#i’m sure i could find things to criticize about it. in fact there are many. and those who are critiquing it keep up the good work

[pendinghope]

Okay so I don’t have anything nearly as in depth to say but I do have some thoughts. This is more in general fandomness not just queer related media. So some context: This isn’t my art account but I do make fanart and societal views of the media greatly affect what I may end up posting. I recently became a fan of a kpop band and drew one of the band members. I was scared to post it cause of so many what-ifs and the fact that it didn’t get it to look quite right. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, when I went to talk to friends about if I should post it one of them pointed out some things I had never thought about. So kpop, anime, and other media doesn’t have a good reputation where I’m from though anime has become more accepted. My friend said “So you know how a group of women isn’t evil. But then when a group of women like something it’s given a bad reputation?” Something along those lines but they said it better than I could put into words. And I feel like this has to do with the “only straight women like this media”. It’s mysogenistic. And also just incorrect in the grand scheme of things. So many people like a variety of things but when certain groups of people like something people will attack it just using the basis “well these people like it so it must not be good”. Which, is just so odd. Why would a group of people liking something somehow affect the quality of media? Like I’m sure it would have some influence but not in the way that is used in such an argument. I want to go on more but honestly can’t figure out how to go on so pls add to this. (Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, I’m not quite sure how to properly express my thoughts)

Now onto a different topic. So I’m a fan of very niche things and highly enjoy my corny cheesey little shows. Some of which I would recommend to my friends until they called one of my shows cringe. Which, okay if it isn’t your thing I completely understand. But it’s a show I’ve expressed that I loved and even recommended. Now if you want to call my show anything call it corny, cheesey, goofy, cause it is. It’s overly dramatic yeah but that’s its vibe. Cringe is so overused and just saying stuff like this made me more wary about what shows I offer people and avoid shows that maybe they would actually like. If you’re going to criticize something, don’t just use negative words. Call it what it is. If it’s cheesey or over dramatic maybe it won’t have that gritty plot line you’re looking for but it’s not supposed to have that. It’s supposed to be a lil goofy, it’s supposed to be fun. Yeah it’s ‘unrealistic’ but the characters have super powers so it was never meant to be. Hell even if they didn’t have powers sitcoms exist for a reason. (Rak Diao, my love).

Another lil tidbit I wanted to add on was just basic understanding of media. I’ve talked about this before so I’m just gonna copy and paste it but edit it to make sense in this context:

So I find I don’t understand everything. By this I mean I can take one understanding of a piece, look at the piece again and just be like damn how on earth was I so wrong before? It’s why I like giving shows a second chance. Cause I might of completely misunderstood what’s happening or maybe I never knew in the first place. It’s just the meaning I took at that time and now I’ll learn something else from it. Like something I might misremember or have a bad impression of I’ll go back and recheck and be like, yeah no I was so wrong. This is great! And vice versa, I’ll be like man this is so good, rewatch and notice things that are a bit iffy. And just go hmmmmm. Just enjoy what you enjoy and don’t be afraid to try things again or let things go. Also, a lot of things fly over my head in shows cause I’m not aware or conscious of everything and I don’t know all the experiences or relevant ties things may have so it’s always good to double check or get a second pair of eyes. (See I read an entire book thinking the main character was a boy. It wasn’t until literal years later I found out the main character was a girl. Did this change much of anything? Not really. But it’s an example and I still thought the fairy and main character were going to end up dating. Alas they did not.)

I hope some of this made sense. T^T

Putting my thoughts out here is terrifying, cause of again all those what-ifs. Anyway, I don’t know how to uh end my lil spiel so yeah. (￣▽￣;)

a question for QL fandom at large: when did we start only wanting media that is perfectly suited to our standards?

there has never been a perfect show, and there never will be a perfect show, because everybody likes different things and QL is run on shoestring budgets. i thought this was something we made our peace with as viewers of the genre!

so i'm just wondering at what point fandom decided that a show is only worthy of praise/fandom if it has no problems?

at what point did we decide that talking about the problems of a show is more important than talking about what we did enjoy and what kept us watching? i don't know when it happened, but it definitely has. critique is treated more seriously and gets more interaction than people talking about what they like.

it seems like a really exhausting and slightly puritan way to do things, to be constantly finding imperfections and treating them as more important than the good parts. dunno about y'all but i don't want to be unintentionally enacting puritan shit.

i want joy, i want fun, i want the spirit of camaraderie in fandom.

so, why did fandom begin to snub any media that didn't fit very high standards? and how can we steer ourselves away from that impulse?

(i am genuinely curious about why this is happening and how those of us who don't enjoy it can change, so please feel free to jump in, even if you are 'late' or think you only have a very small contribution to make to the discussion.)

[vaperarmand]

“doctor who is well written” if you say so i guess “doctor who proved trans girl magic is real and features the penultimate bestie relationship and david tennant is openly having the time of his life” now this we can’t possibly refute

[thedevilspearl]

The brothers unintentionally finding out Mc has a secret porn account where they upload videos of themselves with different people(OR DIFFERENT DEMONS >UO)/relieving themselves

finding out mc has onlydevils — all brothers

a/n: if you didn’t realise, onlydevils is the devildom version of onlyfans lol i tried to be creative but that’s the best i could do. thank you for this idea anon, i absolutely love it!!!

tags: no gender specified, no explicit smut but consistent discussion of mature content so minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 would be the most surprised and probably the most avoidant after finding out. he’s not the happiest about it, but it’s also not the end of his world. he knows you have your reason to do it so he doesn’t pry. but he is interested and would make an undercover burner account to see what all the fuss is about. and oh man, you take his breath away. late nights in his office always end up with him making a mess of himself at his desk after watching your videos for hours. he would confront you about it after he’s had his fun (which would last months) and would only ever ask you to stop if your relationship became serious, as in, endgame.

the first words out of 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍’s mouth would be “what the hell are ya doing it for? stop it! ain’t nobody gotta see ya doing all that!” this doesn’t come from a place of trying to control you, but rather, it’s entirely out of jealousy and his instinctual need to protect you, even if it doesn’t come out the right way. of course, if you’re persistent in wanting to continue, he won’t stop you. however, it deeply upsets him knowing others see you in your most intimate act, and some even take part in it. he doesn’t know how to act, or react, and it would require a lot of time and conversation to understand it all and bring his feelings to a conclusion. but he wouldn’t be opposed to taking part in the content with you. he knows exactly how to make hotter content.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 is sort of stuck in the middle. he is definitely surprised but he’s also not surprised because you truly are something else. he knew that from the beginning. but this is different. you would never expect him to find out about it, let alone confront you. but he would be the first to let you know that he knows. and he hopes that none of his brothers know so that it can be your dirty little secret. he would never take part in your content, but he would surely give suggestions and feedback to help you improve. he’d maybe slip in some suggestions secretly catered to his own tastes, but you’d realise straight away and film an entire video just for him. his criticisms are worth a lot and so is his attention to detail in your content.

power to the people, is what 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 likes to say. upon finding out, he was taken aback by many feelings but in the end, he was impressed. he is definitely irked seeing you film content with other people, other demons, some of those are people he knows. and he cannot stand it because he wishes to be the only one to see you like that, to do those things with you. he’d let you do your thing but if things ever became serious between you, he’d want some boundaries in place. and if you want to continue, he would certainly become your new partner. he’d never show his face but he’d have no qualms showing your viewers how to please you better than anyone you ever had.

believe it or not, 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 would be one of the last to find out because it’s something he would never expect to stumble across. in fact, you kept on the lowdown so well that he never would have known had you not accidentally slipped up. he asked if you were free one night and you casually said “sorry, asmo, but i’m busy filming content tonight” and so began his hunt in finding out what exactly it is that you film, and he hits the gold mine. as soon as he does, he’s all up in your business wanting to know everything, and he most certainly wants to take part. screw all those other demons. you could make millions together, if that’s what you want. he’d become a most loyal and devoted partner.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 was just looking for something to get him going. it was a rough day at practise and his usual hunger was taken over by a hunger for pleasure. and upon looking for some content, he came across a certain trending human. he didn’t think it would be you. it had to be someone else. but when he clicked on a video after purchasing it….well, his cock grew and hardened faster than it ever did before, simply from seeing you touch yourself in in front of a camera, making eye contact with him through a screen and moaning so sweetly. he instantly becomes a loyal follower. but beel unintentionally found your account, so he would never intentionally confront you about it. he’d wait for you to open up, and he’d support your every decision.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 isn’t proud of how he stumbled upon your account. to be honest, he didn’t have an onlydevils account until one day, he was super horny and used beel’s account to watch some stuff. little did he know, beel had been watching his precious human doing all sorts of dirty things and that’s how he discovered it. so he quickly makes his own account and blows all of his money on your content, watching you go from pleasuring yourself with toys to getting lain into by some other demon. he’d wish for you to stop if you got serious with him, but other than that, your videos become the only thing he can use to get off, and soon he craves the real thing more and more.

[kytiapseud]

In Defense of Epic Manwhore au

Okay, so I’m kinda nervous to post this but I feel like it should be said. I hope I tagged correctly for the topics I discuss in this. So, in defense of the Manwhore au as for the concept being coerced, it’s not like the god(s) said ‘you’ll die if you don’t have sex with me’. Odysseus is the one who brings it up. Although yes, the line of consent there is a bit murky with Odysseus more doing so to get out of situations rather than because he wants to. It’s totally valid for some fans to not be a fan of the au, not everything in fan spaces is for everyone. You are entitled to your opinion and get to make your fandom experience safe for you. There is something I saw though that felt like commentary about those who came up with/ enjoy the au. To me this felt close to attempted fandom censoring or those who try to ‘cleanse’ all fandom content to what they think is morally correct. Again, it is fine if you want to share your thoughts on something. But I hope no one comes after those who do enjoy the au. I haven’t seen that happen yet, I’m hoping it doesn’t. But the generalization about what it says about those who enjoy the au doesn’t sit right with me. For reasons like I mentioned above, about worrying it could turn into attempted censoring. Especially if anyone tries to get others to agree to black-and-white thinking about what they think is true. That could easily turn into justification to harassment, which I have seen in fandom spaces before. Particularly with anti-proshippers.

There may be valid criticisms to this au concept, but that doesn’t mean everyone who is a fan likes it for the same reasons. Let me address some of what I’ve seen though. The joking about Odysseus being a Manwhore coming from homophobia. Yeah, that’s possible (although personally I feel like a homophobe is more likely to not even mention gay things.) I don’t think that’s always the case though. I know there was one animatic I saw, the first thing I saw for the au, that had a joke in it that I didn’t like. I don’t judge this creator, and in fact it’s a common joke I’ve seen. Particularly with people wishing they didn’t see something. It just doesn’t vibe with me. In no way do I think that those who say such jokes have something wrong with them. People have different senses of humor and I think some use such jokes as a way to cope.

Anyways, I think some of the humor more comes from how unexpected it would be. I mean, we have a war captain facing foes who instead of choosing to fight goes for seducing them. It’s certainly interesting. I know some of the jokes come from the others not involved in the coupling being just shocked or grossed out. I think that more comes from like not wanting to see someone else talk about or get busy with another? I mean, some of these men probably consider each other to be like brothers. I imagine that would be weird. I think homosexuality wasn’t taboo in ancient Greece, I’m not entirely sure though I may need to do more research on that. So there could be some homophobia to the jokes, but I don’t think that’s the case for everyone. It certainly wasn’t for me. It could also be lgbt+ fans wanting to see more gay stuff in the story. Gay shipping isn’t uncommon after all.

I don’t think everyone who talks about the Manwhore au has no problem joking about sa. There can be many reasons why someone may enjoy a concept in media. You don’t know. Like how women are criticized for rape fantasies. I watched a documentary about sex once (I can’t remember which one this was in now) and there was a whole segment about the rape fantasy, discussing why this is an appeal to some women. It did not mean these women want to be raped of course. Part of it could come from a culture of feeling pressure to not experience any sexual feelings, so the scenario allowed them to experience something without feeling guilty about it. There isn’t always a clear explanation for why someone can find something sexy.

I think this started as a joke, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some who wanted something sexy in their Epic fan experience. I mean, having read the Odyssey in school (twice actually) I did not expect I would want to see Odysseus in such a scenario. But then I saw one sexy fanart of him with others and cough I ended up liking it more than I expected. Those who have seen my reblogs on this tag know heh.

There’s also the infidelity notion. I feel like given the situation, Penelope would understand. I also saw some comments that they could be poly, which is a concept I like for this. I’ve also seen mention that human relationships with gods have ended up tragically for the humans involved. I don’t think everyone who listens to Epic knows about that. I didn’t. But again, this goes back to it being fantasy. People enjoying picturing it the way they want to. It doesn’t have to be accurate to the myths. It’s fanfiction/au.

I think the infidelity notion to it didn’t bother me as much as others because in the original, he wasn’t faithful. Sorry for Odyssey spoilers I guess. Anyways, I was already used to him being a cheater. Although the one with Circe may match more with the coercion along the lines of ‘sleep with me for your crew’. The knife that’s been shown in some animatics wasn’t in the original. It’s been a while since I’ve read it so I’m not entirely sure about how that went down.

Referring back to if Odysseus wants it even if he was the one who offered (sorry if I’m all over the place with this, I have a lot of thoughts.) Seducing foes doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want it. There’s a character in a Sanders Sides roleplay I was in named Remy (Sleep), whose rp version was created/and played by the wonderful @queroze , who was proclaimed by them to be a manslut. His go-to to get out of situations, if he saw it was a fit strategy, was to seduce. Sure, he got into situations that weren’t great, but often he was the active one in the seducing. I wouldn’t say his go-to being to seduce meant it wasn’t always consensual. In fact, there’s many descriptions and some statements from Que themselves saying Remy loved bringing pleasure to his partners.

Then there’s the mention of the unlikeliness of the scenario actually happening. I don’t think this matters that much to be honest. It’s fandom enjoyment. Who cares if people want to enjoy something that doesn’t seem likely in canon? I personally couldn’t see seduction working, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t find the concept entertaining. Sure people shouldn’t insist it could occur to the creators. But aside from that, it doesn’t affect you. Enjoying fan spaces is way more fun if we let things stay peaceful.

I kinda want to write a fanfic now that adjusts to some of the critiques I’ve seen of this au. I know I said I probably wouldn’t, but I got inspired while planning this heh.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The programmer Simon Willison has described the training for large language models as “money laundering for copyrighted data,” which I find a useful way to think about the appeal of generative-A.I. programs: they let you engage in something like plagiarism, but there’s no guilt associated with it because it’s not clear even to you that you’re copying. Some have claimed that large language models are not laundering the texts they’re trained on but, rather, learning from them, in the same way that human writers learn from the books they’ve read. But a large language model is not a writer; it’s not even a user of language. Language is, by definition, a system of communication, and it requires an intention to communicate. Your phone’s auto-complete may offer good suggestions or bad ones, but in neither case is it trying to say anything to you or the person you’re texting. The fact that ChatGPT can generate coherent sentences invites us to imagine that it understands language in a way that your phone’s auto-complete does not, but it has no more intention to communicate. It is very easy to get ChatGPT to emit a series of words such as “I am happy to see you.” There are many things we don’t understand about how large language models work, but one thing we can be sure of is that ChatGPT is not happy to see you. A dog can communicate that it is happy to see you, and so can a prelinguistic child, even though both lack the capability to use words. ChatGPT feels nothing and desires nothing, and this lack of intention is why ChatGPT is not actually using language. What makes the words “I’m happy to see you” a linguistic utterance is not that the sequence of text tokens that it is made up of are well formed; what makes it a linguistic utterance is the intention to communicate something. Because language comes so easily to us, it’s easy to forget that it lies on top of these other experiences of subjective feeling and of wanting to communicate that feeling. We’re tempted to project those experiences onto a large language model when it emits coherent sentences, but to do so is to fall prey to mimicry; it’s the same phenomenon as when butterflies evolve large dark spots on their wings that can fool birds into thinking they’re predators with big eyes. There is a context in which the dark spots are sufficient; birds are less likely to eat a butterfly that has them, and the butterfly doesn’t really care why it’s not being eaten, as long as it gets to live. But there is a big difference between a butterfly and a predator that poses a threat to a bird. A person using generative A.I. to help them write might claim that they are drawing inspiration from the texts the model was trained on, but I would again argue that this differs from what we usually mean when we say one writer draws inspiration from another. Consider a college student who turns in a paper that consists solely of a five-page quotation from a book, stating that this quotation conveys exactly what she wanted to say, better than she could say it herself. Even if the student is completely candid with the instructor about what she’s done, it’s not accurate to say that she is drawing inspiration from the book she’s citing. The fact that a large language model can reword the quotation enough that the source is unidentifiable doesn’t change the fundamental nature of what’s going on. As the linguist Emily M. Bender has noted, teachers don’t ask students to write essays because the world needs more student essays. The point of writing essays is to strengthen students’ critical-thinking skills; in the same way that lifting weights is useful no matter what sport an athlete plays, writing essays develops skills necessary for whatever job a college student will eventually get. Using ChatGPT to complete assignments is like bringing a forklift into the weight room; you will never improve your cognitive fitness that way.

31 August 2024

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked. 

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it. 

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.” 

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games. 

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena. 

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer. 

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up. 

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.” 

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you. 

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you. 

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile. 

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.” 

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

[confusedblakex]

Words

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima X Deaf Reader (GN)

Summary: Kirishima always wondered why he had no words on his wrist, but when he meets you it all makes sense

AU: Soulmate AU - Soulmates have tattoos of the first words their soulmates say to them

Wordcount: ~1430

Warnings: Self consciousness (inferiority complex)

Requested by: Me stressing about finals

Notes: As a hearing person, please let me know if I offend anyone with the way I've written the reader (or if you have any constructive criticism)

Last edited: 24th May 2023

Kirishima was self-conscious about many things. His looks, his personality, his quirk. And the fact that he had no soulmate.

The first words a person’s soulmate said to them would be written as a tattoo-like mark on the inside of their wrist. Everyone found their soulmate at some point in their life, whether intentionally or not, they would end up as friends or lovers or something in between.

Not everyone wanted to find their soulmate, but having no soulmate at all was even rarer than being quirkless. And on Kirishima’s wrist, there was nothing.

His love of sweatbands and nice watches wasn’t because of their usefulness and functionality, but because it meant he never had any questions about his soulmark. Though that didn’t mean he completely avoided the subject, and he always felt a sting in his heart whenever his friends brought it up.

But UA would be different - he told himself - at UA, he wouldn’t fear judgement because of it. And so for his first day of hero school, he didn’t cover his wrist, the empty space looking so abnormal to him.

Yet on the first day, quite a few people found their soulmates. He may have felt his heart ache, but reminded himself of the new person he was. He wouldn’t let this get him down. So when the topic of soulmates was brought up, he didn’t shy away - though he was nervous - and told his class about his lack of soulmark. No one made a fuss, and no one made him feel bad. Bakugo even called him lucky for not having destiny be the one to decide his partner.

So manly.

And though he still wished he had a soulmate, he didn’t let himself feel upset that he didn’t have a soulmark. Well, that was until he met you.

You were a transfer student who joined midyear, and apparently you knew Uraraka since she greeted you with a hug the moment she saw you. And then once Aizawa walked in,  you introduced yourself to the class.

Notebook in hand, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the class. Kirishima watched as you flipped open the first page of the notebook and gasps and whispers filled the room.

“Hello, my name is (y/n), and I’m deaf” 

And you flipped the page again.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all”

You were nervous, he could tell you were nervous, but you smiled through it regardless. You were shown to your seat by Aizawa, and the moment he tried to go back to sleep the class erupted into chatter. Uraraka ran over to you and started making quick hand movements to you, which Kirishima realised was sign language.

The rest of the class followed suit, all rushing over trying to talk to you and asking Uraraka to translate. You took out your notebook with some pre-written answers for common questions. Things like:

“I do have hearing aids, but that doesn’t mean I can hear fully”

“If you want to talk to me, please make sure I’m able to see your face so I can better understand what you’re saying”

Once the fuss all died down, Uraraka ended up convincing you and a bunch of others to start a club to teach people sign language so you could communicate with them more easily. Which was then followed by Bakugo, of all people, going up to you and challenging you (and probably also insulting your quirk) in fluent sign language.

But Kirishima never took his eyes off you. You were gorgeous. The way you interacted with the class as they asked you questions, and how cute you were when you were focusing on listening to someone. Your smile and the positive aura you had.

He had fallen hard.

---

He walked up to you one day with the intention of asking about joining the sign language club, but he couldn’t seem to think clearly. He had never spoken to you before, so once he had your attention his mind blanked.

Instead he said the first thing that popped into his brain.

“Hey, I uh… just wanted to say I think you’re really pretty…”

Your eyes went wide as your wrist started to tingle and then gently burn. It only lasted a moment, but you knew exactly what it meant. You pulled your sleeve down just enough to see the words glowing, and then turned to furiously sign to Uraraka, who was already understanding what was going on.

“Oh my gosh, (y/n)’s your soulmate!” She exclaimed, probably a little louder than she intended as you winced at the noise.

“What?” Kiri asked, not because he didn’t figure it out, but because it simply wasn’t possible. And yet it made so much sense.

The silence that followed rang loud, and yet your bright smile made everything alright. Kiri couldn’t help but pull you into a gentle hug, one that you quickly reciprocated.

From that moment on, Kirishima felt complete, felt as though his heart was whole. As though all those years spent feeling insecure about his lack of soulmark, and all those nights he spent wishing he’d have a soulmate were nothing.

And your friendship quickly became something more. Kiri didn’t want to feel like he was pushing you into a relationship, but it just felt so natural. His love for you was unlike anything he had ever felt, and it only grew greater each day.

Kirishima wanted to confess his feelings for you, but he wasn’t sure how. Not once had to two of you spoken about your feelings regarding the realtionship, and he wanted it to be special. 

He finally convinced Bakugo to teach him sign language - even though Bkakugo wouldn’t tell Kiri why he knew it - and planned the perfect way to tell you. On his birthday.

Unbeknownst to him, you wanted to do something special too. With the help of Uraraka, Momo and Jiro, you all came up with a plan. The three of them were the best friends you could ask for and were so supportive of your feelings for Kirishima. Together, they helped you learn over the months, and for Kiri’s birthday you were going to tell him you loved him. With words.

It wasn’t as though you couldn’t speak, you could, you were just so self-conscious about how you sounded - and of course it wasn’t easy. But it was something you were willing to do for Eijiro. He was so uplifting to be around, and encouraged you endlessly. For years you were worried that your soulmate wouldn’t be interested in you romantically because of your disability, but Kiri didn’t care. He loved you regardless, and you couldn’t be happier.

But when the day finally rolled around, you suddenly didn’t trust yourself. What if you sounded weird? What if he didn’t like your voice? You knew it was just your thoughts bringing you down, but they were so difficult to ignore.

A tap on your shoulder brought you back from your thoughts, and your turned to face Bakugo and Kirishima. You smiled at Kiri, but Bakugo had something to say.

“Stupid hair had something important to say, so you better pay attention” he signed, “I’ll kill you if you don’t treat him well”

His face softened, and he patted you on the back before leaving, which took you off guard. It leaft you and Kiri alone together, but you were still confused.

He looked nervous, but before you could ask any questions, he bagan signing.

“It’s my birthday today, and I wanted to do something special”

“And I really don’t want to come off as weird, but it’s not manly for me to keep my feelings hidden from you”

He signed to you fluently and confidently, making a few mistakes here and there, but you could tell he was really trying. And it was wonderful.

“I love you (y/n)”

This was not how you expected it to go, but it was perfect nonetheless. He confessed to you! It was practically the perefct setup.

“I love you to-o, Kiri-shima” You said, making sure you carefully sounded out the words so you didn’t say anything wrong.

Kiri didn’t even have time to process that you just spoke. You loved him too!

“Really?! Ow-” He felt his wrist burn, and he hadn’t even noticed until it hurt. He tugged his sleeve down to see what had happened, but paused when he saw there was no wound. Instead, his wrist was glowing with words appearing on his skin.

‘I love you too, Kirishima’

[galene-gothic]

𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

Your current or next significant connection is going to be a situationship, I wanted to read only relationships but this situationship came through very strongly so I’m just going to interpret this for you. They’re someone who feeds off of social and romantic attention with no intention of committing. They’re someone who’s mean and only cares about themself. They lack self awareness. They’re someone who feels like everyone blames them unfairly, this is funny because they’ll be the one victim blaming and gaslighting you. If you have a narcissistic mother or an unhealthy relationship with your mother, this person is going to be similar to your mother, even if you do not realise it when you’re with them, after things end, you’ll notice similarities. They’re a know-it-all and act like they’re all that but in reality, they are crippling with insecurities. They’ll not be focused on you and they’ll be giving you just enough to keep you in their life (probably just empty promises or a few sweet moments here and there). I hate to say this like this but this frustrates me. This person clearly doesn’t deserve you, they won’t even be able to fulfil your basic needs. ‘Vampire’ by Olivia Rodrigo is how this situation is going to turn out for you. I’m not even sure as to why you’ll be sticking with them, they’ll literally put in no effort and show no passion. They’ll be possessive and territorial over you.

However, they’ll not treat you right because they’ll not find you good enough to commit to. Also, you’ll be letting a lot slide so they’ll continue mistreating you because you keep on allowing it. They’ll be really critical of you and take a lot from you, completely drain you out but won’t give you even the slightest amount of respect. They’ll be bread-crumbing you, giving you just enough attention and appreciation to not lose you completely but will never give you what you deserve and require. You’ll convince yourself that you’re satisfied because of the affection and attachment that you’ll feel towards them. This is so major, they’ll teach you enough common sense, discernment and self respect to never let someone like them into your life again. They’ll be someone really arrogant and a show-off. At some point, you’ll literally feel abused (could be anything emotionally, physically, mentally). They’ll say something and treat you as if you’re an object and not a person at all. They’ll act very selfishly and make everything about themself. You’ll be forced to leave people behind, your social life will be dying and you’ll be going through a really lonely time, they’ll make you feel really shitty. You’ll have forgiven them many times already by then but they’ll still be leaving you in a position where you have to watch everything you say just so you can avoid fights.

You’ll start feeling a lot of guilt towards yourself for putting up with such poor treatment. You’ll start regretting them. They’ll start feeling like a bag of stress to you and you’ll see the opportunity to move on without regrets and you’ll take it. A lot of uncertainty is going to be involved in the situation but you’ll choose your integrity and feelings above that person so you’ll feel like it’s only fair if you get away. Your nervous system and mental state will be all over the place at that time so the fact that you’re choosing yourself is very admirable. You’ll think that it’s just ‘cause and effect’, they treated you like shit so you walked away. They’ll treat you so bad that you’ll feel like you can basically survive anything. After leaving them behind, you’ll feel like you’re already over the worst. You’ll learn a lot of life lessons from the situation. Things will collapse completely but you’ll be left with a chance to build something completely new. The way you’ll remember them is “I survived them”. This connection will be very important as you’ll stop wanting to involved in such situations. Due to how they’ll treat you, you will also be kind of defensive at times (when involved with them) but you’ll always apologise when you feel like you’ve done something wrong and try to make things better but they won’t have it in them to do the same thing. You’ll be very understanding with them and will try to be there for them through hardships but they’ll be nowhere to be found when you need them. You’ll learn and grow from this, take care and all love.

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

Your next partner is someone who’s patient, practical and responsible. They’re also someone who really values loyalty. They’re ambitious and persistent. They’re someone who works hard and likely has a strict routine. They’re very reliable but yeah once they get angry, it’s a bit of a show. They’re very stubborn too. They have a lot of responsibilities and stress in their life though. They work very hard and push themself to the limits. They can be over ambitious and burn themself out though. They take a lot onto themself and work under a lot of pressure. They’re also very serious about their goals. They’ll be very intentional in regards to you, they’ll be focused on you, there’s something about you that just inspires them and hypes them up. They’ll be determined to overcome any obstacles when it comes to you, they’ll be willing to work hard for your relationship. They’ll see how desirable you are and they’ll express it to you, they’ll make you feel like the most desirable person on earth. They’ll understand your thirst for knowledge, for experiences and they’ll think that you’re something on a different level. They’ll be interested in figuring out the deepest parts of you, in uncovering your deepest fears and darkest secrets. They’ll be truly tender with you and that’s exactly what you’ll want, someone who is willing to listen to you and take care of you. They’ll be affectionate and will try to be there for you. They’ll write love letters for you and send you romantic messages. They’ll be sensitive to your needs and kinda treat you like a kid. They’ll also act kind of childish and playful around you. They’ll have a very big crush on you.

Also, it will be very difficult for them to contain it. They’re going to admire your beauty and you’ll be able to catch them all flustered. Like the energy will just speak volumes about how they feel towards you. There will be an electric current between the both of you and also a strong psychic connection/ communication. The moment they’ll enter a room, they’ll look around for you. They’ll treat you the way an admirer treats one he or she admires. The dynamic between the both of you will include a lot of stimulation but you won’t be able to give up the craving for more. You’ll feel so passionate and excited regarding each other. You’ll act really youthful and childlike with one another. You’ll be fearless which will lead to you being reckless. You’ll also be really childlike with one another. Before the both of you even date, there’ll be a lot of impatience surrounding the situation for the both of you. You will just want to rush into things and most of you are going to do it. This relationship is going to interrupt with your plans. There’s something about the both of you being a power couple but still very incompatible. The chemistry between the both of you is going to fog your incompatibility though, you’ll still compliment each other regardless of your incompatibility. You’ll make bad decisions in this relationship but through each other, you’ll find different passions. You’ll learn more about yourselves. You’ll be loyal to them but you’re going to act obsessed with them. You’ll also let your mental health get the best of you. You’re going to be quite secretive about a lot regarding yourself and it could prove to be a setback in some way.

You won’t even be able to resist them though and it’ll be the same way with them, but you could end up using their irresistibility towards you against them if you aren’t careful. Frankly, you could end up acting really manipulative towards them. There might be something about them that will trigger you and you’ll hate-love them. You will meet them at a time where you’re processing a lot of anger and resentment or they’ll just make you tick off for some reason. They’ll feel like there’s a lot of trouble between the both of you. The way you’ll be acting will cause them to start thinking negatively because you’ll just shatter their dreams of you. They’ll feel like they have to make a decision concerning you because they will be feeling really dissatisfied and sad. For some of you, you’re going to be able to work it out and have a good long term relationship. For the rest of you, this relationship is going to take you one step closer to your ultimate love by shedding light into parts of you that need healing. You’ll start trying to manage life better after things end, you’ll start getting things that you want too, one at a time. From the relationship, you’ll learn about the importance of not being too aloof, having integrity and some of you will learn that rumours can ruin people’s lives (you’ll probably be involved in rumours if this is the case). You’ll learn that playing stupid games wins you stupid prizes. You’ll also learn that overindulgence is not good. You might also realise that you don’t really have true friends. You’ll learn how to be more mature and loving. You’ll start coming in terms with your sensitivity and kindness. You could end up being too loving though, make sure not to become a people pleaser, alright? Take care !!

︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

Your next significant partner is someone who is very passionate about, they’re someone who tries to expand their potential. They are someone who truly believes in themself and gives their best. They have a lot of ideas, to the point they find them overwhelming even. They have a lot of potential for really great things. They’re someone who’s had important breakthroughs in life and are into self improvement. They’re taking action and are optimistic right now. Their past is still negatively affecting them though. They’re someone who is pretty secretive too. They’re still stuck in unhealthy cycles. This is very conflicting, they have strong personal values or are developing them but they weren’t the best person the past. They are also very realistic but still so delusional? They feel trapped by a missed opportunity of some sort. They’re still emotionally immature and possibly even depressed. They can be someone very resentful because of their tendency to obsess. They overlook what’s obvious in order to believe the little stories in their head when it comes to love. They’re very realistic regarding everything else though. They’re still very naive and can be very gullible to love bombing, they’ve possibly fallen victim to it before. They’re manipulative and really lonely. They lack proper communication skills. The relationship between the both of you is going to require really big effort of one of your part.

I’m sorry but this person could still not be over their past relationship or something like that. This relationship is not going to be long term. Despite, how qualified you might be for them, they won’t be noticing your greatness. You’re someone who pretends to be happy even if you’re not and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing when you’re with them. It will start off exciting for you but you’ll start feeling like you deserve better as you continue to be with them, somehow, your self esteem will be so low that you will feel like no one else would want you though. You’ll be feeling quite oppressed in that relationship. They will probably downplay the things that you say to them, etc. That relationship will be extremely stressful. You’ll also start feeling quite passive aggressive towards them. I’ve heard something like “women aren’t crazy, they’re driven to it”, you don’t have to be a woman but it could apply to you during and after this relationship. You’ll be too scared of having difficult conversations here. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is just a situationship as well. You’ll feel stagnant and stuck in the situation. They’ll act like things will inevitably come to an end but they won’t be ending it properly. It’ll be obvious that they’re still emotionally attached to their past. They’ll be avoiding ending things but they won’t be treating you right either. They’ll treat you like you’re a burden.

They’ll act like you disappoint them with everything that you do. They’ll treat you as if they are settling for you. You need to be very careful here because they’ll be lacking self awareness and emotional maturity. They’ll just act like things are hopeless and like you’re not all that important. At the beginning though, they’ll be trying to act as if they’re happy. They’ll be angry at you for some reason but it won’t have much if anything at all to do with you. You’ll learn how to pay attention to details because of this connection. You’ll learn how to use your intellect against people to be honest (probably unintentionally). Before entering a relationship with them or getting involved with them, you’re someone who has little to no fear of changes. Someone who knows how to take changes for the best or for the worst, someone who knows how to leave the old things behind. You’re also someone very quick to change perspective though. After your relationship or connection with them, you’ll become someone really successful, generous and strong willed. You’ll become someone who’s more free with expression of anything (including affection) but knows how to be harsh when things come down to it. You’ll gain some sort of an enlightenment. You’ll become someone indecisive though, and someone who prioritises having friends and lovers who treasure you and are on the same level when it comes to character. All the best and take care 🩵.

[fadetouchedsilk]

like I get the feeling the need to defend veilguard as an initial response. There’s a decent crowd of ‘critics’ who are up in arms because of Gay People In Their Videogame (which kills any other valid complaints they might have had imo)

But also I think a lot of us are just. Really disappointed that the thing we Waited 10 years for isn’t even coming close to living up to what we were told to expect? Even I knew that this game probably wouldn’t be great��tbh I didn’t go in with any expectations really—but I didn’t expect to feel so deflated by what we got either. The fact that there’s so much untouched potential mixed with what we know to be irl production problems makes it a harder pill to swallow. I think I was hoping this would be another DA2 situation, where you could see there were obvious cut corners but the story that we got was compelling enough to have lasting power & we were still able to dig our fingers into the lore. Hell, people are still talking about that game to this day in some circles. What does that tell you?

We knew this game would be flawed and have some misses (they always do) but I don’t think any of us could have anticipated how gutted the actual end product would have been. People are upset because we’re not dumb. We know budget cuts & layoffs happened. Just say the resources weren’t there and you had to prioritize. Just say certain things were left behind to meet a deadline. As frustrating as that is, it’s an infinitely more preferable explanation than acting like we’re all too stupid to pick up on any of this happening.

You’re not a bad person if you had fun or enjoyed elements of the game. I did & so did a lot of other people who are being vocally critical. I probably Will end up finding aspects I feel like giving watsonian explanations for in my own canon like I have in the past. But I also cant just ignore the problems & im not alone. It’s not ‘fake da fans’ who are mad from what I’ve seen. It’s the opposite! It sucks to see something you love decline. There’s a recurring theme of grief I keep picking up on in so many of these critical posts. Of course no one actually assumed our personal headcanons would become canon, but there was a certain standard of continuity that I think was silently expected to be present & it wasn’t there.

I’m not even sure what the point of this post is tbh. So many of us wanted to like this game so, so badly. We wanted the next part of a franchise that’s been important to us to be able to stand up with its predecessors. And for a lot of us it didn’t manage to hit that mark, no matter how much we genuinely wanted it to.

Idk. As much as I can come off as pretty flippant and irate about this whole thing, in truth it’s just something that leaves me feeling sad in a really quiet, deep sort of way.

[brewsterispunkk]

angel of small death

pairing: joel miller x reader, joel miller x f!reader

WC: 7k

prompts used: “I got shot and I’m fine! Relax, would you?” “The price of my affection is high.” tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity

summary: It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

a/n: this is my submission for @pedrostories 1,000 follower celebration! as @stompandhollar can attest, I freaked out when I was tagged in this. I’m so excited to share this with you!!

warnings: explicit! 18+! gore, smut, enemies to lovers, mean!joel, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, dear-death experience

angel of small death

- -

You’re sure there was a time that he cared about something—someone. But now, as you watch Joel mercilessly beating someone's head in with a baseball bat, you’re sure that none of that man is left.

It had been raiders. A band of less than ten of them that had picked up on your trail about twenty miles out of Milwaukee. And, of course, you hadn’t picked up on any of the signs before they attacked. And Joel is pissed.

You can already tell, and he hasn’t even stopped killing.

You stumble back a step, dropping the piece of metal that you used to fell one of the raiders that lay dead at your feet. You heave, catching your breath, and lean forward on your bent knees. Thick, crimson blood flows like ink on the linoleum tiles under your feet. You feel your stomach turn.

No matter how many times you have to do it, killing never gets easier for you.

It had been Joel’s idea to pick-over the hospital, not yours. In fact, you had been vehemently against it.

Joel had assured you though that there were no clickers. That five years earlier, when he’d lived in the Milwaukee QZ, they had gassed the place in fear of having a horde so close. Little did you know, it wasn’t clickers you needed to worry about.

But still, you need any medicine you can get.

You cough, the irony scent of blood thick in the air, as Joel finally takes a step back from the bludgeoned man dead on the floor. He drops the metal bat with a clang.

Joel breathes heavily and runs the back of his forearm over his glistening forehead. He’s wearing a T-Shirt despite the coolness of the mid-spring weather, his jacket packed away in the pack he’d dropped at the door of the small lobby when the raiders had attacked.

He looks down at the man in front of him, checking for any signs of life, before nodding in approval when he finds none.

Your sigh catches in your throat when his hard gaze turns to you.

“The hell was that?”

You gulp.

“I–”

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice is like gravel, his volume low. Joel is pissed.

When he yells was one thing; but when he’s quiet, that’s when you know he’s really, truly upset.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What did I tell you about checking all the passageways?” He puts his hands on his hips. “You almost got us killed.”

“I did my job!” You burst, white-hot anger flaring inside you. You’re tired of him speaking to you like you you’re a child.

“Yeah, alright,” Joel shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

God, he can be such a teenager.

“There was no one there when I did my checks!” You argue.

“Then you didn’t look hard enough.”

You scoff.

“Mistakes like this cost lives, sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping in condescension. “So–”

“Oh that is rich,” you kick the metal pole—what you’re sure used to be a part of an IV drip—across the room toward him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Joel’s eyes narrow.

“If you have such a problem with how I do my drills, maybe you could, I don’t know, teach me how the hell these assholes operate.”

The silence that follows is electric.

“Excuse me?”

“You always criticize how I do things,” you spit. “So maybe instead of just criticizing, you could tell me how to do them right, so these things don’t happen.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Joel shakes his head, leaning down to collect his pack.

“I never learned how to do this! I wasn’t a part of a raiding party! I didn’t have a veteran brother to show me the ropes of—”

“Don’t,” his voice is dangerous when you bring up the brother he’s only mentioned in passing before.

“Fine,” you shake your head and shoulder your own pack. “But if one of us dies, it’s on you.”

You storm past him, your shoulder slamming into his in the process. But instead of ignoring it, he grabs your wrist as you move to exit the hospital lobby.

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek as he faces you. You could count every wrinkle, every scar, every freckle if you want to. Instead, you’re focused on his dark eyes.

“Don’t let it happen again,” His voice leaves no room for argument, and you see pure ire in his gaze.

You sneer and shove him backward before storming out.

- -

Your paths had crossed by accident. By pure serendipity. You often wonder what your life would look like if you hadn’t met Joel Miller—if you’d still be alive at all.

You don’t remember much of your life before the outbreak. It comes in flashes: the flutter of pigeon wings in a big city, school assemblies, your childhood bedroom, crunching leaves, a stray cat.

Your mother died when you were thirteen, leaving you with a band of survivors looking for a QZ. There had been seventeen of you then. When you found Joel ten years later, there were five.

Initially, when you’d run into the weathered, surly man and his companion, a younger, mousy man who was always looking over his shoulder, you didn’t trust him. Not in the slightest. It had taken him saving you from an infected for you to even begin to trust him.

His companion, a boy named Wesley was bitten a month after he had joined your group. One woman was taken out by a band of raiders. Three of the remaining four left you for the Tallahassee QZ. Six months later, the last man, Jose, had succumbed to a fever. Leaving what was once a group of seven, a group of two.

It’s just you and Joel now. It has been for a year. And in that time, you’re still sure that you slow him down more than you earn your keep.

You're a decent fighter, that’s true. You’d had to learn to be after your mother died. It’s dog eat dog in the wild, and you’d intended to survive.

Joel sees you as a liability, though. Still, you don’t complain; you know he’s your best bet at survival.

You aren’t looking for a QZ—at least not for one like Tallahassee—like you and your mother had been for years before she died.

You’d heard horror stories from passersby on your way out of Florida. Stories of militant soldiers, staunch curfews, and too-few rations. You know our way around plants and herbs: you’d sooner try your luck in the wild than be confined to a QZ.

Joel is of the same mind as you. At least you can agree on something.

It’d taken you months to get some kind of a handle on the older man’s personality. And now, after a year and a half of knowing him, you sometimes still think you have no idea who he really is.

Besides your crisis outside of Milwaukee, Joel is cautious.

He always plans for the worst to happen. Prepares for it like it’s second nature to him. He doesn’t talk much either, which is something new to you.

Maybe it was growing up in a caravan of people, or maybe it’s your own talkative nature, but either way, Joel’s silence was something to get used to.

You know he has ghosts—you can recognize the same signs in him that you see in yourself. The twitches of fingers, the mumbling in his sleep, the haunted look he sometimes gets in his eyes. Joel has been through hell, you’re sure of it. Then again, these days everyone has been through hell.

Some are just better at hiding it than others.

- -

You're certain Joel hates you. That you’re an annoyance to him, something to be saddled with.

You glare at the back of his head as he walks several paces ahead of you on the shoulder of the abandoned highway.

The two of you aren’t stupid; anything could be lurking in the trees on either side of the road. You make a point to stick to as close to the forest as you can get without actually stepping in the brush.

You’re on the road North—to Boston, Joel had said. Where he thinks his brother is.

You’d bitten your tongue at the mention of his brother—Tommy, you’d learned his name was.

It’d been a few weeks ago when Joel had found some old whisky in an abandoned house you’d stayed a few days in. It had loosened his tongue just enough for his brother’s name to slip out.

You didn't tell Joel that you suspect his brother was already dead. Few survive as long as you have in this world, even fewer when they’re alone.

You’ve been quiet most of the day; you can tell it annoys him when you talk too much, and you decide to give him a reprieve, if only for a while. Joel seems to prefer the silence.

But you are so bored.

This particular stretch of highway leaves nothing to the imagination; it’s all cornfields and trees. Nothing, as far as the eye can see.

“You ever gonna tell me anything about yourself, Texas?” You ask him, deciding to speak against your better judgment. You’ve been trying to bite your tongue more, not wanting Joel to tire of your presence enough to ditch you.

“What?” Joel barks over his shoulder gruffly.

“I mean, I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a pain in my ass and you’re from Texas.”

“And?”

“And, considering you’re all the company I’ve had for a year, that’s a little sad.”

“Sad?”

You roll your eyes at the incredulity in his voice.

“Forget it.”

You don’t know why you even try. Joel is an egg that is impossible to crack.

Joel casts a look at you from over his shoulder. His hair is windswept—gray mixed with brown spun in sunlight. His brows furrow together as he looks at you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

It’s five minutes later before he speaks up.

“I, uh, I used to play guitar,” he slows down so he falls in step beside you.

“What?”

Joel purses his lips and looks down, like he regrets the small piece of information he shared with you.

“Before,” he sighs. “This. I used to play a little.”

“Guitar?” You ask, and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

You sigh. Just like always: one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes talking with Joel is like talking to a rock.

“What kind of music would you play?” You ask after a moment.

“Country, mostly,” Joel’s voice sounds far-off, like he’s recalling another life entirely. You suppose, in a way he is. “A little bit of rock. I would play for—“

He stops himself, a cough escaping from his lips. He shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice is back to its usual no-nonsense tone. “I haven’t played in years. Since before.”

You hum, continuing to walk down the road.

It’s a ghost town of cars. Relics of a bygone time, frozen like metal skeletons of the old world. It almost makes your heart ache to see them.

You remember a time when you’d ridden in a car—before this. Before you were thrust into this cavity of death and decay.

“Where’d you learn to pick out plants the way you do?”

The question takes you aback, making you look at Joel in surprise. He just stares ahead as he walks.

It’s the first question about yourself he’s ever asked you.

“My mother,” you say. “She was a botanist, before. I was young when the outbreak happened so I don’t have any schooling I can remember well. She would teach me what plants were safe or dangerous or edible or had healing properties. She made me write it all down.”

A part of you thinks that she knew she was going to die, and that’s why she made you record all your knowledge in a tattered notebook. You don’t tell Joel that, though.

“Hm,” he hums. “Didn’t realize you were so…”

“Skilled?” You snark.

“Young.” He says it like it’s a pitiful thing. You bristle.

You turn to him, arms crossed.

“I’m not that young.” You state.

“Sure ya aren’t.”

“I’ve lived,” you begin. “I had to grow up running from clickers and scavenging for food. I had to grow up too quickly. That’s something you can’t even begin to understand.”

He turns around and faces you, face stony, before giving you a once over.

You shift uncomfortably as his eyes run over you, not used to being observed. You’re sure you look ghastly. It’s been weeks since either of you have been able to do more than quickly wash up in a stream or river.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you seethe. “So don’t even try to condescend to me.”

Joel only narrows his eyes, before turning around and continuing to walk.

“You coming?”

- -

You’re as surprised as anyone when it happens.

Having a crush on Joel Miller is the last thing you expected of yourself.

One minute, you’d been climbing up a rocky hill, grabbing onto roots to pull yourself up, and the next you were tumbling downward.

Joel’s arms on either side of your waist keep you up as you fall into him, a grunt leaving him as your weight slams into his torso.

“Watch your step,” his voice is gruff beside your ear. It sends a thrill through your chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, heart beating through your chest.

“Just be careful,” he helps you get your footing, his hands coming to either side of your hips. The heat from his palms seeping through your jeans. “Don’t need you breaking your neck.”

You chuckle at that, chancing a look back at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him.

Before, you’d been able to acknowledge that Joel is an attractive man. That much is obvious.

He’s tall, and broad. And even though you’d never admit it, his constant brooding does something for you.

He always looks so grumpy. You couldn’t help but want to be the one to wipe the frown off his face.

Now, though. This is a whole different animal. Looking at Joel now, pure want courses through your veins.

His brow is furrowed, his hair outgrown in a way that makes him look a bit wild. You need to cut his hair soon. A five-o-clock shadow dusts his sharp jaw, and you imagine what it would be like to run your teeth down it.

“Y’alright?” He asked.

You’re acutely aware of how close the two of you are. If you lean in even an inch, you could—

“Hey,” Joel’s voice snaps you out of it.

“Oh,” you cough, turning back to the rocks in front of you. “I’m fine. Just spooked me is all.”

“Hm,” Joel hums, before continuing to climb after you.

- -

You’d awoken to mumbling—the same mumbling you’d grown accustomed to during your time with Joel.

It was a nightmare. You could tell the signs: the twitching, the mumbling, the jerking in his sleep.

You’d never tell him, but you couldn’t sleep whenever you heard him like this. It made your heart clench with thoughts of your own nightmares. You so desperately wanted to wake him, to shake his shoulders until he awoke, but you never had.

You knew that would plunge your relationship into something different. Something bigger, more raw.

There was a reason Joel never shared anything personal with you. There was a reason he never asked for any of your personal stories. He wanted to keep whatever relationship you had professional. You’d respect that.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Joel had whimpered in his sleep. He’d cried, begged for someone to help. You couldn’t just leave him there.

So, you grab his shoulders and shake.

“Joel,” you whisper. His brows furrow in his sleep, his lips mumbling incoherently. You say his name a little louder. “Joel.”

You can feel the exact moment he gains consciousness—his shoulders tensing and his hands going to your neck and squeezing.

Your breath leaves you and your eyes widen at his scared expression beneath you.

“Joel,” you choke out. “Joel, it’s me. It’s me.”

He releases you with a puff of air and you gasp, falling half on-top of him. Air floods through your now sore wind-pipe. You know it will bruise by the morning.

“What,” his voice was ragged and breathless. The same tone you’d imagine he had when he—-

“Why did you do that?”

Oh, he’s mad.

Great, you think. This is what I get for trying to help.

You bristle.

“I was trying to help you.”

“Trying to get yourself killed, more like.” He snaps. “I don’t need your help.”

“Like hell you don’t!” You snapped back. “You were crying, Joel.”

He looks at you, then. Really looks at you, half on-top of him, your faces inches apart. His eyes drift down to your lips, resting there for a moment. Then, they snap back up to yours, void of any emotion that you’d seen a moment before.

You scoff, pulling back from him.

“Never do that again.”

“Excuse me for trying to help,” you push, too pissed, too tired to let it go. “You woke me up with your fuckin’ whining. Forgive me for trying to get you out of whatever the hell was going on in there.”

“In there,” he spits the words at you.

“In your head, asshole! I know a nightmare when I see one.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Noted,” you glare at him, before plopping down on your sleeping bag and turning your back to him. “Asshole.” You mumble.

A scoff answered you.

“You know,” you begin, never knowing when to give up. “It wouldn’t kill you to accept help from someone for once.”

“I don’t need—“

“My help, I know.” You finish for him, knowing how angry it makes him. “But everyone needs people, Joel. Even you.”

“I don’t.” He says. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

You don’t know why you even try sometimes.

You sigh, before closing your eyes and trying to get back to sleep.

- -

You share a sleeping bag one night in late August. 

The autumn hasn’t begun yet, but it’s swelling on the horizon, bits of it bleeding through into the last bit of summer. And it’s so chilly that he doesn’t even bother arguing with you when you suggest doubling up in your layered sleeping bags to conserve body heat. 

There’s a first time for everything i guess, you think to yourself as he settles in beside you, his back to yours. 

The heat from his back bleeds into yours, even through the layers of clothing you have on. 

He zips up the sleeping bags before turning over and going still. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was dead. You never understood  that about Joel; the man can sleep anywhere. 

You’re sleeping out in the open tonight: on the corner of a tiny clearing somewhere in Eastern Tennessee. You’re the only people for miles, and still, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched. Despite your years on the road, it’s never been a fear you could shake. 

You toss and turn for a few minutes before Joel sighs in frustration beside you. 

“Can you quit your movin’?” He’s as cranky as always. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking up at the sky full of stars above you. It’s a sight you’d never tire of, even if it meant having to sleep with no roof over your head. “Can’t sleep.”

“I gathered that.”

“I just feel like someone’s watching me. Or that they’re in the woods, waiting to jump out.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Joel’s voice is dry. 

“I know,” you laugh breathily. “Still, though.”

You look up at the deep, black, inky sky, rife with twinkling lights, burning millions of miles away. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to be one of those stars—so removed from this shithole of a world you were living in now. Then, in the corner of your vision, you see it: the streaking of white across the sky.

You gasp. 

“Joel!” you say. “Joel, look!”

“What now?” he asks gruffly. 

“A shooting star!” Just then, another streaks across the black expanse. “And there's another one!”

“Hm,” Joel turns over just enough to look over his shoulder at the sky. “A meteor shower. Great. Now go to bed.”

You sigh as he turns back over, eyes remaining on the sky, now streaked with countless stars falling toward earth. And for once, you allow yourself to wonder what it might like away from all this. Free.

-

You don’t feel the bullet until after the raider is dead at your feet.

It starts as a numb feeling in your shoulder, then all at once: pain.

Searing, pulsing pain like you’ve never felt before. It takes everything in you not to cry out.

You feel something warm and wet on your hands and look down to see blood seeping through your long sleeve onto your palm.

Shit, you think. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and Joel is going to be alone.

Part of you thinks he would like it better this way: with no one to look after, no one butting their head into his business.

But you don’t have time to dwell on that thought, before Joel is barreling into the room.

“Where the hell did they even come from?” He pants, leaning into his knees. “Shit.”

You scan his body for injuries, glad when you don’t find any.

“Are you okay?” Your teeth begin to chatter, and all of a sudden you’re so, so cold.

“Fine,” he says, not looking at you. “One of them got a good swipe at my side though. Might need you to stitch it up.”

Somewhere, far off, you think you hum in response, but the fuzziness that started in your shoulder has made it to your head, obstructing your hearing.

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice is far away, removed, almost like it’s under water.

“Yeah,” you mumble, stumbling to the side, hand coming to grip your wound. “Yeah, I can—“

“Shit! You’re hit. Why didn’t you say something?”

You’re in someone’s arms, on the ground, your vision going blurry.

“No, no, no. Stay awake. Stay awake for me,” it’s Joel speaking to you. His voice holds what sounds like… panic? No, that can’t be right.

Oh right, you’re dying.

You must have messed up your checks again and missed the raiders. Like last time. Like you’d promised him you wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you cough. “Sorry, l let it happen again.”

“W-what?” You’ve never heard his voice waver before.

“S-sorry,” you’re shivering, and your hands are gripping the canvas of Joel’s jacket in a vice grip. “Sorry I d-didn’t do my checks right again.”

All of a sudden, you’re in the air, one of his hands behind your knees and the other around your back.

“Shh, shh, just stay with me.” Joel’s lips are to your forehead. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all you hear before you black out.

- -

When you wake up, you’re on the floor, in what looks like a house.

You feel cold and clammy, and your mouth is dry. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth. You shiver under your blankets.

You glance around you, taking in your surroundings.

You’re definitely not in a house—a barn maybe? There are no windows, and the raw wood that makes up the walls and floors around you make you think it is a barn or shack of sorts.

Off to one side of you, there’s your pack, untouched from the scuffle that left you with a bullet in your shoulder.

Your shoulder is numb, if a little achy. You don’t try to move it; you know better than that.

You look down to your torso and see that you’re wrapped in two sleeping bags—both yours and Joel’s.

Joel.

Where is he?

As if on cue, the door to the barn opens, and with a gust of cool wind, Joel comes in, a rabbit in hand.

Your heart stutters.

He looks…tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. How long has it been since you got shot? How long did he have to carry you to get here?

“You’re up,” his eyes are on you, glistening with something you can’t quite place. It’s the most emotion—besides anger—you’ve seen on his face. 

“Guess so,” your voice is rocky as you say it. The words catch in your throat, causing you to cough. 

“Here,” Joel scrambles, dropping his pack to the ground and pulling out his metal canteen. “Don’t try to talk. You need to drink something.”

He holds out the water toward you, and without thinking, you reach for it with your injured arm. Immediately, you regret it. You hiss, a sharp pain shooting down your arm. 

“Shit, here,” Joel kneels down beside you and you’re struck again by just how large he is. His shoulders stretch broadly under the flannel he wears. The top few buttons have been left open, exposing the expanse of his neck. 

He opens the canteen and brings it to your lips, one of his hands coming behind your head to cup your neck as you try to lean up. Heat flares your cheeks. 

“Take it easy, let me come to you,” he says. “Don’t need you pulling a muscle.”

The water tastes like salvation and you drink so much that some dribbles down your chin. If it were anyone else with you, you would be embarrassed, but this is Joel. He most likely already had to remove your shirt to dress your wound. Besides, he is the closest thing you have to a friend in this world. You try not to think of how sad that is: your only friend doesn’t even really like you. 

“Thank you,” you breathe after you’re done. You lay your head back down on the pillow, but Joel’s hand stays on your face, moving from your neck to your cheek. 

You still.

His palm covers your jaw and cheek, warm to the touch. His thumb skirts over your cheekbone, and his eyes remain on you, brows furrowed. You can’t bring yourself to look away from his gaze.

“What you did was stupid,” he says after a minute, removing his hand. His eyes move from your face to the floor as he takes a swig of water from the canteen. 

You close your eyes and sigh. 

“I know,” you mumble. “I should’ve done my checks—”

“I don’t give a shit about your checks,” his voice is quietly urgent as his head whips to you. “You didn’t tell me you were hit. You’re lucky I was able to sew you up. You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t, though.”

“But you could’ve,” he shakes his head at you.

“I got shot! I’m fine. Relax.”

“Relax?” He spits the words at you. “You scared me to death. I haven’t been so scared since–”

“Since what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs. “Just don’t ever, ever do that again. It was stupid and selfish.”

“Selfish?” You’re confused. 

“Yes, selfish.” He pushes. “Did you ever think about what would happen to me if you died?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grasp—or try to grasp—what he’s saying. 

He won’t meet your eyes. 

“That’s,” you stutter. “That’s the world we live in, Joel. That’s life. When Jose—”

“You aren’t Jose.” He says lowly, his eyes rising to meet yours. 

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Joel’s on his feet. He grabs the rabbit from the floor at his feet and goes outside, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

- - 

It’s after dinner before you venture to speak to him again.

Your dinner of roasted rabbit and expired canned green beans had been stilted at best, neither of you bothering to say more than “pass me this” or “could you hand me” that. 

Your mind has been absolutely racing with thoughts of your last conversation–the need in his voice, the spark in his eyes—but you didn’t want to push it. Not until now at least. 

“How long was I out?” you ask after he disposes of what's left of your dinner. 

Joel sits down beside you and looks at the makeshift fire in the middle of the room. The reflection of the fire on his eyes makes them look ablaze. You can’t look away. 

He’d helped you sit up before dinner to eat, finally removing you from the cocoon of blankets and layers he’d constructed around you. You noticed that he’d dressed you in a shirt of his: a worn henley, deciding to forgo whatever clothes you had in your own pack.

The weather has begun to turn; September bleeding into October and bringing cool winds and red leaves with it. With the lack of insulation in this barn, there’s no way you’ll be warm tonight. You shiver. 

“Three days,” he locks his jaw. “You were delirious for a few, before your fever broke.”

Your stomach plummets. 

Oh, god, what did you say?

You don’t have the courage to ask, so you only nod. 

“We should get to bed,” he says. “I wanna head out early tomorrow. We’ve already been here too long.”

You nod as he walks over to help you from your sitting position near the fire. 

His arms move around you, practically lifting you up so you can stand. Sometimes you forget just how strong he is. He smells like the woodsmoke and the cheap soap he uses, and Joel. The scent is heady and swarms your senses. You can’t handle him this close. 

“Here just grab onto me, like this,” his voice is right by your ear. “Good girl.”

Oh. 

Those words alight something in you and you’re sure you’re blushing up to your ears. You wonder what they’d sound like rasped in your ear. 

Seamlessly, Joel lays you down onto where the two sleeping bags are. Where you’ve been sleeping the past few days.

Your brows furrow.

“Where have you been sleeping, Joel?” you ask. 

Joel looks down sheepishly. 

“Right there,” he says. “My jacket’s warm. Besides, didn’t want you catching a cold.”

As if on cue, you feel a brisk wind breeze through the cracks in the wood and into the barn. You shiver.

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “You’ll freeze to death. Take your sleeping bag.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You need it. You’ve just been shot.”

“And I’m fine now. Albeit a little weak. I don’t need your sleeping bag too.”

“I’m not arguin’ with you,” he says staunchly. He is so stubborn, you want to throttle him. “You’re getting the sleeping bag, end of story.”

“Like hell!”

“Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Joel takes a breath. 

“I’m trying to help you.” He says quietly after a moment. “It’s the only way I know how. Over–over there, when you,” he pauses. “When you got shot. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. Let me do this. Please.”

You sit there, stunned at his admission. 

You had no idea that your getting injured would affect him this much–affect him at all. Maybe you aren’t just an annoyance to Joel. Maybe you’re a friend to him. Your mind won’t let you wander into thinking it’s something more. 

You nod. 

“Okay,” you say, voice small.

“Okay,” he nods, before grabbing the rifle. “I’ll take first watch.”

- -

You awaken to teeth chattering from a few feet away from you. 

You yourself shiver as you’re pulled from a dream of clickers and your mother, just realizing how cold it is. 

Despite being bundled in a long sleeve and two sleeping bags, the cold has managed to seep into your very bones. You can only imagine how cold Joel must be. It’s him whose teeth are chattering beside you. 

You cough. 

“Joel,” you whisper-shout at him. You reach over to shake him but think better of it, remembering what happened last time you shook him awake. 

“Joel,” you say a little louder this time, and he finally stirs. 

“What?” His voice is sinful; rough and gravely from sleep. “What happened?”

“I can hear you from over here,” you call. “I told you so.”

“That what you woke me up to say?” He asks unpleasantly, pulling his coat tighter around his body. 

“No,” you chuckle. “C’mere.”

He looks over his shoulder at you skeptically. 

“Why?”

“Just come here, old man.”

Joel grumbles under his breath—something about an ungrateful girl—but gets up nonetheless, moving a few feet over to you. 

“What?” he exacerbates once he’s next to you. You can see how his hair is disheveled from sleep in the dim light. 

“Get in here.” You pull back the covers and scoot over in invitation. 

There’s a palpable silence as he sits there, frozen, looking at you cautiously. 

“I don’t have all night, Joel.”

“You,” he coughs, voice catching. “You just got shot.”

“So sleep on the other side,” you offer. “I can’t sleep with you chattering away over there.”

Joel blows out a breath. 

“Alright.”

And in he climbs, kicking off his shoes and maneuvering his lumbering body into the tight space next to you. Every atom of your body feels electric as his scent envelopes you. Your hip presses into his stomach as he sidles up to you. 

Joel clears his throat, arms moving around you warily.

“This alright?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, scooting further back into him so your ass is pressed to his groin. 

You feel Joel stiffen and you try to withhold the smirk from crossing your lips. 

“You’re warm,” you mumble. 

Joel’s hand tightens on your hip and you feel his breath in your ear as he lays his head on the pillow next to your head. 

“Hm,” he hums, before sighing. “Go to bed.”

You close your eyes and try to sleep, comforted by the steady breaths of the man behind you. 

– -

You wake with a gasp to Joel’s hands gripping your hips in a vice grip. You’d been having a dream where Joel’s head was between your thighs, his hands holding your hips down to the bed—a real bed. 

You blink in the dim light of the barn.

“Wha—” you begin, before you realize the precarious position you’ve found yourself in. 

Shit. 

In your sleep, you’ve scooted further backward into Joel, your ass pressed up against his groin tighter than before. Your legs have somehow tangled in his, your thighs wrapped around one of Joel’s thighs, grinding. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you think to yourself, freezing. 

“I—shit,” you mumble, squirming in Joel’s still tight grip on your hips. “I’m sorry Joel, I was dreaming I—”

“It’s fine, just—quit moving.” 

It’s then that you realize that your ass hadn’t been grinding back onto just anything: it had been grinding backward onto Joel’s erection, pressing stiffly into your lower back.

“Oh,” you breathe, and Joel jumps back, scrambling to move away from you. 

“Joel, wait,” you say breathlessly. You reach back and grab his wrist without thinking and he freezes. 

Slowly, painfully, you bring his hand around your torso to the front of your hips, right to the zipper of your jeans. 

What happens next is frantic. Joel’s fingers work with expert precision, undoing the button and zipper on your jeans, and the next thing you know, his hand is in your pants. 

His fingers move fast, wasting no time sliding between your legs and into your slick. You’re already soaked.

“Darlin’,” Joel rasps and it's deep, breathy right in your ear. You hum back at him. 

“How long you been like this, huh?” he breathes, running his teeth over your earlobe. 

You open your mouth to reply, but all coherent thoughts leave your head when his finger rubs against your clit. 

The sound that leaves you is something between a moan and a whimper. You grab onto Joel’s forearm, nails biting into the skin there. Joel’s other hand snakes up your torso and palms at your breast over your—his—shirt. 

“Right there, baby?” He breathes into your ear, finger adding more pressure to your clit. You whimper and nod in response, mouth dropping open. Your hand reaches up to palm at his hair. 

“How long you been this wet, hm?” Joel asks again, sucking a bruise into your neck. “Answer me.”

“A–a while,” you breathe, grinding back into his erection that's pressing into your ass, hard and warm through his jeans.  

At your response, Joel inserts one of his fingers into you. He groans as they move in junction with the finger moving against your sensitive nub. 

“That right?” his fingers move faster, picking up the pace as you grind and whimper against him.

“And what made you such a mess?”

Heat floods your face. Are you really going to tell him? One stroke to your clit makes any inhibitions you have fly out the window. 

“You,” you say, grinding into his hands. His hand over your shirt moves under your clothes and skates up your torso, before grabbing your bare breast and squeezing.

You bite back your moan. 

“Tell me more, sweetheart.”

“Y-you, Joel,” you babble, too far-gone to fully comprehend the magnitude of what you’re saying. “Your hands, your shoulders, when you call me ‘good girl’, when you wear those stupid, stupid, jeans–”

Joel sucks a bruise into the base of your neck and you gasp.

“Think you can take another one?”

You nod against him. 

“Words, darlin’.” 

“Yes, Joel.”

“Okay, baby,” he presses a close-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, before inserting another finger and pumping faster. 

He groans against you.

“So tight,” he growls against your neck. “That’s a good girl, c’mon, you can take it.”

You clamp up on him, his words send heat running through you. 

“Oh, you like that?” Joel asks. “Being called a good girl?”

You nod. 

“You like being my good girl?”

You nod, and his fingers pick up their pace, and your heartbeat and pleasure crest, before you fall over the edge. 

You pant, finally releasing Joel’s forearm. Joel’s breath is heavy in your ear as you catch your breath. 

“Wow,” you mumble after a moment. 

Joel just blows out a breath, leaning back.

“If i’d known getting you to come would make you so agreeable, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

You chuckle, rolling over to face him. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Mm,” he hums, taking a piece of your hair and running it down your nose. 

You take this moment to observe him: his weathered face, lined with worry lines, a five o’clock shadow brushing his jawline. His salt and pepper hair is messy–a result of your hands  running through it—and his flannel is disheveled from sleep and…other things. 

Your eyes travel from his torso down to…oh. 

You start at the sight of Joel’s erection. 

“Joel,” you say, sitting up. “You didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Joel sits up with you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No–” you grab his hand as he goes to stand. “Let me.”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighs as you undo his button and zipper. “You’re hurt—”

“I’m not too hurt for this,” you counter, pulling him out of his jeans. 

You marvel at the size of him. In your experience (albeit as limited as it is), you’ve never seen someone as big as him. 

He’s… pretty. You want it in your mouth. 

You pump him, gripping him tightly. Joel hisses as you do it, head tipping backward. 

You move to kneel in front of him, leveling your face with his crotch, but a hand on your shoulder stops you. 

“No,” he says, running his fingers along your cheek. “Not tonight.” 

You nod at him, moving back so your heads are level with each other. Joel brushes a stray hair away from your eyes, before nosing into your shoulder. 

“Lay back,” you mumble. “Let me take care of you, Joel.”

He pulls back and looks at you with a stony gaze. Even now, you can’t read him. 

“Let me take care of you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before nodding. 

He lets you push him backward onto the sleeping bags. You lay down beside him and reach for his manhood again. Joel throws his head back as you squeeze, jerking him in rhythm.

You hum in response. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper to him, running your teeth along the line of his jaw like you always imagined doing. “Have you imagined this?”

Joel moans–it’s a stilted, half-formed thing that comes from the back of his throat. 

“Talk to me, Texas.”

He groans, hand moving to your hair as you suck a bruise into the junction of his neck.

“You know I have,” he pushes out. “Naughty girl.”

You hum against his neck, encouraging him to continue. 

“You in those tiny tops, never wearing a bra.”

You jerk him faster as his hips jerk up to meet your fist. 

“I-Imagined you, like this.” He rasps. “On your knees, my cock down your throat.”

“Then why didn’t you let me–?”

“You’re–hurt,” he half-moans, and you know he’s close.

“Aw,” you coo into his ear. “Big, bad Joel Miller a softy under all that sass?”

“Sh-shut u—” his words are cut off by his own climax, a moan ripping through his throat. He spurts over your hand, hips arching off the sleeping bags beneath him. 

As he comes down from is high, you lick his salty-sweet spend off your fingers.

“Did you–” 

Joel looks at you with a bewildered expression. You only stare him down with a triumphant gaze. 

“I told you I wanted to take care of you.”

[lumiambrose]

Blue lock option matchup for @thecurrator

Matchup with Sae Itoshi

i’ve never matched anyone with sae before

no pressure, shit.

frankly i’m not one to judge comparability… BUT i see a lot of potential as you both have many similarities/habits that i think would compliment each other)

first and foremost, sae isn’t here for small talk and neither are you. you think small talk is a waste of time and sae frankly doesn’t care enough to engage in it, you two definitely bonded over that. 

quality time is the go to for you. despite sae’s busy schedule, he’ll always find time to spend with you. you might not be doing anything grand, but he’ll always make sure he doesn’t overpack his schedule so you two can go out or spend an evening together.

very common to find the two of you on the sofa together reading books or watching movies together. being in another's presence gives you both comfort that you can't find anywhere else. although if sae does have a busier day, just chill with him while he practises. you simply being there encourages him to give it his all.

(he’d totally make you lie under him while he does push ups so he can kiss you every time he sinks down.)

a relationship with sae is definitely complicated. it doesn’t really matter whether you’re introverted or extroverted with him, as long as he can connect with you. sae is pretty reserved and distant so he needs someone who can encourage him to open up. in general, it’s a staple for your partner to bring out the best in you in relationships.

but with sae you’re on extra hard mode… :’)

he wouldn’t date somebody without thoroughly knowing them, so the phase where you two were just friends was critical to his opinion of you.

his initial impression of you was neutral, leaning more towards good. he found you lukewarm at the beginning, like he would with everyone, but appreciated the fact you weren’t an eyesore or earsore. he respects people that can thrive on their own.

very awkward between the two of you for a while, neither really knew how to interact with the other. luckily you had plenty ~~annoying~~ lovely extroverts to save the day. if you befriended oliver or shidou, you can bet they’d drag you along to their outings, whether you like it or not. and of course, there’s no way they can’t bring japan's treasure along too.

you both would typically take a step back to just watch everyone's antics and that’s how the two of you spent the majority of your time together. it stayed like that until you let a thought slip past your tongue, thinking about the correlation of their off field antics and their play style, it wasn’t until then that you two had your first conversation.

sae, knowing the answers you sought, enlightened you and that was how it all started. on that day you two spent the outing following your extroverted friends around commenting on how their behaviour influences their play style, or similarities, even habits they may possess.

sae hasn’t talked that much in a very long time…

slow burn to the max. i wouldn’t be surprised if you were closed off, well surprise surprise, he is too. the adventure of getting to know each other and opening up to each other was complex. neither of you were really willing to open up at the beginning and it showed, but that didn’t stop you guys. 

instead of holding conversations about each other, you two got to know each other through conversations about others or scenarios surrounding you. delving into people in your day to day life or even simply strangers. you two could understand each other's thought process and think on the same wavelength without even getting to know each other.

you probably didn’t know basic shit for the longest time, like his favourite animal or colour, but despite that you knew him better than anyone out there.

once you open up to each other, yapper x listener all the way. “I love to talk to certain people and about things I find interesting, like my fixations or a fun hypothetical situation.” Sae would sit there listening to your thoughts all the way. it almost relaxes him when he hears your voice yapping about the most out of pocket shit.

keeps him on his toes you know, never knowing what you’re gonna say next.

if the topic actually interests him too (or he’s feeling chatty), he’ll entertain them. either he’ll give his own inputs or question the plausibility of whatever scenario you may have concocted in your head. he enjoys dissecting your thought process, seeing how logical you can keep whatever creative situation you may have cooked up.

i personally think you’d enjoy this. despite you saying you enjoy psychoanalysing people, being on the receiving end can also be extremely fun. cause it’s him i can see you enjoying the challenge and even giving him the same treatment when you two don’t particularly agree on something.

(you two could join fucking debate clubs after that :p)

frankly i doubt sae has social media himself. in general, he rarely uses his phone. he’ll only use his phone for two reasons, his work and you. he was definitely forced into creating social media for pr by his manager, but he personally prefers a much more quiet life. he values every aspect of privacy he can get.

he also avoids the paparazzi like the plague, has learnt all the ways to sneak past them and eventually teaches you once the relationship gets hard launched.

his phone is primarily filled with photos of you, beaches, meals he has cooked for you, gifts (for you) and date photos. he has literally zero games on his phone and the bare minimum contacts. to nobody's surprise, he rarely uses his phone.

though if you message him he somehow always replies in an instant… :p

personally i think your love languages match up almost perfectly. i think sae is very heavy on acts of service and quality time. i’ve hinted towards these earlier where you guys just spend most of your time in each others company, or sae cooking for you. i don’t think he’s very vulnerable with his words, so he prefers to show his love with actions.

on the other hand, he definitely appreciates acts of service himself. he’s a busy man with a busy schedule so he really appreciates whenever you help him out.

make him breakfast before work or pack him a lunch and he’ll melt. he will be in a good mood for the rest of the day and it will scare his teammates and manager.

he’s never really received many gifts before and the idea has never really crossed his mind. i absolutely cannot see him being into luxurious, expensive gifts. if he wants something like that he can simply buy it himself. handmade or personal gifts on the other hand, he has grown quite a liking to since getting together with you.

he was so unsure how to act when you first got him something. he’d give a confused thanks and probably just stare at it for an unreasonably long amount of time. he’d put it up somewhere where he could easily spot it all day and stare at it 24/7. after he got used to it, he definitely tries to be more affectionate. 

will hug you if you let him.

secretly has all your gifts stored somewhere for him to reminisce on if he gets lonely <3

[yuseirra]

More about 159~

hahaha XD aw, GOSH this comic is CRAZY, I think it would be fun if I read it as books and in volumes, it's because it's incomplete, and scattered eps that things feel so tense and awkward, I'm sure. It'd have more sense of flow as a volume.

I wrote a lot of things based on my stream of consciousness this morning (because well I draw hikaai and I DO care a lot about character portrayals and analysis) and I want to share it with you all! I reread it after the heat of the moment and I find it really funny,

If you want to feel assured about Ai and Hikaru (and perhaps ONK as a whole) or like the ship hikaai, I feel this is another post that could help you. Like I said in my ch 159 review, if this ain't it, I have no idea where this is going to head and I might as well take a break off from this piece for a bit and get some air. P3R episode Aigis is coming out on the 10th (great timing!) but I think I'm on the right track. I got so many things right since I picked this up thus far :D So for now, here we go again:

This is just my intuition and a piece mostly based on gut feelings.

Ha;; This morning, I saw someone extremely worried about Kamiki and Ai and couldn’t leave them feeling uneasy... I’m not in a position to calm others down, though!! I'm the one who needs to be calmed!! give me time to brace myself!!! I get tense because I care about where the story's gonna go too!!! I analyze characters and make fan works. I HAVE to look into the source material and make sense of things in order to do that o<-< I’m really stuck with this manga, aren’t I? What a ride... Okay I know the character looks a bit out of it. But listen, even if we criticize the character, we should wait for the next chapter before doing so. Come on, what would Kamiki even LIE about in the first place? Let’s sit down and think calmly. Let’s go over the facts.

Honestly, it would have been better for Kamiki if Ai wasn’t an idol. If Ai hadn’t been an idol, Ai wouldn't have had to die for deciding to keep her very kids with him!! Ai was murdered because she was an idol who had a boyfriend and kids(it's an absurd reason but to Ryosuke, that was his reason to go through with it). If she hadn’t loved Kamiki, she wouldn’t have died. This isn’t Kamiki’s fault, of course!! To add, if Ai weren’t an idol, they might not have broken up in the first place. Even if they had broken up, Ryosuke wouldn’t have tracked Ai down and killed her!! Things would have been so much better for this character if Ai hadn’t been an idol. His situation on the matter, It's totally the opposite of Nino and Ryosuke’s!

To Kamiki, Ai was certainly one-of-a-kind and irreplacable, yeah. But from Kamiki’s perspective, Ai was never a perfect, flawless figure that he found the need to idolize. She was someone who learned acting from him, who was clumsy and scattered, who needed his guidance in the beginning. She shared the same pain, opened up to him, understood him, accepted him, and loved him. Even though she gave him a deep wound and they parted ways, even when he thought she didn’t love him anymore, she remained precious to him to the point where he was willing to give his life for her. She was the person he wanted to marry. Ryosuke and Nino would kill her for not being perfect enough, but that’s not who Kamiki is. He’s actually the biggest victim of that incident only after AI herself. If Ai had survived, he might have been able to meet their children, reunite with Ai, clear up misunderstandings, and more importantly, Ai would still be alive. That alone would have made life more bearable for Kamiki than living in a world without her. I keep saying this but I'm sure he wouldn't have leaked the address to Ryosuke on purpose. I wrote many theories about this and I came to a conclusion that it must have been a mistake on his end, after getting drunk from sadness after Ai dumped him in the phone call. What kind of mastermind could he even be regarding this case? He was 19 at the time. It's total nonsense. There is no reason for him to try and attack Ai who tells him she has their children growing smart and healthy. He's lying about it to Aqua to make him feel better about avenging him because he believed that's what him and Ai's wanted.

What kind of grand conspiracy could a character like this possibly be behind? At least when it comes to Ai’s death, I don’t think he’s responsible. Even if he grew mad, I feel like that would have taken place after it happened. So what is it that this character wants? I’ve been curious about that too-

When I heard anime S2's opening, I immediately realized!! He wants to see Ai again! Would Aqua say something like,

Aqua has Ruby, Kana, and Akane. He’s not going to live just to get closer to Ai or live solely for her love. Maybe to fulfill Ai’s wishes, but that’s different.

“Without you, I cannot live anymore

I would sacrifice anything for you

I can’t get enough of your love

What should I use to fill in what’s missing?”

If Kamiki has any goal, it’s this: He's never been seen to have a desire for Ai to be the ultimate, perfect idol. He’s not twisted that way. If he’s twisted, it’s more like, “I’ll give anything for Ai.”

Think about it. If someone you love died, what would you want most? You’d want them to live again, right? You wouldn’t go around committing serial murders saying, “No one can surpass them!” You’d just want to see them again if there was even the smallest chance. That’s the most important thing. Nino and Ryosuke are twisted. They liked Ai as an idol, not as a person. But this person has two cute kids with Ai... even though they never got to see them properly. He says he has paternal love, and I believe that because there’s no reason for him to hate the kids. He was prepared to take responsibility, after all. Wouldn’t he be happy about having kids with Ai? Wouldn’t he find them adorable, especially since they look so much like him and the one he loves? Seeing how much he still cares for Ai, he’d probably love their kids too. He refers to them as "Yours(Ai's) and mine". He’d probably want to bring Ai back for the sake of the kids, if not for himself. He even believes Ai died because of him, so that would only add to his desperation and longing. When someone dies, they can’t come back, so that possibility doesn’t usually cross the mind-

However, It seems that the songs are saying there is some kind of hope for that becoming a reality even if the chances are very slim. To think Kamiki would have wanted to preserve Ai’s image as an idol and that's what's been driving him? No way. That’s exactly what killed Ai. He’d probably be sick of that... He just wants Ai to live. That’s his motive. He’s been hanging onto that.

As for the Hikaai ship, I had been holding off on judgment until Ai’s feelings came out. I felt like I won’t know until I hear from Ai herself how she feels about him so I waited out for quite long till the entirety of the movie arc, until it got its closure-

And it really occurs to me, people don’t seem to realize how much thought and conviction it takes for Ai to feel that strongly about a person.

Ai is scared, has a sensitive soul, overthinks things, is defensive, and gets wary. She’s afraid to love and get close to people because she doesn't want to get hurt.

But Ai couldn't give up Kamiki’s child because they were what she had with him, even while she was afraid it would be a burden to him!! Do you know how much certainty, affection, and love that takes? It doesn’t seem to resonate with people as much as it does for me, it's such a deep and strong feeling. That's what really got me. She was scared, but she still wanted them because they were theirs...and she protected their children with all her heart that point onward.

This kind of love is something that you might encounter just once in your lifetime, you might never get to meet someone like that at all.

So I thought, “Good for Ai. She found someone she loved that much.” Kamiki must have been a really precious person to Ai to make her feel that way.

In my opinion, for someone to make Ai feel like that, they would have to be the kind of person who would give out their every part of their organ, even their heart to her if that's necessary, and still think it’s not enough. And when you listen to the songs, the speaker does really seems to express that kind of emotion. That's why I thought 'Oh, this is definitely Ai's lover. This is Kamiki that's saying these things.'

You have to trust Ai’s judgment. Ai is serious about love, and she found someone to give it to. He's the one person she decided on. She wanted to live her life with him, worried about him until the end, named her children after jewels because they looked like the one she loved. Had her son who takes after his dad so much have the characters "love" and "longing" in his name. That’s how much she adored him.

What does that tell you? And when you look at the backstory, it seems Kamiki thought he loved Ai even more than she loved him.

Then that must mean he must have treated her really well. So, it’s not about whether Kamiki loved Ai or not anymore. That's totally just a given!! What’s important now is what he has done since Ai's death.

In chapter 155, he said he was "going to do what he could for Ai" and left. Then Aqua showed up near him in this chapter saying, “I need to save you.”

When you listen to the songs, the narrator keeps saying they don’t mind dying. This is a character who has already said they could die for Ai. So what will they do? I think they’re planning to die “for Ai.” But is offering something for Ai or dying for her really what Ai would want? No. Ai would want Kamiki to live and be happy, and they know that, but they’re lying to themselves. That’s the lie this character tells. It’s a self-sacrificing but self-satisfying kind of thing. That's why Aqua says the lies "are for his own sake". This also explains why Ai left a message asking to help Kamiki. This character is someone who could go to extremes "for Ai", but Ai didn’t want that, which is why Aqua is trying to stop it.

If this isn’t the case, then I won’t be able to make sense of this manga... Haha, the Persona 3 DLC will be out soon, so I’ll just go play that...

This feels right to me, though. If it’s not, I don’t know what else it could be;;

Maybe Kamiki's been possessed by an evil god? But even if that’s the case, the motive he has would probably still be about "saving Ai".

On another note, Kamiki was so gentle and kind in his tone when speaking to Aqua. He spoke really softly, didn’t he?

If he had been able to raise the kids with Ai, he would have been the type to pamper and spoil them... He'd have been a sweet dad. I feel like Ai really did choose a good guy to father her kids.

The way he speaks to Aqua feels quite similar to the last lines and atmosphere of the lyrics of Mephisto.. something about it will be brought up soon, I mean Aqua's wearing that same clothes.

To Kamiki, Aqua must be his and Ai’s cute son, right? But does he know Aqua’s soul is originally that of a 30-something-year-old doctor? If he’s possessed by an evil god, maybe he is aware of these things. But if he doesn’t, it might be a bit awkward. His son is almost the same age as him inside...

Aqua is Aqua, though? But that thought still made me laugh a little. I could imagine Kamiki suddenly speaking very formally towards Aqua upon figuring out he's actually the doc who aided Ai with delivering his children safely. Kamiki seems like the type to speak with a lot of courtesy... the way he speaks has been very polite. It depends on the character, but I think that is part of how he is originally.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 26 “Critical Stink” [Episode List] During a D&D session, Tim insists that he should be immune to poison damage. The gassy-as-usual Dave makes sure he’s gonna regret such request.

POV: Tim

Critical Stink

The evil Yuan-Ti general and his minions had us cornered: the humanoid snake turned out to be a bigger threat than our team expected. Radahm, our Rogue, managed to backstab one of the lesser enemies in front of us, who then bled to death mere minutes later. Ergg, the annoying wizard, quickly casted a defensive spell to protect us but the snake-like soldiers had weapons capable of undoing any form of magic (…something we never heard of before, in our years of adventures, but OK). 

I, the brave Paladin Desal, was our team’s last hope: I could attack our formidable foes with my mighty holy sword, getting closer to the general himself, whose venomous bite was just as dreaded as the blade of his mighty scimitar. Yet, I decided to go for it, I had nothing to fear, for The High One has granted me poison immunity many moons ago. This is why The Fate brought us here… why She brought me here.

It was all leading up to this.

I rush with all of my might towards the snake general, who noticed my deft movement, his long neck dodging my sword at the last second. He hissed back at me, his mouth going for my arm.

I felt his teeth piercing through my white armor, but once again, I had nothing to fear, for The High One has granted me poison immun-

“What do you mean I’m losing HP?!”

Me (Desal), Greg (Ergg) and Adam (Radahm) were having one of our D&D sessions, which are getting rarer given how busy we are. Dave was our DM for this Quest and… we didn’t really like where this was going. 

First, that whole bullshit with Yuan-Ti weapons undoing Greg’s magic (and magic in general apparently). Never heard of such thing nor we care, even though Dave found our shock quite delightful. And then -and this is more personal-, all of the sudden, my character stopped being immune to poison… because plot I guess!

“Dude!” I scolded Dave. “I thought we agreed on this like moo- I mean months ago.”

Adam and Greg backed me up, just because the wanted to dunk on Dave than anything else.

“Gentlemen.” our DM replied, in a mockingly formal tone. “…and Tim.” he turned to me and took a sip of his beer, then resumed talking. “What I told you back then was that The High One would grant Desal poison immunity in case you rolled a Nat 20 on a Defense Roll.”

I remained silent.

“And, I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t see a 20 anywhere on this table.”

The derisive sarcasm was just as annoying as it sounded, not even considering Dave being utterly wrong about this. If only I could find those papers where we actually took note of this…

“I’m with Tim on this one.” Greg said. “Also if he dies, our quest is basically over.”

“I guess we’re done then.” I said, referring more to the fact that Greg agreeing with me was basically a death sentence to any possibility of being right. “What about you, Adam?” I asked.

“Well, I got my share of EXP by backstabbing that snake guy, so I’m gonna try running away my next turn.” he snickered.

“Team of the year.” Dave commented, amused. 

“Disgusting.” Greg remarked.

“Wow the the True Neutral Rogue doing True Neutral things I’m such a bad player.” Adam replied.

“Hey! This is not about Adam’s admirable commitment to role-playing.” I pointed to our DM. “This is about Dave making up the rules.” 

“Here’s what I have to say about it.” 

Dave, who was wearing a brown hoodie and a pair of dark blue jeans, simply leaned a bit, the wooden chair he was sitting on cracking under his weight. One of my friend’s deafening farts soon followed, the wooden surface making it even louder. Not the first one my bro ripped during our D&D session (we were all high on beer and junk food, so gas was expected), but definitely one of the louder ones. While he still casually does it, I’m pretty sure, considering that evil smirk, that this one time he simply ripped one to, well, startle me, as he knows very well how awkward I (still) get whenever Dave is so chill about my fart kink.

“I guess a storm is getting closer.” Greg commented, after the 5 seconds blast ended.

Dave quickly snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Good call. Let’s wrap it up.”

So our DM quickly made up that those Yuan-Tis that almost killed us are afraid of thunderstorms (ripping another thunder-fart to further prove his plot point) and thus they ran away, scared, leaving us there, licking our own wounds (almost literally, given Greg rolling a 4 when he attempted to heal us).

We survived, but that was pretty underwhelming.

“So Greg managed heal me, no more poison and shit like that.” I commented.

“I’m your DM: I decide if you get to survive tonight.” Dave reminded me, that annoying sarcastic smirk drawn on his face, fully aware of how annoying he was being.

But admittedly that’s part of the fun you know.

“Well that wasn’t fun at all guys, see you in about 6 months for our next session.” Adam said, as he got up and reached for his jacket. Greg did the same.

We had one last sip of beer together and then our friends left, leaving me and Dave alone at our place. It was late, about 1:00 AM, but also a Saturday.

As me and my bro/roommate tidied up the table we just finished playing on, he decided to keep making fun of my strategies.

“The first mistake was choosing the Paladin as your class, as I told you many moons ago.” he snickered.

“Says the Wizard enjoyer. Having fun casting shit from behind the trees?” 

“Yes, because I don’t get poisoned from there. Also, I’m more of a Bard you know.” 

“I shouldn’t get poisoned, you know it. But our DM got amnesia apparently.” 

Dave laughed, rolling his eyes. “Nat 20 on Defense Roll.” he spoke slowly. “Such a difficult concept to grasp!”

We sat once again at the now clean table, opened two more beers and we kept talking.

“Look, I’m not saying that you don’t remember it. But yes, you don’t remember it.”

“I don’t remember it.” Dave insisted. “Because it never happened.”

“Literally the only thing my character is going for is poison immunity.” I stated, perhaps exaggerating, but you get my point.

“Wow immunity against the worst damage type. Congratulations, Desal! You’re a Paladin, start summoning light pillars or some other gay shit!”

“Dave, we agreed on it. I DESERVE to be immune to poison.” I insisted.

“Fine.” my friend took a quick sip of beer. “All kinds of poison?”

“Yes.” I said, satisfied. 

“…even poison gas?” Dave said, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

“Well yes of course, especially pois- I know where this is going.” I glanced at him, unimpressed.

Indeed, Dave laughed and once again leaned, another loud blast erupting from his jeans-clad ass, the wooden chair under him enduring that powerful flatulence like a silent hero. 5 more seconds of farting and he was done.

“You g-gotta admit…” I said, bravely, almost shaking for how embarrassed I was. “That’s one type of poison I’m definitely immune to.” I joked, I tried to.

“Shut up.” Dave replied, chill as usual about my fetish. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that, but Tim…” he put his hand on my shoulder, being hilariously serious about all of this. “We’re talking about my farts: one of these days you’re gonna die because of me.” 

He finished that short speech by effortlessly ripping one more quick 2 seconds rip, faking a sad expression, as if I truly was risking my life. I managed to laugh, my boner however almost hitting the table for how good those farts were, a faint smell reaching my nostrils as well.

“Come on. Let me have this at least. Poison immunity in real life!” I kept joking.

Dave looked at me, with a smirk, then turned his attention to a D20 dice we left on the table and reached for it. 

“You know…” he started talking in a tone of voice that made me think this whole thing turned into a business deal for some reason. “I can grant you your precious poison immunity… if you pass the test…”.

He was fiddling with the dice, now looking back at me. 

“Let me guess: another rule you just made up.” I said.

“Not at all! I forced you through this test so many times lately… but tonight I decide if you actually passed it.” he laughed.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Or rather, pretended not to.

“I don’t understand. Are you planning some kind of challenge?”

“Sort of. I’ll just show you how it’s going to work.”

He passed the dice to me and I just stared at it for a few seconds.

“Roll the dice, Tim.” he said, with a smirk.

I played along and mindlessly let the dice fall on the table. It rolled for a few instants and then I read the number facing up out loud. “Meh, that’s a 4. I’m just like Greg.”

In response to what I just said, Dave snapped his finger to gain my attention. As I turned to him, he leaned once again and a thunderous fart echoed in the empty living room, easily surpassing the sounds coming from the TV across the room, the wooden surface of the chair he was destroying with his gas greatly increasing the loudness of the already powerful rip.

The blast lasted around 5 seconds and… that wasn’t rocket science, I knew where this was going now. I was speechless, I had no idea Dave would even think something like this. 

“No.” I simply said, shaking my head, embarrassed. 

I stood up, leaving the dice on the table, ignoring the fact that my friend could clearly see the tent I pitched through my blue sweatpants and walked towards the couch, as I kept repeating “No”, each time my bro laughing more and more.

“Scared, Desal?” he promptly asked. 

“No!” I took a big breath, turning back to my bud still sitting at the head of the table, his eyes glued on me, his smug smirk still drawn on his face. “It’s just… come on man… I don’t want to… of course I…”

Dave stood up and walked towards me, without losing that smile, now looking a bit more chill. “You know you don’t have to worry about this, not with me, right?” he simply asked, and I knew exactly what he meant.

“Alright…” I said. “I’ll do your dumb test.”

He laughed. “This also counts as me getting my revenge for, you know, you doubting my DM skills.” 

I figured I’d just give up: Dave was gonna blast me either way, and I deeply appreciated how he wanted to make sure that no, I had nothing to worry about, he knows I have this kink, he knows I was gonna like this… but that wasn’t going to stop him from torturing me with his well-known blasts. A “revenge”, as he calls it. 

Truth to be told, as much as my boner tells you other wise… I do have my limits, and my friend’s farts sounded very nasty tonight, fueled by hours of beers and low-quality food. What made it so dangerous (and hot) is that Dave is well aware of his skills, so he knew that this was indeed going to be a test.

My bro sat on the couch and nodded at me, as if what was going to happen was completely normal, so I sat next to him. 

“So… roll for initiative?” he joked, handing the dice back to me. 

“I hate you so much.” I replied. Dave just never ceases to amaze me though.

I let the dice roll on the small table in front of us, as Dave took a sip of his beer. We both watched it bounce around for a few moments, until it stopped, a big 7 facing up. 

The fart I heard when I rolled a 4 was already impressive so… how is a 7 going to sound like? My roommate seemed to read my mind since he elbowed me, smug smile and all.

I clumsily tried to ask how, well, he was going to face-fart me this time. “What do you want me to… you k-know.”

Dave simply put the beer on the table, right next to the dice and, still silent, simply stood up, towering over me, my face already aligned with his sagging denim ass. He stepped in front of me and reached for my head, planting it on that warm ass, still stinky for all the previous farts he ripped, a faint scent of rotten pizza greeting my nose. He held my face there for a few seconds, in silence, as if he wanted me to, well, enjoy that the leftovers of his previous rips.

But now, finally, the test has officially begun: a big fart engulfed my face, my friend barely needing to push it out, ripping that blast almost effortlessly. He firmly held my head in there, as if I was going to move it away, which obviously wasn’t going to happen.

And yet, Dave keeping my face into his roaring butt, letting me take big whiffs, was always a great bonus: whether he did that because he knew my kinky ass would like it or not… I just didn’t know, but I was ok with it nonetheless… as long as he was okay with me.

He raised his left leg a bit, letting his ass roar even louder. 

The impressive flatulence lasted 9 seconds: just beautiful, but I knew this wasn’t the worst (best?) my bud was going to hit me with tonight.

Dave let my head go, turned around to stare down at me, and laughed a bit. He then sat back next to me, as if nothing gross and weird happened.

“This is how you get poison gas immunity: you gotta train those nostrils first.”

“I hate you so much.” I repeated myself, as I took a sip of his beer.

He patted my shoulder in response. “No worries, your training will resume soon.”

I reached for that cursed D20 once again and fiddled with it a bit, before going for another roll.

“How long is this test going to last?” I genuinely asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

“We’ll see.” he winked at me, while looking at something on his smartphone.

Still deciding on whether I was or not the luckiest man in the world because I have a friend like him, I went for another roll, the D20 once again bouncing on the small table in front of us. Admittedly, I sighed in relief when I saw a 2.

“Remind me to never take you to Las Vegas…” Dave commented.

Since it was 2, my bro simply spread his long legs, showing off his sagging jeans in the process, and ripped a short (but still loud, despite being muffled by the couch) toot. Small for Dave’s standards, not even 4 seconds long, but still a nice sounding fart overall.

Not that I wasn’t aware of his skills, but the fact that those were all natural, back-to-back, was almost fascinating to me. Fetish or not, I wish I had such powers.

“Still pretty impressive for a 2, I gotta say.” I said, getting more comfortable with openly acknowledging Dave’s talent. 

My roommate chuckled in response. “Such a kinky bitch.” he joked.

As my way to challenge him after that ridiculous fart, I quickly went for another roll. The dice spun for a moment until it revealed the number at the top spot, which immediately made me swallow my pride: a 16.

“Looks like you’re gonna get your ass kicked, Paladin.”

“You better shut up or I’m gonna kick yours.”

“With what? Your nose?”

As Dave (rightfully) made fun of me, he stood up once again, this time on the couch, towering over me even more than before (he had no shoes anymore, only a pair of sweaty socks).

“Just… just do it.” I simply said, horny, my heart racing fast.

Amused, my friend managed to directly sit on my head, as if I was a stool. 

“You really want me to k-kill me?”

“I’m your FM: I decide if you get to survive tonight.”

I remained silent. “FM…?”

“FM dude.” Dave kept talking, still sitting on me, as if this was such a natural way to talk to each other. “FM!”

“I don’t get it.”

“Too much blood rushing down your cock, fine.” he said, knowing exactly how true that statement was. “I’ll give you a hint then.”

Treating me like the wooden chair he soiled with his gas, Dave leaned a bit, as he pushed the next rip out… but after a few seconds nothing came out. 

“I’m brewing a big one, give me a moment.”

And we just remained there, silent, the stench of his ass almost forming a fog around me, the rough surface of his sagging jeans brushing through my hair. I heard Dave laughing, fully aware how weird that scene must have looked.

“Alright, here it comes for real. Ready?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer as an earthquake shook my skull, making my body shake down to my knees. The vibration literally made some drops of pre-cum leak out of my penis, further proof of my friend’s incredible powers. The fart, needless to say, was so loud it almost made me deaf: I wasn’t made of wood, but the sound of Dave’s blast bounced off the top of my head quite nicely, sounding like a loud, low-pitched chainsaw.

21 seconds. 21 fucking seconds. All natural, all as disgusting as it sounds. I didn’t even need to sniff as I was probably trapped in an invisible bubble of gas.

Finally, after wiggling his ass a bit so my hair would completely absorb that fart, Dave stood up, ripping a couple of small toots while doing so, and sat back where he was. He looked at me with a smirk, but couldn’t help but laugh noticing me startled facial expression.

I’ll just never get used to this.

“FM… Fart Master… Fuck you.” I said, shaking my head.

“If it's any consolation… you almost earned that immunity you wished for.”

This is all just a dumb kinky game for him. I couldn’t be happier, but also holy shit, the thin line between kink and torture was getting blurry with a friend like him.

“Just say that I earned it. It’s late, we’re both tired.” I tried to end this, not that I wasn’t enjoying it but come on, I couldn’t force my straight bud to do, well, this, even though it was his idea to begin with. 

“Fine. One last roll.” he agreed.

I shook the dice in my fist for a few seconds before finally letting it fall one last time on the table. It bounced a couple of times, I could feel the tension rising.

And finally…

No.

No fucking way.

There’s no way this wasn’t scripted somehow.

“Uhhh… Dave?” I dared to turn to him. He was already laughing.

A Nat 20, a fucking Nat 20, something that I always crave during our D&D sessions, but this fucking dice decided that a FART session was more important apparently.

“That’s gonna be a critical hit, Tim.” Dave stated, standing up again.

“No way you got that much gas already.” I bravely said.

My friend laughed again, that usual smirk drawn on his face.

“I’m just gonna blast you on command for a bit.”

The fact that he said that sentence so naturally made me leak a bit more.

“uhhh… thanks?” I said, my brain now completely devoid of any blood.

“Yeah sure, just lie down so I can put an end to this test.” I obeyed. “And also to your face, obviously.” he added, pointing down at me.

Once again, as if it was something completely mundane, Dave waited for me to lie down, so he could simply sit directly on my face, treating my head as part of the couch. Then, he just sat down on me as he said, the sagging jeans-clad asscheeks basically devouring my face. I couldn’t see anything but some details of the seams and textures of my friend’s jeans; at the same time, I felt the warmness, the stench, the sweat, all at once. I was used to my bro blasting me up close and personal, but this time it felt particularly overwhelming.

He wasn’t crushing me (I’m sure he was doing his best not to), but that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t feel most of his weight all over my face. As his ass was resting on my nose, he put one leg on the table in front of the couch and leaned a bit, so he could ease some gas out… or rather in. 

As promised, Dave was gonna fart-face me on command for the critical hit. He masterfully sucked some air in, showing off his skills smoothly. I knew this was gonna be a fucking fart concert. I was both horny and scared, because my bro is indeed the Fart Master, as he bragged earlier.

His ass stopped making noises, a sign that what came in was going to be blasted out soon.

“I mean… all of this to earn something you had all along. What a thirsty bitch.”

I heard Dave say, playfully mockin- wait what? All along? But I didn’t have time to say anything back because of the loud fart that pierced through my eyes and ears. It sounded a bit more “airy” than his previous ones, given that it was on command, but oddly enough it’s like there was a mix of natural gas in there as well: the stench of spoiled beer definitely helped prove it.

The fart lasted 11 seconds, way “shorter” than the previous ones, but as I said, this was gonna be a concert, so as soon as the first blast ended, Dave started sucked air in again, faster than before, as another ass-thunder quickly went down my throat, loud and proud as my friend does them.

Basically, this concert was gonna be one long ass fart with many interruptions.

This one was more of a series of 7 loud long rips ripped back-to-back, lasting about 3 seconds each. It was insane: it was like somebody was shooting at my face point blank with a fucking shotgun.

At this point I started to wonder whether Dave knew I was still there, as he kept ripping farts as if there wasn’t anyone lying under his ass.

Now he was sitting full-weight on me, almost making me fuse with the couch. He spread his legs wide again, as much as his sagging jeans allowed him to, so he could easily release an impressive, meaty, loud, almost wet rip all over that sweaty mess that used to be my face. Now that’s definitely a mix of natural and on-command, and the fact it was slightly wet only made the smell burn my nostrils even more.

This one fart didn’t want to end instead, my bro’s ass roared all over my face like one of those beasts we fought earlier during our D&D session. A display of cocky, disgusting manliness I’ll never get used to, given how skilled Dave is.

Finally, after around 20 seconds, his ass went silent again. I heard Dave whistle in relief.

“You ok down there bro?” I managed to heard him say. So he does know I’m still here!

He got up just a bit, his ass hovering (or rather, looming) over me, just enough to let me slip out of that gas chamber. I sat back to my place as he let his ass sit on the couch again, this time without having me under it. I managed to give a quick look at my friend, who had this silly smile on his face. He was visibly disgusted, but also oddly amused.

“Than-“ but he cut me off.

“You know, you totally earned your poison immunity bro.” he paused for a few seconds. “I mean… that’s what I’d say if you didn’t already have one all along.”

Oh, right. “What the fuck does that mean…?” I asked, sounding a bit more rude than I wanted to.

Dave laughed. “I actually found our conversation from months ago.” he showed his phone to me. “This is the part where we agreed on your immunity, but I forgot.” He chuckled.

I skimmed through the messages and, indeed, I was right.

“You sick bastard.” I sneered at him.

He found it hilarious. I found it… well, I too thought that it was hilariously hot as fuck, but I had to fulfil my role of being a pain in the ass.

“So you just wanted to torture me.”

“Not at first.” he admitted. “Then again, it’s not like I need an excuse to blast you, right?” he then said, winking at me. “Plus, I’m a Bard, I can make music with everything.” he then added, patting his ass.

I just didn’t know what to say, so I did what every mighty Paladin would have done: I simply stood up, not caring about my very visible, damp, huge boner, and went beating my meat in the bathroom upstairs.

Honestly, if Dave took his role of DM as seriously as his role of being my FM, our D&D sessions would go much more smoothly.

The End

[profoundnightwinner]

i know you’re likely to find this offensive considering the tone you’ve used to respond to similar criticisms, but i genuinely mean no disrespect when i say: liam payne wasn’t a celebrity first, he was a person. i understand why princess diana had the funeral and public mourning that she did, though i think an argument could be made for the fact that she never wanted to be a part of the royal family and therefore, it could be assumed that she likely wouldn’t have loved being mourned the way royal family members are—but she’s a different person and that’s a different situation.

i think it’s been really lovely to see all the memorials popping up for liam and group events that have been held for fans to express their grief with each other. i think it’s also been really nice to see how many heartfelt posts and statements have been made about him, from fans, colleagues, and family members alike. but liam’s funeral is for his loved ones. it is not for anyone who thinks they’re entitled to his family’s grief because they loved his music. privacy is such a gift, and for someone who was torn apart in the public eye so aggressively, i think it’s important that he’s given that gift at his own funeral at least. i think what you’re advocating for is pretty disturbing, and the way you’ve responded to people who’ve said similarly has seemed pretty inappropriate. i’m sure you’ll respond the same way to this, calling me a bitch and critiquing my reading comprehension, but i read every word love, and you’re just in the wrong here. think about if it was you, and maybe the criticism wouldn’t be so befuddling. leaving anon off so you’re welcome to block or speak further if you’d wish.

all the best <3

I am not advocating anything, that's the thing.

I resent being told what I can and cannot want. And there has been so much of that, both in this fandom and on the Internet at large.

You think a private funeral would be best. And I can see your point.

But that is not what I *want*.

Do you understand the difference?

(Not critizing your reading comprehension. *g*)

Do you realize that critizing people for wanting something that is perfectly natural, wanting to say goodbye to a loved one, is wrong? It is simply human nature.

Princess Diana was also a person first, before she was a celebrity. *Every* celebrity is a person first, before they are a celebrity.

(Oh, and Diana would have loved that funeral, mark my words. *g*)

I am not saying anyone is entitled to anything. I am saying the exact opposite. *You* (*nobody*) are entitled to tell anyone what they are allowed to want.

The fandom police/the thought police wants to tell us all how to think, how to feel, that it is wrong to have wants and interests.

It is *okay* to have wants. It is *okay* to have your interest in a matter diverge from someone else's, even if it is someone you respect.

You have to ask yourself—the people who posted that, if they had received an invitation, would they have gone?

I am not advocating anything. I was peacefully minding my own business on the matter when that video started circulating and suddenly there were even more posts going around.

And I am just so incredibly tired of that kind of performative whining. It does no good and does in fact do a great deal of harm (look at the recent election) and it gaslights people into thinking that having a simple wish or want is somehow wrong.

Beloved public figures sometimes get a big public send-off.

There is no harm in quietly, peacefully, respectfully wanting something like that.

We need to stop letting people take our humanity away.

It is only the inhuman ones that want us to stop wanting.

[rebbiasisback]

honestly, i’m so sick of how the media treats eric like he’s just some cold-blooded monster while dylan gets all the sympathy. they act like eric was evil from the start, but completely ignore the fact that he was relentlessly bullied ever since he moved to colorado. he didn’t fit in, he didn’t have many friends, and he was constantly isolated. all he wanted was to have a place where he belonged, to find some real friends, but instead, he was pushed to the side. it’s not like he didn’t try. he reached out, but every time, he got rejected. he was never given a chance to be just a regular kid.

the media loves to paint dylan as this misunderstood, tragic figure, but eric was the one who was ignored, bullied for no reason, and made to feel like an outcast. it’s like no one ever saw that side of him. he wasn’t some evil genius plotting from day one. he was just a kid who couldn’t find his place, who was always looked down on, who never had the support he needed. instead of getting a chance to connect with others, he was driven further away. the media ignores that, and just reduces him to this villainous character, while dylan is portrayed as the victim. it’s frustrating how one side of the story is completely dismissed while the other gets blown out of proportion.

umm yeah he deserved better i guess and sure he got bullied for things he couldn’t control but let’s not act like he didn’t dig his own grave too like how do you expect anyone to give a shit about you when you’re out here yelling “heil hitler” in school screaming at girls for the smallest things and acting like a complete obnoxious asshole he was a spoiled brat who couldn’t take responsibility for anything and thought he could do whatever he wanted without facing any consequences if you’re gonna be a little shit and treat everyone like crap don’t be surprised when they hate your guts he was just a whiny entitled punk who couldn’t handle a single ounce of criticism without losing his shit

[sunriseverse]

@krownest thank you for handing me the bat my liege let us get down and dirty

okay so disclaimer before we start this is my opinion and i’m not calling people bad or saying they should stop writing yada yada yada etc etc (also wow this got long oops. readmore on ye)

i think the reason there’s such a deluge of “bad” fanfic comes down to a couple different reasons, some of them interconnected and some of them symptoms of larger issues.

i wrote and rewrote my definition of what “bad fanfic” is like, seven times, but in the end i think the characteristics of it are essentially: fanfic which makes you stop reading or become disappointed due to any number of issues, especially those which, if they were changed, would render the fanfic itself fundamentally a different piece of art (so, MOSTLY not cosmetic).

some of the most common issues i, personally, have, when trying to find new fanfic to read are ones that i’m sure you’re fairly familiar with: characterisation issues, dynamics which feel “off”, direct contradiction to the canonical themes without any seeming understanding that it is, in fact, contradictory, and prose. that last one is the trickiest, so we’ll set it aside for the moment being.

i think the first three tie together fairly neatly, and have simple to answer causes: one, people are writing not based off canon, but off fanon; two, people are not, generally, trained in media and literature comprehension and analysis as anything but a basic set of tools to pass their primary/secondary school exams; and three, tied in with one and two, people aren’t writing concepts as they would happen if they were applied to x character(s), they’re writing what THEY would want to happen in x scenario, and slapping the characters’ names over them.

obviously, we could sit here and argue for days about what “characterisation” is, what “canon dynamics” are, hell, what “canon” is, but for our intents and purposes: let us define these as the range of plausible interpretations one can draw from a canon, and find sources or references to argue the validity of (and make no mistake, this doesn’t mean there’s “one true [characterisation/dynamic/canon]”—there is, let us say, a dialectical continuum of possibilities, and the extremes, in any direction, are entirely unsupported, or outright denied by, canon). (i could tack on a rant here about why i think disagreement and different interpretations in fandom is not only healthy, but NECESSARY, as long as no singular faction dominates and forces the others to feel as if they will be ostracised if they suggest otherwise, but i digress.)

these aren’t problems that can be fixed overnight. media analysis is a tool that takes time and effort to grow, and when it comes to the average fan, in 2024, participating in an averagely-sized fandom: there is no external force driving them to stretch that muscle. fandom has, for better or worse, moved past what it once was: no longer gated communities with high bars of entry, which necessitate skill and effort and passion to enter, but more open and free for all. make no mistake, this isn’t necessarily bad—there are many, MANY problems with old fandom, not the least being cults of personality, actual cults, harassing commenters, etc, etc. my point is simply that new age fandom, by design, doesn’t require you to put in as much work—the barriers to reading fic, to POSTING fic, are far lower than they, perhaps, have ever been. open ao3, send an invite request, and bam: a week or so and change later, you, too, can post your very own writing for thousands of people to see, should they simply look.

this ties, i think, into prose; all of these things are, by nature, hard to do. some people have a bit more instinctive knack for them—but even if they do, they’ll never be able to improve if they don’t push themselves, if they don’t practice, if they don’t try and engage with canon and think critically about said canon and try, really try, to put just as much into writing as an athlete would put into running, or javelin, or swimming—but unlike physical sports, writing is not something with immediate, tangible results. it takes TIME. and in the end, it’s much easier for people to write the same fifteen tropes, the same variations on ship themes, follow fanon. i’m not here to be a prescriptivist and tell you how you MUST write fanfic—i really don’t care that much, honestly. if you want to do that, fine, be my guest; but i’m allowed to complain about it on my blog.

to end this post on a lighter note, if you do feel your fanfic isn’t very good, and you want to improve: i have suggestions! you should read as much as you can (published works, especially experimental styles, are good for for this), get your hands on as much meta (for characters, dynamics, themes, what have you), or if you can’t find any, practise writing your own the way you’d write an essay, and most keyly: don’t do things in your writing just because they’re popular in the fandom.

okay, cut! that’s all, for now, i think