#i'm aware that that's a problem and a half

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Anger - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E (is there anything else with him?????) Truly this is the least crazy thing I've written in days. Unprotected p in v. Word Count: 1155 a/n: Sometimes I spend all afternoon trying to write Joel and get nothing and other times I write 1000 words in less than 30 minutes. There is no in-between. Written for TLOU Sundays!

"You've really gotta do something about him," Ellie tells you from where she's sitting at the kitchen table.

You're barely through the door, coat still covered in a layer of snow from outside. "Well hello to you, too, Ellie," you respond, pulling off your boots before you track any more water into the house. It's strange, how something like keeping the floors dry didn't matter for twenty years and now suddenly again it does. "You're the fourth person to say that to me today though, so I assume you also are talking about Joel?"

She's flipping through the pages of a comic, barely paying you any attention. "Yes, Joel," she emphasizes, not that you need any further confirmation. Maria had cornered you at the saloon, the other half of your patrol had been on your case, and you had a run-in with Jackson's resident grandma first thing in the morning, who gave you an earful about how you needed to learn how to satisfy your man so he would stop torturing the entire town with his bad mood.

You sigh, shucking your coat and flexing your toes in your thick socks as you make your way into the kitchen. "Any idea what's wrong with him? He seemed fine this morning."

Ellie shrugs, still engrossed in the pages in front of her. "I don't know, Dina just told me he was being a real fucking asshole. You know how he gets."

That you do. You're well aware of the way Joel Miller can make or break an entire day based on his mood, especially since you've been at his side to witness it longer than anyone else.

Before you can contemplate further, the man in question storms through the door, a grumble on his lips before it's even closed behind him. Ellie meets your gaze, glancing over at him before turning back to you and then quickly rising. "I've gotta get going," she says quickly, sneaking past Joel to grab her jacket.

She's out the door before he can even say a word.

"Where the fuck is she going?" he questions, ignoring the way his boots squeak on the floorboards as he makes his way to the couch, collapsing into it. A part of you wants to scold him for the wet spots now littered all over the floor, but based on the furrow in his brow, there's no use, and you simply follow him instead, swinging a leg over his thigh to climb into his lap and settle there.

Only he has the audacity to grumble. Again.

"Joel," you say sternly, "don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he fires back, and now you know exactly what everyone had been warning you about. "I didn't do anything."

"What's up with you today?" It's a simple question, an inquiry that he should have no problem answering, but he doesn't, so you continue with a follow-up request, "Just tell me why I had four separate people tell me that I needed to figure out who you're so angry today."

"I'm not angry."

You frown. "Bullshit, Miller. Tell me what the fuck is wrong."

His answer is to seal his lips to yours, his rough grip dragging your hips against his so you can feel the hard press of him between your thighs. This felt familiar, especially since he'd been in an equally shit mood the day you first met, something you'd promptly fucked out of him later that night. And usually, that did the trick, but there was always something else lingering beneath the surface.

Not that you have time to contemplate what it might be because he pushes any thought of his mental well-being from your head when he rips your shirt from your body and latches onto one of your breasts. Likewise, any train of thought is gone just as quickly as the remainder of your clothing.

It's a good thing Ellie left quickly, because within minutes he has you spread out on the couch beneath him, one of your legs hitched around his hip as he pounds into you. There's little space left between you, the moment feeling intimate even with the intensity of the way he's pressing you down, grunting with each thrust until he has you clenching around him.

His fingers are on your clit before you come down from your climax, already drawing you higher a second time. "Joel, fuck, I can't," you whine, gripping at his hand.

"You can," he emphasizes, "you're gonna take every fucking inch of me."

And then you can see it. The rage behind his gaze, the emotion that has his eyes glassed over. The anger he has to unleash somehow. It scared you when you first met him, the first time he had you like this back in Boston, pressed up against the door, the first time you watched his fist collide with a FEDRA officer who tried to touch you, and the first time you saw him have to kill someone who definitely wasn't infected.

But now, you know better. You know that he won't hurt you, but he still needs a way to release the pent-up emotion that boils beneath the surface. You don't know what happened to get him here today, but you do know how to fix it.

Joel groans when you shift to wrap your legs fully around his waist, pulling him down so the soft expanse of his stomach presses against your own, increasing the pressure of your walls wrapped around him. It's all he can do to rut into you, your back slowly snaking up the arm of the couch as he fucks you. The angle changes the higher you move, guiding his lips to yours so he can catch the scream that rips from your throat when you clench around him a second time.

He follows you into the abyss, pulling out seconds before he spills against your center, jerking himself off until the last drops drip down onto the fabric.

When he regains his breath he stands, cock softening as he moves to grab a cloth to wipe his spend from your core. And then he's pressing you into the couch again, settled in the safety of your thighs as his head rests on your chest.

"Do you wanna know what Mrs. Davis told me today?" you ask softly, fingers curling through his hair.

Joel rests his chin on your breast as he looks at you, eyes softer now, more playful. "Fuck, what did she say?"

You smile. "She saw me at the store and pulled me into the corner to tell me that I needed to get you home and ride your cock because she was sick of your shit."

His laugh is rough, but he says nothing else as he settles back against you.

"Was she right?" you ask, your own laughter threatening to bubble up.

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't deny it either.

[gyuswhore]

yesterday, i messaged another writer confronting them about a plagiarism issue i felt over a fic of mine that held too many similarities for comfort to one of theirs. this wasn't something i did lightly because i know common tropes and plot points exist in fics but after over a year of sitting on the belief that they were too close to be similar, i decided to send them a message to resolve the issue since other writers felt their fics were also copied. in the statement they made on their blog, they do not accept the claims however are implying that this is one of the reasons they are leaving their blog. to make it clear, i did not ask them to leave or deactivate their blog in any way shape or form. I only asked for a public statement and the plagiarised fic to be taken down. i cannot force them to accept my opinion on this however i refuse to be painted as someone who pushes other writers out of fandom spaces. i'm aware it's just fanfiction and have no issues with someone using my writing as inspiration if it is credited properly, but this was not the case. anyone who does not understand why im reacting this way simply does not understand the work and hours it takes into writing a fic that long. i waited nearly a year and a half to say something about this and that may be my biggest regret but there's nothing that can be done about it now. we're all adults and i will not be seen as someone who pushes other writers out bc i believe there's always space for everyone. all i wanted was an apology and an open conversation.

i find it imperative to also preface that anyone who has been a part of my blog since the beginning knows that i have never partaken in any sort of drama or issues not regarding writing (except for larger problems). i am NOT trying to stir the pot here and i only feel like making a statement because i'm being painted as someone who tries to push people out of a space i believe is for everyone

[zoieru]

⊹⁺☽ In the bath with ~

Little babbles where you have a bath(or wash) with hsr men hehe. SFW. CW: so... mydei's is based around the idea I had that he has a phobia of baths because of that as a child. I have no evidence, just m'noggin. I have not included descriptions of that explicitly, so that anyone who wants to remain blissfully ignorant can and can still enjoy it. If you do want to know, however... google his backstory, and I apologise in advance. 1.4k.

Jiaoqiu ⊹ Blade ⊹ Mydei

Jiaoqiu ⊹

"You know, I can tell that you're doing something devious with my tail," he hummed, voice lilted with a touch of suspicion, but it was mostly an affectionate little statement as he played with bubbles in his slender fingers. His left ear twitched subtly to emphasise his words, as if to glean more information on what exactly it was you were doing.

He wasn't wrong, you were currently in the process of making little shapes out of his long pinkish tail fur that floated between you as you faced eachother sat in the tub. What were you supposed to do, it was sat there floating all lonely between your entwined legs, just begging to be petted and played with.

A little cheeky smirk touched your lips as you continued, eyes watching the bubbles fade into the strands as you expertly fashioned spikes along the length of the tail, much to his...well, he didn't seem upset about it.

"Mmh, I wasn't doing it because I thought you wouldn't see yknow. I am aware you have nerves in your tail," you mused, a tease mixed in with a gentle reassurance that you would never just do something because you knew he couldn't see you.

"it's not the feeling that set me off to your antics," he stated, a smug note to his melodic tone. "It was the mischievous silence as you concentrated on whatever you were doing with it. You should really work on your convincing stealth."

"I wasn't trying to be stealthy," you echoed, letting out a little chuckle before stealing some of your materials for your masterpiece, the bubbles, and planting them in a cute little pile between his ears. He froze for a second, ears twitching downwards, and then scrunched his nose with a chuckle. "You are insufferable, I'm afraid," he said, almost regrettably, before taking a piece of the bubble pile and perfectly accurately placing some on the tip of your nose. He was getting better at that.

A smug little smile touched his lips with a satisfied and cheeky tilt of his head, eyelashes dewy and long across his cheeks. "I'm getting better at that."

Blade ⊹

"But then I'll be able to do your back," you suggested. The feeling of soft skin against the ripples of his scarred one was so familiar, by now, the water moistening you both to the point you almost melded together, head tucked into his neck and chest, side against him as you sat/lay between his legs. Your fingers drifted over one of the ones across his shoulder, the darkened skin, the jagged outline, achingly beautiful as it shone softly in the dim warm light of the bathroom.

"I want you here," he said, tone still blunt, gruff, but with a subtle softening of the edges reserved for the quiet moments of serenity like this one. As if to punctuate his point, his hand that wasn't toying with a piece of your hair dancing in the water squeezed your hip slightly.

"I'll still be here, just behind you. You can still feel me, what's the problem?" You hummed up at him, head lifting slightly so you could meet his eyes, now also softened a touch by the bath, the steam, dewy eyelashes half hiding his half lidded sleepy gaze.

His red irises flicked to you, with no change in expression. "Here. Like...in front of me. I can't hold you behind me, can I, I don't have arms that rotate 360°." He was sort of snarky, a bit grumpy sounding, which did not at all match, and only provide an endearing complement to, the slightly wet cat look of his cute self sat behind you in the water.

You sighed, eyeing him with affectionate skepticism. It was frustratingly cute that he was so stubborn about you moving a few inches behind him to wash his back. You knew he liked it too, he was just being difficult, wanted to hold you. Your heart melted a bit.

"I'll be quick, you like it."

"Why does a back need to be washed anyway."

"Bla-"

"I mean washed washed, like by hand and thoroughly. It's a back. Just stay here."

You felt a chuckle bubble to your throat, but popped it for a moment since you actually wanted this and laughing was not going to help this grumpy cat situation.

"Blade. It doesn't, sure, we can say that. But I wanna. I like doing it," you stated, firmly, tilting your head to assess his response. He was still eyeing you with that slightly indignant but slightly affectionate glare of his that you knew meant you might have gotten through to him with that last part. "That good enough for you?"

He huffed, before his dark eyebrow cocked a bit and he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just...quick."

A smile. Gotcha. It would have made you feel a little bad to use the 'I want to' card, but it was the honest truth, and it was something he knew he wanted, just didn't wanna ask for.

You slid behind him, the water sloshing gently around you, as his hands slid along your skin as if attempting somewhat to hold you with him as you moved. You settled, legs either side of his hips, and ran your fingers along that inky hair to move it over his shoulder, revealing the littered stripes across his beautiful back. As you started to run your fingers across the muscles, he let out an audible sigh, body almost physically melting beneath you. Hehe, got you.

Mydei ⊹

Mydeimos did not like baths. Now, it would have been fun to make some sort of cat joke, a gentle tease about him screeching in the water, claws out, jumping out and running. That was if you didn't know his past. You had wondered why he avoided walking through the stone paths through the public baths of Okhema the best he could, and when going through keeping his eyes on his destination, attention unwavering.

Musings that popped to mind were either the cat thing, or that he was somehow uncomfortable with people being somewhat declothed, but that didn't sound right since he walked around with the near entirety of his chest out. When the truth was revealed to you, you felt sick for hours, ending up resigning to your quarters not able to focus on much but... that until the intensity numbed.

Showers, however, he could deal with. He had to wash, after all, sometimes. And if it wasn't some fountain of some kind, or just a cloth wash, showers would do the job and leave him mostly unscathed and unscared.

His showers were minimal until you came along. He blinked and shifted his gaze when you signalled that you knew and instantly showed unconditional understanding and support for his position against baths, but couldn't deny the warmth that bloomed in his chest.

So here you were, under the gentle water, pitter pattering on mostly his form as you stood against eachother, his warm skin up against yours.

"You look... cute, with your hair wet like this," he said lowly, the word rolling out of his lips almost foreign but sweet.

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow up at him as his large hands ran down your back, smothering bubbly gel into your softened skin. "Cute? Did you learn that from me?" You teased gently.

"Why, is it just reserved for 'cute girls' to use the word cute?" He retorted, his inner sass never dampened by even the soft affection that you shared in the steam. It was endearing to say the least, as was the smirk that tickled the corners of his lips as he looked down at you.

"No. It's cute hearing you say I'm cute." Your fingers idly traced the crimson lines across his chest, catching the droplets that formed on the tanned skin. His hands paused his ministrations for a moment, and expression of either being terribly unimpressed or slightly stumped, before continuing and shaking his head.

"I take back my words."

"What?! Why?"

"Cute seems to have too many meanings. What's the point of using a word that can be used for whatever?"

You huffed with a chuckle, both amused and exasperated. Half way through celebrating your victory for him adopting some of your language he squandered it. Though a victory it still was, since the seed was planted.

"Mph, fine. But I'll sleep well knowing that you think I'm cute," you murmured, planting a soft kiss on his sternum. His fingers, almost involuntarily, squeezed your sides as you did.

"You always sleep well in my arms," he stated, a gentle reinstating of his status after the cute debacle, but also a proud little reassurance that he looked after you, that you were safe, with him. Including from a bath.

[cadwo]

Hate feeling called out for something that I know is true lol

[saintaviator]

lineup fer an AU I've been slowly rotating in my head for a month or so.... sniles....

[BETTER LINEUP & FULL AU EXPLANATION HERE !!!!]

[la-galaxie-langblr]

what is going on w my brain

[sheathnknife]

the vampire diaries 8.16 // louise gluck, crossroads

“and damon, like the voiceover tell us, he was worried he would never see stefan again. it was just elena assuring him that there would be peace. that we’ve dealt with this other side of darkness for several seasons, but there’s also light out there and there’s peace, and damon will find it. if you search for it, you will find it. and we wanted to get that last moment to see that [...] damon found it too, and it looked just like his brother.” — kevin williamson

[britneyshakespeare]

the middle school principal wants to hire me in a full-time position so bad.

and who can blame him? i'm that substitute 💅

[arttsuka]

have you watched star trek tng

No :')

And it's not because i don't want to or I think I won't like it or anything, it's just so long. 7 seasons (178 episodes, ≈130 hours). The longest series I've watched was star trek tos (79 episodes, ≈66 hours).

I'm just not made for long series. I tend to want to watch everything as quickly as possible because I'll lose interest if I can't interact with the fandom. And interacting with the fandom = spoilers.

[deviousdiesel]

.

[machinavocis]

look all i'm saying is there are advantages to being the person who has to google "php check if string contains substring" almost every time (while vaguely remembering that the answer is stupid but not what that stupid answer IS)

& one of those advantages is that sometimes it leads to you discovering that php8 actually invented a "str_contains" function when you weren't looking, which is SO MUCH LESS STUPID than using strpos was!

& see if i'd just REMEMBERED about strpos i would not have looked it up & learned about the new better way!

so tl;dr my being a worse programmer actually makes me a better programmer shut up losers i win.

[lwoorl]

I'll say it: "Oh all AI artists do is write a stupid description and immediately get an image with no effort, there's no art in that" is the new "Digital painting doesn't count as art because it takes no effort"

[inklingofadream]

So, having given up on the book that was vexing me a couple days ago I'm now reading Unmask Alice and it's killing meeeee

Things I knew: Go Ask Alice is not a real diary; subsequent anonymous diaries were also super fake; it's not even an especially good fake if you are not a suburban parent in the 70s who has never encountered The Drugs; there was some deeply hinky stuff going on with the author's subsequent fake diaries

Things I didn't know: Beatrice Sparks was Mormon. She grew up in Logan. She lived in Provo at the time she wrote the diaries

This book literally opens with "I know we're all used to being able to look up what we're doing to find out where it's going but I think you'll have a better time if you don't."

I have not obeyed this directive. I know this guy doesn't have the information I need. He isn't going to bother to tell me the name of the restaurant in Logan she worked at as a teen. He isn't going to tell me where in Provo her house was. He won't bother with whether her and her husband were eventually sealed in the temple in their lifetime, or if they were just kinda passively next to the church but not doing much about it

I went on familysearch trying to find this information. I went DEEP. I also FAILED. but. all attempts to search HER got me a 404 error. Searching her mother and getting to her page via the family tab DID work. which is all very suspicious to me...

[egg2k16]

This may be the depression speaking + the earliest trauma I've ever gone thru (completely accidental as well), but I think it's kinda pointless to give me gifts. I have clothes that still fit me and are in excellent condition. I have shoes. I have a sizeable movie collection (that tbf I can always add to), and all the books I'd want. I don't paint anymore so it's useless giving me art supplies. And unfortunately even giving me money is hilariously pointless bcus I'm not even gonna spend it on anything, I'm just gonna put it into my savings account and keep living day by day as I do: doing nothing...interesting

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

miss "people are so nice here" has aggressively refused to clean up after herself or anyone for years, doesn't say thank you at being helped whatsoever and has sworn at my parents at the slightest instance, appears to have the worst victim complex known to man and claimed she is being constantly guilt tripped to do anything; sis, it's supposed to be a goddamn fucking two way street here