#idk that series is a vibe I can't stick to just one guy in there

[the-punforgiven]

Fighting games are weird it's like with most fighting games I've got one one character that I play like that one! That's my special little guy that I play all the time! But with Guilty Gear it's like "Ok wait hang on let me just hit random character until I get one of my handful of mains"

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

[hanzajesthanza]

can i just say i do not trust Mister Holt. i'm getting all kinds of sinister vibes. i'm waiting for the betrayal. if not by the end of the chapter, by the end of the book he and geralt have GOT to duel, or something... come on...

these are the reasons for my distrust:

FIRST PRIMO, coming into the prose with the most english fucking name... PRESTON? HOLT? this is the kind of guy you find at yale, not in a fantasy novel... now, yes, yes, "gerald" is a germanic name (spear-wielder...) but also there is gierałt, and ... well, i'm just getting all kinds of meta symbolism, throwing an established and respected white-haired figure in front of the young geralt... maybe just because i've been steeping myself in writing about the origins and english publication of the witcher for some time now, but it feels like a metaphor for the literature itself... you know, "witcher" back then being a small fish in the big ocean of the english-dominate fantasy genre... yet being one and the same, of the same cloth, and "resembling greatly" (aka borrowing the appearance of another white wolf...) ... i think this is just me thinking about it from this angle because it's what's been on my mind, but yeah :p sapkowski uses a bunch of names from different origins, but he... mostly... uses them strategically and for certain purpose, usually to say something about that character... except for ciri who's named after some children's jacket :D so idk, i can't think right now of anyone with a more outrageously english name than this in the witcher series. it stands out, i don't know if that's for a good reason or not.

SECOND PRIMO, he is obviously an invention for this novel. that means he has a specific role to play insular to this specific story... whether that be mentor or antagonist, or both... but there must be a reason he doesn't show up before (i.e., after) this :D

THIRD PRIMO, he and vesemir "move in different orbits" ahaha... vesemir doesn't say "giddefuckouttamahhouse" for no good reason, i know that. honestly this is the biggest red flag, he didn't even try to put on the show and dance of the classic kidnapper "yeah yeah i know your dad he and i go way back".

FOURTH PRIMO, i read the hussite trilogy. i know how this shit goes: young plucky protagonist allies up with someone more powerful. ignores all red flags. ends up tied up in the back of a wagon.

FIFTH PRIMO, it's a western trope, isn't it. this town ain't big enough for two white-haired witchers... so stick 'em up.

[substitious-bastard]

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

📖: If you had to remove one book from the series, which would you choose?

king i have so much love for this fandom and book series but i will do my best.

💚 : my favourite character is all of them but some of the worst takes i've ever seen are about granny weatherwax. like guys you know that people have flaws right? you know the cold persona is an act right? sometimes people are old and have had a difficult life and that makes them mean, and that's not good and she is a bully but if you think about her for even a second you can identify this strong undercurrent of careing and compassion in spite of it all. that especially comes through if you read the tiffany aching series because she has grown a lot in those ones. anyway what i'm saying is i guess, ill never tell anyone what books to enjoy and its totally fine to dislike she ig but i don't think its fair to swear off the whole witches series because of it (i have seen people do this it's insane) like guys sometimes you have to stick around for longer that a book to see character growth. (read carpe juglam)

woah dudes that was kind of a lot

anyway

📖: jesus christ you can't ask me this, mostly because i don't belive any should be gone completely, i think they all contribute in important ways. opinion cancelled i just remembered snuff. what is going on in snuff. like i don't want it to disappear but my god is it tonally dissonant from the rest of the watch books, at that point sir terry pratchetts heath was impacting his writing and that is extremely sad and understandable. i do think snuff does suffer because of it. my main grievance is with the character of wilkinson, mostly because the ongoing bit of, this fancy dapper elderly butler being inexplicably a very skilled and violent fighter is very funny to me specifically and i dislike the way that the way the character is described physically in that book undermines the subversion. idk i just don't vibe with it.

(i have more to say but for the sake of sanity we'll cut it off here)

[silvertws]

You know what? At this point I have more written posts than fanarts... I mean, I could post old ones, but idk if it would make sense you know? Anyway.

You may wonder, is this gonna be another Steve Saga or something post?

Oh no, I may be hyperfixated, but I still do love other fandoms, even if they are dead.

Speaking on dead fandoms.

Hi Origins Crew fandom :}

How are y'all doing? How's the feeling of never knowing what was supposed to happen to your favorite character in OoO, SNO,SAO...? Oh and the unfinished storylines in MHO? FTO? do we wanna talk about the cliffhanger in OZ? I mean, luckily some people posted videos about how the storyline was going to go, so at least we got that.

(to clarify, I'm not mad at anyone who was part of the Origins Crew DW, I could never)

Anyway.

Some backstory on how I started watching Origins.

It was summer of 2019 I think? Pretty sure at least, I know it was before I started highschool because I sucked at English before I started watching Origins.

Anyway.

First series was OoO S1 from Brandon's POV, at least that's the first video that got recommended to me, I'm unsure what episode it was, I can't remember if it was before or after the Aphrodite's ball (we don't talk about those, you guys know why. You know.) So I'm not sure if I even watched it all, but I think at the time I did go back to watch it from the first episode.

Anyway POVS right? With OoO S1 I watched Brandon (*cough cough* Brandeen), Jakey, Brian, Colin and some of Xylo.

And can I just say... IT'S BEEN 3 SEASONS, 3 SEASONS IT TOOK TO GET RID OF A FUCKING SWORD, A SWORD, COME ON. AND WHY THE FUCK, CAN SOME PEOPLE COME BACK TO LIFE, AND OTHERS CAN'T, WHAT PLOT ARMOR IS THIS- Istg that was probably the most annoying thing of them all, nothing against the creators, again I feel like I need to clarify! But it's just my personal dumb opinion that I hope nobody takes offense to???

Anyway.

I feel like I should make a post for every Origins Series I've watched, but idk if that would make sense lol TwT

Besides my personal preferences when it came to all the series, I am very grateful to the Origins Crew, they're the reason I'm here today, the reason I know English and they were the first group that really opened my eyes when it came to the LGBTQ+ community and helped me discover myself.

I know that from an outside point of view it might seem dumb, but I do owe a lot to them, all of them, even the ones who left a year before Origins dismantled, even the ones who joined just before people went their separate ways.

Because even if people might say that the storylines were dumb or maybe cliche (which, in some cases they definitely were) in the end, I still loved every moment of it, every episode every dumb character who didn't make any sense or that was weirdly overpowered (I REALLY want to specify which ones but I don't want the whole fandom to come at me, please, any fandom but this one) but to be fair they kinda all were in some way? Or at least had the potential to in my opinion.

I'm not good at keeping a conversation stick to one topic, I tend to sideline pretty often and I apologize for that. TwT

Also idk if it's just me, but when I find a group of people there's always that one that for some unknown reason I just like more and that one who I dislike, again, for no specific reason, just the vibes???

Like for Hermitcraft and Empires it's Pearl, for Fable it's Ulysses, (I love this fish boy with all my heart if anything happens to him I will cry) for Origins it was Colin and Brandon, don't ask why, I have no idea, I just did, still do consider them my favorites.

I kept watching content from the Origins creators after everything went down. Including the drama with some of the creators I suppose... (I still don't understand most of it)

From Devi Devi Academy/anarchy to Glitch generation, to My Hero Eternity, I watched some of the Fnaf content Bryan made just for the nostalgia.

Holy fuck how I miss these fuckers.

Like it was the whole dynamic they had in the group, the mini games videos in character were so entertaining to watch! Especially the crossovers, I tend to rewatch them from time to time even tho I know basically everything by memory at this point.

Honestly they really inspired me when it came to creating my own storylines, and roleplaying, some people may call it cringe, and I get it, but I still think it's fun.

It's been a year.

Well, more technically, but I didn't have Tumblr at the time of the anniversary I suppose? Can you even call it that?

The Origins fandom never felt too big, in my life I've only talked to one other person who knew about them, and it was pretty fun, we watched the uh.. second episode of my Hero Eternity together making theories and stuff, talking about my hero Origins and wondering which characters canonically knew that you know, mr "I killed both my bio parents" was actually alive. (Which from what we know, Flex knows, and I think Colin, not sure tho, because in the 3rd episode, when they were interrogating the hero, our edgy boy mentioned how he had an old "friend" who could get information and data really easily, and now, we all know Mario definitely wouldn't do that plus, did he even interact with the L.O.V.E. as a whole? I don't think so? So the only option that makes sense to me is Colin)

Anyway I drifted away from the concept once again because once I start talking I won't ever stop.

This is a long post, as usual, cause I write a lot when it comes to things I'm passionate about.

I'm very attached to Origins, all the characters, all the storylines, all the silly little things. And I'm never going to stop missing it I suppose? Not in a "omg how dare they break the group apart blabla blabla..." No, I'm just very nostalgic when it comes to it.

I owe everything to them, part of who I am today is because of them.

PS: if anybody wants to talk about this fandom I suppose, please do, please let's start a conversation. I have so many things to say.

Like you know in SNO when people didn't know Lucas and Brandon were SIBLINGS???? and they SHIPPED THEM??? yeah, hi it's me, I'm the problem it's me, HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU JUST DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT ON THE LAST EPISODE MAN, AND HOW DID I NOT EXPECT IT????? luckily for me, mine was very much platonic shipping, so uhhh yay??? Don't come for me guys, it was years ago, please ToT Also I did kinda Ship Lucas with uhh was it also called Jakey???? I don't remember anymore my friend will probably remember this because when the series was happening I'd just go on and ramble about the fact that I didn't know who I should have shipped with the angel boy.

Man shipping anyone in any of those series was HELL, LET ME TELL YOU, HELL. ABSOLUTE HELL, HOLY FUCK THIS IS WHY I DON'T SHIP CHARACTERS AT ALL.

Ok actual PS now:

Please, let's all sit and chat in front of a glass of tumbjuice/tomb juice??? (idk how to spell that, don't come for me) and not get cursed by anything while we do so.

Let's just vibeeeeeee :D

[lewis-winters]

i think some of the vehement fandom reaction to the cheating incident (tm) is disappointment that a female character once again becomes defined primarily by her sexual/nurturing relationships to men. but also c’mon. it’s a war show written by old wwii-obsessed men what did we expect

i gotta be honest with you i wrestle with this whole being disappointed thing bc i went into this series just like... expecting it not to be good? at least on the front of it being like. idk. ground-breaking or whatever. it very much holds on to a lot of 90s-2000s ww2 nostalgia that's not... gonna fly with the times we're in anymore. i still can't fully reconcile watching a show about us army pilots bombing nazis in ww2 when the producer (hi speilberg) is a straight up zionist and uh. two active wars are happening right now. one of which is a genocide funded by the us so!! been feeling weird about it already above all, so that whole shebang was like. eh. that's not the worst part of this whole thing so im a little more blasé about it.

but yeah, you're right. that too. and also how like... even if jean did know or find out like what could she do? this was before 2nd wave feminism, we still have the stifling 50s to go through, women didn't have as much social mobility as they do now and even if cheating took place at home as much as the front (i.e. wives cheating on their husbands) like. cheating doesn't stick to a guy like cheating does to a woman. was it a common occurrence, yeah. was it good? god no.

but also like, even after having said ALL THAT......... i gotta break it to you guys that post was like. more a post contemplating the differences between the bob prod and the mota prod. for bob, some of easy were still alive, they were part of the prod. they hung out with their actors. they're in the actual show. for mota, these guys have been dead for a whole decade, at least. just bc of that, the vibes are Different, man.

also that post was like a joke post? HAHAHAH it's why i didn't tag it. i also should've just made it non-rebloggable from the beginning. it's non-rebloggable now. basically i just sat there ruminating on how the prods were different and how absolutely hysterical it would've been if they'd included stuff the easy boys were doing (i.e. visiting brothels and having fun with girls) at a time when some of them were actively married... only to then have to sit next to them at the premier while you both side-eyed each other like

wouldn't that have been fucking WILD

[liebgirl]

random question but do u have any recs for good YA books? ive started like doing student assistant stuff for my schools librarian so ive been reading a lot of books from there in my free time. usually i gravitate towards the classics but ive started really reading YA for the first time and im honestly really liking it. i already finished speak and the hate u give and my heart and other black holes and some other popular ones and wanna know if theres any particular YA you like that i should try. or i'll even take middle grade recs too if there are any good ones that you can think of

again i know this is a random question lol ive just seen you sometimes posting abt YA and middle grade and i trust your judgement so i figured why not ask😭 no pressure for a reply tho

ok sorry it's taken me like 2 weeksish to answer i've been like. in some kind of torment nexus or something idk. it happens! anyway! any ya i have to recommend is gonna be at least 8 years old at this point i fear so i can't exactly give current recommendations but i mean it's not as if libraries don't have older books so i guess it's fine <3 anyway if you want to read a series there is always the mortal instruments of course.... would not be me if i didn't throw that out there... not the entire shadowhunter chronicles that would be an insane thing to recommend to a person i've never done that and i wouldn't unless i was speaking to a 13 year old who has that kind of stamina and passion. but the mortal instruments books 1-3 is actually a really great trilogy. and i know there's 6 books but you can read 1-3 as a trilogy it's set up weird like that. moving on. idk about genres you like but given your examples i'm getting a contemporary fiction vibe. so here's some of my favorite ya books like that i read in high school that actually stood the test of time for me and i still hold in high esteem and would recommend unlike say. john green's paper towns (not necessarily hating on paper towns or john green. but i just personally would not recommend his work... it doesn't stick out to me...sorry john) anyway here's a list

the sky is everywhere by jandy nelson. it's about a girl grieving the loss of her sister and there's romance and it's well written if you like a sort of camp-esque purple prose writing style, which jandy nelson does in a way that would be annoying if she wasn't so good at it. i'd technically recommend her other books but this is the one i'd say to start with it's her first and it's definitely the one with the most chill version of that writing style. like just in case you find it ridiculous the sky is everywhere is the toned down version

i am the messenger by markus zusak. insane book. maybe not as good as the book thief which is his popular one but still solid. take this rec with a grain of salt though because this was my favorite book in ninth grade and i don't actually know 100% if i just have a nostalgic fondness for it or if it was actually that good

hacking harvard by robin wasserman. insane silly fun book about a group of guys in like 2007 trying to scam some deadbeat kid into harvard to win a bet. it was awesome

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz. have to get ari in this list that's literally my buddy ari.... you have most likely heard of this one before i won't bore you with a description

the upside of unrequited by becky albertalli. same author as simon vs the homo sapiens agenda, but this one's better. source: dude just trust me....

one of us is lying by karen mcmanus. i will not lie to you i didn't like this book and i don't think it's good. however. it was memorable. it was SOMETHING. i have read manyyyyy books in my day i do not remember a lot of them but this one i remember clear as day because it was so like. kinda bad... my intro to the world of the mid murder mystery.... cannot deny the impact. for an EXPERIENCE this is the book

in terms of middle grade i fear i have not much to say on the subject of contemporary fiction in middle grade... i think all the middle grade i've ever read in my life is fantasy or historical mystery or something weird idk. but i love the sisters grimm series a lot and i think it should have been as big as percy jackson or harry potter if we lived in a world where books could have female leads and still be considered gender neutral and get popular with all kids regardless of gender. alas i guess young boys just don't want to get their asses up and read about girls. even though it's literally not written For Girls it's written exactly like every other gender neutral kids book series. it's just like percy jackson. the author is literally a man. we live in a society

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Can you share some tips to make smaus ?

aaaaa getting asked for tips for the first time 💙💙

my first tip might be a bit "obvious" but don't write stuff you personally don't like (that relates also to fanfic in general I guess), write the things that you enjoy, don't force yourself into things you don't feel, it's supposed to be fun and not a task <3

from the more "technical" side - I use pics art to make the "collages" (like three, or more, pics next to each other). this way you can "save space" because on the phone you can add only 10 pics per post (I think it's 30 on the computer). and for twitts I use this app called twi note <3

sometimes you might randomly get an idea - if you can't take care of it immediately, write it down so you don't forget. that's how it was for me with the get with his brother au and it's my most popular series!! that's how it works for me - I can try forcing myself into thinking of an idea, but the best ideas are the ones I get randomly throughout the day <3

it's easier for me, as you may have noticed, to write fans' comments using username1, username2, but I saw people actually making up fans' usernames which is so cool!! so whatever floats your boat!! <3

most pictures you see in my smaus are from pinterest, sometimes I just go there hoping I'll see something inspiring, and a lot of times I save pics in a folder "pics for fics" because I might use them someday eventually <3

no idea if that's good or not but at the beginning I tried to "keep things realistic" like not making the drivers talk in the comments about things they wouldn't talk about in real life. i kind of broke this rule for the brother fic for the drama lol I guess it's better when you don't try to keep the comments realistic, because it's all just for fun after all <3

now my last advice is decide how you wanna make the comment section look like and stick to it (I think I've found my preferred way recently), for example if you want to make it like this:

username1 blah blah blah something something something

↳username2 the missile is very tired

username3 eepy even

or maybe like this:

username1 woooooo we ball wow wow

username2 yeah we ball lol

or maybe another way you can think of!! I kind of stopped reading fanfics after I started writing, so I don't remember what other ways to "build" the comment section are there, so just do whatever you vibe with. the thing with the 2nd way I showed is idk how to write a reply to the reply?? but I also struggled with a "reply to a reply" in the way I use now, if you go to my first smaus it'll look something like this:

username1 blah blah blah comment section haha

↳username2 yeah haha comment section lmao

↳username3 whooooaaaaaaaa

↳username4 haha lol wtf is wrong with you guys lmao lol lol xx

like just the constant arrow didn't look that's good to me?? idk that's just personal preference and now I took way too much time to talk about it as if it was the most important part lol anyway choose a style you feel good in and by the way if you wonder where I got the arrow from ↳ I just type in Google 'arrow emoji' and go to the first site lol <3

anyway I hope I could help you, if you (or anyone else) have any other questions feel free to ask, I'm feel honored to help out

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 13

Can't believe we've hit lucky number 13, the Halloween episode and our first live statement all in one! Time for some for high-quality, thoughtful commentary :)

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID

The moment Jon has another person in the room with him his veneer professionalism instantly vanishes. 'We don't have to believe you. Don't like it? Leave.'

He definitely knows there's something up with the tapes by now, which makes sense if we are going by the idea that approximately 1 in 10 statements are real, he should have read over a hundred fake ones by now.

This is his first live statement, so starting tonight he's going to be seeing Naomi in his nightmares ever single time he goes to sleep. I wonder how long it's going to take him to accept that those are real as well.

He's so fucking callous and blunt to this desperate grief-stricken woman. Reminder that this is the first time we ever see Jon talk to another human being.

He tries to leave! See ya, I'm out!! Too fucking awkward!!!

Yeah this is a massive mood because what sane person would want to stick around and watch while a stranger monologues at length about their trauma, but obviously it's super ironic considering how Jon eventually comes to crave the live statements. Love that this is his instinctive reaction.

Unlucky that his first genuine statement-giver is a survivor of the Lonely. How much longer might he have avoided the nightmares of Naomi had a statement about any other Entity? I wonder if anyone else could have had a hand in her being his first?

Yeah, despite my automatonophobia, stuff like this is exactly why I would probably get consumed by the Lonely. Lived alone ever since I moved out of home, no long-term romantic relationships, deeply loathe all mandatory workplace bonding, have to work really hard to maintain friendships because social interaction is so exhausting, perfectly happy with that state of affairs and have no intention to ever change... yeah I'll be breathing fog before it even occurs to me to be afraid of it.

You could argue that this is an indication that this guy knows about the Lonely, but idk this is the kind of crap that people say all the time.

I don't feel like I've ever had a good read on Evan's deal. For a while I figured he was lying about everything to basically seduce Naomi, because he can tell she's already deeply marked by the Lonely. There's a line later in the series about how none of the Lukas' ever have trouble finding creepy, lonely people to hook up and breed with and I figured that's what was happening here. But I guess I've landed on the explanation offered by the episode, that Evan simply didn't vibe with the Lonely and so he left his family, made friends, fell in love and then died.

And he died because the Lonely killed him, right? Or at least, his refusal to serve the Lonely killed him?

It's just way too much of a coincidence that the guy who ran away from his Lonely family died after only a few years, and he died of a broken heart, which he inherited from his family.

There's a really cool idea here which I wish more Lonelyeyes fics would play with.

[kgirl1fromff]

sorry to bug you again fjdgkjds would you wanna do the ask meme for Stanford, too? 👉👈 I'd love to hear your thoughts on him, I really love how you write for him!

oh boy *cracks knuckles* this is a beloved character in this fandom so I'm going to tread lightly and with great excitement

(these are so fun; not bugging me in the slighest!!)

favorite thing about them his character development! BF5 is a great show because everyone gets at least one piping-hot helping of character development but like, Stanford makes leaps and bounds. He goes from "I say we take our sweet new rides and high-tail it out of this dead-end town" to driving his car into the Buster's path to protect Zoom and Agura. He also learns to accept Vert's leadership and Agura's too while still having brilliant little moments of his own (like in Swarmed). He comes SO FAR in the series and it's incredible to watch, like so proud of our boy also, he gets passed off as the shallow one, but this man has so much emotional intelligence, like, THE MOST. when he can get out of his own head he can read people and step up and be there for them like nobody's business

least favorite thing about them I think they make him the butt of the joke a little too often. like, every kid's cartoon is legally required to have that character, but he doesn't always get enough credit for all his fantastic character development because the writers needed a C-plot about his hair gel losing its hold or his favorite teddy bear or something. idk, I just think it restricts him as a character and keeps him typecast as the petty/shallow/vapid one that he was in S1E1, but he's so! much! more!!

favorite line oh man, he has a lot of great quotes because this man is a sass king, but my favorite is probably in Cold As Ice when he first finds Agura to rescue her and deadass sticks his head over the ledge and yells "having a nap are we?" Like, this woman just crashed into a canyon, almost died, attempted to rope-climb (which is a bullshit gym class activity unless you are a literal Olympian or Agura Ibaden) her way out and landed flat on her back on a metal car after falling a good ten feet. the sass of this line registered on the Richter scale (more importantly Stanford says that line and the following ones because he knows it's the best way to egg her on and help her get herself out of there but we will touch on Stanford's unparalleled emotional intelligence in other parts of this post) A second favorite is in Swarmed and I apologize if I'm quoting it incorrectly but it goes something like this. Agura, to Vert: "Actually, Stanford's running this mission." Vert, trapped inside a mecha-wasp hive: "Should I be concerned?" Stanford, grinning: "Terrified." Like, objectively funny and has big dick energy, two things I love

brOTP Stanford/Agura. These two got off to a rough start but after getting to know each other they just genuinely make each other better people; she helps him believe in himself and he helps her chill tf out every once in a while because you know living with seven guys can make you a little high-strung. allow me to direct you to the random headcannon section where I will get more in-depth than anyone asked for about this relationship headcannon but I also think that at least in season one, Stanford and Zoom get nudged into being a brOTP because they both have unique (read: simp) relationships with Vert and when they can't hang with Vert they hang with each other. Like, the Cortez brothers will be off doing sibling shenanigans and Vert and Agura will be planning training or something equally responsible and so Stanford and Zoom just have to vibe together and it starts out as forced but becomes a cute sibling friendship (I wanted to put a lot of people here but those same people also fit under OTP (read: AJ) so I'm leaving it open to interpretation)

OTP tbh, I don't have one because this man bats for every team and he has lovable asshole™ energy, which meshes really well with a lot of pairings #shipStanfordwitheveryone2022

nOTP Stanford/Agura. I know a lot of people ship them but I just can't see it. these two will always be a brOTP for me; I just think they have a lot of platonic sibling love & gentle bullying for each other

random headcanon Stanford and Agura are actually best friends. (yes, this is a continuation of the above and no, I'm not sorry because I'm deeply invested in this headcannon.) Like, yes they got off to a rocky start but they've overcome their differences and just accept the other person for who they are. Agura can be vulnerable with Stanford in a way that she can't be with Vert because she feels like she has to be his strong and capable second-in-command, so Stanford is the one that she goes to when she needs advice or feels emotional about something. Once they get past the first five minutes of making fun of each other, they have really serious and helpful deep talks and give each other great advice. Their relationship started with hating each other and each thinking the worst of the other person, so now that they've gained respect for one another it's really easy to be vulnerable and return to that place where you're not posturing or trying to appear perfect, because they know there was a point in their relationship where they each thought so little of each other. so like, TL;DR, they started from the bottom and now they're here. 11/10 would be wingpeople for each other at a bar Agura and Vert exchange a lot of glances (which I adore but that's a post for another day) but you KNOW Stanford and Agura are having wine nights. Like in the Dan Wheeler (rest in peace) episode where Vert is fangirling you know these two absolutely got together and shit-talked Vert's schoolgirl crush (with love). I also headcannon that they both have serious issues with their families/parents (see this fic for a deep exploration of that) and that after Agura meets Simon she just completely sees right through Stanford's act and gains a ton of empathy for him and is there to help him through it, like she does in Deep Freeze when he's having an off day. in this essay I will

unpopular opinion I feel like I'm going to get in trouble for not shipping Stangura, so, not going to add any more flames to the fire here

song i associate with them "Ravers in the UK" by Manian. I can absolutely picture him playing this as as his signature song as a DJ in some London club

favorite picture of them I borrowed this from @ hot wheels battle force cinco on Discord because Stanford has the best screaming faces and this is a perfect example of one. stanford's wilhelm scream energy is so strong

[montpahrnah]

hello, eve! i just wanted to tell you that i discovered your writing recently and it's honestly changed me as a person. the way it flows and your characterisations and, just, so many lines were (well, are) so strikingly beautiful they had me whispering them back to myself or tracing over them on the screen or just pausing to appreciate them before carrying on. i can't even begin to express how lovely your style is, and i love it with all of my heart. (1/2 bc i need to waffle)

(2/2) you’ve become my absolute favourite fic writer Of All Time™ and i wish i could give ‘let nothing you dismay’ a huge hug. honestly, i aspire to one day have a writing style as lovely as yours. if you don’t mind me asking, when/how did you get into writing? and, like, is there any advice you’ve been given or that you’ve found that has particularly stuck with you and that you think has had an impact on the way you write? and do you have a favourite quote? sorry for excessive qs!! ilysm!!!!

ANON………. thank you so so so much, this made my whole week/is incredibly sweet and i can feel my heart growing at LEAST three sizes in my chest as i type this to u. it means a whole huge ton to me to hear all of this and i’m thrilled to know any of what i do works for you–this gave me the most tremendous, swoon-y feeling

i started writing i was ten or eleven, when we did a poetry unit in school. but i remember having loads of fun with it and ever since i’ve been strongly drawn to poetry–i filled a bunch of notebooks with bad elementary/adolescent poems and everything just followed from there. i didn’t start writing fanfic until i was seventeen–the first fic i ever read was a truly hysterical eowyn/arwen bdsm fic featuring like, middle earth nipple clamps (hmu if you guys know what this is because i’ve never been able to find it again despite some semi-diligent searching… i wonder if it was a geocities casualty)

the best advice i’ve probably ever been given was from a friend when i was really struggling to write anything at all, which is:  keep asking “what if?” etc. which seems vague and maybe is, but for me it works. even if i’m writing first war era r/s again or hawke/isabela set post-breakup again, even if i’m writing yet another very short story with a midwestern setting, i don’t just want to retrace my own footsteps. unless you’re writing something within the same series, start from scratch every time. think about dynamics, character histories, relationship progression/changes/ups and downs, setting, personality–build it from the ground up every time and go from there. think about what you want to say, and how you’ve said it in the past. is that enough? is there another way to say it? what if x y z? could you come at this from a new angle? basically–there are many many many ways to say something. and i think it’s worth examining all of them.

also, and this is just from me, don’t fight yourself too much. i’ve learned the hard way. if you have a system re:  how you write, and it works for you, then stick with it. that doesn’t mean never try new things, but FOR EXAMPLE i know for a cold hard fact that i r e a l l y do not work well with much structure. when i write outlines i get frustrated because i deviate from them within 1000 words or i just straight up can’t make them work; they make me feel confined and sort of freeze me up. what i’m saying is, there’s no “”””correct”””” way to do this, and if something isn’t clicking for you, don’t keep slamming your head against a brick wall. stick with what works for you and make peace with it, even if that’s a million unorganized notes on your phone made at 2 a.m.

a while back i also read some really great advice @yeats-infection got from a friend, which was (paraphrasing i think):  don’t feel entitled to your craft. you DO have to work for this. and it’s some of the best advice i’ve read for those of us who tend to be crybabies when we encounter some difficulty i.e. me. keep at it, keep writing, keep reading. you’re never going to stop practicing, and that’s part of the beauty of writing.

idk if i’ve got a great quote about writing that sticks with me–i’ve read plenty tho i tend to forget them–but i really take joan didion’s feelings re:  first and last sentences to heart from this interview. essentially, everything flows out of the first sentence of a story, and the last should open the piece up again and make you want to go back and start reading from page one. i’m always trying to do that…

anyway i’m gonna cut myself off now–i hope some of this is helpful for you, and thank you x a million again for sending such a sweet ask. i’m going to be coming back to this on dark days so thank you for you–ilu2 bud, you’re a gift and i’m wishing you all the best/sending good writing vibes your way for 2018