imagine how finals week would go :') Rainbow and Lucas are some of the only people he's shown/told this to, and Rainbow entrusts him with his own secret.

Eventually, though, the Galaxy family was over at his dorm when he transformed in the middle of the hallway, and got stuck. Galaxy was able to teleport him out, though he had to prove it by teleporting a fork over by a lake first XD

Later on, at a party, the one person I haven't mentioned yet accidentally reveals himself. The Guardian had found an ancient portal which took him to earth (sound familiar?) But it broke as soon as he'd gone through, and was not familiar with the human world - he hadn't been involved much in SSO. So he found himself drawn to the college nearby, and found that - as long as he hid his eyes and wings beneath his cloak - he could blend in quite easily.

He kept to himself, staying in the back of classes and simply learning quietly. But his first attempt at socializing didn't work out so well, because when someone knocked his hood off, he panicked and accidentally revealed his true form. Sabre forced his own wings to grow so he could cover them both, and Galaxy teleported them both away.

It turned out that Galaxy and the Guardian were childhood friends, and that Galaxy was an expert in portal repair. The group went over to the portal, practically in ruins, and Galaxy fixed it. But some drunk partygoers had come into the ruins, and so they rushed through the portal. But the surprise guests had come in sooner than expected, and one of them went thru on a dare. Galaxy shut it off just after he saw them, trying to keep more people from getting in.

And now we're back with the star-rats :) The Guardian finally got a chance to just relax, finally back home again, and talk with people. But it didn't take long til something strange happened. Sabre had never forced his wings to grow, and now, here in a world of magic, he was suddenly transforming! But even worse, he was growing bigger, so much so he ran down to the bottom of the temple to avoid breaking something.

Rainbow went down to calm him down, but Sabre was already spiraling, feeling the same he did when he'd first transformed. Oversized and Wrong in all the worst ways. His beast form would've felt less uncanny if he was unrecognizable. At least then he could pretend this wasn't him. But now - being as tall as a skyscraper - he felt tiny, everyone's gaze drawn right to his giant, lumbering form. It was all too easy to accidentally hurt someone in his smaller form, and now it was even easier. He didn't want to risk it, and tried to make himself as small as possible. And he wasn't even home! He was too big to even fit in the portal anymore, he wasn't sure if he'd be stuck here now. Would flying even reverse this anymore? Would he be stuck as a giant forever? It was just too much.

[lawomi]

Transmasc!Trafalgar Law & Straw Hats

Fun little writing exercise about Law coming out to the Straw Hats. Minor hints at LawSan, LawLu, ZoLaw, ZoSan.

Cw: 🔞 Mature topics, trans coming out scene, fluff, humor, bicurious Sanji, mastectomy scars, mentions of phalloplasty, Law is okay having a vulva, masc terms for parts.

Law is spending time with the Straw Hats at a bath house. He keeps his waist covered all the time, which leads different directions. Was it shyness? Was it some hidden tattoo? The guys devolve into comparing dicks. Law refuses to show them anything. The Straw Hats reveal just how accepting their crew can be.

Law sat on one of the stools to use the shower head. The bathhouse was noisy. The water splashed as Luffy jumped in; Zoro yelling at him for spraying water everywhere ending in a silly splash fight. Jinbe, Franky and Brook sat against some of the rocks to the back in relaxation, Sanji was busy trying to peak at the women without going over the wall and Usopp was sitting near Law, showering himself.

Law, unlike the rest, was wearing a towel around his waist even as he sat facing away and running water thru his hair. He seemed relaxed despite all the noise, though his face still held that classic scowl. Usopp glanced at him curiously as Law took to washing his privates, but maintained the towel so Usopp couldn't see.

"Say, Torao" Usopp spoke up, "Are you shy around us?"

He could see Law's eyes widen, his cheeks flush, and then Usopp received a glare. "What?"

Usopp scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously, "Sorry, weird question. None of us are wearing towels so..."

Law rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I'm not a Straw Hat. Plus, is it a crime to not want to show your genitalia to people? Tsk, people are obsessed with that."

Having heard the conversation, Sanji walked over. "Hm, that is a weird question, Usopp."

"YOU'RE THE WEIRDO IN HERE," Usopp raised an arm to gesture towards the wall where he had just been trying to peep.

"I am curious, though," Sanji ignored him. "Do you have tattoos on your inner thighs or something?"

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sure."

"Really?!" Luffy called from the water. He hung out at the edge, leaning towards Law. "I wanna see, Torao!"

Law groaned, "No! Mugiwara-ya, you can't."

Luffy whined, pouting with furrowed brows. Zoro waded over to him. "I bet he's just embarrassed about his dick size," he nudged Luffy. Law could hear the shit eating grin on his face without turning around.

Law took in a sharp breath, trying to relax his heart. He didn't want to have to talk to them about this. Luckily, Sanji was already on Zoro's case, since it reminded him that Zoro always boasts about his dick almost exclusively to make Sanji angry (or...something).

Brook had gotten out of the water and sat near Law, washing off his bones. "Well, I don't have a penis, yohohoho!"

Somehow, that made Law feel better.

"Yes, what does it matter?" Jinbe was now sitting on Law's left. "It depends entirely on your genetics, your race, your size."

"Yeow!" Franky grinned, "And I can change mine to be bigger," he half-joked.

Jinbe laughed at Franky's remark, "Well I have two of them!"

"TWO?" Sanji and Zoro had stopped in surprise and Luffy's eyes sparkled. "That's crazy!" Luffy laughed.

Law was smiling. He liked that the men casually defended him. Should he just up and say it now? Did it matter?

"I'm transgender," he finally said, his voice slightly wavering from nerves, "Are you all satisfied, now?"

"Ohhh!" Luffy got out of the water and walked over, to Law's horror. "So you're like Yamabro! Or... Okiku? You're a woman?"

"No, first answer was correct, I'm a man."

"Yeah, either way, that's no big deal," Luffy beamed, "Yamabro bathed with us!"

Jinbe smiled at Law, "We appreciate your willingness to open up to us; I'm glad you can trust us. Yes, we see no problem in that."

"Heh. Torao!" Zoro called over, "I definitely have a bigger dick than you!"

A very rare genuine grin spread across Law's face. Somehow, Zoro had enough empathy to know treating him any different was what would be upsetting.

"Me, too!" Sanji copied him. He was blushing slightly though, as if he was thinking about something.

Law shrugged, he stood and dropped his towel. Usopp and Sanji were the only ones to have a shocked reaction, Sanji's nose even trickled a bit of blood. Law froze up as he realized that everyone was actually scanning, not looking to his vulva per say, but for tattoos.

"I don't have any more tattoos!" He barked. "Just let it go."

Luffy came closer and observed, making Law blush, while most of the men continued what they were doing casually.

"So, that's your dick, huh?" Usopp pointed out, having come close, too. Sanji was still staring, he looked very conflicted. Franky also leaned in with interest.

Law sighed and tried to go into doctor mode now. "Yeah, with testosterone the clit increases in size. I think I'm two inches."

"But," Franky glanced up at his chest, "You did your chest right? What stopped you from changing the bottom?"

"I feel indifferent to it," Law said simply, "I don't want to change it." He jolted as Luffy gently touched the scars on his chest. "Hey! Too close."

Luffy backed up, grinning. "Sorry... Your tattoos are just so cool, I never noticed the scars there."

Law was blushing furiously now, feeling his dick peak thru his folds. He twirled around and used the shower head again. "Thanks for accepting me," he sounded honestly grateful, but was also trying to finish the convo.

Luffy sat beside him to the right, showering himself off too. Law tried (tried) to ignore him. Sanji was still staring at Law's back, but was snapped out of it by Zoro who began to make fun of him. "Into men now, Swirly?"

"No!" Sanji chided.

"It wouldn't be a big deal!" Zoro snapped back. Hell, he was into men. If Sanji weren't so fucking straight maybe he'd ask him ou--

"Absolutely not," Sanji rolled his eyes, "I'm just into certain parts. Doesn't mean I like men."

"It does if the parts are men's parts," Zoro sneered. Sanji was dumbfounded at this comment. Shock befell Zoro to see Sanji go into pensive mode instead of growing angry. Sanji pinched his chin, diverting his eyes to the ground.

"Tsk," Zoro rolled his eyes. "Well, technically if you viewed Yamato as a woman and view those part as female- gross - then you're straight. Quit worrying so much, no need to be fragile."

Sanji sighed. "You're right. I know Yamato is just as much a man as Law. I just... have to sort through my thoughts."

[bullet-prooflove]

You’ve created a monster 👿 and because you told me to request you best believe I’m gonna %1000 come thru! So BETCH I am on my knees begging you to please do a part 2 or better yet even a full update 😆 of your Nero/Cam girl series please! I would love her reaction to him confessing his feelings for her and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN PLEASE GIVE US THE SMUT WE DESERVE FINALLY!!! You are literally torturing me with these two because every time I read an update you post of them Im left yelling in frustration because the sexual tension is legit torture when you leave us with just a tease of them!!!

So please put me out of my misery and don’t let me endure another moment of torture because I just might break

💛💛💛

Keep up the awesomeness and can’t wait for your next update Queen

Companion piece to Day Off

This did not go the way I planned...

“I love you.” He tells you. “I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”

You don’t believe him; Nero can see it in your expression. You turn your head back towards the sky, your fingertips slipping from his so that your palm comes to rest upon your stomach. There’s a tension in your shoulders that resonates through your entire body.

“Is that what you say to all the other girls?” You ask him, your voice a rasp as you stare up at the clouds. “Is that why they sell themselves for you?”

“What?” He spits the word out like a curse because never in a million years did, he expect this from you.

There’s an agony blossoming in his chest, and he tries to shut it down, to be rational but truly you’ve shaken him. He can’t understand how he could have been so wrong about a person.

“I know when I’m being played Nero.” You say quietly, toying with the silver rings on your fingers. “I know what it means when a man says that he loves you, I know what’s expected in return.”

“That’s not what…” He trails off, his lips clamping together as he forces himself up into a sitting position, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he inclines his head towards you. “You’re fucked up you know that?”

You lay there still sprawled on the grass; your arm thrown up over your head like in one of your boudoir shots on the website.

So fucking tempting and so fucking infuriating all at the same time.

“Do you think I’d be doing this job otherwise?” You ask him as you flick your sunglasses down from their place on the top of your head so that they cover your eyes. “Do you think I’d be selling myself if I was ‘normal’?”

Something happened to you, he feels it in his bones. Someone turned you out and once that happens you can never go back. You re-live the ways you’ve been used even when you step away from the life, it carves itself into your psyche. This he realises must be the compromise. The camming.

You don’t hook anymore, but you sell yourself in a different way and it erodes at your soul little by little until there’s nothing left but an emptiness right where it used to be. He thinks that’s what he’s looking at right now, that vastness. Someone reached into the depths of your spirit, and they tore it to pieces. He sees exactly who you are, and he loves you for it, the problem is your experiences have always been transactional, no matter what he says you’ll never believe him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He tells you with a sigh. “It’s too much. I can’t be around you.”

There’s no way to win, he understands that now. In your mind, he will always be a pimp and you will always be a whore, trying to claw your way out from underneath him, even if it wasn’t him that put you there in the first place.

“Alright.” You say, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll get myself out of Diosa tomorrow.”

[yanderu-deredere]

wanted to see some jealousy stuff with the ocs so could you do how they'd react to someone approaching their darling in public and trying to flirt with her?

a/n: jealousy headcanons are my fucking THING LETS GOOOO

i really didn't want to group this together so like i'll write for a few of the yanderes and, if i didn't include the yandere you wanted, feel free to request again

i just really wanted to write cute lil headcanons and a drabble but uhm yeah LETS GOOOO

warning: female reader as requested, mentions of violence, mentions of bone breaking

soren kumar ★ profile

honestly looks like he gets the least jealous but, on the inside, he's infuriated

except he can't be infuriated becos he's a pop-star and he can't bring attention to himself or make himself look like some overly controlling boyfriend

so all he can really do is try his best to calm himself

will succeed and be really chill unless the person approaching you becomes rude or handsy. then he allows himself to act however he wants becos now he has an excuse

"Hello, darling, who's this?" Soren sidles up to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

From your perspective, he looks like the same charming Soren, bright expression on his face and even brighter notorious smile on his lips. From the stranger's perspective, however, Soren looked like a viper waiting to strike.

"Oh, I don't know." You shrugged, ever the oblivious one, soft smile on your face as you wrapped your arm around Soren's waist "I think he was about to sell me something maybe?"

Soren both praised the Gods and cursed them for how cute you were. He pressed a kiss to your temple, glaring at the guy from the corners of his eyes "How about we just go then? It's not like you'll buy whatever this guy has to offer."

You quickly nodded in agreement and the stranger was left by himself, both shaking in fear of Soren and confused by the entire situation.

gawain byrne ★ profile

is actually the least jealous on this list LOL

he does get insecure at times but, if you're with him, he trusts you more than anything so he knows you wouldn't cheat on him

plus, if you're outside with him, that means either he hasn't kidnapped you or he has and trusts you enough to be outside

so ya know, he implicitly trusts you and that's what allows him to be level headed

he'll only get a bit out of hand if the person approaching you becomes rude

Gawain frowned, both yours and his drinks in his hands. Across the way, on the other side of the cafe, you were talking to some stranger that Gawain had never met.

If Gawain didn't know who he was, for sure you didn't. So, who was he and why was he approaching you?

Just as Gawain was about to walk over, you frowned at the stranger and basically snubbed him, turning to walk away without another word. Gawain would've laughed if it didn't make him look crazy.

As you turned, you spotted Gawain with your drinks! You basically speed walked to him, not exactly pushing other customers aside but definitely weaving through the crowd.

"I missed you." You took your drink from him, bright soft smile on your face.

Gawain pressed a kiss to your forehead "I missed you too."

ryuunosuke yamamoto ★ profile

50/50 he notices LOL

the type to sometimes be really oblivious. like he's a himbo thru and thru and sometimes shit flies over his head

but if he does notice, he honestly joins in. he thinks the world of you so, if someone's out here, calling you beautiful and stuff, he'll 100% agree and chime in

if the guy becomes a bit rowdy, however, ryuu doesn't care about making a scene or not. he only cares about keeping you safe

"Hey, who's this?" Ryuu walked up, annoyed expression on his face.

You just sighed irritatedly "Just some guy saying I'm beautiful or whatever."

Ryuu looked a bit taken aback by that before pulling you into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around your middle "Well, he wouldn't be wrong."

Your face immediately turned hot and you huffed, eyebrows furrowed "Shut up, Ryuu."

"Whaaat, I'm just telling the truth. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on." He pressed a soft kiss against your cheek, acting as if there wasn't a bystander right in front of the two of you.

"No, Ryuu, he's bothering me." You informed your oblivious boyfriend a bit more firmly "He won't stop calling me beautiful. He won't leave me alone."

At that, Ryuu's arms immediately unwound from around you so he could step up to the guy, that previous dopey smile replaced with one filled with sadistic glee "Oh, I see."

Then, he leaned down to whisper in the guy's ear "If I see you again, I'll fucking castrate you. Stop fucking bothering my girl."

The man looked like he couldn't run away fast enough after that.

mel lowell ★ profile

not to make any dog jokes but mel reacts the same way a dog reacts when somebody trespasses their territory LOL

basically is on guard the minute he senses someone even looking your direction

won't say anything of course because he doesn't want to seem too overprotective or whatever but you definitely have scary dog privilege with mel

he'll just stand behind you, arms crossed, and that's usually enough to scare anyone away

if they try touching you, well, they won't get close enough to LOL he'll snatch their wrist up and break it

Mel liked to think he was great at sharing. After all, he's had two partners for as long as he could remember and then you were added to the mix.

Usually, he found joy in watching his partners shower you in affection. However, he quickly learned, Mel did not like it when strangers did the same thing.

He stood behind you and to the left, arms tightly crossed as if he was flexing, his dark eyes trained on the son of a bitch that was chatting you up.

He could at least give the guy props. After all, he had to have some balls to keep talking to you when your mate was right behind you.

Mel would let it slide. You seemed like you were enjoying yourself. Of course, you were also oblivious to the fact that the guy was trying to chat you up but, hey, he loved that cute part of you.

It was when the guy started reaching over that Mel immediately sprung to action. He grabbed the guy's wrist and squeezed, feeling the bone crackle and pop under his grip.

"I'll let you talk to her." He growled, his other free hand pushing you behind him "But that's it."

As soon as Mel let go of his wrist, the guy turned and ran, tail in between his legs. All Mel could do was let out a triumphant smirk.

[truly-sincerely]

Dark Star Falling (4 of ?)

Gortash wakes with a start. The only sound, the whirs and clicks of the steel watcher at the other end of the penthouse. The only light, the dim moonlight that makes its way thru the frosted glass, partially blocked by the lithe silhouette of his erstwhile paramour.

“This one doesn’t count,” their whisper cuts thru the darkness. Before he can object a spike of pain, his surprised scream, muffled by the palm of their hand.

The dagger slides right past his clavicle and into his scapula. There’s a unique pain when something touches bone. A sickly-sweet tickling sensation that’s neither sharp nor dull, but reverberates thru the entire body. As the nerve and muscle pain gives way, Gortash knows that this wasn’t a killing blow. The dagger penetrated too high to puncture a lung and he’s not choking on blood so it wasn’t arterial.

Darling is settling in, gently somehow, across his chest. He can feel the bony ridges that criss-cross their body thru their clothing–so they’re not wearing armor this time. Even still, the movement and pressure sends wave after wave of sickening vibrations thru his body and he fights to stay conscious thru the agony and ecstasy. Moving his right arm is out of the question, but he finds that if he is very deliberate he can lift his left arm and wrap it around Darling’s torso, letting his palm rest on the ridges of their spine, between their shoulders. He’s not sure how long they stayed like that, in the pitch dark, controlling his breathing and listening to theirs.

“Orin stole my bear,” was the next thing they said. It is such a dramatic non sequitur that Gortash has to fight off a laugh that would surely be his end. “She’s angry that I murdered her new murderer. She thinks she can compel me to kill you.”

“I am at your mercy,” he musters. Yelling for the steel watcher wouldn’t save him and at this moment he’s sure he doesn’t want to be saved. Not from this. Not from them.

“I don’t kill for others anymore. I only kill who I want to kill.”

“Bully for me, then.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I might still let Karlach kill you. Depending on how things go,” they say. Deadpan enough to be joking, but he’s not certain. He doesn’t care.

They’re holding his right shoulder down now, initially causing a whole new spike of pain and nausea, but then as that fades the pressure is a relief. They’re pulling themself up and in the darkness all he can do is breathe in their scent and feel their warmth. Blood, citrus, and herbs. Their lips brush over his skin and then they’re gone.

The light thru the window is just starting to change color. He finds a small bottle pressed into his hand. A healing potion, the cheap kind, but it’ll stop the bleeding when he pulls the dagger out of his shoulder. He assumes that’s what it’s for. Best not to take anything Darling does for granted.

In that brief moment of distraction he’s lost track of them. He stumbles into the middle of the room. The steel watcher stands placidly next to the door.

“Was it everything you hoped for, Darling?” A voice drifts down from the walkway above. Posh, upper city accent, lilting but masculine.

“Jealous?,” Darling replies, barely audible.

“Of Enver Gortash? Hardly. Back to camp?”

“Let’s go kill someone.”

“That’s my bhaal-babe. Off we go then.” Gortash grabs the dagger as their voices fade into the distance. The handle is wrapped in paper, folded neatly as tho on the leg of a carrier pigeon. He slides the paper off and inspects it in the pre-dawn light. It’s a letter, his own handwriting, to the editor of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette, ordering a hit piece on Darling’s adventurers. He has a feeling he’s not going to enjoy today’s broadsheet.

First - Previous - Next

[nikomedes]

i don’t want to add on to the post directly but i rly am grateful for that “when u actually commit to sitting down and unpacking ur trauma after living ur life in it, everything will get Very Bad before it gets better” bc legitimately. okay clown moment imminent. july this year i went into therapy and was like “hey bestie! im so glad we could reconnect after u got me thru a crisis five years back! i think fortunately u got me thru my latest crisis so it may be time for us to stop seeing each other again! 🥰” and she, my fucking ride or die will not take my bullshit therapist, went “oh thats so good to hear! 🥳💖 so we can definitely do that or yknow. we could start work on the trauma underlying this long-term cycle of struggle i help u out with every few years? 🤔 lmk”

and i immediately started crying lmao. bc she was right and like, im the most emotionally, physically, and financially stable ive been in my entire life. and it was time. i have been living w layers of maladaptive coping mechanisms and unexamined beliefs about my life from traumas at 4, 16, 19, 24… all the survival quite triumphant but really just layers of scabs. i needed to debride the wounds. rebreak the bones to set them right. metaphors yknow

yall it sucks so bad. p much ever since ive been in a spiral of my worst behaviors and desperately clinging to comforts with my claws out. all time lows for household management, work performance, personal hygiene, you name it. but also? i know i feel so bad in direct proportion to how much i need to work on this stuff. and between therapy, her thoughtful book recs so i can learn about psychological tools as we work with them, the most half-assed journal keeping youve seen in ur life, the support of friends and family, meds, etc etc, i can feel stuff shifting. im past the point of recommending therapy to everyone and i know esp in the US access is behind so many bullshit hurdles. but however u go about it, when ur in a place that can support becoming Goop in an effort to fully heal, its worth it. u gotta. its what we deserve, aka the full chance at living a life we rly love

anyway here’s a meme my friend and beloved podcast cohost made when i went to the gc the first time to lament Turning Into Soup after deciding to actively work on stuff

they do know now. and theyre proud of me, even while im Goop

[dizzymoods]

idk man. taking the film on its face makes for a great cinematic experience; as a crime film it’s top notch. and for that i think the highs are taller than the lows are deep.

But the film’s politics epitomize the liberal “bearing witness to tragedy.” the film is about the wastefulness of colonial greed and i haven’t parsed thru if that theme was so well articulated that the film itself seems like a waste. idk if that’s the point.

The film depicts the banality of whiteness as violence, the matter-of-factness of genocide very well. And if you haven’t experienced that mundanity or haven’t seen movies that have already tackled it, i can see this film being an awakening of sorts. And I think there's value in that.

I dont have a problem with the film being from Ernest's perspective. I dont think thats indicative of Scorsese's whiteness lapsing his judgement. There's stuff in here about the white characters that arent simple. Whiteness is self-corroding and most "white people bad" movies from white filmmakers that ive seen are oblivious to this where scorsese isnt; as the most salient example of there being meat on the bones of this movie. There’s a moment when Hale seeing a newsreel about Tulsa and with just a look we understand just how far he will take things. But, at the same time, Ernest's stupidity seems absolvent on some level.

Where I think Scorsese's whiteness interceded is in the depiction of the Osage people. And his late career restraint doesnt help here. What for him might be subtlety reads to me as a re-articulation of the stoic indian. Mollie barely has interiority. There's a moment where the camera is from Mollie's perspective and after whipping around a crowd, it lands on Hale and I thought she's figured it out! and now the movie will begin in earnest. But, no.

There are scenes where the Osage have councils with stirring speeches and voice over moments. But nothing Osage is really dramatized, only the crimes, murders, and plots committed against them. There are scenes of tradition and customs that are filmed beautifully but they're accompanied by some sort of explanation or nod to the importance of a particular ceremony.

I think Christopher Cote sums up a lot of my feelings well.

Ultimately my problem is the narrative emphasis (not necessarily the narrative perspective). But meeting the film where it is, i have little complaints. For what it is, it's good.

My girl Thelma was clocked in, okay? Shes so deft at moving shit along while giving weight to each and every moment. The pacing is brisk but with a hefty gait. This is a rare skill.

Prieto has always been milquetoast to me but even he rises to the occasion here. Certain lighting set ups here go crazy. Theres an interesting texture to faces that feels fresh. The cranes feel like 40s backlot cranes which is so refreshing in the era of movement for movement sake. But, unless there's people in the frame, he shoots nature like the bucolic green hills on windows 95 or whatever. but he does Jack Fisk's interiors justice.

Acting is phenomenal. Lily is a standout, its a shame she had so little to chew on. She sucked the marrow out the bone of this role tho. Louis Cancelmi is wicked and steals his scenes. Tantoo Cardinal ate and her Lizzie was a highlight of mine; there's a gravity to her performance. One performance that idk how to feel about is DeNiro's. I think his performance embodies my feelings of the film actually. He plays evil entertainingly. As a performance its vibrant but i think its the wrong scenario idk idk idk

Scorsese made choices, regardless if i agree with them or not, and in this american climate it seems inconceivable that a director can even make a choice. You can see the contours of the craftsmanship. It's not regular phoned in, assembly line shit. And I think the film should be commended for that. There are moments that I think will stick with me for sure.The ending is one of the boldest ive seen in a minute. Not entirely convinced of its success but it stands out.

For me the movie is an interesting failure and i'd much rather that than it be a better made, safer movie. There's a lot to chew on thematically, artistically, and politically. It just needed a lot of chiropracty for me

[placeswordsdreams]

I think I’m done posting here. I love hiking, and I love hiking trails, the way they crest over a hill, the way they bend around a rock, the way you never know what’s coming up 30 feet ahead.

I used to hike a lot, a great deal. In my 30s I backpacked well over 1900 miles, mostly on the Appalachian Trail, but also a lot in Arizona , but I failed to completely thru hike, despite two tries.

On my best chance, I blew out out two ankle ligaments in Virginia after 500 miles. After that the hike was never the same. I walked 1000 miles on a badly sprained ankle until my foot was so swollen I could no longer lace up my boot.

So in Massachusetts, we, my girlfriend and I, abandoned our thru-hike and give up. I hurt so bad, and she was absolutely exhausted and we were defeated.

It still bothers me, very much.

I have never again enjoyed hiking ever after that. My ankle hurt for 20 years, despite two surgeries by incompetent doctors. Finally a doctor diagnosed my partially torn ligaments and pinned them.

But that wasn’t enough either. I developed a bone spur because of the ligament problem, and now I have serious arthritis all across the top of my left foot. And a neuroma under the other foot.

Also had spinal stenosis so I can no longer carry a backpack.

25 years after trying to hiking the Appalachian Trail, my body is a complete mess and I’m afraid to even step out the door, let alone exercise. I’ve gained an enormous amount of weight and have other problems because of that and have given up.

I really miss being in the outdoors and hiking up mountains and breathing hard. I really miss the way the trail goes around a rock and a tree and comes out in an entirely new place. I miss being in the rain and in snow and cold and hot and feeling the huge range of emotions that backpacking brings every day. I miss sleeping in a tent in the rain and waking up under just the fly to hear the birds sing and I miss living on a little bit of food and and feeling just a little bit hard and like every day would be a new adventure. When we started out in the morning we never knew where we would end up sleeping that night. Or what would happen along the way. It was a glorious adventure.

Now I’m just fat and old and injured and in chronic pain, and all that is behind me. Couple of years ago I thought that by posting pictures of trails here I might get back into the flow and spirit. But it is not enough and I can’t overcome my problems. I feel kind of ashamed of this and I feel ashamed that I could never hike the entire Appalachian Trail when it was one of my goals since I was 10 years old.

And I will never get another chance. It still bothers a huge amount, and always will. I will think about it on my deathbed, I’m sure.

[518062]

bakugou katsuki is franz kafka. proof? look

we all know franz was unhinged. particularly unhinged when he expressed his feelings.

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones.

katsuki is constantly misunderstood. people always assume he’s some rough daddy dom bully and it’s just… that’s… severely wrong. he’s sensitive, yes—loud, but just as timid. the type of person who’s always talking but you never know anything about them. he keeps to himself besides this incessant moaning and, especially later on, kinda shuts down in terms of social interaction. like many introverts, he reduces socialisation to if and when needed, not for gratification, albeit not entirely. now look.. i don’t know much about franz, but this quote tells me he felt deeply; language did not suffice for what he dreamed to convey. i feel like, especially considering izuku, that this mirrors katsuki completely. he’s confused and going thru mental limbo all the time, not sure on how to proceed with izuku post apology. for izuku that feeling is one only existing in his bones, one could say.

you don’t think i’ll discuss katsuki and franz without letters to milena? please.

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

ah… poor milena. but also good for her in some aspects. yes they didn’t end well but franz fell in love with milena because she translated his works and he felt incredibly seen by her. milena understood him, and to be loved is to be seen. izuku saw katsuki in a way which no one ever had.. he didn’t treat him any differently despite katsuki’s behaviour. maybe he should have retaliated, but that wasn’t in izuku’s nature, so he just greeted katsuki with the same kindness he extends to all. katsuki might not admit it, but he admires izuku; he adores him, and such is why his inferiority complex is so… complex. post apology, katsuki might feel more comfortable with izuku, hence this need to just be with him. katsuki’s trying now, and he wants to reciprocate.

I can love only what I can place so high above me that I cannot reach it.

he never really caught up to izuku. not physically. not in hero work, not emotionally. the only thing he won over izuku was the immense love he possessed and the ability to hide it. because as we all know, katsuki admires izuku, and he says as such. i cannot say with confidence that it is jealousy. but katsuki uses izuku to measure his self worth/success, thus needing to be better than him all the time. and with this quote we can see his perfectionism.

this last quote is the most important:

I am fond of lovers but I cannot love, I am too far away, I am banished.

this is kacchan. especially if u wanna be really angsty and use 431 as fuel. because katsuki must feel immense guilt for his behaviour, and we see this with how he corrects himself from saying deku to izuku, how he tries so hard to move on and become a better person for izuku and everyone, yet he must still have some guilt deep down for the years of shitty behaviour and thus punishes himself for it. he can’t have nice things, not after all he has done. hey, maybe this is a reach, but 431 katsuki is this entirely.

now the evidence has been presented… i implore you to read some more franz kafka

[the-acid-pear]

Y'know I do wonder what it says about me how I went from venting frustrations by having X being X to putting L.L. on a blender. I mean undeniably part of it is tied to my ever growing anxiety, hell, you'd argue there's parallels to be drawn between current L.L. treatment and Juan's when I was in highschool (there's so much that I daydreamed about yet never became canon but that guy christ my poor guy 😭) and y'all know how I was in highschool aka miserable and also very scared of real things (had to walk on eggshells always) but also non real things (I was tripping balls and a man with corpse paint is hiding behind my bathroom curtain ready to kill me‼️ among other things) but that still doesn't quite explain what prompted X to be made. What was I going thru that was so exclusive to that moment it didn't happen before or after? Bc X while eventually getting the blender treatment too (that's just my ocd tbf that I understand easily I'm a guilty guilty man and I need to fuel my own guiltiness by doing more bad tm things) he's usually the one pushing others in it. Hell the sheer fact he exists and the reason why he's called X is bc I didn't want to use L.L. for the story I originally wrote of him - just had to save this as a draft could you imagine I forget I hit post limit and lose this entire thing? - and named him X as a sort of place holder. He also is EXCLUSIVE referred as X there too to give him pronouns was too personal (I still use x/xs for him occasionally but way less). And it's not like L.L. doesn't have a few crimes under their belt they've pushed people in blenders too they've had mayor arcs about this in fact even all the way back to Japan their very first place this was present and that was a symptom of Thing in fact when L.L. spoke there they were referencing them who was violent and proud but L.L. was Ashamed of this violence and yes this is present with X too but where on earth did this overwhelming urge to enact it came from? Because I Am a violent man that I won't deny lately especially the urges to break bones and throw shit are overwhelming but not as much as when I walked down the streets daydreaming of every possible way I'd have to kill someone with the coldness of someone who is expecting this to happen (while not past the age of 16 and younger). Though I suppose Sheina WAS a vehicle for this too just like X let's not forget she did torture 4 ppl for a long while and that scene was written twice no less.

I guess there was always a side of... A taste for creative violence in me as far as I have memory and Sheina and X are symptoms of this even L.L. too but I guess I just have burnout? LMAO yeah maybe it's as simple as that. I did know a lot of me spiraling is a need to convince myself it's bad enough to allow myself to feel this. Maybe this whole thing is as simple as . Got distracted thinking of other things remember there was a Point to X character development that I was supposed to change? Which is a thing in universe too bc i never changed and neither did him he just turned it down? And it's now nothing but just another thing that happens that people don't question because X learnt to behave? Worth saying too X was a bit of a show off like when he had to stop originally was his own fault for literally telling L.L. and Can about it which directly affected them both. It really is all about doing bad things only to experience consequences except X wasn't guilty ORIGINALLY. Which is funnier than it's interesting. Although in his base story you can see him slowly get softer and softer.

I'm losing track but I feel they're both a form of downward spiral. But with X there was a whole Climax. There's never that with L.L. . X was an attempt to take control in a time where I had none while L.L. is just a cry for help and portrait of the absurdity of it all. It's also an escape from control itself too, you'd say. Perhaps represents my reality in that sense. It's that paralyzing uncertainty of isolation in dependency. It also it's a legit reflection of me Forgetting I can take control of situations after all until now only Once in modern time has L.L. done so. (They killed a guy. They mangled the shit out of him. They came to work shaking covered in blood. But irl realizing yes that is an option there is a way out was such a great relief.) But there's also the Consequences and the rammys which tie back to what I said before about the paralyzing nature.

And thing which is funnier than everything else is: fuckin what will happen to L.L., huh? Like not only bc I'm writing the story but even in universe. They've killed like 4 people (2 relatives 2 strangers, maybe even more I forgot about too) they don't even exist legally they love going to prison. Nothing is more dangerous to them than their own lack of self confidence.

I seriously don't know where this overwhelming upsetness and... Lack of confidence yeah animal fear and all came from. They were always here but when did they overpower else? Where did this weakness and I mean that in the most literal sense of it too weak like an overworked muscle.

Got distracted again but I guess it's similar to X too like this seeking of a climax of this big turning point except not at all there was that L.L. literally tried to kill themselves and it was a remarkable deal but then it became standard bc Yeah.

Maybe it's like AJJ said and I deserve displeasure and I really want to cry and I think you should spit on my face because I am a werewolf.

I think that's the best I can do for a conclusion idk what I'm saying anymore spent a whole hour or so typing this.

Though it's worth saying I did start thinking of this bc the X gene if you will the Xeske nature never left me it's just buried deeper.

I feel the issue is I keep trying to reach for a happy ending I keep walking down nails waiting for something good to be on the other side but I have no idea what it looks like.

Siiigh alright I'm done typing now it's 1 am ok. Sad conclusion. Though it's not like X had any sort of happy ending already stablished my man is still doing the same. But he did meet other things. He did manage to find some peace after trying and trying again. I guess L.L. is just experiencing the hopelessness I am. I mean the face ripping off thing that was just a real mental breakdown. Arc words too nothing ever changes when they peaked from under their arms and showed what was a single eye and goopy messy blood.

So I guess it's as simple as L.L. gets blended because I don't have the strength for malice I just want thing to get better but can't find a way out. X was for digging a tunnel L.L. is for failing the climbing class.

[everygame]

Break Thru 

Developed/Published by: Data East Released: 1986 Completed: 18/04/2023 Completion: Got to the end by feeding credits. Version Played: Retro Classix / MAME Trophies / Achievements: n/a 

Stop! Before you read this, you should know that you can only order a physical exp. 2601 from my ko-fi shop until May 1st! Remember, as a subscriber, you get 35% off instantly!

You may have seen recently that the “Retro Classix” line of Data East re-issues, available on GOG and Steam, are being delisted at the end of April, and wondered “should I get those before they’re gone?” Well, I’m here to answer this, because I took a cursory look at them, downloaded the one that I think is earliest in the Data East chronology (Express Raider might be earlier?) and gave it a shot.

No. You don’t want to get any of them. Break Thru is probably the worst retro release I’ve ever played! To be clear, I’m not talking about the quality of the original game (which I’ll get to–it’s no great shakes, but it’s not the worst I’ve ever played) but the release, which is bare-bones to the extreme. Buy this and you get the arcade rom… and a 3D arcade wrapper that makes it feel like you’re playing it in Grand Theft Auto 3. You can, thankfully, turn that off, but what you can’t turn off is terrible smeary graphic smoothing, and you–at best–have to mitigate it by also using the included CRT filter. Now, I’m not a fan of “perfect pixel”–I prefer even a weak attempt at a CRT filter, usually–but the one here is nasty (maybe even worse than the Astro City Mini) with horrible curvature and a general dullness.

And that’s… it. There’s no save states, no dip switches or settings, nothing else. You'd be better off being handed a zip file with the rom in it.

I’m not entirely sure of the provenance of this series of Data East reissues. Before the Retro Classix line these were all included in the similarly weird “Johnny Turbo’s Arcade” series for Nintendo Switch, which all seem to have been yanked from the eShop at the end of October 2023 (which is after the Retro Classix versions were put on sale.)  I assume that whoever has the Data East rights has been selling them off cheaply but with limited and non-exclusive rights, which is why you get things as tossed off as this, but it’s interesting to note that the Johnny Turbo’s Arcade releases managed to have better graphical options and save states, so they at least did the bare minimum.

(Though it gets odder. The Retro Classix versions were also on sale on Switch until November 2023, from the same publisher as the Johnny Turbo’s Arcade series, “Golem Entertainment” though they all have the same crappy emulator wrapper as this release, even though the at least slightly better Johnny Turbo’s Arcade versions were already there. Confusing!)

Anyway. You now know to let the Retro Classix line go off gently into that good night in the hope that the next suckers to buy a job lot of Data East releases goes to the effort of putting them out nicely (I’m looking at you, Digital Eclipse). But should you play Break Thru anyway? The answer to that is… also no!

Gradius was released in early 1985 and set the benchmark, and this doesn’t even reach the lofty heights of Sega Ninja. A side-scrolling shooter with five levels, the “twist” here is that you’re driving a car, though the stand-out thing about the car is that it does two things that cars don’t normally do: it shoots bullets and it can jump, awkwardly, into the air. The latter quirk is supposed to be the highlight–as you now have to leap over obstacles, and can even leap to land your car on enemies and squash them.

There’s one power-up (a three way shot that’s generally on a timer, but sometimes it isn’t) and a small number of enemies. Shockingly, there are no bosses.

The thing about Break Thru, really, is that it… sucks. There’s little to no variety, the enemies don’t do anything much (only a few have interesting attack patterns) and the controls feels so bad that I actually had to test this release against the MAME release just to make sure the emulation wasn’t fucked up here. I mean, to be fair, the emulation could be fucked up on MAME as well, but the car in Break Thru controls horribly. You can speed up, but it feels like it makes everything on the screen speed up, and there’s no sense of friction. You get the idea–that you’re supposed to speed up to dodge bullets or enemies–but it just doesn’t seem to work.

In fact, once you know the levels, the majority of Break Thru is absolutely trivial, with the only speed bumps the few enemies that you only seem to survive randomly. There’s a helicopter that I couldn’t kill that you just need to be lucky to leap past, and a gauntlet of small tanks in the final level that almost goes full bullet hell.

I guess there’s actually a wee animation at the end to make this feel worth beating, but without a final boss or anything it feels wildly anti-climactic. Everything about this, really, is just very, very bad.

Will I ever play it again? If there really is a Digital Eclipse Data East collection I’ll boot it up… once.

Final Thought: Something else a bit strange: there were 17 Johnny Turbo’s Arcade releases, but only 12 “Retro Classix” releases, which is why I picked up Break Thru and not Shoot Out (I think the earliest of the Johnny Turbo releases.) I have spent too long thinking about this!!!

Hi. Thank you so much for being a supporter. I'd like to ask you for one more favour--could you check out the fundraiser my best friend Steven is running to help cover travel insurance costs? I know there are so many deserving causes, but Steven has a stage 4 brain tumour and it would mean the world to me if you considered donating, or sharing his page, to help make his remaining time the best ever.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary214

4/16-17/2024

tuesday - wednesday

feeling better today.

and still feeling better little bit by bit. i did something kinda dumb and jumped on buying a new laptop this morning and then decided, not that one, another one that's from acer instead of lenovo cuz i don't want something made too badly, i suppose. so now i am waiting on that cancellation to go thru, get my money back, and then by this other one that should be better than the lenovo thing. the only thing that had going for it was that it had like 24 gb of ram + 2 tb ssd, and that's maybe whatever, basically i know i need at least 16 + 1 tb, this thing i have doesn't even have an ssd and the it's 12gb of ram, the cpu is is like, from 2016, this new one would be like a 2023 cpu, it'd just be an upgrade in such a serious way, almost entirely i think. it'd be very nice and honestly? i am just thinking about all the stickers i have collected that i have been waiting to put on a laptop. i am so freaking excited about that... there's this sticker i have of a stuffed animal bear with its guts out, there's this sticker of cute cherubim flying around and it's shiny... there's a bunch of others... there's a yume nikki sticker. like omg... it will be soooo cute. cuter than this one, which is still cute. but not way cute. if i have a cute machine... i'll at least feel 10% cuter daily and that'll make me a little less crazy maybe.

anyway, today i made a new guitar tone for some of the problem songs and i think it's maybe basically perfect, so i'll see about that later i gueszzszss, i wanna listen tomorrow instead of immediately after exporting, in album context, just to see how it all comes off and maybe tomorrow will be good for vocals too. we'll see. i go in at 6 so i have time...

i hope, at least. i could waste it all. maybe this order cancellation will go badly but it's not like the order really had the chance to process fully. so it should be okay, i imagine.

listening to this now. conqueror is a good record i need to go back to it.

god now i am listening to this:

when i was in highschool, this was like, one of the most important songs ever, to me, between all the fucked up screamo stuff, weird electronic music, industrial stuff, there was this thing, it weighed on me more than any gy!be song, this felt like, i dunno, it puts me in a state of incoherence but i'll try to speak it, it was that kind of feeling you get, i knew i was headed into a future of some kind, it was really violently hitting me at various points, but especially senior year i think, the skull-cap of life had been opened up, and there was just this new firmament visible from the interior, i was caught in there staring out, the bone-white rim and black sky, a whole nothing arriving, a monstrous tide, and i understood it, and was part of it, i was bound for it, it's not like, death, it really was the dimness of the possible, where no light is because it is undifferentiated, that sort of yawning void crawled into me, and i felt the weight of the world and felt much of it as a kind of waste, cheapness surrounding me, you feel this lovely and swelling thing in those moments which are cheap, minor, standing in parking lots under cloudy skies, waiting for the bus to come take you home, stuff like that.

wow, you can see my old comment from 7 years ago on that. i feel so dumb seeing myself online but there's something sweet about that i guess, so like, whatevs.

how strange it is to see myself. it makes me kind of sad i guess. i am the thing i always was which is what i want to be. but i wonder if that means there's something wrong or whatever.

because i had to run to work, i could not read. tomorrow i need to and also i need to read some of that hito steyerl book tomorrow. it's like, good to read those kinds of essays. i read an essay tonight also,

this was interesting . i guess one thought not against but questioning it, is wonder if maybe the borderline experience is, while an expression of need for ways out, desire for revolt, and efforts toward that, if it still emerges from/in response to and so somewhat crafted by an apparatus of individualizing disciplines? i don't know. i know that in many ways, this analysis here is right, it is a response and expression of this need for a way out, and i don't want to say it's like, a 'condition' of useless thrashing, i don't think it is, but i do think that maybe it's helpful to imagine it as the need and desire for revolt expressed, rather than the revolt itself. instantiations of the need and drives, maybe even tiny mobilizations of those things, but i guess here what i am responding to is the sense that it is 'one,' not in a one of many way, but the response, an almost ideal one, when in truth i don't really want to foreclose on any potentiality, but i don't think the author here is doing that, i just tend to see that in things i guess because i am a freak or something.

it's hard to have too many thoughts on it, but i do like it, i also need to get to another essay i saw on that ill will website, about ecofascism i think.

anyway i need to sleep now, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!

[writer59january13]

Temporal incarnation of Aphrodite...

induces idyllic reverie delight evoking similar surge, when skirting, and eluding fidelity defining the marital law on par with courting in flagrante delicto.

After reading about

Greek goddess of love

fancy notion woke whereof warmth suffused me snug as fingers fitted into glove

subsequent laissez faire attitude

welcomed salvation, overstimulation, labialization, impenetration, fornication, and consummation from above.

Hands folded prayer

like to beseech thee to abduct me with

no cause to up braid

natural temptation found

feral, gonadal, and hormonal paroxysm commanding, fueling, inducing longing from divinely devoted dada sacred marital covenant he twice blithely disobeyed

willingly surrendering quintessential orgasmic manifestation to nymph.

Earthbound Olympian of love, now dwells amidst thee willing submissive subject

teasingly surrendering himself,

whose psyche frayed

mossy secluded glade,

a natural bed of soft earthy, downy

canopied bride awaiting

me with said lovely paramour to get laid,

and maybe nine months later,

a baby will resemble

thee dear milkmaid,

then whence we return

to our Land O’ Lakes chalet

homage will be paid

in which human guise undressed as barenaked lady inamorato

doles secrets regarding

amorous Lumineers trade witnessed libidinal upgrade

into erotic dreamland such

heartfelt desire impossible mission for amorousness to be weighed.

Victuals to satiate

pleasures of flesh, especially erogenous zone

administered courtesy female

I wanna name Yvonne

this imaginary mistress singing seductive tone

thru this private line,

but no other phone

triggering mine little rolling stone

to generate primal sounds

vis a vis masturbatory moan

inducing groin seams

of pants extreme groan

toward pocketing sixty-nine

without any lovely bone.

A copious amount of adoration

suffuses entire body of this man

her, whose gentle and kind embrace

promises to be eternal plan

as made mention in the Bible,

Quran, or Torah millennia ago rattan,

whose healthy libido

will probably outlive me life span.

Royal carpet treatment awaits me

each and every day

as the differences between myself

and august dweller on high

establish a bounty and glory

of compassion to roll in the hay

atop bodacious, delicious, felicitous

fantasy asks me to lie

imbibing succulent bosom O zone hemisphere erupts highly charged atmosphere

akin to an eternal month o May

taking spirit soaring thousands

of miles of feet in the sky.

Upon hearing sweet nothings

nobody else can hear affecting heavy breathing

indicated by nostril that imperceptibly flare

a sheer grin of joy lights up

my countenance ear to ear

despite the impish quarks

of this divine being so dear

as journey to inxs of nirvana

induced ejaculated (er...

prematurely) whispered clear from being buck-naked bare.

while playboy hallucination

at my male member does yank

key mud hood dill,

where reality doth usually tank with muss elf feeling prick sans figurative or real shaft shank quite the opposite

with a wife acidly rank

she frequently pulls

my hair as a childish prank

knowing full well that action

turns my mood sour as a crank

I would escape, but no amount of money

can equal priceless prostatic fluid in the seminal piggy bank.

Other times, her karma roars

into a tempest with a rage

lashing out like a half-crazed maniac

loosed upon global stage

on account of silent battles

we regularly wage.

I admit my own fair share

of peculiar traits

which only to private confidences

t'will now relate

keep on the q-t (i.e. quiet)

lest spouse doth berate.

Chief among these oddities comprise

lower gastrointestinal perturbations

issuing from the a$$

which prompt innumerable outbursts of gas

ranging from quiet puff to a noisy, windy pass.

After usage of toilet

with a bowel movement large enough to sink a sub

wash rectal residue from my behind with a hose attached to the tub.

This couple resembles Frankenstein and his bride – argh what a pair

she taunts when I shower,

clean the rest of my body including hair

dry follicles shaking head after applying hair dryer

back & forth side-to-side

through the air.

There you now know foibles

and unusual personal ways

uttering that such antics how she plays

like netted in a one-man fraternity

undergoing constant haze

pelting this poor soul

with scraps of food, she flays

until these covered with

thick pasty gloppy glaze

as verboten entrees

now laugh till you fall over

and remain in stitches for days.

[iwasgivenabasket]

Going thru my notepad and found three dreams I had on the same night

-000-

I had a dream that Lucifer and God were finally going to duke it out for Earth. No armies, no trumpets. A one-on-one fistfight in an arena in the skies.

I had run up to Lucifer as he walked up Jacob's Staircase to the arena. "What are you going to do if you win?"

He seemed tired. "Kid, please go back down."

There was an announcer voice from below. The words are garbled.

I hesitate for a moment, but muster up the courage and catch up with Lucifer again. "Will this fight be You versus Him, or is it purely two moralities going head to head? Because if it's good versus bad or whatever, then won't this fight continue forever?"

"You should really go back down, kid." Lucifer sounds vexed, but his tone is surprisingly gentle.

I decide to take advantage of the softness I hear from him. "Are you not allowed to talk about it? I'm sorry, I don't want to get you in trouble."

At last, he stops his march up the stairs and turns to look at me.

His fur is coarse and matted with sweat and old wounds that never healed. He's dressed in a white tank top and white workout shorts. His fur is so black, however, it makes it look like the clothes are warping and twisting on the edges. The only regal thing about his physical appearance are his beautiful horns. The gnarled charcoal keratin twists feverishly as it stretches their reach into the sky.

His eyes are blood red. Or are they bloodshot?

I realize I cannot look into His eyes. I am painfully aware of my mortality as I cast my gaze down to my feet in reverence.

"Look... just go down and spend some time with your loved ones, okay?"

I keep my head down as my eyes well up with tears. I lower into a full body bow, and I hear Him continue walking up the stairs.

All we know is that if God wins, things go back to normal. If Lucifer wins, things will change. We don't know what will change, as He refuses to comment.

I stand up, shaking from nearly having my mind shredded into pieces by looking at the mortal vessel of Lucifer. I don't have the strength to look up at His back. Instead, I turn my gaze to the side.

I'm leaning against the cold marble railing of Jacob's Staircase. I'm above the clouds, but I can see the house I came from. My little farm and the river beside it.

My heart aches. Not with fear, but loneliness. I suddenly ache for the touch of another person. My brush with a deity left me drained, and I begin to slowly stumble back home.

-000-

Had another dream, though it was more like a short vignette. I saw a bottle of nail polish at a gas station. It was very very light baby pink, and a pretty big bottle - the length of my hand, not including the glossy black angular twist top. There was gold font on the bottle:

"love is so 2013"

-000-

One last dream. I was in the hospital because my car had gotten t-boned. My entire left leg had been amputated, my left arm was shattered, and my neck and ribs had been broken. I was in a medically-induced coma, but I could hear everything around me.

Lots of people came to see me while I was lying there. They confessed things to me, comforted me, wept for me.

It was a kind of waking dream, too. I kept opening my eyes every now and then and looking towards the ceiling. Even in those moments of semi-consciousness I could still hear the machines whirring that were keeping me alive. I could still feel someone's hand gripping mine or gently brushing away my hair.

There were no meaningful quotes that I can remember. No epiphany I had in the dream. I was just helpless, lying there. Listening.

01/07/2023