#im trying to do the things i need to but time keeps going by so damn fast

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: PW[with]P- kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected PIV, aftercare for once wow!! Part 2 planned [ will be smuttier once im not sick ] no beta,

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own. 

And you weren’t his. 

Your daddy would make sure you would never be. 

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms. 

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant. 

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality. 

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad. 

Then you came along. 

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice. 

Though, he does. 

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened. 

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease. 

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there. 

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance. 

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours. 

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. 

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it. 

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there. 

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked. 

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes. 

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after. 

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic. 

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix. 

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you. 

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed. 

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now. 

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity. 

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed. 

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts. 

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this. 

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from. 

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you. 

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable. 

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat. 

And that’s when it starts. 

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey. 

Those men are still watching. 

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse. 

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs. 

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard. 

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts. 

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.  

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement. 

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.  

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die. 

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way. 

“No. Not- not quite.” 

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise. 

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point. 

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake. 

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man. 

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe. 

He just stares. 

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder. 

“Just bein’ friendly.” 

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs. 

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he? 

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did. 

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you. 

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in. 

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you. 

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this. 

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind. 

He knew he’d never do it. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding. 

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.” 

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat. 

His real reason was sickening. 

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant. 

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t? 

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again, 

You. Wanted. To. Die. 

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck. 

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed. 

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting. 

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn’t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench. 

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose. 

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun. 

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right? 

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm. 

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him. 

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly. 

“Fuck.” 

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it. 

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.” 

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would. 

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be. 

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench. 

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night. 

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently. 

“What do you mean-?” 

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him. 

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest. 

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass. 

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple. 

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now. 

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze. 

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth. 

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud. 

This sensitive. 

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body. 

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”  

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in. 

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm. 

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.” 

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building. 

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliche. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic. 

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb. 

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric. 

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around. 

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic. 

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar. 

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

[haveihitanerve]

I genuinely think its so adorable- now that i’ve watched even more of their long forms- how fucking cute AJ and Tom’s relationships are, always. 

Like- maybe I’ve just not seen enough. But- but they’re so pure????usually???

Juliet and Cesar- Tom literally hands over his kingdom and defends her against anyone- “yeah she kills people but she doesn't kill me and shes so pretty while doing it”- shes a badass evil queen and he fucks hard with that, even after she stabs him

The Leftenmost Window- AJ is supportive of his “thewomeninourfamilyhavealwayshadagift” wife and “ORDER!!!”s the children so they don’t annoy their mother- also the hug in the last scene, leaned against each other

The Dentist and Dentist Assistant thing where Tom was just totally supportive of everything AJ asked for/did and their little peck

Priscillas Last Petal- Both versions/moms of Tom are so tender with AJ, comforting him- the way Tom cradles AJ’s face when hes standing on the chair???? Oh my gods it was so cute

The Detective and Christmas Tree Bandits- not only Is Frankie super sweet to Rupert Jr, as a mother they like hug and its just too fucking cute. I mean green dude Reggie and Frankie were a different matter but we’re not talking about them!

Murders in Space- Tom literally spends his entire fucking life working to try and bring AJ back- then AJ dies for her- before she lets herself die to the timeline in order to go back to having him in another life- cuties

President and Vice President- besides wanting to kill each other, they did have a pretty stable relationship at the beginning ngl

Xavier and… the girl AJ is playing- their kiss is tender and sweet- AJ literally brings it up later on because of how soft it was- also- and i don't see it addressed anywhere- when AJ originally fainted, Tom literally reaches to catch him, arm like snagging on his waist, before realizing “oh its a controlled fall” and letting him drop. Its only for like a quarter of a second but it matters to me okayy???

Freeze/Tag out- “i just get so mad when they make bald jokes about AJ- he doesn't deserve it!” 

Beetroots and Murder- “I’m his friend.” Spirit of Somerset and Justin and… wtv his name is- they’re just assholes- but really supportive to each other and good friends so like wtv

Vampire Slayer… thing: “master Ybbob.” and his little… helper dude :) cuties

Also- the amount of times they’ve proposed to each other is crazy- both, to each other, Tom literally gives up his actual wedding ring to AJ so many times its ridiculous and so so cute

The Lighthouse- in the actual play they kinda hate each other(if they were given more time, they perfectly lined it up to be an enemies to lovers imo) but at the end AJ and Tom unite in chaos gods mode and propose and do all that just because theyre icons and asses to Luke and Sam and its too cute

Green Leaves on a summers day:... if you’ve seen it… the way Tom immediately flinches to try and catch AJ and keep him stable when aj dips himself. Watch the vid if you want a better explanation…

Omg is this a joke: tom is willing to die for aj(his brother?) when they get captured for him to escape, iconic and so so cute

Tobys Secret Pocket: uh they don't actually get that much time together, but Wailing Robbie and Don have cute banter and AJ is always there backing Tom up

Beetroots and Murder: “im his friend:)” “this is my friend :D” cuties Spirit of Somerset and his friend- plus Justin and… wtv his name is(Big Dick?)- they’re just assholes- but really supportive to each other and good friends so like wtv

The Milkman: this play actually broke me, but AJ is so cute and sweet to his son who isn't his son, even after he knows he isn't his son when he gets back he still hugs him and is really cute and i need the sfth boys to please tell me he still gets visiting rights even if its not biologically his kid because its still his son😭 anyway…

The Excited Chinchilla: their father/daughter relationship is soooo cute, theyre cuties 

Oopsie Daisy Bugle: they have arguments, but theyre a fucking cute couple ong

The Fourth Wall break during flurry when Aj pretended like he couldn't do improv anymore or smth: its so cute, Tom has his arm around his shoulders, hes squeezing him, standing right next to him, Sam asks “do you want us to leave?” and Aj goes “yeah.” then tom is like “yeah?” you sure? And AJ goes, “no. don't leave.” and Tom returns to his side so quick its adorable

Barn Dance Opera: not an actual on stage moment but they hover off stage together for a bit while Luke and Sam are on stage and its really cute

Huge(i think): before going back on stage tom hugs aj from behind just because

(ok i kinda derailed from characters and went to real life but shhh theyre cute)

Its like, for some reason, they cant be toxic. They refuse to be assholes to each other, and while they are very willing to dish out insults and tease each other, when it comes down to it, Tom is one of the first of the boys to notice what AJ is attempting to do/explain, and usually always picks AJ’s side while on stage, whether because he enjoys chaos or just wants to annoy Sam/Luke, idk, but its absolutely adorable every time they’re together because they just fit, I mean they all do tbh like duh, but Tom i think is the only one who consistently, without fail, always picks Aj’s side, and vice versa. Idk its cute

Also also- side note, real life- when AJ felt really nervous before… HUGE i think? Tom laid his head on his shoulder and like- solidarity- when AJ excused himself from the scene because he wasn't feeling it he like glanced over and made sure he was good before immediately taking his place to not make it obvious- they’re such good friends im gonna cry-

[drdemonprince]

im really envious of u. I like reading your writing and the stories you tell about sex and stuff and it sounds like u have a lot of fun. I don’t no if I will ever be able to live like that. im autistic and very inhibited is probably the best word. I find it hard to meet new people and go new places. a few times I have gone to local munches but been too introverted to say anything to people and I just sit there feeling self conscious and silly. they have been really nice. but I haven’t made any friends or anything. I feel like I need someone to take me under their wing kinda and give me an in. It seems like I’d really enjoy it a lot but don’t no how to make my way in. I don’t feel confident enough to just use apps and hook up. especially as im so new to it all and dont no what im doing really. I’ve read what you say about going to the social gatherings and stuff but what if im too shy to say anything? I don’t no how to be more uninhibited but I feel like that’s what I need.

please keep in mind that I was not doing any of this shit until I was like 32 years old. up until then I was in only a handful of relationships, mostly ones I had stumbled into through no agency of my own, and I had never really lived out any of my kinky desires. hell I had barely even gone out to a club or a concert or anything on my own, certainly not very often, let alone a sex club or something like that. I had to practice socializing on my own terms, and trying new things alone and scared and finding what was valuable in them despite those feelings a lot. like many many years a lot.

I didn't really venture out into the gay bath house or any of the cruising bars until I had a partner who was interested in taking me to them. that provided me with an in and an emotionally safe anchor with which to explore. I am also indebted to friends who showed me around places like steamworks and explained to me the nonverbals of cruising, which I then went ahead and put in my own cruising guide.

to this day I still have a much better time at events like puppy play night when I go with some homies and can spend some time joking around with them and using their support to help meet people before eventually breaking off and wandering into a back room to get laid. I still routinely have nights where I will go out on my own and do very little but sip from my drink and stand around awkwardly for four hours, maybe dance a bit, and go home.

cruising is an exercise in patience. you are never guaranteed any particular outcome or experience. you work with what nature gives you, and you learn to find some appreciation in simply being there and bearing witness. 9 times out of 10 you get turned down or there just isn't a spark. happens on the apps too.

shooting your shot and getting turned down is a successful consent negotiation. everybody has done everything correctly and it ended the only way that it should have. there's nothing to do but dust yourself off, not take it as some dramatic declaration of your life worth, and go at it again.

I recommend visiting cruising spaces with a friend. and just going purely for voyeuristic and anthropological reasons the first couple times. The only way you become a person who can do this stuff is by doing it, a fuck ton of times. message a lot of people. Go to a lot of events.

at some point you have to find the very act of going to be motivating and enjoyable in some way. thankfully I am fascinated by humans, enjoy dancing, like having a little drink or an edible and wandering around, and treat it all as very valuable writing fodder. you have to find what set of motivations work for you. because it's not about instant success or gratification ever. It is always a lot of waiting and watching and wondering what the night is going to bring, and making peace that often it will bring nothing at all except for being alive amongst others.

keep at it though. start really small. I am so glad that I got to this point, because yeah my life is really interesting and sexually gratifying and fun. but it also is entire weekends of just standing around nursing a drink and doing nothing and looking like an NPC. happens to the best of us

[distracted-milkshake]

Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

or

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?” 

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it. 

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands. 

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself. 

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.” 

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth. 

“God I wish I could start over.” He says. 

“This conversation, or since you started staring?” 

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin. 

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.” 

“At the museum?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter. 

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.” 

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.” 

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway. 

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions. 

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something. 

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?” 

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.” 

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.” 

“Music's my thing.” You say. 

“Oh, do you play?” 

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside. 

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says. 

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket. 

“Brilliant.” 

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.” 

“See ya.” 

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step. 

You had double checked thy had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour. 

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huff as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up. 

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.” 

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back. 

He holds up a “Um, these are for you.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him and turning them over. 

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door. 

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in. 

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains. 

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk. 

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi. 

“Sure am. Talk to me.” 

So you do. 

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for. 

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?” 

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.” 

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching. 

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something. 

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you. 

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light. 

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–” 

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close. 

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled. 

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips. 

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.” 

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore. 

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat. 

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again. 

“It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.” 

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.” 

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.” 

“Something else, then?” 

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth. 

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his. 

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.” 

“I’d like to get a good one with you.” 

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered. 

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.” 

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart. 

“You haven’t seen it yet.” 

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asked before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth. 

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.” 

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say. 

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath. 

“That was lovely.” He says. 

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him. 

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.” 

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it. 

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up. 

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off. 

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own. 

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him. 

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you. 

Maybe just one night would be fine. 

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor. 

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.” 

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.” 

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting. 

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.” 

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.” 

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on. 

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him. 

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads. 

He sets aside both when he sees you, smile falling when he sees your face. 

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing. 

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?” 

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms. 

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you. 

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?” 

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.” 

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear. 

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail. 

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.” 

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!” 

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you. 

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.” 

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment. 

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.” 

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors. 

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky. 

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?” 

“Most nights. I’ve been trying not to sleep because of it.” 

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?” 

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees. 

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad? 

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.” 

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his 

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.” 

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug. 

“Thank God.” You murmur. 

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating. 

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with. 

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out. 

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all. 

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you. 

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it. 

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks. 

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup. 

“So how are you doing?” You ask. 

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.” 

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.” 

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.” 

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave.” I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.” 

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed. 

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look. 

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.” 

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.” 

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle. 

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.” 

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?” 

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.” 

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.” 

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face. 

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!” 

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth. 

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!” 

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?” 

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.” 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.” 

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…” 

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think. 

“I want to date her too.” 

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.” 

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not seeing her unless she asks.” 

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.” 

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.” 

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.” 

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.” 

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops. 

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You're jealous I have a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.” 

“I’d stop talking now.” 

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.” 

Marc glares at him, jaw working. 

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.” 

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.” 

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.” 

“Fine.” 

“Perfect. Done deal.” 

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?” 

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over. 

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not. 

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how. 

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to. 

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.” 

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do. 

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says. 

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.” 

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.” 

You stop, and he does too. 

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.” 

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?” 

“Would you like to?” 

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you. 

“Too much?” He asks. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment. 

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.” 

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed. 

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea. 

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively. 

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin. 

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head. 

“Marc was different than I thought.” 

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?” 

“I love you. Both of you.” 

“Really? It’s not too weird?” 

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.” 

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

[vonbabbitt]

My Final Statement on Discord Drama (Why I'm Not a Mean & Evil For Turning Away Discord Asks)

hello jason. we are going to discuss this one final time and then never again.

from now on, i will be giving zero attention whatsoever to discord drama asks. i will not be posting about them or replying to them in any way. since people are sending me asks now acknowledging that they arent supposed to be sending me discord drama asks but are doing it anyway, i want to make a statement on this explaining myself so people dont just think im being mean and avoiding responsibility for moderating my discord server. please hear me out on my reasoning.

this is my personal blog! this is the first thing i always say when this comes up so lets keep it that way! this is my personal blog, regardless of how much tetro content i engage with here. when im on my personal blog enjoying personal time, i dont want to be dealing with work. you can call that me avoiding responsibility, but i dont think its unreasonable to want time to myself outside of work where i dont have to deal with the tetro discord server. this is exactly why we have a ticket system!

we have a ticket system! the server has a ticket system. this is THE ONLY PLACE to report discord server drama, because this is the only place the whole moderation team can access your complaint! there is no reason that i specifically have to be the one to review your complaint and not a different moderator. we have a moderation team for a reason. you do not know me, i do not know you, and there is no reason you need to bring your complaint to me PERSONALLY. if you think there is, and theres a specific reason it needs to be ME who answers your complaint, there is a solution: ask for me specifically when you open your ticket!

if you go outside of the ticket system, we cannot discuss anything with you. im not having a conversation about moderation on my public blog where everyone can see it, especially if youre naming specific people in your complaint. its unprofessional and invasive. if you go through the ticket system, we can talk! i can let you know what came of your complaint and what we're doing as a team to help. the ask i got this morning was complaining about an issue that has already been discussed with the parties involved, which they would know if they had gone through the ticket system instead of my ask box.

i encourage you to try just communicating with each other. ive received so many complaints in my ask box from people who i know for a fact have made no attempt to discuss their issue with the parties involved. i know im a kindergarten teacher, but we are not toddlers! in fact, even in my kindergarten class, when my kids come up to me and tell me another kid is doing something they dont like, i tell them to tell the other kid they dont like it! and this is the same advice i will give to you! talk your issue out with the parties involved! "but von babbitt, im afraid of confrontation." im sorry to hear that, but im not such a fan of confrontation myself! this is why ive got a moderation team and a ticket system! and when i have to do my job, i do it anyway. with all due bluntness: i think its inconsiderate and irresponsible to come running to my personal ask box and demand i fight your battles for you without making any attempt to do anything on your own, including any attempt to use the server ticket system, which we have set up for the exact purpose of solving your problems for you.

im allowed to just say no! the main issue is the fact that ive already asked people to stop and theyre still doing it anyway. i said no, and that means stop. its a very very very very simple ask. stop sending me discord drama asks. ive asked you to stop. if you know it makes me upset, and you choose to do it anyway while acknowledging it makes me upset, why would i want to help you??? why would i feel inclined to break server rules and go out of my way for you??? youre being purposefully rude and inconsiderate towards me.

i hope this helps to clarify my stance a bit. im sorry if this comes off as harsh but im really really sick of this and id really like it to stop. ive put every measure in place to allow people to easily report things without coming to my personal blog. thank you for giving me the time of day and i hope this is at least something people will keep in mind

[kishiar-la-orr]

not incredibly well-thought because i'm just typing down thoughts briefly but

to me, the first timeline is the slightly less fairy tale-like version. the second timeline can be called a fix-it, an everything-goes-right, a best case scenario, which needed a grand plot device in the form of yuder regressing in order to happen at all. there must be tons and tons of different versions of first timeline where some things go right, some things also go wrong, in different ways whether miniscule or catastrophic. its not the worst though. things could go even worse, im sure.

there's a lot of takes surrounding first timeline kishiar with differing points. (also, as you know, im a glazer). and after running through a lot of them, it just makes me think that personally, a novel so nuanced and with a lot of complex interpersonal and intrapersonal happenings like turning needs to be approached with good faith and compassion. in my experience, doing that helps maximize my enjoyment of it.

second timeline kishiar is a 'green flag ML', yes, but he can only run because first timeline kishiar walked. what is turning if not about love and humanity? and the thing about loving while being human is, love doesnt stay pure all the time. sometimes its twisted, sometimes its murky. sometimes even when the love is pure, the communication gets lost in the middle. love happens even when people have a lot of difficult situations in their lives or even when they think they're not in a good place to be loving other people. first timeline yuder was also still green and less mature than second timeline yuder, a lot less equipped in many ways. second timeline yuder himself also needed to mature a lot before he could properly begin a relationship with second timeline kishiar that's grounded in trust and the expression of genuine care.

so many factors are being taken into consideration when writing turning, i think. thats why it becomes such a beautiful piece of work that can touch the hearts of many people, with characters and storylines that resonate with a lot of the fans. i find that it's turning's biggest charm. first timeline kishiar isn't a perfect victim nor a perfect 'toxic ex-boyfriend'. he tried his best and his best still had repercussions that are less than ideal for the people he loved whom he left behind. of course, there's also the fact that the story is mostly written through the main character yuder's perspective. i think i enjoy turning the most when i can see it through this type of lens, trying to keep in mind where the characters are coming from and empathize with them and taking the novel (as all fictions are) as a lesson in humanity.

[flannelstains]

𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 : 𝚒.

⊰ okay, so wow. now i’m using my tumblr page as my journal. i want you to imagine me as a middle schooler holding a pencil in my grimy little hands, rambling about my day as if i’m in a disney show, scribbling in a shopkins diary with a lock on it and one of those little metal keys.

i don’t want to vent, but in a way i want to be able to express my feelings along my shifting journey. the good and the bad. not the constant motivational posts that make you sick they’re so corny and sweet.

recently, i’ve began to actually post on here, gaining more confidence in my abilities, handing out advice as if i’m dealing cards to people in a game of stupid crazy eights, on old cards i’ve had since i was five, and lots of them have bite marks and crayon scribbles on them.

and in all honesty, i’m doing that to myself feel better— to make myself feel worthy.

in all of my shifting journey, i have never once had the thought of; ‘i can’t do this’. i always knew that at some point in my little life that i would be experiencing what i wrote down in my scripts that i attempt to make aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

but recently, i’ve been seeing people say how easy shifting it, and how they just roll over and fall asleep and have already switched their consciousness to their ideal reality— kudos to them.

even me, myself, and i, have shifted for a few minutes all together, twice, using the most dumbest ‘method’— if you’d call it that— to experience my desired reality in the 3d.

and even since getting on tumblr about a year ago, i have seen eye opening things, understanding shifting to extent that i didn’t even think was possible. i have made the most progress i’ve ever made in my entire almost six years of shifting.

shit, i shifted about a week ago. but the thing is, im only experiencing my reality for mere minutes, and it frustrates me to no end. i feel almost as if i physically can’t commit to shifting.

i’ve been so unbelievably positive for the past three months, but i’m getting burnt out. i use to see everything as a sign, and re affirm that i’m constantly shifting, and no attempt is a failed one— but it’s hard. so unbelievably hard for me.

for a long period of time i was so sure that every time i woke up i would be where i wanted to be. and even when i woke up here, i would see that as a sign i was closer— but this starry eyed persona didn’t last long.

every night i would scroll tumblr, and just know i was going to shift, but now? now i see me going to lay down, affirming and almost crying during the process, waking up here, and having to go day to day and try to keep a weak smile on my face ( cue hallways scene in the substance ).

but i feel exhausted. i don’t want to take a break, i’ve done that before, and it only makes it harder for me to push myself back into shifting again because i feel as if it’s a one sided relationship with no reciprocation— unrequited love.

and i know that mindset isn’t good, and i need to let go, but i almost fear not being able to shift. i know i need to fake it before i make it and just gaslight— blah blah blah. it’s frustrating.

i just want to be there, and i try to use my desperation to my advantage, but i just don’t feel good enough in a way, as if there isn’t anything else i can physically do to get myself to switch myself over to my ideal reality.

i feel like i’m scavenging for water in a desert— dehydrated, stranded on a boat on the ocean. and there are solutions, making filters, cracking open cacti or whatever, but i just feel like i’m making shifting a chore. a toxic relationship that all your friends beg you to leave.

okay, that’s all for now. thanks for listening to my rant, my little crisis after i’ve just posted a few motivational and advice posts lmao.

[venus0fl0v3]

Thank you for tagging me @caramelc0rgi !

What's the origin of your blog title?

I wanted a name ive never used online before so i picked the name of an oc i had when i was a kid and added of love because venus is the planet of love

Otp's + shipname

Since August last year, Cherik ❤️❤️ and before that hmm, the fandoms i was in were kinda dying down but i guess johnshi from mortal kombat or cageblade

Favourite colour?

Purple 💜

Favourite Game?

Probably Animal crossing i dont rlly play any other games, Minecraft is also fun. Story wise i think sally face, Or Mk1 the new one (ive never played it but i watched the story mode 🫣)

Song stuck in your head

They not like us by Kendrick lamar

Weirdest habit/trait

I talk to myself a lot but i feel like thats normal.... i hope.. i also break out into a British accent a lot too idk why..

Hobbies

Drawing, reading, walking (with headphones on and music going) just other crafts in general like scrapbooking and painting

If you work, what is your profession?

I graduated highschool recently so right now i just work in retail 💪

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be, realistically?

I have two sides, one wants to be an actor because i think i would be good at it and it sounds fun. The other wants to be a world known activist that influences heaps of people in the right direction because someone needs to do it 😭 🙏

Something your good at

Drawing

Something your bad at

Math, it stresses me outtt

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff

X-men, specifically the characters Charles xavier and Erik Lehnsherr

Something you forget

birthdays, im terrible at it

Whats your love language?

Buying gifts, or just paying for things in general. Dont have enough for a drink, here let me.

Favourite show/movie

My favourite movies are probably the xmen movies, the greatest showman, the alien movies!!

Favourite tv shows are You (netflix) Friends, the big bang theory and Lucifer.

Favourite food

Pasta

Favourite animal

Dogs? I guess, cause i have one shes the best, but an animal that isnt a pet i would say crocodile their fucking cool.

What were you like as a child?

Surprisingly confident, i wanna say loud too...

Favourite subjects at school

Art but just the class time drawing and talking to my friends. I didnt like what they taught us. And English, that was an interesting subject.

Least favourite subject at school

Math, i probably would have liked it more if my teachers werent so rude or words i cant say on tumblr

Best character trait

Hmm i would like to think that i am very self efficient, like, im always trying to be a better version of myself.

Worst character trait

I keep a lot of my complaints quiet, if someone did something that upset me i will not tell them. Although im trying to get better at that i feel like im progressing

If you could change anything in your life right now, what would it be?

I would like to change where im at financially, which is very possible i would just like it to happen a bit easier lol

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet

Charlotte Brontë (Author of Jane Eyre) but only because im currently reading Jane Eyre and i had this thought literally yesterday of damn i wish i knew what she was thinking when she wrote this. Because Jane is such a relatable character

Tagging!!

@wishchip106 @vanodka

Get to know your mutuals: tag game

thank you for @mapofyourstars and @ashestxr for tagging me 😊😊

What's the origin of your blog title?

when i was a teenager being a closeted pre-transition trans guy i felt really invisible and like i didnt fit in anywhere, a "ghost". and 512 is the name of a song i listened to a lot at the time. nowadays i find the url a bit cringy but im too lazy to change it lol

OTP(s) + Shipname:

honestly at the moment i only care about cherik haha but i appreciate raven x emma and logan x ororo as well :)

Favourite colour:

black for clothes, pink for literally anything else i own

Favourite game:

i have 1500 hours of stardew valley on steam lol. its an absolute obsession. it comes in waves tho, like twice a year ill get hooked on it again and create a new farm to achieve perfection on. other than that, i really loved playing undertale and graveyard keeper.

Song stuck in your head:

this is kind of embarrassing but atm im a bit obsessed with daisy by ashnikko (the ft. hatsune miku version).... I LIKE BETTER MUSIC TOO I SWEAR

Weirdest habit/trait?

pacing around my apartment thinking abt my current obsessions... i used to be so embarrassed but ive come to find out lots of people do this too so thats fine i guess

Hobbies:

reading and playing games, mostly. ive been trying to write more lately too

If you work, what's your profession?

ESL teacher. its not the coolest thing in the world but i really enjoy it

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically?

literature professor in uni/published author

Something you're good at:

(literally the same thing ashe, who tagged me, said) i believe im a pretty good writer despite being slow and not doing it that often lol

also i know im a very good teacher (i know its my job so duh but youd be surprised with some of my coworkers...)

Something you're bad at:

keeping secrets, especially my own 😭😭😭

Something you love:

cats, wine and contemporary brazilian literature

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

why i love charles xavier so much and queer/feminist theory.

Something you hate:

uhhhhhh idk my ex i guess (happy valentines day!)

Something you collect:

hello kitty merch 😌😌😌

Something you forget:

dates and appointments, its so fucking bad i put everything on a calender above my desk and i still manage to forget them sometimes

What's your love language?

im very touchy and affectionate but i also love acts of service, like surprising people with small gifts (i believe thats part of acts of service?)

Favourite movie/show:

my favorite movies are xmen fc, dofp and xmen II (obviously) but also amelie poulain and fried green tomatoes

my favorite series are breaking bad and the office, ive watched them both multiple times

Favourite food:

chicken!!!! fried chicken, roasted chicken, chicken with pasta, chicken with rice and beans, chicken with mashed potatoes, give me!!!!!!

Favourite animal:

i was OBSESSED with cheetahs as a child, still love them but in general rn id say cats. also love monkeys

What were you like as a child?

a very idealistic dreamer with a bit of a savior complex (hello charles xavier). not the sharpest social skills.

Favourite subject at school?

in high school it was english just because it was so fucking easy bc i was fluent lol

in uni any of my literature classes

Least favourite subject:

hated physics in hs i was so fucking bad at it. and in uni i'd had ENOUGH of pedagogy classes they were soooo boring and repetitive

What's your best character trait?

im very honest and if i love you i will do anything for you

What's your worst character trait?

probably snapping at ppl sometimes. i know its terrible but i really try not to and i always apologize. up until last year also i always let ppl treat me like shit and didnt set boundaries. im unlearning that now.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

have enough money to only focus on my studies and not have to work lol

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

maybe kim jonghyun. he was my favorite singer when i was younger and he passed away in 2017 :( he was such a great person :(

im not sure who has already been tagged in this but ill tag @caramelc0rgi , @foxherder , @disasterhals , @eriknocherikyes , @stinkrat-aleks , @mooniel, @eriksdefender and any other moots who'd like to do this!

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[theunconcernedembalmer]

A quick something I did for an rp

[mercymermaid]

guess who finally watched the supercut.....

(spoilers, obviously 💀)

so, the fic will be a lot easier to start; the redemption era starts while glitch is pinned down under baby's amazing car, and liz has a rare moment of "im not giving into your stupid stereotypes, you literal walking piece of code." she can have her badass "human violence" line, because god she ATE so hard, but... she won't kill him. killing him would just prove him right, and if elizabeth afton is anything, it's stubborn. she survived two attacks by this oversized rabbit, and she'd live to rub it in his damn face. i feel like at first she'd probably keep him alive out of spite, that spur-of-the-moment anger and pettiness, but she lets him stay under the car for funsies. he's a robot whose soul is stored in a hard drive, he can survive being a tad crushed. womp womp.

but then comes the problem; baby. if this is a glitchtrap redemption fic, then adding in baby would split the focus, and then it'd be redeeming two animatronics with varying human traumas... i changed my mind, there's enough room in this town for both of them, dual redemption duo!! they can bond over their hatred for humans, this is justice for blood and tears since it didn't make it into the movie supercut.

i guess they have a "deep" talk and deescalate the situation, and since liz didn't kill glitch, baby doesn't try killing liz, so liz doesn't kill baby. call it an everyone lives au!

then they make their escape, and the whole place goes boom. maybe they escape in the nick of time after some tight circumstances that are the catalyst for character development, maybe they watch it blow up from outside as a symbol of new beginnings, who knows, tldr they survive.

where do they go now? fredbear's is literally gone, baby would die before going back to the entertainment center... the only choice is liz's apartment, temporarily. they call up nate, asking for a raisin pizza, because they can't fit baby, glitchtrap, AND the four animatronics in the car without breaking the entire thing. nate arrives, is obviously flabbergasted at the fact that his work office is crumbling down. maybe the main gang can crash with him, if liz needs the extra space.

from there it'd be fun character development (jazz hands), breaking down baby and glitch's walls, convincing them that humanity is not the problem (liz explains the concept of capitalism), yadda yadda, fun adventures as they bond and become friends. maybe as a treat, i can bring vanny back so she actually becomes important... triple redemption.

but.... the problem comes with the fact that henry survived. he restarts the fredbear chain under a new name, nate gets rehired, blah blah. that's where the issue comes in, because unless nate keeps it quiet from the rest, glitchtrap and liz would probably debunk the entire thing immediately, given they both had experiences with "afton". maybe that'd be even more fun, the events of the original musical plus three characters, two of which know like all of the tea already. who knows.

im gonna name this sick au!! triple redemption au? flesh and bone brigade au (i love glitch's insults to humans)? i'll stick with the triple redemption au

i need to actually write this oh god

re!glitchtrap angst because he's my favorite despite being such an asshole

spoilers for virus

what the hell did william do to him to turn him into a psycopath?? he's an ai, the whole "kidnap children" didn't come from nowhere, there's some input that generated that response

then william locked glitchtrap away for god knows how long until liz found him

and the entirety of virus (the song) is him going "humanity is shit, so logically y'all must go"

like if they showed him kindness than the fear and anger he's come to expect, he might be more cooperative

like bonnie claiming liz was pregnant did make him pause, he has the morals to hear someone out

he like literally questions if humans are actually good because he's convinced they aren't but if he just got a chance to see the world for its pros rather than being blinded by his own anger

like the entire promise verse

william betrayed him, or someone did

especially the whole "talk your wording back, that's what humans do"

william claimed superiority over glitch despite their bonding

[akabloom]

interrupting loquat week w shinobu 😇

[plan-3-tmars]

thinking about how in kazui's first birthday timeline he tells haruka that he enjoys his birthday because it gives him a good excuse to start a conversation with friends he hasn't seen in a while,,

"Hey, it feels like it's been a while, doesn't it? /

Oh, by the way, it's my birthday today. / Want to have a smoke together?

- 2023 Bday Timeline with Shidou

"Well, come over if you feel like it. Staying alone all the time will make you feel down. I can keep you company if you need to relieve some stress."

- 2024 Bday Timeline with Mikoto

[lokh]

every day im reminded that though my parents may have wanted a dog they clearly did not want to take care of a dog

[thegreatyin]

How did you manage to handle not one, but FOUR separate accounts in fl? I recently made the account for my HD little guy but having to do the tutorial again just seems miserable

there's... weirdly several answers to that question, actually??

a HUGE part of it is due to the way FL is structured. the 10-minute action timer is a core part of the game on a fundamental level, and the fact that i can very easily run out of stuff to do on one character and thus have an excuse to quickly and easily swap to another is just... convenient? satisfying? i'm not entirely sure how to explain it. the fact that i can make progress even while i am fundamentally simultaneously Not Making Progress is like pure dopamine for my freak insane awful little brain. there's just something really pleasing about spending all of my actions pursuing The Goal Of The Day™ on one account before casually swapping to another and doing the same without feeling like i'm wasting time or acting to the first account's explicit detriment. the downtime helps! the recharge time helps! the structure really really works!!

i'm technically only actively playing three, maybe two accounts minimum. the only reason the fourth (the one that'll be my future BaL playthrough) currently exists at all is so i can get his earlygame completely out of the way now and not have to waste time running through it all later, when what i actually want to do is play the ambition i've made myself wait a full year to play. and also getting free goodies as seasonal stuff happens,, something something surprise tools to help us later. the only two accounts i'd say i'm really "actively playing" at the moment are caeru and lark- and of the two, lark takes the most priority, since his ambition is the one i'm currently pursuing in earnest. for a couple months now- despite being My Main FL Character- the scoundrel has actually been pretty inactive on a gameplay front outside of the occasional progression in TLC and discordance content. purely by virtue of having Very little left to do outside of Very long-term grinds and vanities. they're in their "now what?" "now you can start playing the game" era. they've graduated to previous protagonist background cameo in a sequel anime series. they're like the yin FLPC equivalent of red at the top of mount silver. they're Literally just vibing rn. i only keep posting about them regardless because i'm insane and i will never ever ever ever ever let that bat go. but yeah, big TLDR, outside of doing the bare minimum to keep making waves/notability up every week, i'm not actually spending that much time on accounts i'm not currently actively interested in playing. and that accounts for way more gaming spoons than you might think.

i have a virtually lifelong history of playing MMOs, especially and specifically world of warcraft. i was born in the endless grind for useless video game pixel vanities and/or bragging rights. molded by it. you all have merely adapted to doing the same piece of content a pointlessly excessive amount of times for literally no reason besides whimsy and folly. me? i've done my time. i've served my sentence. i've spent weeks doing the original burning crusade netherwing dailies. i've devoted days to running praetorium over and over and over again, back-to-back, nonstop, long before square enix cut it in half and made it NOT take at minimum an hour and a half per run. i've perfected my silverwastes + auric basin goldfarming strategies. i've (almost) crafted dragonwrath tarecgosa's rest. i've killed the sha of anger so many times its dying scream of agony is embedded into the very fabric of my being. ""only"" doing making your name content four times over? that is nothing to me. it means nothing to me. it is so infinitesimal i can do the persuasive seduction quests in my sleep. it's not a matter of handling misery, or having the capacity, or even sighing as i remember the brass embassy raid segment of the watchful questline seriously i don't know why i keep forgetting that exists or what even is my problem with it i just am so consistently mildly inconvenienced by it and its highly specific resource requirements and it is the worst thing ever. maybe i'm just so used to the scoundrel's near-infinite money and troves of disposable items that i've completely forgotten what being poor is like. despite having done that step 3 fucking times now. ahem. anyway. i have transcended the feeble mortal bindings of my resistant-to-grinding flesh and ascended to a higher plane of enlightenment, they may call me insane but they will be the ones left laughing when they see what that "insanity" has wrought, i've usurped them, i've usurped them all-

hacks and coughs and awkwardly clears my throat. i mean. uh. um. Ahem.

the empress' court artistry + tales of the university nerfs helped too.

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Saw all these beautiful women with long hair today and thought to myself "why do I want to do that" so now I'm debating if I want to chop all my hair off again