#i think it is mainly because of my own problems with grief

[sungjinhos]

i love how seventeen encapsuled depression into a mp3 file

[bibibbon]

I don't think a lot of Aizawa stans realize or care about how all-take-and-no-give his relationships with Mic and Midnight are.

I read somewhere that Mic and Oboro were friends longer than either of them had known Aizawa, and Aizawa's over here acting like only he lost him. Mic canonically put his own grief on the back burner to be there for Aizawa, and how is he thanked? By constantly being told to shut up and being belittled.

Midnight (maybe?) gave Aizawa the teaching position at UA to help with his grief. Now, she shouldn't have done that, especially since Aizawa had made it clear that he didn't want to teach, but he could have put his foot down and not taken the position! Instead, he makes an ass of himself to everyone around him - his students in particular. In a setting where common sense exists, this would give Midnight a bad look, but you know Aizawa doesn't care about that. He doesn't even seem to care that Midnight DIED, though that's mostly due to her death being purely for shock value 🙄.

Again, in a setting where common sense exists, Mic and Midnight would have called him out on his bullshit a long time ago and probably would have asked themselves, "why are we still friends with this guy?" It's especially upsetting, since he's compared to Kakashi so much. Kakashi has plenty of his own issues, but he's way more of a genuine friend to Guy than Aizawa supposedly is to Mic and Midnight.

Hi @nutzgunray-lvt 👋

Iam not sure if it is canon that present mic and oboro have been friends for a longer time but if it is thats not a good look on aizawa.

From the little we see of the rooftop squads friendship a lot of it does consist of present mic and midnight giving to aizawa than aizawa giving to either of the two.

For example, present mic was there for Eraserhead after the first war arc and present mic was also there for eraser after the usj arc. Midnight did recommend and nudge aizawa into becoming a teacher at UA and in the vigilantes manga it was thanks to her that oboro, mic and aizawa got an internship at a hero agency.

However, this begs the question what does aizawa do for his friends?

Nothing. (Or well canon doesn't show us that he does anything. Do correct me if Iam wrong of course)

Now sure you can definitely point fingers at horikoshi and say that he simply didn't actively include present mic and midnight in his story and that they were mainly there to prop up or almost be tools for aizawa and his development and to that I do agree but it doesn't change the fact that this is the dynamic that canon seems to establish between these characters.

I suppose you're talking about this scene when aizawa interrupts present mic telling him that midnight died and also present mic expressing his grief.

Now I won't deny that this is incredibly rude on aizawas part and that if aizawa were to listen and offer support it would at least show that he does give back to his friends but I suppose horikoshi thought it would be more important to give us "dadzawa". Personally, I do believe that there could of been a balance that we could of indeed received present mic expressing his feelings and aizawa offering support while having them talk and debrief about the entire situation yet we didn't get that.

I have seen the rebuttal that aizawa only did this because he didn't want to hear that midnight died and that he was also burying his emotions but I do suppose that's up to interpretation. My main problem is that midnight's death doesn't get brought up again after this moment between this duo/trio (if they count kurogiri).

In the end even after kurogiri dies due to bakugo it all feels empty and it's not properly talked about between mic and eraser who witnessed this moment.

I think that the kurogiri/oboro reveal really could of shown us more of all the characters sides. It could of shown us then caring and supporting eachother and also seeking comfort in eachother. There were many moments where we could of seen aizawa comfort or give to his friends but we don't and I really don't think that's supposed to be intentional writing from horikoshi.

[saintsenara]

Do you think there’s any situation in which Sirius/Snape could work as a ship if James Potter was alive/around?

I love both Sirius/Snape and Sirius/James (platonic, romantic and everything in between) as ships so I’d love to see a universe in which the 3 of them have a lovely time together but I dunno if I can picture it. I can mainly see Sirius/Snape working with James and Lily dead and Sirius post Azkaban because it really brings him off his pedestal and leaves that shared grief and longing for that intensity of companionship.

I guess part of the problem is trying to imagine Sirius being able to even remotely care about or prioritise someone else with James in the picture, even if James is only giving platonic on his end. But then doubly so if that person was someone James had a massive rivalry with and doesn’t want near his wife. (Although if he knew Snape wasn’t interested in Lily like that maybe he’d chill out about it? Or would only child syndrome kick in and he’d hate him even more for trying to “steal” Sirius from him because it would be really shocking and maybe low key traumatic for James to have any less than 110% of Sirius’ attention…again even if they were only platonic… 🤔)

If it was going to work I could see it maybe more after Hogwarts when they’ve all grown up a bit and James and Lily are wrapped up in their family and Sirius is a bit adrift at adjusting to not being able to have all of James all of the time.

The closest I’ve seen to making something like it work was a fic where Snape was horribly tortured for killing Peter in front of Voldemort to stop him telling the secret and it left him vegetative for years and the Potters cared for him and eventually Sirius took over so they could go live their married lives. I was really interested in where they were going with it and pretty sold on that being a situation in which it could end up all happy families but unfortunately the fic was kinda preslash and stopped before it explored how things would go romantically for Sirius/Snape after Snape regained his consciousness.

Would love to hear your thoughts on any scenarios in which you think the 3 of them could get along swimmingly!

My other thought was maybe if Sirius had been put in Slytherin and James decided to talk his way into Slytherin to be together, they might eventually adopt Snape into their wider friendship group for his dry wit the way they did Remus. I feel like James was waiting his whole life to have both a best friend and his own gang and would make one wherever he was with the best of what he had available (lbr Peter is hardly a stellar pick), and without the “he’s evil because he’s Slytherin” divide they could potentially find the Dark curses Sev knows fun/useful against whoever else they decide to bully instead, might notice in the shared dorm how poor he is and get a pity thing going like they did for Remus’ werewolf issue (which Snape’s pride would hate but he’d probably milk knowing how he was with Lucius?), and if Snape was gay and as devoted to a crush on Sirius as he was to the canon one on Lily and therefore willing to do some wing maning for James with Lily to keep in James and Sirius good graces, it could really cement his value as a pal….and if Snape had other options for well connected friends who could get him out of Cokeworth (picturing Fleamont setting up summer internships for James’ unfortunate looking poor but impeccably mannered pal at Sleekeasys R and D department 🥹) I’m sure Snape would be happy to not bother with the blood supremacist half of his year who want his childhood best friend dead (unless we think he joined to be in with them as a way to keep Lily safe, but I think that would be more a rationale he’d give himself or her later to justify his behaviour) ……..but anyway even if all of this elaborate scenario could happen so that the 3 of them would be pally, I still can’t picture Sirius being able to love/fancy someone more than James if James is right there, even if it’s only platonic on James’ end.

Unless I guess we take a reading of canon that Sirius was so mean to Snape because he fancied him madly and was furious about it, or because he could sense the queerness in him he hated/was being told by family to squash out in himself. Then maybe they’d have a special type of connection that could be powerful in a way Sirius wouldn’t be able to share with a straight James? Would that be enough though for Sirius never see one without the other Black? 🤔

I do think if that was the friendship group and they made Snape the secret secret keeper instead of Peter James and Lily might have lived! (And Snape might have let himself get killed keeping the secret 🥲) …although that said if Peter had an inkling James Potter might go to Slytherin he probably wouldn’t have fought the hat so hard and would have still been in the gang too!

I’ve really gone on a tangent here but yeah so interested in any scenarios you could see it working, I think about this a lot and I love the way you think about HP things! 👏

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

this is a question which i've wondered about for a while, which i'm going to answer with a tentative... yes.

because i do agree with you that one of the things which makes snack-in-the-90s really work is their shared grief over the loss of james and lily [and their shared guilt and desire to punish themselves for the role they each played in their deaths] and how it contributes to them being one of the series' most interesting narrative mirror pairings.

but it's equally true that they're narrative mirrors even without the grief aspect simply because of their mirrored love - whether you wish to interpret this as platonic or not - for one half of james and lily, and the quiet devastation [even though sirius expresses this very differently to snape] they feel when the two pair off.

and so i do think - in a world in which both james and lily survive [i don't think it can be either/or] - there is the potential for snape and sirius to find themselves drawn together by a grief which is less profound than that caused by james and lily's deaths, but is still transformational in a way that i think is often overlooked in fandom: the grief of realising that the person you love doesn't feel the same way.

because i love platonic prongsfoot and platonic snily as much as the next girl, and i think that the grief i'm describing can apply just as much to platonic love as to romantic love.

but i prefer - and, indeed, i'm on the record as being convinced this is the text's actual intention - to read both snape's love for lily and sirius' love for james as romantic.

and - obviously - the intensity of this feeling prevents either snape or sirius getting a grip while they're in their teens [especially if they're both also grappling with the idea that they're not straight - i'm afraid i've never bought the fanon that the wizarding world is more enlightened when it comes to sexuality]. it makes perfect sense that - as you say - it's impossible for the nineteen-year-old sirius to imagine caring about someone the way he care about james, and to convince himself that the only way he can live his life is to spend decades pining nobly from afar, never letting on how much his heart aches.

but one of the great tragedies of the canonical snape and sirius is that they get stuck in a state of arrested development from their lives - essentially - stopping when they're both twenty-one. there's an inherent pettiness to their interactions in canon - the obsessing over schoolboy experiences, the fact that snape finds himself stuck at school and sirius finds himself stuck in his childhood home - which other characters clearly don't quite understand [dumbledore saying to harry at the end of order of the phoenix that sirius was too sensible to be goaded by snape seems dismissive in the context of what we - the readers - have seen, but it makes perfect sense that - from dumbledore's perspective - a thirty-six-year-old man wouldn't still care about playground beef from twenty years ago.]

in a world where james and lily live, snape and sirius get a chance to act their actual ages - and with that, sirius gets to learn how to accept that his role in james' life will change as his best friend settles into being a husband and father and snape either gets to learn how to stop pining for lily from afar or how to start trying to make amends for his treatment of her.

and james and lily also get to grow up too - to recognise how their priorities towards their friends will change as they form a family of their own and to see their school days [and their behaviour during them] more objectively the further removed from them they become. james at eighteen would rather die than have anything less than 110% of sirius' attention. james at thirty has other things to worry about.

i think that it would only work in a scenario where snape and sirius encountered each other again after having left hogwarts [i like the slytherin!james suggestion - and i'd be interested to see how you'd write it - but i personally think that there's no way on earth james is having snape anywhere near him until he's - for want of a better term - "won" their rivalry over lily]. but i also think it would only work if that scenario was decades after they graduated, rather than years, and that the two don't meet again until they're - at least - in their early forties.

i think you could do something really quite interesting with james in that setting - as he realises, as his children reach adulthood and start to fly the nest, that sirius is chronically single and decides the project he wants for his middle age is to find his friend true love.

never expecting that his friend will bail from a date he arranges with a lovely woman and end up hiding in the leaky cauldron talking to snape - but then being mature enough [after some running around screaming "snape? snape?" at lily] to think that if sirius is happy, then he is.

and on this point, both sirius and snape canonically struggle to be realistic about how they see themselves and their worth - for example, in how they both refuse to believe that they could successfully atone for their roles in causing james and lily's deaths. when this is combined with the fact that sirius grew up in a community which is obsessed with blood and lineage - and how that blood and lineage is continued - and snape grew up with his primary masculine role-model being a violent man who was presumably also a homophobe, i do think that both of them would find it difficult to be open about their sexuality, especially since - in a world where they get to live normally after 1981 - they would be starting to understand themselves as queer during the aids crisis [which i refuse to believe doesn't impact the wizarding world, because i loathe the implication of canon that wizards are resistant to muggle diseases].

i think you can plausibly write them as both still in the closet in the 90s/00s - and for sirius especially to be worried about james' reaction if he found out he was interested in men. [which is a dimension often left out of things which examine sirius as queer and james as straight. lots of queer men worry - sometimes unnecessarily, sometimes, sadly, justifiably - that being open about their sexuality with straight male friends will cause those friends to back off from their platonic relationships due to a homophobic fear that queer men will automatically interpret platonic physical and emotional intimacy as romantic.]

but - whatever else he is - james clearly isn't a bigot. and i think he could once again get over the fact that sirius has shacked up with snape [snape?] in order to be proud that sirius was finally comfortable with who he is.

[and yes, i do genuinely think that sirius and snape's canonical vibe can be read as having some level of sexual attraction in it - they are both just so obsessed with each other that it's giving "why do i have this hyper-intense need to get in this other boy's face oh wait that's why"...]

[menelaiad]

Hi! I know your favorite character is Menelaus (mine too) and I wanted to ask you, what is your opinion about him in Euripides’ Oresteia? And in Euripides’ Helen? Because as I see, the Homeric Menelaus is a little different, and Euripides didn’t despict him as a nice character.

Thank you for your answer in advance! :)

hi, there!

heck yea! fellow menelaus stans unite, let's make jackets or smth.

UHHHHH i spoke about this a lot in my recent MA thesis and it's the foundation for my phd (or at least a big chunk of it) and yes i'm sorry this bitch is going off about her academics again.

so. euripides was athenian and it's fairly safe to say that the athenians altered menelaus characterisation on a HUGE scale and it was mainly euripides as he wrote the most works featuring him. and it's also fairly safe to say that euripides didn't like menelaus OR helen OR hermione simply because they were spartan and given the context of his time, he couldn't really be pro-sparta. so, he used menelaus' family in a myriad of ways to just mock ALL spartans and spartan culture. i won't go into that too much now and i'll focus specifically on the plays you asked about! :)

ORESTES (i assume you meant orestes? aeschylus did the oresteia but euripides just did this one?): so here we see .... menelaus being not very great with his family. but not in a mean way he's just .... useless .. coward like almost? he's a big fence sitter tbh. he doesn't wanna get involved in orestes' shit and that is painfully obvious. again. that's meant to make menelaus look shitty that he doesn't care about his family and his brothers death and his nephew literally having visions of hell BUT. personally? i dont blame him ASDFGHJK. man just got his wife back. got home. dealing with grief and loss and survivors guilt and maybe ptsd and shit .................... and then orestes turns up like 'help me fix my problems' BRO HE GOT HIS OWN DAMN PROBLEMS. and THEN they're like 'ok uncle that's cool. we're gonna kill ur wife and daughter though' LIKE LEAVE THE OLD MAN ALONE. i LOVE menelaus and agamemnon's dynamic. so i'm not saying menelaus didn't care about aga and aga's family. im NOT saying that. but (and i KNOW its my modern perspective) i can see why menelaus couldn't be arsed. and he wasn't even mean about it? he was just nonplussed. AGAIN the ancients would have HATED that, but my modern ass can relate tbh. and lets not forget. he's caught between a rock and a hard place. if he helps orestes, he risks greek wrath. which (in this play anyway) is already strong enough against him cause of helen and troy. so like. euripides has kinda put him in this impossible situation and then makes him the 'stupid funny lazy ass not helpful uncle' guy when he just backs out. which i think is unfair. AND TO TOP IT OFF. APOLLO COMES AND THEN TAKES HIS WIFE. AFTER EVERYTHING HE DID TO GET HER BACK. justice for this old man i s2g.

HELEN: OH HERE WE GO! SO helen is often referred to as a tragi-comedy which i think is very accurate. and euripides is using it to condemn war as a whole (athens had recently suffered a big loss) like if helen wasn't even in troy what was the point of the war? he makes menelaus very .... pathetic, for lack of a better word. and helen seems to take the reigns in their relationship, which would have been a huge no-no to the athenian audience. it would have made helen look domineering and unmanageable and menelaus weak and foolish. he also has menelaus cry a lot. cry and lament his losses as a king. again, the athenians would have hated a man crying. a GREEK HERO crying. but we have our 21st century vision and tbh ................ menelaus is fantastic in this play. he is so. real. he is so human. he is a man who is tired. who is lonely. who is heartbroken. a man who meets his wife who isn't his wife but actually is his wife ... and we're supposed to laugh at him because he's confused? he gets lambasted by so many characters and it's supposed to be funny and i think it is! i do think menelaus in helen is just .... an incredible character. he's so funny. he's so NORMAL. he reacts how you would expect a man to react. you see so many menelaus' in this play. menelaus defeated. menelaus in love. you see a menelaus in action when he comes up with the plan against proteus but also a man who respects his wife and knows when to shut up. i, much like the athenians back then, do have a giggle at menelaus in this play. but i don't hate him. it makes him all the more endearing to me and i love him.

these two menelaus' are (shockingly) two menelaus' that i like! i love helen's menelaus and i'm indifferent to orestes' menelaus tbh. but i think they're fine as portrayals and they make sense to me!

overall, me and euripides have a complicated relationship. some of his menelaus' i cannot tolerate. and some i adore. and i can actually connect his helen menelaus and his iphigenia in aulis menelaus to homeric menelaus. they're not identical by any means, but the way he behaves and his choices and stuff. you can see homeric menelaus in there somewhere, which is why i love them so much.

[limbuscompanysituations]

(post canto VI) Some angsty stuff, like Ishmael being upset because Heathcliff acts totally different, all in all mainly missing the deep friendship that has started to form between them, some longing for a feeling she can't quite explain. She wishes to help him but doesn't know how to approach him properly ww

He changed.

It's normal for sinners to experience sudden, drastic changes; be it either in opinions, values or goals. Through the entirety of a bough retrieval mission, they are forced to revisit their own life stories. Their emotions change, their thoughts change, their hearts change. They change.

This change, however, is most unnatural; she would risk calling it unnerving.

He's always at a corner, doing something to his bat. Ishmael thought it would be a matter of waiting a couple days. She decides to leave him to it. Their stay at the Wuthering Heights was confusing, with a lot of it vanishing from their minds. It was clear there was something she missed here.

She's still expecting that the camaraderie that had blossomed between them would lead Heathcliff to tell her what was up. Instead, all she got was a man who was a shadow of himself. Ishmael can't handle it anymore, so she goes ahead and confronts him about it.

He iss still modifying his bat, bowing over it and completely focused on the task at hand.

"What's your problem?" She asks. It takes a minute or so for Heathcliff to slowly raise his head and look at her. It took him another half minute for him to really look at her. It's like he's deep underwater.

"What d'ya want?" He asks back. She frowns.

"So this is how it's gonna be? Hiding at corners, sanding that damned bat over and over and... carving? What happened to you? It's like... some ghost snatched the soul from inside your body."

He flinches at the word "ghost".

"Catherine." He speaks in a barely audible whisper.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, thought so." He sighs and goes back to his task. Ishmael grits her teeth, considering whether or not she'd get scolded for beating the shit out of him then and there.

"The name doesn't ring any bells to you, or anybody, for that matter. That means I still... have much to do." He quietly explains.

"You could start with growing a spine." She growls, "And tell me what the fuck happened to you." The next words she speaks hurt her more than anything, "You used to trust me."

Heathcliff pauses, shut his eyes and presses his lips into a thin line.

"Yeah I... I used to... Think many things before." His voice is weak, cracking and drifting away at the end, "And you're right. My soul was stolen, snatched out of my bones. I'm hollow, pumpkin." He chuckles, "Hollow like... birds' bones, I guess."

And for the first time in weeks, a little bit of that grief started showing through the cracks. Their stay at Wuthering Heights was brief and chaotic, but she remembers one thing clearly: the moment his mind broke, his insanity took over and he became not a friend but a foe; overcome with pain beyond what a human could bear.

"Don't call me that." She replies, "Not when you're like... this."

"Aight, Ishmael. D'ya want anything else?" He doesn't look at her.

"I want you to come back." It doesn't take a heartbeat before she says these words, and then he raises his head to look at her again, "However long it takes. I'm waiting, you stupid piece of shit. Waiting for the moment you want to tell me what the hell happened to you. I'm waiting."

Heathcliff stares at her, wordless and exhausted.

"I'm waiting." She reassures him, and turns her back, ready to walk away.

"Thanks, ginger. I... may not be all right in the head but... that's much appreciated."

Without any other word, she leavwa him be. Whether it worked or not, only time would tell. Ishmael couldn't do anything but to wait. And if it was necessary, she didn't mind having to knock some sense into him either.

[ariscats]

Jameson Hawthorne analyze, part 3

The day everyone (including me) thought wouldn’t happen came into life, the day i update my series (that i started months ago) abt analyzing tig characters. Everyone pls give a round of applause to the amazing @x-liv25-jamieswife that remembered me about this and helped me a lot writing this, even writing some of the pharagraphs.

Psychology

“I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)” -Anti Hero, T.S.

We are introduced to Jameson when he's drunk and careless. We see him jump off a two-story balcony and act like his grandfather's death “doesn't matter”. And that's mainly what we get from him throughout the first book, a boy that doesn’t care for anything, not even for himself. We get a little more explanation for why he acts like this in the second book of the series, The Hawthorne Legacy, where we find out that his actions and carelessness are a coping mechanism for him. “If you let this be a game, it doesn’t have to hurt” (THL, page 113). Jameson taught himself not to care from a very young age. After all, you can’t get hurt if you don’t let yourself care for anything, and, for a boy raised in the shadow of 3 “more extraordinary” brothers according to his grandfather, it was important for him to learn how to ignore his grandfather's words and actions (and other people’s comments too). Because people cared less for him than for his brothers, he began to move through life without looking where he stepped, without giving a second thought about most things, only letting in a select group of people, people who were with him since he was born (his brother, Emily ☠️ ), but even then he couldn't fully open up. 

To avoid his feelings, he not only takes unnecessary risks that put his life in danger, but he also drinks. Drinking his emotions away allows him to focus on things other than himself. He wants to focus on anything other than himself because of his self-hatred which we will come back to later. People drink to take away the pain which is what Jameson desperately wants to do. Another one of his coping mechanisms is to think of everything as a game. By looking at everything as if it’s a game, he can easily ignore his feelings. For example, when Tobias died, and he didn’t want to think about his death and the impact he had in his life, he began to think solely about the game Tobias had left (it’s important to note that Jameson has a laser focus, which means that when he’s focused in the game, he has the opportunity to think about nothing else, which also contributes to his copying mechanism. In the books, most of the few times where Jameson is actually happy, it’s because he’s focused on a game or riddle, because it’s one of the few times he doesn't think about all the other things happening in his life.) Doing this distracts him from his problems (grief, self-hatred, insecurities). Jameson’s main priority has always been to think of anything but his emotions, and he does everything in his power in order to do so.

When his mother got pregnant, she wasn’t thinking about having a baby. For Skye Hawthorne, being pregnant meant her fathers attention and something to love her the way she wasn’t as a child. She got pregnant with a professional gambler that never cared to show up or be present at all in his life, and, when the pregnancy and the baby stage were over, so were her fathers attention, and, then, she moved on. She left him as she had left his two older brothers. She only appeared from time to time, never staying for long. Because of that, Jameson started to believe that people would naturally leave him, and that he wasn’t worth people’s attention. He thought that him being himself and being vulnerable around people would lead to them leaving him.

This brings us to his self-hatred. With his mother constantly showing up and then leaving throughout his childhood and his grandfather telling him he’s ordinary compared to his brothers, he started to hate himself. If his own family couldn’t love him and accept him, then who could? His self-hatred and his abandonment issues are what keeps him from opening up to others. Because he hates himself, he thinks that others will too if they truly get to know him which is what keeps him from being vulnerable with others. If he keeps himself from opening up to others and letting them in, they won’t learn to hate him like he hates himself and leave him. Being vulnerable also means acknowledging his own feelings which is clearly something he tries to avoid at all costs.

[szollibisz]

🦾 for owen? <3

🦾 A disability headcanon

Well there's quite a few, mostly post-fall

I think the major ones is that he has a permanent limp after, his left leg being the weaker one (even though they both hurt) and that he has burns on quite a lot of his body.

I try to make my hcs work with what he does in the show, mainly that he can still fight and run, but I personally attribute that to Chimera's inventions. When Owen said they have a little bit of everything and seeing them pioneer new technologies I got the idea they may also be doing something similar with medical techniques and equipment.

I think the fall and the explosion damaged him severely enough that, without these modern technologies he would be in a lot more pain and be able to do a lot less things. But I can also imagine this essentially makes him an experimental guinea pig to the doctors working at Chimera (Who, due to Owen being Owen and never opening up or dealing with his problems are the only ones who know the extent of his condition)

I think out of all the things he suffered through, the thing that bothers him the most during his new missions, besides the chronic pain is the hearing loss. I think he hates having one of his most important senses weakened, because at least his lessened ability to fight is compensated by being a good shooter.

I think because the burns would've constricted him too much he's also been through quite a bit of skin grafting, but all parts have never been grafted because it's too much surface area to take from other places on his body, and mostly they just wanted to improve his mobility and get his back to work as fast as possible.

Since he's such a proud and independent person I think his dignity suffered a lot having to be taken care of so much. He's been injured in the field before, but nothing that would make him completely rely on other people for an extended amount of time. I think due to his grief and anger he often set back his own progress by wanting to go so fast. Those instances reminded him of Curt a lot and just made him angrier.

Overall I think his mental strain was just as great as his physical, and that made him throw himself right back into work and ignore his issues and neglect caring for himself, especially because he needed it then more than ever. yeahhh i could ramble on for a lot more but I won't. But now I really wanna draw post-fall Owen!!!

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 19

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 19

Calina slid the vial of blood across the table to Yelena. The other Widow looked at it, looked back at Calina, and raised an eyebrow. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

Calina rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I need you to give this to Melina for testing.”

“Why?”

“Its from a new victim of the pheromone drug. We think the formula has changed.” Calina didn’t want to admit that it was her blood sample, taken the night she’d been dosed. After the bath had warmed her up - and after Matt had warmed her in other ways - she’d asked him to grab the well-stocked first aid kit from his apartment. Then, perched on her couch and clad in nothing but his shirt, she’d drawn a vial of blood from her arm.

She wanted answers.

She needed them.

It was personal now.

Before, she’d been invested in the hunt for whoever was manufacturing this drug mainly because it was so important to Matt. And because she empathised with the victims who’d been stripped of their reason and control by an outside force.

But she more than empathised now. She’d lived through it.

The grief. The pain. The heart wrenching emptiness of losing Matt. 

And the anger of knowing that it was a lie. She’d been manipulated - tortured with falsehoods and fantasies - through a trick of her own neurochemistry.

And that really pissed her off.

But she couldn’t explain all that to Yelena. She was still too…raw. Matt’s death may have been a lie, but her reaction to it had been very real. And just thinking about it threatened to reduce her to tears again.

Yelena nodded. “No problem.” She pocketed the small vial of blood then relaxed into her chair and tipped her head back, closing her eyes to enjoy the slight breeze in the air. They were seated at a small table outside a cafe across from Central Park and it was a beautiful spring day. And Yelena looked so…relaxed. Which was not a word Calina usually associated with her sister.

“Are you used to it yet?” she asked.

“Used to what?” Yelena answered, her eyes still closed.

“Life. Freedom. Getting to decide the course of your day - even if it’s just to grab coffee with a friend.”

“Who says you’re my friend?” Yelena mumbled, the slight curve of her lips giving away the joke.

Calina laughed and kicked the other woman under the table. “Yelena!”

Yelena finally opened her eyes and shrugged. “No. I’m not used to it.”

“Well, its only been 6 weeks. Give it time.”

“It’s not that.” Yelena lowered her voice and turned serious. “There are still Widows out there, Calina, and they still need to be freed. Until every last one is woken up from the serum, I can’t start this new ‘life’.” She made air quotes as she said the last work, her chunky silver rings glinting in the sunlight.

Calina dipped her head and stirred her coffee, the familiar guilt rising. Once again, she’d been selfish - she’d ignored her obligation to her sisters and had lost herself in her relationship with Matt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have asked how that was going. And I should be helping you.”

Yelena waved her off. “If we’re stuck and need your help, we will call. But we’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard sometimes. Tracking them down is becoming more and more challenging, and seeing their reaction when they wake is always difficult…but its worth it. It feels like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing. And when all of this mess is finally cleared up, then I’ll make a good life for myself.”

“Speaking of clearing up messes, have you heard from Natasha recently? Is she still on the run?”

“Yes,” Yelena growled. “It’s been two years, and still they hunt her across the planet. Calling her a traitor.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yelena shrugged, her eyes downcast as she stirred her coffee. “She calls sometimes, to check in. To let me know she’s okay. But she doesn’t want to risk jeopardising the Widows’ freedom - my freedom - by visiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Calina repeated, knowing the words were inadequate. Natasha meant so much to Yelena, but the two women had barely had a chance to reconnect and mend the rift in their relationship before they were separated again.

Yelena shrugged again. “It is what it is. But enough about that. What about you? Have you figured out what you’re meant to do with this new life of yours?”

“Ugh,” Calina groaned and slid down in her seat. “No. I have no clue.”

“You’ve always liked books, what about being a librarian?”

It was Calina’s turn to shrug. “I thought about it. But I want to do something that helps people more directly - like Matt with his law firm.”

“Become a lawyer, then.”

“No. It’s too…confining, working in that kind of system.”

“What about…self defence trainer. Put your skills to good use teaching others how to fight.”

Calina laughed. “We didn’t exactly learn in the most conventional way - I wouldn’t know how to train someone without using Red Room tactics.”

“And that would get you thrown in jail over here.”

“Exactly.”

At that moment, a dog walker jogged passed the cafe with a pack of dogs surrounding her, all of them strapped to her belt by brightly coloured leashes. Yelena tracked her as she crossed the street to enter the park, a slightly wistful look in her eyes. “Maybe you’re overthinking it,” she said. “Just do what makes you happy.”

“Would that make you happy?” Calina responded. “Looking after a bunch of dogs?”

“Not a bunch of them. Just one.”

“You want a dog. Like, a pet?” Calina could hear the surprise in her voice, but it wasn’t really a shock. She’d always known Yelena was a caretaker - and once she finished taking care of all the Widows across the world, she would need to focus that energy elsewhere.

“Yeah,” Yelena said. “In Ohio, the neighbours next door to us had a German Shepherd. She was big and strong and looked scary, but her name was ‘Princess’ and she was the sweetest thing. Nat and I would play with her in the garden all the time…” She trailed off, looking into the distance as if lost in a memory.

“I always forget that you had a life before the Red Room. I used to be so jealous of that - before they brainwashed those kinds of emotions out of us.”

“It would have been easier if I’d been brought to the Red Room as a baby, like you. At least then I wouldn’t have known what I was missing.”

“Yeah, I remember you being so…angry…all the time. And you would take it out on us during practice.”

Yelena winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. We were all dealt a shit hand. And fighting you made us all better - it probably kept us alive and in the program. And what you’ve done to free us all - to keep freeing other Widows - it’s amazing, Yelena. I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for that.”

Yelena shrugged. “I was just doing what was right.”

“But not everyone would have. You had your freedom. You were out. And you risked it all, to come back and save us. Even though you had no loyalty to us - not really. We weren’t raised to be loyal, or develop bonds, or friendships. But you still came back. So thank you.”

Yelena squirmed in her chair, looking uncomfortable. “Alright, alright. Enough.”

Calina had never seen this side of her sister before. She was used to Yelena, the no-nonsense leader. She was used to Yelena, the hard-ass fighter. She was even getting used to off-duty Yelena, who painted her nails blue and wore mismatched prints and fur coats. But this awkward and embarrassed Yelena was brand new.

And she couldn’t help but tease her. She reached across the table, took her hand and gave her a sincere, serious look. “You’re a hero, Yelena Belova. An inspiration to all of us.”

Yelena frowned, looking even more discomforted. Then she saw through Calina’s act. She yanked her hand back, and laughed. “Fuck off.”

Calina smiled. “I couldn’t resist. I finally found your one weakness: compliments.”

Yelena laughed again, the deep husky cackle sounding so carefree. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“No you won’t,” Calina grinned. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Never. You’re a pain in the ass, Balashova.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

———

Matt was distracted. Again.

Calina had set up a workspace in the conference room, and had spent the last couple of weeks diligently researching the pheromone case.

Karen liked the new arrangement, as it freed her up to concentrate on investigating some of their paid cases. Foggy liked it for the same reason - and because Calina always volunteered to grab them  food at lunchtime.

Calina was enjoying the sense of purpose it gave her. She’d told him just that the other night at Fogwell’s. “I think I need the structure,” she’d said, dodging his left hook. They’d both been gloved up, and had sparred in the ring for a good half an hour -  neither hitting hard enough to injure, but enjoying the adrenaline rush of the fight anyway.

“I thought that’s what put you off working in the coffee shop - it was too rigid for you,” he’d responded, jumping to avoid her attempted sweep of his ankles.

“It was. I can’t do a 9-to-5 job. But I need something to get me out of the apartment each day. A routine…but one I can control.”

“So you want to be self-employed, basically. Freelance.”

“Yeah.”

Trying to figure out Calina’s future career was a common theme to their conversations these day, and they were gradually whittling down her options. But in the meantime, she wanted to focus her time on solving the pheromone case.

Because she had a real and personal stake in it now.

She’d been doggedly reviewing and cross-referencing the mountain of financial information they’d managed to accrue on their main suspects - the men behind the companies that had purchased the main ingredient of the drug: Arsonium bromide.

Matt understood her drive. And he was grateful for her help. He also liked coming in to work with her each morning, and having lunch with her in the middle of the day.

It was just a tad…distracting.

Her scent was now a constant presence, and it’s intensity just seemed to grow and grow with every moment. It layered every surface and saturated every room…but its effect on him never seemed to dull. It was still the same potent stimulant it had always been - since that very first night he’d scented Calina on their rooftop.

The little sounds she made throughout the day were just as hard to tune out - the rustle of her clothes as she shifted in her seat. The tap of her heeled boots as she walked from the conference room table to the printer near Karen’s office. The gentle scrape of her teeth over her lower lip when she bit it in concentration. The soft sigh as another lead failed to pan out…

He was just too aware of her. Every minute of the day, his senses were conscious of her - even when he was trying to concentrate on his work or speak to a client. A small part of him was always tuned to her frequency. And he didn’t know if it was a side effect of their long separation, or if it would always be like this with her. This perpetual…wanting.

They’d given up on his ridiculous ‘going slow’ idea. Every night was now spent in her bed, and most of those nights were spent touching her and kissing her and making love to her. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough-

“Matt!”

He jerked his head up at the sound of Karen’s voice. Judging by the volume and degree of irritation, she’d been calling his name for a while.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he replied. “What’s up?”

“Calina has something.”

Matt pressed pause on the transcript he was failing to listen to, pulled his headphone from his ear, and followed Karen to the conference room. He nodded to Foggy, who was already seated around the table, and he paused for a moment to take in Calina’s non-verbal greeting - one she was probably completely unaware of.

It was a kind of biological acknowledgement of his presence. A combination of a slight spike in her temperature, a jump in her heart rate, and a cocktail of chemicals suddenly rushing through her veins, thick with endorphins and dopamine and a whole host of unknown hormones. It was difficult to describe to himself - let alone someone without his heightened senses - so he’d never mentioned it to Calina. He also didn’t want to make her self-conscious about it.

Because he never wanted it to go away.

It was like being warmed by the rays of the sun on a frosty day. Like the relief of resting your head on a soft pillow at the end of a long, hard night. Comfort and affection and a feeling of coming home, mixed with a subtle undercurrent of desire.

It was intoxicating. Addictive. And a relief to know he wasn’t the only one so physically affected by the other’s presence.

“Hey,” she said, offering him a more traditional greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, taking the seat next to Foggy. “What’ve you found?”

“Our bad guy.”

He sat up straight, shocked. “Are you serious?”

“Really?” Karen said at the same time.

Calina took a deep breath. “I think so. It’ll need confirmation…but I think so.”

“So who is it?” Foggy asked.

“Landon Cross. Founder and CEO of Cross Corp.”

Karen frowned. “I don’t recognise that name from the list of Arsonium bromide purchasers.”

“That’s because it wasn’t on it. But you’ll recognise the name Midworld Industries.”

“Yeah, it rings a bell.” Karen opened her battered notebook and started searching through the scrawled pages. “Here it is - Midworld Industries - an independent pharmaceutical R&D company. They were apparently researching the potential use of Arsonium as a ‘nanocarrier for intracellular oncology therapeutics’, whatever that means. But we eliminated them early on - the papertrail checked out and they actually stopped purchasing the chemical last year.”

Calina nodded. “That’s because they found a way to manufacture a synthetic mimic.”

“How the hell did you work that out?” Foggy asked.

“It was thanks to Melina, the Black Widow chemist. She analysed my- a new sample we recently got hold of.”

Matt winced at Calina’s near slip-up. She didn’t want the team to know about her experience with the pheromone. Part of her was embarrassed that she’d managed to get dosed - even though he’d told her that was ridiculous. She was also sick of being viewed as a victim. Foggy and Karen knew about the way she was raised, the mind control serum, the coma…and she didn’t want them to pity her for yet one more episode of trauma.

Which he also said was ridiculous. His friends thought she was amazing.

“I can’t get over how…normal…she is,” Karen had remarked a few days ago, watching from the window as Calina jogged down the street to collect their lunch order.

“What do you mean?” Matt had asked. He could think of a lot of adjectives to describe Calina, but ‘normal’ was nowhere near the top of his list. She still seemed so new to the world. The smallest things would sometimes trip her up, like not knowing what a 401K was, or how to make a bowl of cereal.

“Just…with everything she’s been through, she seems so unaffected. So…nice. As if she really was just a college grad from Illinois, or whatever her cover story was. If it was me, I’d be so angry at the world.”

“You’ve gone through your fair share of trauma, too.”

“Yeah, and I was angry at the world for a long time. I closed myself off from everyone - right up until I met you guys, really. But Calina…she’s embraced this new life so effortlessly.”

Matt wouldn’t call it effortless - he saw how much she struggled sometimes. With her nightmares. Her guilt about her past. Her doubts about her innate goodness. Her uncertainty over her future. But he’d never share that with his friends. He liked the way they saw her - because it echoed how he saw her:

Strong. Determined.

Miraculous.

He just wished Calina saw herself that way.

“Okay, so this new analysis proves the compound is synthetic,” Foggy said. “What does that have to do with this Landon Cross guy?”

“Melina determined that the only way to synthesise Arsonium Bromide in large enough quantities to be useful was with a carbon framework printer, a piece of cutting edge technology. So I traced the companies that recently purchased one of those devices.”

“Couldn’t have been that many,” Karen commented.

“No. Only three, in fact. And when I looked closer at the financials of one of the companies - EnGene, I saw a name I recognised.”

“Midworld Industries?” Foggy guessed.

“No. Sato Holdings, a conglomerate based in Tokyo.”

“I need diagrams and a slide show to keep track of this.”

Calina smiled at Foggy’s joke. “Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. Midworld and EnGene, through multiple layers of shell corporations, are both owned by Sato Holdings. But Sato holdings doesn’t exist. Its a sham company created by-”

“Landon Cross,” Matt said, putting it together.

“Bingo. It’s a good sham - clever enough to fool US Inland Revenue, but if you can read Japanese, and know where to look, the ruse falls apart.”

“It still seems…tenuous,” Karen remarked.

Calina nodded. “It definitely needs confirmation, but my instincts say it’s him. I know bad guys - I know the way they operate, and how they try to hide. But there’s always a stench that clings to them, and I can smell it on Cross.”

“Okay,” Karen said, collecting her notes and getting to her feet, “I’ll start digging into Cross.”

“And we’ll head to the Courthouse,” Foggy said. “We have that hearing at 4, Matt.”

Matt nodded. “I remember. I’ll just be a minute.” When the other two left, Matt pulled Calina into his arms, and kissed her, a soft brush of his lips against hers. “You’re amazing. Have I told you that today?”

She shrugged. “It was just a bit of research.”

Matt reached out and touched the stack of papers on the table. “Judging by the thickness of this pile, it was more than just a ‘bit’. And how much of this is in Japanese?”

She laughed. “Only about a third.”

He shook his head and kissed her again. “Like I said - amazing.”

“All I did was get us a name - a direction to look. Proving Landon is behind all this, and figuring out how to stop him-”

“Is a problem for tomorrow. Take the win today.”

She cocked her head. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Matt Murdock?”

“This is the new-and-improved, optimistic version.”

“Hmmm, he might take some getting used to.”

“I guess we’ll have to spend more time together then.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

“I like a challenge.”

She laughed again, soft and low, and leaned into his third kiss.

A kiss that was soon interrupted by a wry voice behind him. “I hate to break up this disgustingly sappy display, but I need a favour.”

“Hello, Jessica,“ Matt replied, turning to face the figure in the doorway. “What do you need?”

“I need to borrow your girlfriend.”

————–

Chapter 20

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[moonlight-prose]

HURT

➝ 04. LOVE LIKE GHOSTS

a/n: this chapter took way too long for me to write. mainly because i lost inspo for joel briefly but thankfully @sunflowersteves and @themarcusmoreno helped me find it again. so this one goes to them for being the best enablers and helping me find my love for joel again. chapter three ended on somewhat of a low note, but this paired with the interlude will help ease that pain. i swear. for this part i am going with joel's age in the game not the show.

summary: nearly losing you broke off another piece of who joel was, leaving the distance to remain like a cracked open chasm.

word count: 8.4k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI (we've made it people!), cussing, angst, fluff, tad bit of romance, grief, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), injuries, the insufferable stubbornness of two people.

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The streets were empty, rotting cars scattered along the side of the highway as if pushed out of the way. They were left there to decay, vines wrapping around whatever remained of the shell, the inside hollow of memories. Everything you knew from the old life, from a world that only remained in memories now turned bitter, was gone.

You could see the cracks in the roads where the asphalt couldn’t handle the weight of the tanks that were sent in. Because warfare was always the solution to a problem that was not intent on creating war. The infection did not see humanity as its enemy, but rather something to change. Something that it could alter—creating its own version of perfection. Funny how it looked like destruction to you.

Silence filled the car as Joel drove, sticking to the main highway. The two of you had barely talked since you packed what you could from the house and left it behind. Yet another piece of your memory that would vanish sooner or later. At first you thought it was because neither of you had anything to say. But then you noticed it. The deliberate way he refused to look at you—his eyes always cast somewhere else, focused on the task at hand.

Joel was ignoring you.

“How old are you?” you asked, turning to face him as you passed yet another open and empty field.

“Old.”

You snorted, watching the way his hands shifted on the wheel, his shoulder moving as if he was uncomfortable. Which he was. You’d been around him long enough to catch when you should change the topic. Today though, you had a goal in mind—getting him to look at you.

Tracing your eyes down his silhouette, you spotted the scatters of gray coming in through his sparse beard. The sight looked endearing to you. Perhaps it was the notion that he was aging despite the travesty of the world, or maybe it was just Joel. Him and all his stubborn antics wedged their way into your heart. Yet no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of him, he remained.

“You can’t be that old,” you said, shifting until you were practically sitting to the side, your head leaning against the seat. “I guarantee we’re closer in age than you think.”

His eyebrow raised as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You were nineteen when this all started?”

Surprise ran through your body at the realization that he remembered your small bit of information. “That’s right.”

Joel nodded solemnly, his eyes once again focusing back on the empty road. “I was thirty-two.”

Silently you calculated the exact age in your head, coming to the conclusion that Joel was being dramatic, and you were only thirteen years apart. He was barely leaving his thirties and had the gall to say he was old. You chuckled softly, turning back to your seat by the window—the fields now shifting to broken buildings and destroyed cities.

“Forty-two isn’t old,” you mumbled, leaning your chin on your hand.

Now it was his turn to scoff. “Feels like it darlin’.”

The newer nickname filled your chest with warmth. You bit down on your lip to conceal the smile that threatened to break through. He’d shifted from calling you Boston very recently and you began to equate that to him being serious when he was talking. Yet your actual name rarely ever came up. The last time you heard him use it was…when he was in the bathroom, doing what you figured was none of your business.

Even after you caught him in the act, you still found ways to convince yourself you were somehow wrong. Joel did not go hide in a bathroom, simply to get himself off to the thought of you. He didn’t seem like the type of man to do that. Except you still heard him. Still pretended what his raspy tone would sound like if he were to say your name against your ear, in an entirely different situation.

You wondered if that’s why he was suddenly farther from you that you would have liked him to be. Even as you sat beside one another, you still felt as if you had to travel a great distance to get closer. Joel kept you at arms length for a reason—you were guilty of doing the same—but still the ache to have him resurfaced. It screamed at you, promised you that things would be different if you just gave in, but the world told you otherwise.

It told you the truth; this was always how it was meant to go, following a broken path beside a man who could no longer discern love from grief.

Yet even as you stared reality in the face, you refused to accept it. The both of you would one day become ghosts to a world that couldn’t protect you. So why should you relinquish the last bit of good you had left? Why should you give him up?

Sighing, you opened the dashboard’s compartment, finding a small stack of old tapes inside. All of them, dusty and nearly ruined. You recognized one above them all, and the sight of the country legend’s name made you smile. Joel might have been okay with sitting in silence as he drove, but you weren’t. So, you popped it into the player, settling into the seat as Johnny Cash’s rendition of Hurt began to slowly come to life on the shitty car speakers.

You quickly glanced at Joel, seeing his body loosen up some as the song continued. While its meaning was dark, you figured it couldn’t possibly be worse than the shit both of you had already been through. In a way, the lyrics felt cathartic as you gazed out at a broken world. You found yourself grinning, watching the sun begin to shift in the sky, the heat seeping into the car. 

Even though your heart felt slightly crushed at Joel’s stubbornness, you felt the hope linger. That’s what you latched onto, what you kept close to your heart for fear of watching it fade away. You just hoped Joel would one day do the same.

Turning to watch him, you felt your heart flutter at the sight. He was so broken, yet so beautiful that you felt you couldn’t stare at him for too long.

“You know we’re allowed to want things Joel,” you said softly, your eyes once again fixated on the slope of his nose and how the sunlight glinted off his cheeks. “Even if it hurts to have them.”

You didn’t say anything else, opting to settle in the seat and get some rest. Eventually you’d switch places, finding somewhere to siphon some more gas and continue. He let you rest, staying quiet as the tape continued to play, the soft country songs slowly lulling you to sleep.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep entirely, the soft puffs of breath you let out giving Joel some odd peace of mind. He wasn’t sure what it was about you sleeping in his vicinity—maybe the extreme trust you had to have when it came to that—but he found himself loosening up as you slept. As if all the worries he had about you and him vanished.

Your words still echoed in his mind, plucking at his fears like a guitar and playing your own tune of despondent tune of loneliness. He’d heard it before, knew it note for note, but couldn’t find it in himself to play along.

There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted you. Fuck, he’d give up whatever he had left to have you, but that’s not what his fear stemmed from. No, he knew that wanting you was a secret he wasn’t afraid to let free. He was afraid of what would happen when he could finally call you his, when the barrier you both erected to keep each other safe, fell.

Joel knew what came with love, had seen the horrors of it first hand, but you…you promised him one that was easy. The simplicity of being with you was unmatched; as if he found the other part of him he didn’t know he was searching for. He was terrified of what losing you would turn him into. What would become of him if you were no longer with him? If you were lost to him. He got a taste of it that night and barely survived.

Sighing, he turned his gaze to you, eyes soft as he traced the features of your face. If he didn’t know you, didn’t have some semblance of the life you faced before he met you, he would have thought you were innocent. Just a woman who had somehow managed to make it out of this hell unscathed. Someone who had a future ahead of her.

With Joel that future would end.

He knew he wasn’t being fair towards you, knew that you had already made up your mind about what you wanted from him. If only you could see how much he wanted exactly the same thing. He wouldn’t be the same man that continued to wallow in his fears. Couldn’t go on hoping that things would change, that the world would give him a chance again at some type of normalcy. There was nothing normal left to have, but he knew this. You were right beside him, telling him that the things he wanted weren’t something to run from.

So he wouldn’t.

The car was parked when you woke up, Joel nowhere to be found. Five seconds. That’s how long it took your hazy sleep-addled mind that came back to life to panic at the sight of the empty drivers seat. You scrambled to sit up right, shoving the door open with a push that was a bit too hard. But you couldn’t reason with yourself right now. Not when Joel wasn’t anywhere near the car, his bag missing from the backseat.

Your boots hit the ground, kicking up dust. Trying to keep calm, you did your best to stop the racing of your heart. Except there was no use. You were in the middle of hell where anything could have happened to him and you had no idea how to find him. His gun was still strapped to your hip, his jacket wrapped around your body. It would be something he came back for. This you knew.

However, that didn’t dispel the doubt filling your body. Was he hurt? Was he lost? Your mind jumped to every scenario possible, terrified that the man you were too afraid to love was now gone.

Catching your breath, you mapped out the best direction he could have gone in. You figured he was looking for more gas to siphon, possibly searching for extra supplies. It made the most sense. After all he wouldn’t leave you like this, abandoned on the side of the deserted highway. Right?

“Joel?” you called, slipping the gun from its holster and heading in the direction of the abandoned building that caught your eye. You’d have to trek pretty far to get to it, but the possibility that he was inside kept you going.

“Joel!” you shouted, wincing as your voice echoed in the distance.

You had to be careful of how loud you were being. The noise would no doubt attract unwanted visitors. You certainly didn’t need that happening while you were alone, halfway to losing the last bit of sanity you had left. The sun beat down on you, heat trailing down your body with each rushed step you made towards the place. Fear filled your chest, tightening around your heart and lungs until it was hard to breathe.

“Shit,” you spit, trying to keep your shaking hands steady as you entered the broken door.

You could recognize the remnants of a gas station store, the sign in the back listing the different types of alcohol they sold, even what food they used to have. Holding your breath, you listened intently for any sounds of infected—expecting to hear the familiar clicks and growls. But you were met with a steady silence.

“Joel?” you said softly, stepping over broken glass and pieces of the rotted ceiling that most likely fell during a storm. “You better be in here Texas.” The words were muttered under your breath, simply another way for you to rid yourself of the fear.

Standing still, you hoped to hear his deep voice respond with a drawl of Boston or darlin’, but when you were given nothing, your heart dropped down to your stomach. He had to be around here somewhere, had to have come in here to find supplies. But the longer you searched through the small building, the less sure you were about your odds. The sting of tears began to build in your eyes—the emptiness eating away at your insides.

Cursing under your breath, you made your way back outside, intent on waiting in the car until he returned. You had no real plan after that. Nothing to turn to if Joel never showed up. Except you couldn’t give a shit about a plan if Joel was missing. You had survived alone before, knew you could do it again, but that was the thing. You didn’t want to.

An echo of something in the distance stopped you midstep, your finger immediately falling onto the trigger. The sun blared in your face, blocking your eyesight, but you could see it. The tall form of a man heading towards the truck. Instead of immediately assuming he was Joel, you kept your guard up. Intent on being ready for something else entirely.

But then you heard it.

“Boston!” he called out, his voice ringing in the area and hitting your ears.

You began to run. Shoving the gun in the holster, you sprinted back towards him and watched as he frantically searched around the truck.

“Joel!”

With panicked wide eyes, he spun around to face you, relief washing over his face the second he caught sight of you. It only took him a few strides to reach you, his arms ready to gather you close. Only for you to shove him until he stumbled back into the truck’s hood, his grunt of pain twisting your heart briefly. The panic, the fear, it all blended into one thing you were tired of feeling. Pain. The pain of possibly losing him after all you’d been through.

“Darlin’ what—”

“Don’t do that to me again!” you snapped, no longer able to reign in all of the emotions you tried so hard to tamp down. “I woke up and you were gone Joel! I called for you, even went into that damn building to find you, but nothing!”

“Hey—”

The tears were streaming down your face, angry and hot. “I thought you were…gone o–or…”

He yanked you forward, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and pressing you against his warm chest. “I’m sorry.” You can feel his face buried in your neck, his arms so tight you knew you’d feel it later. Yet that’s exactly what you needed from him. “I should have woken you up.”

Perhaps you were being ridiculous about this. Breaking down over the fact that he left you alone, but you couldn’t afford to lose another person. Your heart was broken already, but losing Joel…that would kill you. Whatever pieces you had left would surely vanish the second that the two of you were parted for good. You’d grown accustomed to having him around—a person that knew you. Could see through your facade of bravery you wore every day.

He was your tether to this world, the thing that kept you going. That realization—the understanding that Joel would mean more to you than you could ever express into words—terrified you. Suddenly you had something to lose.

Joel refused to let you go, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. Even as you stopped crying, he continued to hold you—his face buried in your neck. You could feel the shift in the air, the understanding that whatever this was…it wasn’t temporary. Neither of you were willing to part with the other, too attached in your own odd ways.

Which only made you clutch onto him tighter, your breathing evening out the longer you were pressed to his chest. You knew you were safe in his hold, but the longer you stood out in the open unmoving, the more you gained the chance for something to find the both of you. Reluctantly, you pulled back. Still you kept your hand on his arm, unable to let go of him entirely—the adrenaline of losing him not yet spent from your system.

“How long do we keep going for?” you asked, trying to shove the slivers of your vulnerability back inside, cutting off any pain you felt.

He seemed to understand what you were doing, opting to remain close yet never once pressuring you to open up. The thought filled your chest with warmth. You wondered what that feeling was, but drew a blank in your mind. Whatever it was, you hadn’t felt in quite some time—seeming to have forgotten it altogether. You chose not to dwell on what could not be understood, focusing back on Joel and the empty road you were still on.

“I can drive for another few hours,” he replied, his hand still pressed to your waist. It seemed that neither of you were too keen on letting the other go. “But we should find someplace to hole up for the night.”

You nodded. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No.”

“Joel, you've been driving all day and all night. I can take over for a bit so you can get some—”

“No.” He pulled you closer, shocking the hell out of you when his lips pressed to your temple. His hand running up your back slowly, as if he was trying to reassure you of the things he couldn’t say out loud. All of the emotions that were trapped in both your chests, unable to be set free due to the circumstances of your life.

You understood him all the same, smiling briefly against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you darlin’,” he whispered, his nose brushing along your head.

The sensation of him close made your eyes flutter shut, the breath you’d been holding for so long, finally being set free.

You wanted to tell him every emotion running through your heart as he pulled back to meet your eyes. The brown of his irises practically saw right through you, their dark nature burning your insides. Yet in their depths, you saw the emotion he could never say, the one that remained a mystery to even you. There it would remain, unspoken and restless.

Forever trapped with no possibility of escape.

“I want you to be okay too,” you said softly, letting him in a secret that was never really hidden from him.

To some degree Joel knew that you wanted him out of harm's way. That to see him hurt would kill you just like it had killed him. Yet the stubborn streak in him told you that no matter how much you wished it into existence, nothing would come of it. His actions whispered to you the truth. I’m here to protect you. I’d do whatever it takes. Even if whatever it takes was something far worse than a minor injury here and there.

He didn’t respond, simply helped you back into the truck, slamming the door shut to make sure the rusty piece of shit (as Joel affectionately called it) actually closed. You stayed silent as he started the car, the tape starting up again, acting as the rewind button for this situation. Except this time you felt the shift, the difference in how he sat beside you. Joel was no longer ignoring you; instead he chose to rest his hand on your knee, the weight of his palm obvious—the meaning behind it nearly cracking through you like lightning.

He wasn’t avoiding the burning want that spread through him. The ache that weighed on him daily the longer he was in your presence.

Joel wanted you, this much you knew. Only now he was no longer hiding it from you.

“Are you sure the roof still works?” you asked, staring dubiously at the broken ceiling—the glow of the moon practically streaming into the torn apart room.

“It’s not like anything is coming from the sky to hurt us.”

You scoffed, watching him check every crevice of the small cabin. “No, of course not. I’m just wondering if it rains, what do we do?”

Joel shrugged, sliding the worn down table up to the door. “We’ll dry off.”

“Hypothermia still exists, Texas.” You could see him biting back the smile, his eyes squinting slightly as he rested his hands on the table. The way he leaned over it shouldn’t have caused such a reaction in your body—your heart racing and mouth going dry—but you didn’t have control over what you found attractive about him anymore. It seemed that when it came to Joel, one look your way and you were instantly drawn to him. “Well?” you asked, lips quirked up into a smirk.

Standing to his full height, he let out a breath, his eyes practically searing into your skin. “Then we’ll warm up.”

His answer was nonchalant. Said in a way that would have made you think nothing of it, but then you caught it. The way his hand clenched at his side momentarily, his chest heaving as he took in a lungful of air. If what you heard in the bathroom was right, then both of you were affected by the other. You were just too fucking stubborn to admit it.

Smiling, you dropped your bag on the floor. “Careful Texas. I might end up thinking you like me.”

You turned away from him before you could see his reaction, too afraid of what you’d find. Part of him was glad you managed to miss how his whole body practically jolted, his jaw clenching as he staved off the heat. It slowly spread down to his fingertips, his body calling out to you. He managed to keep to himself in the car, his hand never going higher than your knee, but now he felt the insatiable need return.

Only this time there was no bathroom for him to escape to.

“Hey Joel?”

He snapped out his own thoughts, tuning into the present once more. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice huskier than he would have liked it to be.

“I should have said it before—” You turned, eyes glistening with an emotion that tugged sharply on his heart. “But thank you for saving my life.”

“Darlin’—”

“I know you didn’t have to. Shit, you didn’t have to do any of this for me, but I wanted you to know I’m not ungrateful.” Rather than look him in the eye, you kept your focus on what was once a fireplace. “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here. So thank you and I-I don’t know how I’ll ever repay—”

His hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer cut you off. The words died on your tongue as he pressed his forehead to yours; the sigh he let out deeper than any you had heard before. Rather than keep going, you hesitantly rested your hand on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. If you had the strength, you would ask him why he did it. Why he bothered to save you that first night. But you knew the question was better left unsaid.

“There’s no repayin’ me,” he stated, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You hear me?” He waited for you to nod, the movement small yet powerful. “I didn’t save you for any motive. I saved you because I…”

The words lodged themselves in the back of his throat, but you understood as if he had shouted the words from the rooftop. Because I care about you. Because when I’m with you the future isn’t bleak, it isn’t just a fantasy. Because amongst any means that make sense in this world, without you I’d cease to exist.

You would have saved him for the same reasons and that’s where this landed. The complications of your relationships were meant to go unsaid, because labeling this, putting a meaning behind the words you could never say, would ruin it. So, you nodded again, clutching his shirt in your hand and smiled to appease his nerves.

“Me too,” you whispered, feeling his heartbeat jump.

A moment passed between the both of you, simply surrounded by the echoes of nature, but then you saw it. Joel’s lips pulled up into a smile, his brown eyes looking just a bit lighter as he stared at you. The meaning of your words settling beneath his skin. It was a rare occurrence to see Joel smile, but whenever it happened you felt yourself melt beneath his gaze.

You would never tell him that he owned your heart entirely. But something in you wondered if he already knew.

“We should eat something,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from you to grab the probably expired food stashed away in his pack.

Nodding, you did your best to right your jumbled mind. “That’s a good idea.”

He tossed the small wrapped pieces of food, flicking on the single lantern he had. “I need to change your bandage after.”

“I can do it.”

“You’ll move too much.” He bit into the food and you found your gaze focused on the clench of his jaw again.

“I’ll be fine.” You ignored the chalky flavor of what used to be a protein bar on your tongue. “It’s only one wrap.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need you rippin’ open your wound, Boston”

“Joel—” His eyes snapped up to you, shutting you up instantly. “Okay,” you replied softly, biting into the bar.

Once more you allowed the echo of crickets to fill the voice between you, nature’s music becoming your background song. When you were younger, you couldn’t remember hearing the sounds of nature, too busy being overwhelmed with the chatter of the city. Yet now you felt like the world was finally waking up, allowing what remained of humanity to witness its beauty one more time.

You wanted to relish in it. To take in everything you otherwise might have missed before the outbreak, but the anguish of reality wouldn’t allow you to partake in such a peaceful act. So, you simply listened the best you could, hoping to commit the echoes of the forest to your memory.

“Do you think this is all we’ll get?” Your words caused Joel to pause. “The world. Do you think this is it?”

He wanted to say no, to tell you that he hoped for a better outcome than what they were left with, but the lie wouldn’t form. You both knew the truth of what the future held. Yet you wanted to live in the fantasy of something more just a bit longer. He wouldn’t be the one to crush that dream, to watch the small glint of hope in your eyes fade away as it had done before.

To Joel you were still dying in his arms, because he would never be released from that moment. Not entirely. That was his future. Forever stuck in a past he couldn’t change, sitting in a future he didn’t feel he deserved.

“I think we got more than we should have,” he said, squinting down at his hands. “Shows how fuckin’ stubborn humans are.”

His words settled in your mind and their cynical nature should have made you upset. But you knew this man. You could pick out his inflections just like he could see through your facades. Smiling, you put another piece of the food in your mouth, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth.

“Hey Joel?” He finally looked up, molten brown eyes harboring a world of secrets you may never find out; you were okay with that though. “I’m okay with what I got.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

You nodded. “Could have turned out worse. I could have ended up with someone from the midwest.”

He snorted, unable to stop it, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “The midwest ain’t bad.”

“I know. It's where my brother wanted to live.” Balling up the wrapper, you leaned back on your hands, legs outstretched on the floor. “But I got you to smile.”

He found himself watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your head lolled to the side, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you looked at him. For a while now he’d been able to fight back the urge to kiss you. The ache that burrowed so deep in his body he wasn’t able to chase it away, but the sight of you so open and free. It did him in.

Taking in a breath, he tried to steady the fast paced beat of his heart. He shoved away the thoughts that slowly began to seep their way back into his brain—begging him to finally act on his wishes. Instead, he cleared his throat and reached for the somewhat clean bandages he had in his pack.

He refused to act on something you clearly weren’t interested in. Or at least something he hadn’t discussed with you yet.

“I gotta change your bandage.”

Rather than bicker with him again about whether or not you were capable, you simply clambered onto the rickety armchair. It creaked beneath you, the wood nearly ready to give out if you moved too much. You figured neither of you would want to sleep in it, save for the rather decent cushions that remained.

You peeled off your jacket, the heavy fabric making a small thump as it landed on the floor, your shirt being lifted and held tightly at your chest next. After you were injured, you could barely move from the bed and even then Joel remained a gentleman. Refusing to look anywhere beyond the wound. The same one that was slowly healing over. He made a grunt of contentment as he removed the dirty bandage, seeing the slightly raised skin where a scar would eventually take its place.

“It looks good.” He pointed to the bottom half that still continued to bleed every now and again. “This part’s bein’ stubborn.”

“Ah yes,” you said, shifting to give him space to work. “It gets that from me.”

“Damn right it does,” he muttered.

You laughed, nudged his knee with your leg. “Fuck you Miller.”

“Hold still.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You could feel the glare against your cheek. The very same one you were biting into, attempting to prevent the smile from blooming across your cheeks.

“Your hands are cold,” you said, shifting away from him as he began to slide the bandage along your skin.

“They usually are.”

“No. They’re not.” You caught his eye and shrugged to remain nonchalant about the matter. “I like when they’re warm. Keeps me warm.”

His hand pressed into your thigh, holding you still—eyes still focused on your face. “Darlin’,” he warned.

You sighed, head resting on the back of the chair. “Don’t worry Joel I know.”

“You know what?” His hand didn’t move, thumb brushing lightly along your pants.

“I’m not stupid Texas. The question earlier wasn’t about the world. It was about…” He stiffened, his hold growing tighter, eyes flicking back down to your bandage. The rejection punched you in the gut once more, a final understanding dawning over you. He would never go there with you.

“Boston…”

“I know. We’re lucky with what we’ve got and believe me I’m fucking lucky to have wound up with you in the middle of all this. But I just thought what I heard the other day in the bathroom—” Your breath caught in your throat as his head snapped up, eyes wide as he finally came to the conclusion that you did in fact hear him.

Not only did you hear him, but you liked what you heard.

“You…”

Nodding, you felt his hand slip a little higher up your thigh—heat streaking through your body and causing you to go a little lightheaded. 

“I want whatever you’ll give me Joel,” you whispered, your hand sliding to cover his. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, his eyes transfixed on how you dragged his hand up higher until his fingers brushed the crotch of your pants.

“Hey Joel?” you breathed, your eyes barely open as his raised to meet your gaze.

“Yeah darlin’?”

“Kiss me.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was surging upwards on bended knee, his hand grasping your neck and pulling your lips to his. You gasped, hand digging into his hair to hold him to you as he devoured you. Finally you felt like you could breathe again, the air being stolen from your lungs. Only for him to breathe life back into you. His lips slid along yours, a messy combination of teeth and spit and raw passion and you loved it.

Whimpering into his mouth, you grasped onto the collar of his coat, yanking him forward until he was practically on top of you. Yet the weight of his body against yours felt comforting. As if that’s where he was always meant to be. Joal groaned when you tugged sharply on his hair, his hips bucking into your thigh, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Felt you wanting to kiss me that mornin’,” he grunted into your mouth, his hand gripping tightly at your hip.

“I-I did want to kiss you—oh.” His lips pressed a wet trail down your throat, teeth nipping along the vein he could practically feel beating beneath your skin.

He wanted to make you squirm, to have you completely and utterly branded with his touch. Joel wasn’t a possessive man by nature, but you…you made him want to call you his in every manner that was possible. Your hands fell to his belt buckle, leg hitching up around his waist, and he nearly felt his eyes roll back. While he may have touched himself before, he knew the second this happened he was done for.

So, he distracted you. He clasped your hands in his and dragged them back up to his hair, his lips finding their way back to yours. You panted softly beneath him, a searing ache beginning to form in your body, spreading down to your toes. With each spit slicked kiss he pressed to your neck, chest, anywhere he could reach, you felt yourself begin to grind against his hips.

“J-Joel,” you moaned, head falling back as his hands fell to the button of your pants.

“Yeah baby?”

The name made your toes curl in your boots, the involuntary reaction one he definitely noticed if the smile on his lips was anything to go off of. Shit he liked seeing you like this. Completely pliable beneath his palms.

“Want you to—” His hand dipped into your pants, fingers brushing along your pelvis and your hips jolted, body nearly coming up off the chair.

The husky echo of his chuckle sent sparks down your spine, the warmth you’d been searching for now returning and pooling in your stomach. He was toying with you. Trying to see how much you could take before you were a pleading mess beneath him. You knew that if he kept going, he wouldn’t have to wait long until you were begging. He lit you up on the inside, his touch merely brush added to the fire that had started burning the second you met him.

He dipped into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut and a pained grunt tearing from his chest the second he found how wet you were. Something in him snapped, the broken piece of his self control finally hitting the ground with a bang. You sagged into the chair, a high pitched keen echoing off the walls when his fingers found your clit—pleasure searing its way up your spine.

“I want to—” He spit out a curse, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

Your eyes flew open the feeling of his hand pulling away from you. Only for him to yank your pants down, stripping you of anything that could possibly be in his way. Doing your best to help, you kicked off your boots until you were bare from the waist down before him. You didn’t have much time for any semblance of embarrassment to wash over your body, because Joel was yanking you forward.

He pushed you open with his shoulders, hooking your legs over them as he finally sought the one thing he’d been craving since he saw you standing outside that bathroom door. Delving in, he licked a stripe up your cunt, grinning at the broken sound that he tore from you.

Grasping onto his hair, you felt the breath leave your lungs faster than you could take it in. “Fuck, oh fuck Joel,” you cried, your mouth dropping open in bliss.

He moaned into you, his eyes meeting yours as he sucked your clit into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it. The sharp sensation of the pleasure was almost too much to bear. It flickered to life in your stomach, burning a hot path through your entire body until you could barely make out Joel’s sounds. You heard a rushing echo in your ears, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

Yet it never ceased. Joel licked into you like you were the best dessert he’d had in years. A decadent meal he wanted to take his time with. You tugged on his hair, your hips rolling over his face as he pressed his tongue into you, thrusting it the best he could.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his eyes glazed with lust and words slurred together. “Taste’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel I-I…” You tried to catch your breath, tried to say anything, but his thumb spreading his spit up to your clit made your head spin.

“What do you need darlin’?”

“I-I—hng—want you inside me.”

His lips pulled up into a smirk, eyes shifting between your face and cunt that practically weeped for him. “When I’m done.”

“But—” He pressed his thumb down harder, cutting off your words—a whine crawling up the back of your throat.

“Always so stubborn,” he mused and you could practically hear the smile in his words. It made your heart flutter, your head falling back as his mouth sealed over your cunt again.

The echo of your slick hit your ears, the sound mixing with your combined sounds of pleasure. Creating a euphony of tunes that you could listen to forever. Joel ate you out like a man starved, like a man who would never get to partake in this act ever again in his life. You hoped that wasn’t true.

Gasping, you felt it before he did. The clench of your walls against nothing as he moaned drunkenly into you, licking at you so loudly your ears burned. The pleasure built in your body until it nearly stung, searing into you with such strength that your body bowed off the chair. Joel merely grunted, grasping onto your hips to keep you still as he kept going. You wondered if he would stop even after you came and realized you wouldn’t have to wait that long to find out.

“Joel,” you warned, but he already knew.

His thumb slid along your clit, keeping a steady pressure as he buried his tongue in you, his broken moan becoming your undoing. Grinding against his mouth, you heard yourself cry his name, your head hitting the back of the chair as the dam with you shattered. White hot bliss rushed through your body, turning you into a mess of whimpered cries and pleas for Joel to keep going. Yet he seemed to not hear you. Lost in the taste of you that practically flooded his mouth.

Your legs trembled as he slowed down, lapping at your cunt gently so as to gather every bit of you on his tongue. Everything in your mind fell silent, the hum of pleasure in your veins the only thing you could focus on—a type of peace you hadn’t had in a long time. Joel pressed a wet kiss to your thigh, his teeth scraping over the skin as if he wanted to leave a bite mark so deep it would forever be a part of you.

A part of you wanted it to happen; wanted to feel the blooming pain as his teeth sunk into your skin. At least then you’d know you were still there, still alive. But then he pulled away, running his palms up and down your thighs as he waited for you to come back to him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, unable to move a single limb in your body.

His laugh brought you back, the steady heat once again pooling into your stomach. “I want to do that again.”

Your stomach swooped. “Later,” you said, your voice shaking with a new surge of need.

Joel tugged you lightly, telling you exactly where to go without words, and you followed. Sliding off the chair, you cringed at the wet mess between your thighs, but the sight of his chin smeared in you washed that feeling away. He was covered in you and without thinking you pulled him closer, licking into his mouth and moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. That heady sensation returned, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

“Please.”

He maneuvered you into his lap, your knees pressing into the dirty ground beneath him. But neither of you cared where you were, because all of that vanished. Everything became nonexistent, leaving just Joel and the way he was looking at you.

“I’ve got you darlin’,” he murmured, helping you unbuckle his pants to pull his cock out. He stifled a moan against your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the throbbing ache he’d managed to ignore now flaring to life in his body.

He knew if you stroked him for longer than a few minutes this would be over before it began. But he also couldn’t deny how fucking incredible it felt to feel you touch him like this. He breathed your name against the shell of your ear, his hips bucking into your palm, heat streaking down his spine. Joel wanted to savor this, to remember what exactly this intimacy felt like.

Except then he felt it, the tightening in his stomach that signaled the end. Yanking your hand away, he fought against the release that threatened to spill over him, his body shaking with the effort. Grunting, he felt your hand run down his back, your lips trailing along his jaw as you murmured compliments to him. Words that made his face stain red and mind go hazy.

“You’re so pretty Joel.” Your hands curled around the large width of his shoulders, your hips grinding down into his lap. “So handsome.”

“Fuck,” he moaned pathetically, unable to stop himself from unfurling into your touch.

Your hand dug into his hair, tilting his head until his lips found yours again. Kissing him was like finding the missing pieces of yourself all in one fell swoop. You felt whole with him, like the person you could have been rather than the person you were. Smiling against his lips, you felt his hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh in his palms.

You still wore your shirt and he had barely undressed, but it still remained perfect. Neither of you cared about how special this was or whether it was on a bed or not, because this was all you could get. This is what the world gave you. The both of you were too greedy to ask for anything else, stealing away this moment until it disappeared beneath your touch.

“Want you to fuck me Joel,” you breathed hotly against his neck, your hips rolling over his. You gasped simultaneously as the head of his cock caught on your clit, the pressure debilitating.

“Yeah? You want me to ruin you?” Nodding, you felt heat spread up your neck. He mouthed at your neck, his hand wrapping around his cock to position it at your entrance and allow you to make the first move.

Which you did without hesitation. You scratched your nails along the back of his neck as you sunk down onto him, the stretch along your walls slightly painful with how big he was. It had been a long time since you allowed yourself to be like this with anyone and you figured Joel knew exactly how that felt. He struggled to maintain control over himself as you slowly took him into your cunt, your walls clamping down around him—nearly throwing him off the edge.

“Fuck darlin’,” he grunted, his fingers digging into your hips. “Squeezin’ me so tight.”

Clutching at his shoulder, you tried to steady yourself, the tremble in your legs nearly too much for you. But Joel wasn’t letting you go that easily. Nipping at your collarbone, he helped you take him all the way in small strokes. You felt the rapid beat of his heart pressed against yours, the way he tried to distract himself from the feel of your body wrapped around him.

“Wait, wait,” he panted the second you sat fully in his lap again, his cock throbbing along your walls. “I—oh shit—I want this to last.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his as you allowed your body to adjust the feel of him inside you. “We’ll go slow.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to your chest. “Only need a minute baby.”

“I don’t want to wear you out.” The mischief in your smile could be heard through your words; Joel’s shoulders now shaking from laughter. “After our conversation earlier, you have me thinking you’re an old man—”

Him grinding you down into his lap cut off your words with a sharp gasp, the smile falling from your lips as your mouth dropped open. Something sharp, intense, unfurled in your core, blooming throughout your body and turning your mind hazy. Mimicking the movement, you felt it again, his cock rubbing slightly right where you needed him most.

“How about now?” he taunted, scraping his teeth along your jaw, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to cup your breasts.

“Shit.” Tugging on his hair you felt him smile against your cheek.

“Am I still old?”

“More,” you pleaded, rolling your hips in stunted movements, the position you were in only allowed you so much.

“Yeah?” Guiding your hips, he felt your walls clamp down even tighter, the pressure causing white to flash behind his eyes.

“Feels so good Joel.” Your eyes were half open, the lust burning in them so bright he felt it in his chest.

He wanted to stay there, forget the world existed and remain wrapped around you. Who would miss either of you? No one. Which is what made the idea so fucking appealing.

You leaned back, one hand pressed against the floor as you sought the perfect angle and as he pulled you back on his cock, a moan climbing out of his throat, he felt it. The way your whole body practically bowed out of his hold. A sharp keening cry ripping from you. He nearly lurched forward, the tight sensation in his stomach growing closer by the second, his body going as taut as yours.

“Fuck, fuck. Darlin’ I’m not gonna last,” he muttered, shifting you quickly until you were pressed into the ground. Your leg going up and over his forearm.

Scrambling to hold onto him, you felt your eyes roll back, the sharp searing heat now spreading rapidly through every single part of you. Whatever words or praises you might have said, turned into incoherent noises of pathetic whimpers and moans. Joel shoved his hips into yours, striking so perfectly right where you needed him, that you felt the pleasure mount until it nearly broke you inside.

You dragged his lips back to yours, attempting to meet his thrusts with small ones of your own, but the lower half of your body was already pinned to the ground. His hands kept you still as he drove into you so earnestly, you were certain your release would stop your heart.

“J-Joel!” you sobbed, your head falling to the floor and back going rigid.

“C’mon baby,” he grunted, his hand seeking out yours. Clasping his fingers around yours, he pressed your entwined palms into the ground, keeping it at his leverage.

The one thing grounding him as he lost himself in you.

An echo of your slick and skin slapping against skin filled the small cabin, his panted out grunts and your incoherent cries, nearly deafening to both your ears. Joel’s other hand found your clit and with one final devastating thrust, you broke.

The breath was punched from your lungs, the singular word—his name—turning into a ragged gasp. Your cunt clamped down, body shaking, as you forced him off the edge with you. Joel’s hand slammed to the ground, his hips thrusting into you the best he could while he spilled into you, the warmth of his cum practically leaking out. For a moment neither of you could breathe, lost in the sensation of pleasure thrumming in your veins.

Joel’s breaths matched your own, his lips trailing up your chest until he eventually found his way back to your lips. A smile spreading on his face. You laughed, your hands brushing his hair away from his damp forehead, and felt him twitch inside of you. The small grunt letting you know that the both of you were a bit too sensitive now.

“Hey Boston?” he asked, his nose brushing against yours—the smile on your face matching his.

“Yeah Texas?”

He stole another kiss, his thumb running along your cheek. “I’m lucky to have wound up with you too.”

Warmth filled your chest, that now familiar feeling you could finally place, returning with a new vigor. Except this time you welcomed it. Above Joel’s shoulder you caught the glimmer of stars through the broken ceiling, the clear night sky a beautiful backdrop to the man above you. Yet you still found yourself captivated by the brown in his eyes, the shine of hope that hadn’t been there before.

You would never be able to tell him what you felt, always keeping it close like a secret. But tonight you’d get to savor it.

Tonight you could pretend that just for a moment…Joel Miller loved you too.

[yunomagic]

What if: sonic sacrifices himself in sonic the hedgehog 3 instead of shadow?

Okay so before we start this, a key thing i want ppl to remember is that movie sonic is incredibly selfless. Like, when tails got hurt for the first time he immediately jumped straight into danger and refused to accept help from his parents and was also willing to DIE for them in exchange for the safety. No questions asked. Hes rlly just too selfless for his own good, and i imagine that quality carries over to sonic the hedgehog 3

ALSO this is gonna be more based on headcanon cuz, the movie is in two years by the time yall are reading this so yeah dont take my word for it. Do what you will with the following scenario and information. Anyways here we go:

First of all, sonic and shadow are probably going to have an interesting dynamic in the third film. Mainly because of their experience with grief and familial loss. Sonic lost someone who was like a mother to him, shadow lost someone who was like a sister to him. They both failed to save the women that played an important part in their lives and were heavily traumatized by their deaths. How the two hedgehogs deal with their grief is where their paths diverge a little.

Sonic spent ten years living in isolation, being afraid of himself and what people will think of him if he revealed himself to the world. And possibly beat himself up so many times for failing to save longclaw, while trying to make her proud by becoming a hero on the streets. Shadow on the other hand suffered from manipulation under gerald robotnik, who forced him to become humanity’s final destruction, although he was created to help it. And instead of beating himself up, shadow became filled with rage and unspeakable hurt. He found it easier to blame humanity for the death of maria and uses his anger as a driving force for revenge. Which undoubtedly, is a more dangerous path of grief he chose to walk on.

Thus, the two hedgehogs are foils, two sides of the same coin. They arent too dissimilar to each other, especially in the roots of their pasts. They learn that there’s more to the other than just looking like each other. Unfortunately, due to drastic circumstances, one of them is going to relive through their trauma of losing someone all over again, and dealing with that same feeling of loss and self-blame.

Everyone knows how SA2 ends, shadow sacrifices himself to save humanity and dies while doing so. But if the film wants to do something different, (and give everyone a huge punch in the gut), they’re going to twist that fate in some way.

Its already in the title but i still propose it: what if sonic was the one who sacrifices himself instead?

Its the final hour, the bio lizard has been defeated, but the ark is still falling down to earth. Running out of time, shadow blurts out the idea that hes going to use the power of the chaos emeralds to push back the ark into orbit, maybe he can save humanity. Sonic, is dumbfounded, shadow is going to die and he knows it. Shadow knows it too, but what other options are there?

Panicking, sonic defaults to HIS way of solving problems. Talking it out. Fast.

“You can’t just throw away your life like it has no meaning! You— You don’t have to use all that power. You can stay with us back on Earth! You can— you can have a life there! Just like you and Maria would’ve wanted!”

Shadow of course is insistent that this is his destiny. His fate. If hes destined to be the last hope to save humanity, then itd be fitting if he were to die. Sonic is still frightened and restless, he’s getting a familiar itch in his throat and a familiar heaviness in his chest. The same feeling he felt years ago, when he was a small, helpless child.

No. Hes NOT going to lose someone to the same fate again.

“You made a promise to Maria, to keep everyone happy right?”

Shadow glances at sonic, eyes widened, knowingly.

“That includes you too shadow.”

“Are you crazy?! If you do that then—“

“I wont be able to go back home to my parents and my brothers, or the townspeople of Green Hills. I know. But they survived long enough even before i came into their life. They need someone who can keep them happy.”

Shadow too, gets the familiar itch in his throat, the familiar tightness in his chest. Fear. Panic. Memories resurfacing. A parallel of maria shines through sonic’s selfless attitude.

“…and that someone is you, shadow.”

“Sonic—“

Sonic shoves shadow away with as much force as he could. A wistful smile present on his muzzle, along with a sorrowful glaze in his eyes. Shadow, with a raised voice, stretches out his hand. Hes trying to reach for sonic.

The blue blur has more experience with the chaos emeralds than shadow does. Making this sacrifice should be easy. If it werent for the grief-stricken ebony hedgehog reaching out behind him. For one last send off, sonic and shadow’s eyes meet for the last time.

Its crazy how they thought so lowly of each other when they first met, and nearly tried to kill each other. But the more time they spent, the more did the hedgehogs realize how much the other is truly worth, and how much respect they hold for one another. Its a shame they wont get to spend more time together back on earth.

A damn shame. But humanity needed a fresh sacrifice.

One pair of eyes, plaintive yet noble, another pair of eyes, staggered and fearful, stare at each other, for one millisecond.

Sonic raises his hand, not to reach back out to shadow. But to wave. Wave goodbye.

“Please… keep them happy for me, okay? Promise me. You’ll protect my family.”

Shadow cant hold back his apprehension any longer. Fruitlessly calling out to sonic for him to come back. To not go away. To not throw HIS life away like it had no meaning. Of course, it falls on deaf ears, and two voices say at once:

“Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog…”

Followed by a yell of chaos control, a blinding light, a futile chase for a falling body, and no recollection of being sent back onto the ark. To be greeted by an array of faces. All grief-stricken, mournful, sullen, and unreadable.

Shadow, in spite of his own grief and his own recollection of his past trauma. Does his best to comfort sonic’s brothers. He’ll attempt to do the same to his parents back on earth.

A couple months have passed by then, and shadow has learned from his past mistakes. Right now, he wont go down the path of revenge and go guns blazing in the streets again. Right now, he has a promise to keep. A promise to her, and a promise to him. Of course, thered be times where he wonders and hopes that hes doing enough to keep humanity, the people of green hills, and sonic’s family happy. Hes trying his best, and he’ll keep on trying no matter what.

Shadow sometimes fantasizes about a scenario where sonic lived, and the blue blur shows him around green hills. Rambling non-stop with that annoying (yet kind of endearing) voice of his, maintaining that same charm. Cracking jokes shadow cant understand, showing him technology and culture shadow has to learn. It wouldve been… nice to still have him around. It really wouldve been. He wishes it so.

Tails and knuckles are starting to warm up to the ultimate life form, and the wachowski’s appreciate shadow’s efforts in helping humanity. Understanding that he has no intentions of replacing their son, and cherish everything the ebony hedgehog does to honor green hills’ fallen blue devil.

And even shadow knows that the world is filled with cruelty and sorrow. Yet it was the world that maria wanted to live in, and it was the world that sonic chose to fight for and protect. There’s a lot of awful, sad things in the world. But there are still things, people, worth protecting.

There’s a promise.

Shadow will remember it.

Shadow will never forget it.

And that is why…

He will keep fighting.

(If things are messy sorry ill edit it when i get back from canada which is tomorrow lol-)

[zerohirrotries]

Watched Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3 today!

Spoiler warning!

The movie was amazing, like one of the best mcu movies. I love how instead of treating Peter's grief like how they usually do. Instead they have every single guardian trying to help him. They all understand him and are chill with his drinking problems and grief of loss.

Everyone was so caring for Peter. But mainly Nebula was there for him. She was like another sister almost. She kept being there for him and wanting to help.

Love how Drax takes all the kids because it is how he is. He is and always will be the father. Drax with the kids just broke me, like ahhhh!! Also I love how Nebula is with the kids, wanting to save them from what she had to go through with her father Thanos. Then his relationship with Mantis, Peter kept throwing them to work together and they seem to be annoyed with it. Mantis kept Drax from doing some harsher things, yet she never could fully control him because she seem to trust him still. Mantis and Drax both seem to felt like they did not fully belong with the Guardians, yet they stayed cause they view everyone as a family, something they both love much.

The movie was telling about the backstory of Rocket. Each movie gave hints and he always tried to avoid talking about it. Yet now it had to be out for the guardians to help him. For he was dying in the movie and was out over half it. Yet those flashback we got.... They got to me, I love his friends he had. Lylla and Rocket were so cute, like ahhh!!! Then Teefs and Floor!!

All the four together in the flashbacks at least explains why Rocket was always worried of trying to save everyone. Watching how he lost all three for trying to save them. Even when Teefs and Floor told him to run, he could not leave them. I just could not hold those tears for that....

Groot, oh poor Groot. Through the movie, as Rocket was dying... He kept being worried. I could tell he was worried and more scared thought the movie. He was always listening and never goofing off much. Taking things seriously because it was Rocket's life at their hands.

Love how Cosmo and Kraglin were becoming friends. I love their friendship and how they care about everyone. Cosmo was a strong leader, yet she was playful. Kraglin wanted to be strong, yet he kept doubting himself. When he thinks about Yondu and sees him mentally, that is when he starts to become stronger. He has been slightly grieving over the lost of Yondu silently and no one knew. He was trying so much to not think about it, holding it away. That is when he finally became strong and started to master the arrow.

Love how the ravagers had now Gamora. In the movie, Peter kept talking about his Gamora, saying that she had to be the same as the future version. For they were the same person. Yet, they did my take on future and such, after a long the movie, Peter and Gamora finally come to a stand where they both know that she had her own decisions she could do. She did not need to be the future Gamora, the same person. Yet, maybe at the end it hinted that she started to have a small liking as in at least friendship with Peter now..

With High Evolutionary as the villain, it was a villain that we could not exactly sympathize much. He was actually crazy, like he killed whatever he made if it did a small mistake, he needed things to be perfect. With his creations, Adam and his mother were made. Adam had a mission to save his kind, he had to get Rocket to High Evolutionary. Yet when we see Adam we learn that he is still a kid, learning about the world and his life. Not fully understanding anything, even death fully. Until he found the ravager pet Blup. He found something he cared about, learning about love more. So when he lost his mother to Evolutionary, he still worked for him until Groot saved his life. That is when Adam repaid them and saved Peter's life. Now he is a part of the new Guardians that is lead by Rocket.

Also most people kept saying someone would die, well no Guardians did and no one has left the mcu yet!!! Star-Lord is still around, but back on Earth and trying to fix things with his Grandfather. The new Guardians still has Rocket, Groot, and Kraglin. Nebula, Cosmo, and Drax are staying at Knowhere, which seems to be the home place for the Guardians. Then the only one that I am slightly questioning about what next is Mantis. Mantis does not fully understand herself, like her brother Peter. So she sets off on a journey to understand herself better.

I am just so happy, yet I cried like at least over ten minutes of the movie!! I did not expect it to let me laugh and cry almost at the same time... All you mcu fans should go watch this masterpiece, I loved it so much!!

[kastelpls]

steam visual novel fest sale recs

i like visual novels and there's a vn fest going on, so here's a thread on titles i like:

ELIZA

https://store.steampowered.com/app/716500/Eliza

i recently finished this title and while the topic is certainly relevant, what drew me more was how it depicted the traumas of tech startup culture. whether intentional or not, the dreams and aspirations of tech workers to solve problems become tainted by capital and hubris.

the protagonist is jaded as fuck because she's seen her creation take over the world. but she's not as melodramatic as dr frankenstein; she is still gauging how things are going. her alienated view on the world around is intoxicating and i really found the pov very charming.

the experience of playing this game made me feel like i've returned to my unpaid internship days for better or for worse. it's a story that will forever remain relevant until silicon valley and the tech industry as we know it are over. wonderful title.

SeaBed

https://store.steampowered.com/app/583090/SeaBed/

i have personal stakes in seabed since i'm one of the two non-translators credited to bringing this yuri vn overseas. my bias aside, i think this is one of the most unique video games of all time.

you follow a bunch of adults aimlessly wandering around as the world around them reflects their mental states. things just happen, but everyone takes it in the most matter-of-fact fashion. the writing is intentionally tedious at times because it is in love with the mundane. it's a story all about grief, but it is also about how to approach the ebb and flow of life.

as a friend once said, "it's a mystery where the characters don't realize they're in one." or as i like to put it, "a mystery in search of a mystery".

Christmas Tina

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1049100/_/

set in the notorious bubble era of japan, this may look like a romantic encounter between a chinese dude and a japanese girl at first glance. however, it drops that premise by having them squabble forever and not learn each other's languages.

the game is instead about minorities struggling to survive. the chinese guy left china for various reasons and wanted to make a name for himself while the japanese girl got into a car accident with a person engaged in the sex trade because she was looking for money to pay for her sister's surgery. later on, you'll read about different chinese members, a woman raised by a chinese-japanese couple, and other interesting people that make up japan today.

if there is a game i like to credit for inspiring my interest into connecting with my traumatic chinese history again in my own writing, it's this title. there's a section that surprised me because it was, after all, a title mainly developed in china and it's still very recent history. but i'm glad the developers took the risk and it's an impressive episode.

i'd seriously recommend this game if you haven't tried it. it's seriously a sleeper hit.

Chuusotsu

https://store.steampowered.com/app/630870/Chuusotsu_1st_Graduation_Time_After_Time/

the first of an ongoing series, chuusotsu 1st is about a bunch of middle school graduates who can't graduate into high school for various reasons. stories about their traumas are interlinked with the chaos of japanese social media.

likewise, it's also about trying things that they are scared to try. the protagonist is an anxious girl who wants to do art, but she keeps failing at socializing. she's cute.

The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1158850/The_Great_Ace_Attorney_Chronicles/

since this was featured in the festival, i might as well give it a shout. this is more an adventure game in the Ace Attorney series, but i consider it to be the best game and everyone should play it.

it explores a historical period dear to my heart: the era of meiji japan and victorian england. here are two imperialist nationstates, but the latter is stronger than the former and is secretly dictating how japan should behave.

not only does the game explore this colonial dynamic but it also looks into how racism functions in the british justice system. any pretense of democracy and fairness is ultimately failed when the british jury sees the protagonist and calls him an ape.

i credit the final chapter for changing my dissertation thesis when i was still doing my masters. if i ever do a phd, i'm going to continue studying the history of international students and what it reflects about us as a humanity.

Return to Shironagasu Island

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1156990/Return_to_Shironagasu_Island/

a surprise doujin hit in japan, this visual novel written by an ex-mystery writer is very old-school to a fault. you are exploring one of those MURDER ISLANDS and there's orthodox mystery tricks, but it's well-executed.

the main star is neneko who's a little cringe beast. she's cute.

games i've heard are good but haven't played yet

Bustafellows

Taisho x Alice

The Flowers series

Symphonic Rain

Tangle Tower

Fatal Twelve

Furikake Spacy

A Year of Springs

Narcissu 10th Anniversary Project

2064: Read Only Memories

Analogue: A Hate Story

if you are looking for more recommendations on steam, i have a curation page.

[purgatory-hotel]

SOO, any information about the Seven Deadly Sins in your rewrite you can share?

HIII SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY LOL,, I've been unwell 💔

i don't have a lot of specific info for each individual sin yet other than little tidbits, but I can say that none of the sins are actually properly villainous/outright evil. they've still done bad things of course, but they're not Valentino levels of terrible

Satan is incredibly powerful on Earth. deadly sins can influence people directly, although most of them choose to send workers (like Asmodeus and his concubi) Satan chooses to work with humans directly since he likes to be fully in control. his least favourite sin is Lucifer since humans often get them mixed up. he also sounds like Sam Elliot :3

Beelzebub is a massive activist for hellhound rights. although hellhounds are treated like people rather than pets in my rewrite, they're still discriminated against and there's a huge problem with racism and classism in Hell. since she is so privileged and has a much higher social standing than most other hellhounds, she uses this to her advantage. she runs a shelter for homeless/otherwise disadvantaged hellhounds and makes sure they're all safe and happy. her least favourite sin is Leviathan because she's rude and encourages negative self image.

Belphegor is probably the most understanding sin. since Sloth originally referred to depression/illness in general (dismissing symptoms of a chronic condition as "laziness") she is very knowledgeable on mental health and encourages people to rest when they need to. there's doctors and hospitals in all seven rings, but Sloth is the most popular place for people to get medical help since it's the best for it. although Beelzebub mentions Belphegor having a stash of party drugs, the only recreational drug she has is weed. she produces psychiatric medication, so unless you want to have a lie down and maybe feel a bit peckish, she's probably not the best person to go to for a good time at a rave. her least favourite sin is Satan because he never knows how to chill out.

Leviathan is a girl and doesn't have a surfer aesthetic. she's a bit of an enormous bitch and mainly pushes evil things like stupid beauty standards and "diet tea" that wrecks your toilet. her least favourite sin is Beelzebub because she encourages self love.

Mammon is much less wicked than he is in canon, but he is still incredibly greedy and mainly targets children since they're more impressionable. he's definitely tried to capitalise on Fizzarolli's disabilities at some point, although he feels at least a tiny crumb of guilt as he does care about Fizzarolli, just a bit. he's incredibly flirty but he's never been in a proper relationship due to him believing that relationships have to be sexual (no one tell him that asexual people can have healthy and loving relationships, he has to figure that out on his own). his least favourite sin is Asmodeus because he thinks he's far too sappy.

Asmodeus is very passionate about basically everything; his work, his relationship, even the food he likes. he has a very strong sense of justice, so he hates that so many lust sinners are people like Valentino. His least favourite sin is Mammon because of how he's treated Fizzarolli and because he knows he doesn't like him either.

Lucifer is very similar to how he is in canon, only I want to properly explore his depression. he's spent most of the past few years being incredibly unwell mentally. he's a bit of a shut in and he spends most of his time either in bed or working on making toy ducks. I don't think he has a least favourite sin as he doesn't socialise much.

good grief pardon the yap 😭 also I hope I worded everything okay, especially regarding Lucifer and his mental health

[cinamun]

I’m sorry I know it’s late but this has been brewing with me for awhile and I know imma ruffle some feathers so I apologize in advance. I’m angry…. I’m angry for Hope and Elliot but mainly Elliot. What he did was selfish, cruel and disrespectful towards his friendship with Hope and her family. But as someone who tried to commit suicide I understand it…. I understand the loneliness and the pain of failure and staying there and thinking that’s all you are. Elliot legit had NO ONE other than Hope and her family and without realizing it it was taken from him. Hope had every right to discover herself and follow her own path, but she was the only support Elliot had. He was abandoned by his mother, forced to live out a dream by his father, replaced the love for Hope with Hani which was unfair to her and him and never had the time to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Please no one think this is a defense for Elliot and what he did. All I’m saying is I understand why he figured he had no other choice because at that point he was back to being the abandoned child who was alone watching his father trying to relive a time that was gone. Darren was his father, Indya was his mother and Hope was the love of his life all of who had their own lives to live. Elliot was failed by his parents and I’m angry with Sean for not giving him the live he deserved instead taking it away as punishment for the “life” he was “robbed” of by the “woman” who chose to leave. If I see her ass at the service I’m hopping through the screen and beating her ass myself. Thank you for coming to my red table talk.

You know what time it is anonymous friend, let's get into it:

First off, I'm glad you're still here. The bookclub loves you.

Now, here's the thing; the anger is the biggest piece here, its the 2nd stage of grief. Its valid to be angry at everyone who failed this young man INCLUDING this young man. You're absolutely right about the progression of Elliot's reliance on The Drake Family. It became a safe space for him where there was none.

What I hoped to do, and it looked like it worked out, was show how two kids with vastly different backgrounds and experiences might handle something like love. Basically, I took a play out of the Indya/Darren circa 2017 playbook and applied it to the next generation. This time it was Elliot with a broken home and codependency issues, reliant on the love and support of a healthy Hope with a healthy support system being taught healthy boundaries. What drew Hope and Elliot apart is actually something 2017 Indya/Darren just dealt with and that was disrespect and intimidation (Elliot and the B word on the porch).

But we no longer do that here, so Elliot had to go off and deal with his shit. He did so with blunts, whatever, do you bro.

But now as a young adult and all this pressure to perform, he never addresses this deep rooted anger (see what I did there?). Elliot is angry, he's pissed that Hani isn't Hope, that all he is worth is a contract and a smile (and rushing yards and touchdowns). He's pissed off that Hope ran off to go be happy with some random who "doesn't have the history" they do. And we all know what happens when we do things out of anger; as another bookclub member said, we "make permanent solutions for temporary problems". Elliot never made it past the 2nd stage of grief after losing his world.

Personally, I believe he could have if he tried hard enough. Kinda like how Darren did.

[neveragainfools]

Let’s talk about art since apparently I’m a dumbdumb idiot who knows nothing about it or the internet.

Am I salty? Yes. Let’s get into it. So, you might have seen the Keith Haring AI Unfinished Painting going around with my commentary of disdain, and then a bunch of people reblogging it with commentary on how it’s an obvious troll/bait post and how stupid I and those who chimed in in the same fashion are. Apparently the post made it to trending (though I never saw it there, because I mostly just pay attention to my dashboard.)

Of course it doesn’t feel good to get “got.” I think if someone hadn’t sincerely pulled a similar stunt with the Mona Lisa recently, I would’ve seen it as a troll post. I did actually take a moment to consider that it might be a troll before I reblogged with commentary. But that damn expanded Mona Lisa came to mind, and I thought, “no, there are people out there who absolutely think this is okay” and went on my little rant. Jingle my bells for I’m now the court jester. I took the bait.

Do I still stand by it? Yes, for the most part. One could argue that the troll is a form of art, and I played a part in the performance. Much like Fountain by Duchamp (a piece in which he literally signed a urinal and displayed it as fine art and it nearly burned down the art world), this piece inspires rage, and the rage is the most important part of the conversation. I’ll make no bones about my position on AI art. When the “art” is simply an image generated by an AI tool, that is not art to me. It is a commercial image. The use of an AI tool to “complete” or “expand” an image with the intention to create a vast reaction, and post it in such a manor can be argued as performance art, the same way Fountain is. Machine learning can also be used as a tool in the process to create a piece of art, but a generated image alone is not art.

So then why do I stand by it? A big problem with art types like this is that it’s callous, cold and doesn’t respect the work that it’s “building on” or “elevates.” Whether it’s Warhol’s Campbell’s soup cans, Lichtenstein’s rehashing of comic panels, Duchamp’s Fountain or this AI piece, in all cases, it uses the originator without concern for the content of the art itself. Someone at the toilet company had to design that urinal. Someone at Campbell’s had to design the soup can label. Lichtenstein took panels from real living comic artists and re-rendered them with less skill and care. Those works are never co-credited with the people who did the initial designs. The twitter person who made this mess used a heartbreaking piece about a man’s grief and frustration about his own untimely death due to AIDs, and a lot of people weren’t familiar with it before this viral moment. Sure, it starts a conversation into the nature of art, as do all of these “subversive” pieces. But especially with Haring, who was concerned about computers and their eventual intelligence and would likely hate it, especially because we DO know the original artist, and those who are meant to be angered are familiar with the original piece (mainly lgbtq people), it feels especially rude and poor taste.

Other works wouldn’t cause such a visceral reaction. The personal nature of Unfinished Painting why “finishing it” is so controversial. No one says art has to be respectful. No one says art can’t steal, remix or transform works that came before it to create a new meaning. I’m still allowed to hate it. I’m still allowed to think it spits on Keith’s grave. The choice to do something so disrespectful is integral to the point of the piece, all in the name of showing how reactionary people are to AI generated images. It’s still a shitty thing to do. Perhaps something so visceral that causes such bad reaction is necessary for us to find the boundaries of where AI is or isn’t okay to be used in art. I hope for this twitter person’s sake it is.

There are so many things we could take from this debacle: reactionary nature of the internet, the question of consent and collaboration vs. remix in art, whether artists and their art should always be questioned, the list goes on. I’m happy to continue that conversation.

tldr: Sure, I got "got" by the Keith Haring Unfinished Painting AI "finishing". You could classify the act as art. It stimulated conversation into the relationship between AI images and art. But I think it's still a shitty thing to do.

[asteria-argo]

If you are looking to ramble about Disaster Prone Teenagers, I’d love to know what both of their families look like in this AU?

Like for instance- does this mean that Eddie has oldest sister problems? Is she roped into babysitting her baby sisters all the time? Is most of their family still in Texas? Does her dad travel back and forth? Did he even make it to her quinceañera?

Assuming Buck’s home life is similar, what about the Maddie-and-Doug situation? Is Maddie perhaps keeping her sister at more of an arms length, more afraid of what Doug might do if Buck were to run her mouth around him? Does Buck still have a motorbike at that age that she rides around like a jackass? Does she have the exact same haircut?

My Most Beloved Mutual Readwing I am kissing you on the mouth I love you SO much for this ask. Their family situation is one of the main things that I am rotating in my brain constantly since I first came up with this AU a few months ago.

We'll start with Eddie, because I love her a lot and she means everything to me. Eddie's family, her mom, dad and two sisters are all still in El Paso. She moved to LA for what was supposed to be one summer after a Traumatic Event that is a whole post on its own to live with tia pepa and her abuela and then she just... never went back?

She has that Eldest Daughter Syndrome where she'd been raising her sisters since she was barely in double digits and moving to LA was the first time she really got to just be a teenager without the burden of being the second parent while her dad was busy with work. The deal was always that she would go back to El Paso eventually, but the more time she spends away the less she wants to go back. She definitely has a lot of guilt about it, because she feels like she's abandoning her sisters, and her parents don't really help with that because they want her home regardless of the fact she's happier in LA.

As for the Quinceanẽra, after a brief amount of research I have discovered that around the time the Traumatic Event took place would have been when she was supposed to be having it, so there's some fun angst potential there where I think Eddie ended up missing out on that milestone. There's also some solid potential for a hurt/comfort fic where she finally gets to have it, just a little later than normal, but I would have to do more research into it before writing anything like that since I'm not that well versed in the cultural significance of Quinceanẽras. Clipboard Buck helping her best friend plan her Quinceanẽra is a very fun potential fic in the verse though.

And Buck, oh the Buck of it all. Buck's family life is actually a lot different in this AU, unlike Eddie's whose is mostly the same just adjusted for teen angst instead of grown up angst, mainly because Daniel lived in this AU. At least until Buck was about 14.

It changes everything and nothing at the exact same time. Buck grows up being constantly micromanaged, not because her parents are worried about her, but because they don't want something to happen to her in case Daniel needs her. Daniel, being a reasonable person, thinks this is absolutely insane and does his best alongside Maddie to give Buck a semi regular childhood despite the pair of them having their own issues with their parents. Then, Maddie meets Doug, and it's just Daniel helping keep Buck afloat in their house.

When Daniel is 22, and Buck is 14, he goes into kidney failure. He doesn't survive, and their parents blame Buck, who refused to donate one of her kidneys too him. The first time Maddie sees Buck since she moved to Boston with Doug at 19 is at Daniels funeral.

Maddie and Doug move back to Hershey after Daniel dies. Things get steadily worse over the next year, Doug proposes to Maddie and they get engaged at the same time Doug becomes more outwardly abusive, the Buckley parents become steadily more neglectful of Buck in their grief over Daniel, which leads to Buck spending more time with Maddie in order to get away from them. which opens the door for two things. Buck sees how terrible Doug is to Maddie, and Maddie sees how terrible their parents are to Buck. This culminates in the two of them running away to LA together the night of Maddie and Dougs rehearsal dinner, after Maddie sees Doug get violent with Buck, because while I don't think she would be ready to leave for herself, I think she would for her baby sister.

As for Bucks hair I genuinely have,,, so many thoughts about it. I think Buck is a very stereotypical pretty, feminine cheerleader archtype. She's got this long, curly blonde hair that has always been at least mid back length since she was 10 years old, which is why when she chops most of it off during a Dramatic Moment and gives herself the classic bisexual bob it's a major deal for everybody involved. Which is in itself it's own fic about self image and expectations ect ect that I can and will get into eventually.