#people caring this much about this so goddamn absurd

[ut-reblogs]

Tbh, I think you’re the most reasonable here, Sandra.

The plating color is a pretty reasonable argument to me. I mean, if I actually cared about signaling How Good I Am about Diversity then that’s how I’d do it. and it’s entirely fair to toss that holoform in RBs out the window because canon is ultimately just a set of instructions to a LEGO set - you can use the pieces that way, but you don’t actually have to, if you don’t want to. And tbh, it is wild af to me to be beefing over how other ppl decide to draw fictional robots if the robots were humans, when it doesn’t affect you in the slightest.

What’s really putting me off the others in this discussion is the “deserves to have their art supplies taken away [bc they don’t draw the bots like I envision them]” and that really rubs me the wrong way because it feels very reminiscent of antishipping in the “I’m doing it right and you’re doing it wrong, because [reason here], and if you don’t do it my way then you shouldn’t be allowed to play with the barbies and should be labeled as a bad person because you don’t play with them like I do” mentality.

And it’s not because the diversity puts me off, I have no problem with people HCing them as different skin tones/races than white.

I just don’t think that saying ‘if you don’t draw them in The Way I Think They Should Be Drawn then you shouldn’t be allowed to draw them’ is an alright thing to be saying, at least not to build community.

Other people are allowed to hc them as white if they want, and if you don’t like it, then just keep scrolling, leave them alone, no grudges held over it. It’s not personal, they just don’t hc them the same way you do. If you don’t want to see their content because it bothers you that much? Just block them. You’re not waving a white flag of surrender, you’re just curating your space and experience.

But that’s just my two cents on the matter, and I’m only saying all this because the ‘ppl who draw [character(s)] [this way] deserve to have their art supplies taken away’ line really bugged me for a little while. and I’m gonna go fuck off now. No, I will not be coming back, because I have better things to do with my time than argue over fictional robots skin tones if they were human when I honest to god don’t have the energy to care that much, like for example eating a sandwich, walking my dog, and touching grass.

Bye bye

I've made a post like this some time ago on twitter but decided to take it here

We listen and we don't judge: transformers rescue bots edition

Mine is that graham burns is super hot and sexy and that he should marry me 😁😁

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

[onekeii]

We can eat the snow

Day 3: Kissing in the snow | Accelerated heartbeat Genshin Impact: Xiao x GN!Reader Warnings/Genre: light angst, fluff, reader has self-esteem issues, not proof read Word count: 942 AN: i haven't played genshin in like 2 years but i love xiao

Read on AO3

Your mysterious Yaksha companion never gave you a break. Danger was always around the corner with him, and you started to think your body couldn’t produce adrenaline anymore. Or maybe you were just high on it all the time. Today was no different.

“Xiao!” You call out after running down the inn’s many stairs. He’s not standing too far, back facing you as he stares at the fresh snow thinly veiling the ground. “What is it this time?” You say exasperatedly. It’s not that you don’t care, but running after him like this all the time, finding him contemplative after defeating the threat before you could even lift your own sword, was exhausting. Why do you stick around? Why does he bother to keep you around?

He doesn’t respond. It’s unlike him. Xiao’s usually too on edge to let anything slip past him, or maybe he was ignoring you unintentionally. You curse under your breath as you take careful steps towards him, your foot slips on a particularly wet and icy patch but you dig your sword into the ground, you find your balance again. Always a fight to get closer to him, huh? You laugh to yourself.

Finally, you reach him in one piece, and ask again, more nonchalantly this time, “Whatcha doing?” Yeah, you’re totally chill right now, you think. Except you’re only chill in the sense that it’s cold, and you forgot to put on an extra layer when you ran out to find Xiao. You grimace - at the cold and at your stupidity.

When he turns around, his eyes aren’t dark and brooding like always. They’re wide and shining and a brighter gold than you’ve ever seen before. He’s holding a clump of snow in his gloved hand, close to his face, his cheeks puffed out as innocently as a squirrel. Xiao swallows - what, you don’t know - and finally responds, “Eating.”

Your eyes search over him once more; he’s holding nothing but the snow. When you peer over his shoulder, you can see where he’s dug it straight out of the ground. Your vision tilts, “The snow?!” you exclaim.

“...Yeah?” He takes another bite. Xiao has mused about eating snow before, but you could never take the childish fantasies of an immortal so seriously. Forgetting how slippery the ground was beneath you, your quick step forward (in a valiant and sick attempt to knock the snow out of Xiao’s hand) did not land. Instead, your heel just kept slipping forward, then it was arcing in the air, and your limbs were too numb with cold to move quick enough. You slipped. In your shock, grief, stress, you slipped . You shut your eyes and braced for impact.

Woosh , a warm arm wrapped around the back of your waist, pulling you away from your terrible fate written in the ice. Of course Xiao is the one who caught you. Opening your eyes, a breath hitches in your throat at how close his face is to yours, you can feel his breath against your chin, and it’s… It’s cold from the goddamn snow. 

“You’re so strange,” you scoff. You’re very much safe from falling now, but Xiao doesn’t let you go or help you to your feet. He just stares at you longer, his gold eyes wide and unfazed still. When you start nervously looking beyond him, he finally says, “Your heart is beating so fast. Are you that cold?”

Indeed, it’s pulsing violently in your chest right now, desperately pumping blood to your freezing skin. It’s thumping so loud you can feel it behind your eyes and in your stomach, setting your blood on fire, urging you to do something stupid. Doesn’t he realise how his grip around your waist burns? That you might want to feel even more of him against your icy skin?

He’s still holding onto the dwindling pile of snow in his free hand, swallowing yet another mouthful. This side of him was absurd, ‘normal’ was not the right word - normal people did not eat snow - but it was so… mundane? Wide eyes and puffed cheeks and a disturbing curiosity suited him surprisingly well. It was cute. How could Xiao be cute?

Fuck it, you think, I can always leave tomorrow. You hook one arm around the back of his neck and close the gap, catching his lips in yours.

But he pulls away instantly. Ouch, he could have at least been shocked for a moment. You breathe a sigh, thinking up your dramatic escape. At least that weight was off your chest now. Xiao doesn’t let go of you, though, and you’re reduced to staring at him awkwardly once again. His brows are creased but he’s not angry with you, maybe confused? You’d rather he was angry, then it would be easier to walk away.

Then your back falls into the snowy ground, clothes already soaked through, “Thanks,” you snark and try to sit up, but Xiao’s eyes are in front of yours once more. His cold, gloved hand (it’s no longer holding the snow!) pushes you down by the shoulder, traces down the side of your arm and intertwines with your own hand. Xiao’s knees are planted either side of your leg and he’s hovering over you completely, blocking any light or sky from your view. There’s only him. 

And there’s only his lips on yours. Again. For longer, much longer, this time. He moves slowly, with uncertainty, unlike his usual grace in battle. You cup his cheek and welcome this surprise, just like he welcomes your tongue when you ask. Xiao’s mouth is still frozen from the cold, but you’ll soon change that. 

@12daysofchristmas

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[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l six

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel opens up to you about a very traumatic loss; he makes a confession about his feelings towards you; you make a confession of your own and it leads to something more.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. fluff, infidelity, Joel and reader are having a full blown affair at this point, angst, talks of child loss (Sarah), lots of feelings come to the surface, two idiots realize they are in love. SMUT. oral sex (m receiving), size mention bc i will always be convinced our man is packing) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up pls), reader discovers she likes praise, creampie.

word count: 8.4k

August 2024

The next two and a half weeks that had passed by had done so without major incident, but things had taken a somewhat complicated turn.

You and Joel still manage to see one another a handful of times even with the exhausting amount of hours he’s been putting into his patrol duties, though it isn’t nearly as often as either of you wanted or would have preferred. But there was no other choice.

After numerous sightings of a group of potential raiders earlier on in the month, Tommy had no choice but to assign every last competent, able bodied patrol person, including himself, to work double shifts to ensure the safety and security of Jackson. He and Joel had come across the remnants of a campsite just about fifteen miles south of the settlement and they worried the group was hiding out, planning a violent, ambush attack on the community when it was least expected. Tommy had done his absolute best to keep the word from spreading throughout the commune to avoid causing a panic, but he found himself having to fess up when people went up to him and all but furiously demanded to know the truth—the real reason behind why their loved ones were now being asked to be on the other side of wall twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

Joel, who you’d come to learn is one of the sharpest and strongest shooters out of everybody in Jackson besides his younger brother, reluctantly took on the role of lead patrolman. He had been assigned an absurd amount of double shifts to work, including the overnight routes, making it almost impossible for you to see each other. You’d understood he had no choice but to comply, but still—that didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Both of you tried to make the very best of what little time you managed to get together, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. As if not being able to see Joel wasn’t agonizing enough for you, the fact that he was out on the other side of the wall scared the hell out of you. The only way to keep yourself from losing your goddamn mind was to distract yourself.

You did everything that you could to keep your mind off Joel being out there. Burying yourself deeply into your work helped for the most part.

Besides that, Joel had asked you, as a favor to him, to keep a watchful eye on Ellie in light of his absence. You’d spend most of the day with her in the stables, you would have lunch with her in the mess hall along with Dina, and in the evening, you would go home and make dinner early enough to fix an extra plate of food for her so she had a nutritious homemade meal to enjoy instead of two decades old canned ravioli. You would take it over to her place and drop it off before Luke came home from the clinic. Ellie waited until it was late in the evening and he was asleep to return the plate back to you, and the two of you would take a lengthy, late night stroll through the town, keeping each other company for a while before heading off to bed. She hadn’t seemed to be all too concerned about Joel, but then again, Ellie had known better than you did that he could take care of himself out there just fine. If anything, you spending so much time with her had been more for your benefit than hers, and you started to suspect that just like Joel had asked you to keep an eye on Ellie, he had also asked her to keep an eye on you too. After all, you had made it abundantly clear to him that you were nervous about him being out on patrol while there was a possible threat looming in the shadows.

By the time the middle of August came around, no additional traces of the group had been found—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, causing a wave of relief to sweep through the town. Tommy and Maria finally decided to ease up and end the double shift assignments, allowing every single patrolman and woman to return to their normally scheduled work rotations. Joel went back to his usual early morning and afternoon patrol hours, which meant that the both of you could resume your clandestine meetings out behind the barn underneath the stars.

“I missed you,” you say, sighing out contentedly as you lean back against him.

You and Joel are sitting out on the large, vacant patch of field behind the barn, his soft, green flannel blanket acting as a barrier between your bodies and the itchiness of the grass the animals would graze on during the day. You’re nestled in between his long legs, your back against his warm chest as the two of you share the delicious, ripe peach he’d brought along with him as a surprise for you.

“Mm, probably not as much as I was missin’ you, sweet girl,” Joel replies with a hum before taking a bite of the fruit. Noticing there’s only a couple bites of it left, he reaches his arm around and holds it out for you, his bulging bicep straining against the sleeve of his faded black t-shirt. “Here, darlin’. Want you to go on and have the rest.”

“These will be out of season in a couple of months.” Giving a sad little pout to nobody in particular, you sigh again and sink your teeth into the peach. Through a small mouthful, you realize, “Who knows when we’ll ever get peaches around here again.”

Joel’s lips meet the spot on your neck right behind your ear and you feel him grin. “S’alright with me. I’ve got my sweet, perfect little peach right here. And I’ve got her all year round.”

You playfully elbow him in his chest. After polishing off the rest of the peach, you lick off the pit and toss it out into the distance.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to litter,” he teases.

“It’s biodegradable,” you retort with a tiny laugh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and gaze up, admiring the stars that sprinkle the velvet night skies. “Or at least, I think it is. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention in life science when I was in FEDRA school. It was my least favorite subject.”

You gather your hair in your hand, bringing it over your shoulder to keep it out of Joel’s face. 

“Mm,” he whispers, licking his lips as his eyes fall to the delicate flesh of your exposed neck. He ghosts his mouth over your pulse point and his warm breath fans against your cool skin, prompting your eyes to flutter closed. “Just temptin’ me on purpose now, ain’t you, baby?”

“I would never do such a thing,” you object in an innocent tone, and he immediately clocks the smirk behind it. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you and while you’d normally welcome the peaceful, tranquil moment with him, tonight it feels impossible. You had gone so long without Joel over the last couple of weeks—at least, it had certainly felt long—and you realize one of things you’d missed most about him was the sound of his voice. “Ask me a question, Joel.”

“What kinda question can I ask, darlin’?”

Feeling brave, you offer, “You can ask me anything you want. No limits.”

Humming curiously to himself, he tries to think of something he hasn’t asked you before. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really, Joel?” You snort, trying to mask your laughter as he rests his chin on your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as he presses his cheek against yours. “I just told you that you can ask me anything you want and that’s your question? What’s my favorite color?”

“Yeah,” he answers, simply. “I wanna know what it is.”

He turns his head, lifting it off your shoulder to brush a gentle kiss to your temple. Joel could not, for the life of him, even remember the last time he’d shared this kind of physical tenderness with anybody. Forehead kisses, holding your hand, all sorts of little tokens of affection he didn’t think he could still be capable of giving to someone came to him so naturally with you. You had brought out an entirely different side of him, one that had been buried beneath his rough exterior for well over two decades, and the part that Joel still can’t quite wrap his own head around is that you’d done it with such ease. He’d go as far as to say that you had done it without even trying.

“So?” Joel prompts you. “What is it?”

“It’s brown,” you answer. 

“Brown? Why brown?”

“Because. It’s earthy, it’s warm—and your eyes are brown,” you state, grinning to yourself as you feel his loud laugh rumble through his chest and against your back. “What about you? I mean that’s if Joel Miller even has a favorite color,” you giggle teasingly, placing a hand on one of his denim clad legs. You then add, “Actually, I’m kind of curious now. Do you have a favorite color, Joel?”

Joel hesitates, momentarily holding onto his answer.

“I do. It’s purple,” he finally responds after a brief bout of silence. “Purple’s my favorite color.”

“Purple,” you repeat after him, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. “Really?”

Joel chuckles. “What? That weird or somethin’?”

“Uh, sort of. For one, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a favorite color in the first place—and even if you’d told me you did, I would have never in a million years guessed that it was purple,” you admit, sheepishly. You trace a small circle around his knee with your finger and curiously ask him, “Why is purple your favorite color?”

“‘Cause. That’s my daughter’s favorite color.”

You scoff playfully. “Come on, Joel. Ellie’s favorite color sure as hell isn’t purple. Her favorite color is green. But red’s a close second.”

When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him despite being in such close proximity. 

“I ain’t talkin’ about Ellie.”

At first, it doesn’t quite register, but after a moment of processing, the pieces click together in your mind. Joel has another daughter.

Your smile vanishes and you slowly turn around between his legs to face him. Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, you utter, “What?”

“Her name was Sarah,” he confesses, softly. 

Was. 

Your throat dries at his use of past tense.

Because you know exactly what that means. 

Opening your mouth to speak, words fail you and you close it. You suddenly remember the way he would tap dance around certain details of his first life in Texas. Whenever he would speak about his life before the outbreak, he would be cautious, careful to watch himself and his words. You’d known Joel had been keeping something from you, something he wasn’t ready to disclose to you for one reason or another—but never would you have guessed that him having a daughter would be the secret he had been hiding.

By now, you’ve turned your body around and you kneel in front of him, sitting back onto your heels. Not wanting to push him too hard or too fast, you clasp your hands together in your lap and wait silently—patiently—for him to continue when he’s ready.

“Sarah’s favorite color was purple. She’d wear it all the time. Her backpack, her school supplies, they all had to be purple or she wouldn’t use them. When she was nine years old, she begged me to paint the walls of her bedroom purple. One day, I took her to Home Depot after school to look at all the different shades.” He laughs, musing, “Didn’t know there could be so goddamn many of them. Anyhow, I told her I’d think ‘bout it. I went back to the store the next day while she was at school, bought a couple cans of the lavender shade I knew she’d like the best and by the time she got home, I had it all painted for her,” he explains, a sadness glazing over the fondness of the memory. “She loved purple. It was the color of the t-shirt she was wearin’ the last time we were together on the night of the outbreak.”

Your heart sinks. “Joel, you don’t have to tell me—”

“S’alright, peach. I wanna tell you ‘bout her,” Joel assures you, reaching out for your hand and taking it in his own. “I trust you, baby. Trust you more than enough to tell you ‘bout Sarah.”

Nodding, you lace his fingers together with your own. 

“I was never married,” he starts to say, knowing whether or not he’d also had a wife before the world ended would be a question on your mind—that’s if it wasn’t already. “I was never with Sarah’s mom. I met her in high school and we’d been friends up through senior year of college. We started to date then, but after a year, we realized we weren’t a good fit together. We broke up and a couple months later, we found out she was pregnant with Sarah. Her mom and me, well we both made an agreement to co-parent her as best as we could. Just a few months shy of our daughter’s first birthday, she realized she couldn’t handle raisin’ a child at our age. I tried real hard to convince her to stick around and keep tryin’ but I couldn’t get her to stay. She bailed out on me, but the worst part of it was that she bailed out on Sarah.”

He stops for a moment and you give his hand a gentle, but firm, encouraging squeeze.

“As if bein’ a father to a baby girl didn’t scare the shit of me, being a single father made it all feel so much scarier, y’know? I was young, in my early twenties. I was always workin’ so damn much, tryin’ to build my construction business with Tommy. Now I had this tiny little person to take care of, and I honestly didn’t know how the fuck I was gonna do it.” Joel pauses, his sixth sense detecting that your knees have started hurting from the position you’re in. He closes his legs together and pulls you to sit on his lap. “It wasn’t easy, and I probably made a lot more mistakes than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I made it work and it turned out alright. Sarah was my best friend in the whole entire world. Hell, I loved her more than fuckin’ life itself. She could be a handful, but she was perfect in every single way. She was my sweet little butterfly, my ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days.”

Swallowing harshly, you ask, “What happened to her, Joel?”

Joel sighs, resting a hand on your bare thigh. His fingers skim the scalloped hem of your floral shorts. “It was the first night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out of Austin. Me, Sarah, and Tommy. We didn’t know where the hell we were gonna go or what we were gonna do, but we just needed to get far away from the city. We got separated at one point when our pickup truck got into an awful wreck. I had Sarah in my arms ‘cause she couldn’t walk. She’d broken her ankle in the crash. Tommy told me to get her to the river where she’d be safer, said he’d find his way over there to meet us.”

Your heart begins to pound. Part of you almost doesn’t want to hear how his story is going to end—because in a way, you already know how it’s going to end. But if Joel is telling you about Sarah, it’s for a reason. He’s opening up to you, the way you’ve opened up to him. He’s sharing his heartbreaking loss because he trusts you—and Joel Miller doesn’t trust anyone that’s not his family.

Draping an arm around his shoulders, your fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck as you anxiously wait for him to recount the event that follows next, the event that will surely shatter your heart into pieces.

“The streets were crawlin’ with infected. One caught us in its sights and chased after us. Tried to dodge it through a buildin’ but it followed us, runnin’ us out into a field just a mile from the river. I didn’t think we were gonna make it—then, a soldier came outta nowhere and shot it dead. It felt like some kinda fuckin’ miracle. I thought we were lucky. I thought we were gonna get some help.” His voice grows hoarse, thickening with emotions he’s not too sure he can hold back this time. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was given the order by his command to kill us both, even though we weren’t sick. I tried tellin’ him over and over we weren’t infected, but it didn’t matter. He shot at us. He grazed me in my side, but Sarah—he got her. Got her multiple times. I was foolish enough to think it hadn’t been fatal. I tried gettin’ her up, begged Tommy to help me—but it was useless. Sarah died in my arms. Took her very last breath in some field outside of Austin.”

“God,” you whisper shakily, a sharp, painful ache shooting through your chest at the thought of him cradling his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms, her purple shirt soaked in crimson. “Joel, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Willing yourself to keep it together for his sake, you hold the back of his neck in your hand, fingers coaxing him to look up and meet your gaze.

“After that, I just didn’t see any point in carryin’ on anymore. I’d lost the most important thing in the fuckin’ world to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness now that my little ray of sunshine was gone. So, a couple nights later, I picked up my gun and tried to end my own life,” he confesses. Even though it’s been over twenty years, traces of shame still linger behind. “Put the barrel of a pistol to my temple. Told myself it was what I wanted to do and I pulled the trigger.”

Without thinking, you reach towards the scar on his right temple with your opposite hand, the one you’d noticed for the first time before he had kissed you in Ranger’s stall. You lightly brush your fingertips over the jagged, raised patch of skin. You’d wanted to ask him about it on several different occasions, but never had the courage to actually do it. Now that you know he’d gotten it from his own hand, it just makes the entire thing all that much more heart wrenching.

“M’sure you’ve guessed it by now, but I missed. I flinched and I missed. For twenty fuckin’ years, all I could do was wish I hadn’t missed. Spent a long time hatin’ myself for missin’ what should’ve been the easiest goddamn shot of my entire life. Then, Ellie came along.” Joel moves his hand, gingerly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “And not long after her, I met you, sweet girl. The two of you came at me outta nowhere.” He can’t help but chuckle, remembering his first encounter with Ellie, the way she had flown at him with her switchblade clutched in hand only to end up thrown against the wall. “You both came outta left fuckin’ field and brought out sides of me I thought had been dead and buried for years now. You and her, you mean more to me than I can fuckin’ explain. You’re the most important things in the world to me now.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his declaration. It’s not like you didn’t know Joel cared about you. Of course you know that. But the extent to which he did had been something of a mystery, at least up until this very moment.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way ‘bout anyone again,” Joel admits. He slides his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “Openin’ up my heart to Ellie, that was one thing. But openin’ it up to you? That’s been somethin’ else, peach. I don’t think you even realize the hold you’ve got over me and my heart. What really fuckin’ gets me is that you don’t even gotta try. All you gotta do is look at me with those eyes and give me that pretty smile of yours, and I’m fuckin’ done for. You’ve got me wrapped all the way around your little finger and then back again, baby. Y’need to know that I’d do just ‘bout fuckin’ anythin’ for you. You understand that?”

You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Joel,” you stammer his name, your nerve endings feeling like they’ve been lit on fire. “You really need to stop talking like that.”

“Why’s that?”

You don’t even think—you just blurt the words out before you can stop them.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The tables turn and it’s now Joel who is at a complete loss for words.

Embarrassed by your own admission, you begin to ramble nervously. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other long, but I can’t help it. And maybe it’s for the best if you know where I stand and how I feel. You still have time to back out of this—”

Still holding your chin, Joel carefully brings your face toward his, silencing you by slotting his lips to yours. He moves to cup the side of your face in his palm, forgetting about any kind of softness as he greedily licks into your mouth. He’s kissed you plenty of times before and you thought you knew all of his kisses well enough by now, but you’d been wrong. This one is different from all the rest. His lips move against yours in a possessive manner, but not the kind of possessive you’re used with Luke. No, with Joel, it isn’t a possessive stemming from control and abuse, rather, it’s out of pure need, want, and desire. Even as his mouth devours yours, there’s still a sweet, loving tenderness to it.

“Joel,” you whimper against him. “I—”

You falter, unable to say those three words. There’s something holding you back—maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that once you say them, you can’t take them back. Not that you would. But it’s a big step, and you’re not quite ready to say it, even if it is how you feel.

And he feels the same.

He deepens the embrace.

I love you.

Joel might not be ready to say it either, but he hopes the way he’s holding you and swelling your lips with his puts your mind at ease and reassures you that you’re not the only one who’s falling.

You shift yourself in his lap, moving to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your mouths remain fused to one another. He reaches and grabs for every single part of you that he can, running his hands all over you from your shoulders down to your hips, dragging lower until they’re unabashedly cupping the delicious curves of your ass. You whimper in his mouth again and the moment your lips part, his tongue takes advantage, darting inside to start the heated, unhinged dance with your own.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers curling around tight around fistfuls of his t-shirt in an attempt, and a very desperate one at that, to keep yourself planted on the ground. You hold on trying to keep yourself tethered to planet earth, but with the way his searing hot mouth moves with yours in perfect unison, it’s impossible. You’re free falling without a safety net, and you don’t even care. 

Seating yourself completely on his lap, you feel the bulge of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans and the wetness pools between your thighs.

Letting go of his shirt, you reach around him and bury your fingers in his curls, lightly tipping his head back as your tongue explores his mouth like it’s the first time all over again. Joel tastes like the sweet fruit you’d shared, a strange mix when combined with the mint from his toothpaste. But there’s something else he tastes like and you’ve tasted it several times before, however even after all this time, you still can’t figure out what it could be. It tastes like Joel. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. It just tastes like Joel and it’s addicting and you want it on your lips for the rest of your life.

After a minute, you and Joel finally force yourselves apart, your lungs and his begging for oxygen. 

“Joel,” you choke his name between heavy pants for air.

“Baby.” He’s about as breathless as you are, possibly even more. “Baby, please. I’ve gotta have you,” he pleads, hands now splayed on the small of your back. “Please. I fuckin’ need you. Or else m’gonna lose my goddamn fuckin’ mind.”

“Barn,” you rasp out, releasing your grip on his hair. 

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Barn?”

“Barn,” you repeat as you climb off of him.

You’re unsteady—incredibly unsteady. Knees wobbling, legs trembling and feeling like they’re seconds away from giving out underneath you. But you hold a hand out to Joel, exhaling a tiny, labored grunt as you help him up off the ground. Grabbing his blanket, you give it a shake before taking his hand in yours and leading him around to the front of the barn. Dropping his hand, you use both of yours to slide one of the double doors open an inch or two and take a peek inside to make sure the coast is clear. You then slide the door open a bit further, just wide enough for you and Joel to slip inside. 

“Wait a minute,” he chuckles as he watches you slide the door closed. “How’d y’know it would be unlocked?”

“I didn’t know it would be unlocked. I was just hoping we’d get lucky,” you admit, beckoning him for him to follow you. “Come on.”

Through various cracks and gaps and open windows, enough moonlight filters into the barn, shining a decent amount of light into the structure—enough so that it’s not pitch black and you two are left stumbling around in complete darkness.

Joel glances around. The last time he’d been inside the barn was back in June for the summer party. He remembered it having been cleaned and cleared out for the event and now, two months later, it’s packed to the rafters with countless bales of hay. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he walks, piles of loose dried grass and herbs crunch underneath his boots and he remarks, “There’s fuckin’ hay everywhere, darlin’.”

“Um, yeah. What else do you keep in a barn?” you jeer lightly, earning yourself a small scoff from him. “Hey, at least they don’t keep sheep and other livestock in here, Joel. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Joel snorts, masking his laughter at the thought of walking into a barn full of animals instead of an absurd amount of hay. “Yeah, guess that’s fair enough,” he concedes. “Might kill the mood if that were the case.”

You lead him over towards one of the far corners of the barn, your eyes falling to a large, almost bed sized pile of loose hay. Draping the blanket over it, you stand upright and then freeze, your body flooding with nerves once you realize what’s inevitably about to happen between you and Joel.

You hadn’t done anything with him since the night he’d pleasured you out on his front porch. Of course you wanted more, so much more, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. You’re so much younger, hardly have any experience—you’ve only ever been with one man, and even then, it hardly counts. It’s been such a long time since you’d found sex something you wanted, something you enjoyed. Whenever Luke touches you, it makes your skin crawl, but when Joel Miller touches you?

It sets you ablaze, leaves you needing more of it. Of him.

Part of you wonders if your touch makes him feel the same. What if it doesn’t?

His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you exhale the breath you’d been holding shakily.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Joel murmurs softly into your hair, sensing your pensiveness. 

“I’m just really nervous,” you blurt out.

“S’okay,” he says, quietly. “M’kinda nervous too.”

You’re slightly taken aback. “Really? What are you nervous about?”

Joel rests his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve both crossed a lot of lines already, peach. But this one? S’gonna be the one we can’t come back from,” he tells you. “Might be what seals the deal between us, y’know?”

Slowly, you turn around to face him. “Yeah, I know,” you respond, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. “And I know I should care, but I don’t. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“S’wrong,” he agrees with a tight nod. “But I don’t care either, sweet girl.”

Before you can utter another word about it, Joel crashes his mouth onto yours. He snakes one of his arms around you and lifts the other, cupping the back of your neck as he ravages you with his lips and tongue, kissing you with such urgency, such desperation that it melts you into a whimpering mess in his arms. Your mind is hopelessly lost in a thick, cloudy haze—all you can focus on is breathing him into your lungs like he’s the air you need to stay alive. His hands fall down to the hem of your white camisole and his mouth abandons yours to pull it over your head. He discards it, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere behind him. He then pushes your shorts and underwear down your legs and you kick them off along with your shoes. You’re now standing before him completely naked.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you take the hem of his t-shirt and clumsily tug it over his head, eliciting a laugh from him. You throw it somewhere over his shoulder to join yours and your hands eagerly meet his warm, bare chest for the first time. Biting down on your bottom lip, your trembling fingertips brush over several bumps and rough, raised patches of skin that you know have to be his scars. He has so many, and all you want to do is kiss each and every single one of them, but Joel has other ideas. He pulls you into his arms, flush against his chest, and he holds you tightly.

More often than not, Joel feels as if you’re not real—worries that you’re just a perfect, flawless figment of his own imagination. He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught onto what he’s been doing, but he steals moments like these whenever he can, moments where he stands there and takes you into his arms and holds you without saying a word.

It’s his own way of reminding himself that not only are you real, but you’re real and you’re his. Joel doesn’t care about the fucking ring on your finger. He doesn’t care that you’re promised to another man. He doesn’t care that he can only hold you in secret, that he can’t walk next you down the streets of Jackson in broad daylight and hold your hand while doing so. He doesn’t get to share a roof or a bed with you and he doesn’t get to join you for dinner at the table every night—maybe this isn’t how he preferred things to be, but he just doesn’t care. 

It doesn’t matter to him.

Nothing matters to him except for one thing.

Your heart belongs to him. It bleeds with his name.

You’re his. You’re all fucking his, and only his, in all the ways that truly matter.

And he is yours. 

Joel chokes out a strained groan as you press your plush lips softly against his neck, your tongue swiping across his pulse point. You firmly suckle his flesh, hard enough to break the tiny blood vessels underneath his skin and once you’ve left your mark, you trail your lips down his neck, eliciting another strangled noise from him. You sweep them over his collarbone, then down the length of his chest, showing each scar you come across with the affection it deserves. Your teeth nip and scrape at the softness of his belly and you quickly discover that it’s one of your favorite parts of him. Lowering yourself to your knees, your nose skims over the trail of dark, coarse hair below his navel and your fingers suggestively skim the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes widen. “You ain’t gotta do that—”

“I already told you, Joel. I want to,” you assure him, your voice low, sexy, filled with a lust for him and only for him. You make yourself comfortable, a challenging feat since you’d overshot the blanket and are now kneeling directly on the itchy, dried grass. It doesn’t matter, though—you’re more than willing to deal with discomfort for him. You place a hand on his hip and peer up at him. Your eyes meet his in the milky white moonlight. “You made me feel good. Please, just let me do the same for you?”

The nod he gives you is so subtle, so quick, that you almost don’t catch it.

He’d grown tense beneath your touch. 

You can’t help but laugh softly—not at him, but at the fact that he doesn’t realize that pleasuring him isn’t a want for you, it’s a need.

Gently, you pat his hip. “Relax, honey,” you encourage him, surprised at how the pet name rolls off your tongue with such natural ease.

Your hands reach for the button of his jeans and you swiftly undo it, then tug at his zipper. You start pulling the denim down his legs. Joel helps you, kicking off his worn, black leather boots before stepping out of his jeans, kicking the article of clothing off to the side. Heart racing in anticipation, you slide his dark boxer briefs down his legs, but stop short, breath hitching the second you feast your eyes on his cock. You’ve felt him through his clothes before, knew he was well endowed, but you’re still shocked to see just how big he really is. The mere thought of his hard, thick length filling you up and stretching your cunt makes your entire body ache with need. You can’t be certain how he’ll fit, but truth be told, he could tear you in half and you would thank him for it. 

Joel draws in a quick, sharp breath when he feels your small hand wrap around his base. Just as fast as he’d breathed it in, it’s knocked back out of his lungs when your other hand joins in and you run your fingertips along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He twitches in your hands—you’ve hardly touched him, haven’t even put your mouth on him, and he’s already teetering on the edge.

“Christ, baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, I hope y’know that,” Joel croaks, tilting his head back to look up at the rafters as he silently wills himself not to explode too soon. His hips involuntarily jerk forward as you lick his tip, collecting his leaking precome on your tongue before wrapping your soft lips around it. Another loud, ragged groan tears from the back of his throat as you take him in slowly, inch by inch, further into your warm, wet mouth. Your own moaning around him causes a vibrating sensation, making it harder for Joel to keep himself from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, peach,” he curses, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. He’s more than a mouthful for you, but you accept the challenge with eagerness and take him in further, gagging around him as drool dribbles down the sides of your chin. You, the same woman who just moments ago had said she was nervous about being intimate with him—whoever that woman had been, she was long fucking gone.

Joel’s eyes flit down and he sinks his teeth hard into his lower lip. He can see your silhouette as you work him with that pretty little mouth of yours. One glance is all he can handle before he’s squeezing his eyes shut, the pressure building in his lower abdomen and already dangerously close to reaching its peak. If Joel so much as looks at you again, he’ll come down your throat, and that’s not where he’s planning on finishing tonight.

You bob your head back and forth on his cock, your eyes watering each time he slips past the back of your throat—your cheeks hollow as you suck him greedily, and you alternate between that and stroking his long, thick shaft, your tongue swirling around his head.

Without opening his eyes, Joel reaches down with his hand and cradles the back of your head in his palm. The sounds that fill the barn are nothing short of obscene. His grunts and groans mixed together with the sounds of the moans you’d release in between your wet and sloppy slurping. He forces his eyes open and bravely takes another look at you, his heart slamming painfully against his sternum as you move your head faster, chasing his release as if you’re chasing your own.

“Fuck, baby—wait, stop. Need you to stop.” Joel’s hand leaves the back of your head and he cups your jaw, gently, but firmly, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, not if you keep on like that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” you ask, smirking up at him as you wipe the mixture of his precome and your saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand.

Joel leans over and takes your arms, effortlessly yanking you up to your feet. His hand dives between your thighs to get a feel—to find whether you’re ready to take him or not. He slips two fingers between your soaked folds without so much as a warning, causing you to gasp out and grip his biceps, your fingernails digging into the firm muscle. Joel withdraws his hand from your cunt, admiring the way his digits come back coated with your slick. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks his fingers clean.

That alone nearly makes you come undone, almost makes you melt into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his feet. 

“Joel,” you say his name pleadingly. “Please.”

Sliding his fingers out of his mouth, he steps forwards and curls them around your wrist. “What is it, my sweet little peach? Hm? What do you want?”

“You. I want you,” you answer. You’re quick to correct yourself. “No, I need you. I fucking need you—I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life, Joel.”

Leaning down, Joel skims the tip of his nose against your cheek before bringing it down along your jawline. “Where, darlin’?” he whispers huskily, sending a shiver up your spine. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Your mouth falls open slightly unable to say it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly shy, flustered as if you just hadn’t been down on your knees gagging around his cock.

“Tell me, peach,” he coaxes you gently with another low whisper. “Tell me where you need me. Tell me where you need my cock, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”

“Inside me.” Blazing heat floods your face. “I need you inside of me—I need you to fuck me. Please, Joel.”

“So polite ‘bout it, too,” he remarks. “What a good girl.”

Though he says it in a teasing manner, his praise nearly makes you collapse.

“You like that,” he realizes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, baby? Y’like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Fuck, I—yes, I do,” you confess.

“C’mere.” Joel wraps an arm around your waist, hand splayed over your back as he lowers you down onto the blanket. He follows suit. You both let out breathy laughs at the way your naked bodies sink down into the pile of hay. Propping himself up with his arm, Joel looks down at you, his smile fading as a serious expression crosses his features. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, finger grazing the silkiness of your cheek. “Y’sure ‘bout this, peach? Ain’t too late to stop.”

Smiling softly, you lift a hand to the side of his face, your fingers stroking his graying beard. “I’ve never been so sure about anything, Joel,” you promise him. “If you could take a peek into my mind, you would see how bad I want this, how bad I need this—how bad I need you. I don’t want to stop.” And you don’t just mean the sex. You don’t any of this to stop—the secret, late night meetings, the stolen kisses, the illicit affair. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, Joel.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Joel reaches down between your bodies, gripping his base, pumping his throbbing cock in his fist before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. Adrenaline courses through your veins—every nerve ending in your body is going up in flames. You spread your legs wider for him, hoping he’ll understand the nonverbal cue. He does. He begins to ease himself into your cunt and you hook a leg around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. The barn fills with the sound of his grunt and your loud cry at the initial stretch. He sinks his cock further into you until he bottoms out and you cry out again, feeling a delicious burning sensation as he cradles his hips between your thighs.

“M’gonna need you to relax a little sweetheart,” he whispers gently, ceasing his movements to give your body a chance to adjust to him. Joel takes advantage of having you pinned underneath him with your head thrown back and his lips latch onto your neck, hungrily. He fervently kisses his way down the column of your throat, nips his way to your collarbone—but unlike you, he’s careful to do so without leaving any kind of mark behind. He would give anything to have the freedom to leave traces of his loving all over you. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and the way he’s buried inside you to the hilt that brings out the primal in him, but Joel wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around Jackson covered in his love bites. He wants everyone to know he’s the one who’d left them behind, needs them to understand that you’re his. But that isn’t possible. Joel lifts his head from the hollow of your neck and nibbles lightly at your chin. “You alright, baby?”

Forcing your eyes open, you lift your head and bring yourself to look at him. At first, you feel discomfort, but after a minute, your body finally relaxes around him and it subsides. It’s replaced with the burning desire to feel more of him. The pretty glow coming in from outside the barn illuminates his face and you smile. “I’m better than alright. I’m perfect,” you assure him. You place a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heart thrum hard against your fingertips. “This is perfect.”

Joel kisses the tip of your nose. He slides out of you slowly, then right back into you in an experimental thrust that brings your body off the blanket, your back arching in sheer pleasure. It’s such a deliciously tight fit, and he almost can’t believe how fucking good it feels to be sheathed in your taut heat. He drops his head, taking your breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple as he bucks his hips once more. He’s being careful. Too careful.

“Joel—I need you to move,” you gasp. You drag a hand down his chest and over his soft stomach, letting your fingernails rake lightly over his flushed skin. It’s warm to the touch, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Joel, please. Fuck me.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to tell him twice.

Joel releases the pebbled flesh from his mouth with a loud, lewd pop. He pulls his cock out of your dribbling pussy, then slams back into you with such force that he places a hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place underneath him on the blanket. You wrap your own leg around him, locking your ankles together, your heels digging into the firm curve of his ass. You lift your hips just as he rolls his own right into them. The new angle gives Joel the opportunity to fuck you even deeper and he hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto him, moans you’ve never heard come out of your own mouth before ringing in your ears and in his. He starts picking up his pace.

“Baby.” He’s breathless and speaks between every snap of his hips. “Fuck, y’feel s’good—s’tight around me—”

“Don’t stop, Joel. God, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead him, your finger burying themselves in his hair. “Keep going, just like that—fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me—”

You bite down on your bottom lip, adoring how Joel squeezes his dark eyes shut each and every single time the head of his cock brushes that one particularly deep spot inside of you. Knowing that you and your body has this kind of an effect on him, it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve spent the last couple of years allowing a pathetic excuse of a man—if one could even call him that—pick on you, say things about your body, and make you feel like your inability to conceive a child made you defective. Worthless, even. And here’s a real man, one who makes you feel beautiful with the way he talks to you, the way he kisses you, touches you, and fucks you. You’re not perfect by any means, but Joel Miller makes you feel what your own husband doesn’t.

He makes you feel like you’re enough. More than enough.

The barn fills with a combination of moaning, panting, and the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin.

Glancing down at you, Joel shakes his head and warns, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, baby. M’so goddamn close.”

An unexpected wave of courage washes over you. Planting your hands firmly on his chest, you take him by complete surprise and slide out from underneath him. A small grunt escapes him as you push him onto his back. Amused, you can’t help but giggle at the shocked expression on his face as you guide him to lie down on the flannel blanket. Eager to see his reaction, you keep your eyes trained on his face as you straddle his lap. You grip the base of his cock in your hand and then slowly sink down onto him, your cunt greedily squeezing him as you slide down until you’re fully seated.

Joel’s jaw falls slack. It’s the most stunning sight he’s ever seen.

You, completely naked on top of him, your pouty lips plump and swollen from his kisses. Your smooth, supple skin glows in the moonlight shining through the open window behind you. All while every inch of Joel’s cock was buried deep inside of you, head nudging at your cervix. Eyes glimmering devilishly, the sexiest little smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Like what you see?”

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

You’ve rendered him speechless. 

Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your hips. His blood roars in his ears and his fingers dig into the pillowy soft flesh, holding on as you begin to rock them back and forth. You throw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulder. The friction of your clit against his pelvis heightens your pleasure. Joel had thought he would be the one to topple over the edge first, but he’d been wrong.

Eyes pinching shut, you start bouncing yourself on his cock, your desperation mounting. You feel the tension between your hips coiling back tightly, ready to snap forward.

“Fuck, Joel—I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ come for me, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers digging even harder into your hips. One of his hands abandons your side and he reaches up and gently takes your slackened jaw in the palm of his hand. He coaxes you to look down at him. “Need you to be a good girl and look at me, peach,” he instructs you, slipping his thumb between your parted lips. “Need to see that pretty face of yours when you come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck!”

Crying out, you unravel and fall apart all over him, the ecstasy blurring the edges of your vision. 

It doesn’t take Joel much longer to follow. He lets out a low, guttural growl, choking out a string of profanities as he slams you down onto his lap and holds you in place, spurts of warm come coating your velvet walls. Your pussy squeezes him, draining him of every last drop.

You collapse forward onto him in a sweaty, whimpering mess and he wraps his arms around you. With him still inside you, you both lay there and try to catch your breaths as the high slowly but surely begins to wear off.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls out of you and he shifts your bodies, moving you so you’re now laying beside him. Tucking you against his side, he slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you even closer. His other hand finds one of yours and he takes it, bringing them both to rest on his chest.

“You alright?” he asks you, lacing his fingers together with yours.

“I’m great,” you answer him tiredly, prompting him to chuckle. “What about you?”

Joel strokes at your hair. “Never been better, sweet girl.”

You groan. “Joel, don’t do that,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You’re going to put me right to sleep.”

He laughs again. “We’ve still got a bit more time, y’know. If you’re tired, you can take a quick nap. I can wake you up in ‘bout an hour when it’s time to head home.”

“No, that’s okay,” you decline the offer, worried he would accidentally fall asleep too. “I really wish we could sleep together—I mean, actually sleep together. In an actual bed. Not having to worry about anything. Just like normal couples do.”

“Well, we ain’t exactly a normal couple, darlin’.”

“No, we’re definitely not,” you murmur. You don’t even realize how sad you’d sounded until you feel Joel give your shoulders a comforting squeeze. 

Neither of you say anything else about it as you spend the next hour laying there, tangled up in each other’s embrace, waiting until it was time to go your separate ways.

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

"I don't think that blush is your shade."

"I'll probably just stay home."

"This is the first critical rager of the year."

"You know what your doctor said."

"You need socialization."

"Why don't you use my tanning bed?"

"You're in need, babe."

"I'm really sorry you got electrocuted."

"Are you hot for anyone?"

"[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]!"

"I don't know who that is."

"He doesn't play sports; he's cerebral."

"This party is gonna be clutch!"

"These things will turn your feet into hamburger helper."

"It's not haunted, just abandoned. Desecrated."

"Well, I heard [Name(s)] do witchcraft over there."

"I've never seen anybody there."

"I think it's really peaceful and quiet."

"I talk to him sometimes."

"I brought this for you."

"It's kinda morbid when I wear it so I wanted you to have it."

"That's really weird, [Name]."

"I just don't think anyone should be forgotten."

"Y'know, I wasn't gonna say anything, they were such a mess, but you look amazing now!"

"Oh my God, [Name], bag your face!"

"How do you know my name?"

"So what exactly happened to her?"

"I can never ever talk about it, for personal and legal reasons, and i also pinky swore, but I guess I can tell you. I trust you."

"I'd be screwed up if I were her, too."

"Hi, sorry, how do we know each other?"

"You're being so dramatic."

"This is not what I expected from you; you have so much potential."

"Lets find somewhere for you to sit for a bit, yeah?"

"I hate parties like this; I don't even know why I came."

"Your hair feels like easter grass."

"You know it's not nice to lead people on."

"I wish I was with you."

"It's okay; everyone does it."

"You should probably get going."

"Did you smash the mirror in the bathroom?"

"Do you know what happens to people who act out?"

"How about an apology?"

"I feel like I may want to apologize for what happened last night."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, is there pizza left?"

"I think I'm gonna skip the movie."

"I'm just really tired from work."

"Do you know how hard that is on the groin muscles?"

"It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Do you like this song?"

"We're better off up here in case anyone comes home."

"I haven't said this many words in a row in forever."

"I hate to say it, but you're either crazy, or just goddamned inconsiderate!"

"You're kind of absurd, aren't you?"

"I really don't get your fixation with that one."

"There are plenty of halfway-dece guys who would date you."

"I wanna help you, I really do, but I dunno how."

"It's a waste of time to try and fix a boy; it's better to just accept a guy's flaws."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What happened to your neck?"

"You don't want to hold my hand?"

"This whole place gives me the creeps, okay?"

"I thought that was a really cool thing to say."

"Don't feel bad about what we did!"

"You saved me."

"Is that a rad new trend or something?"

"I don't play with dolls anymore."

"I'm sure there's some explanation."

"You know I'm usually pretty cool about things, right?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You have no idea how scary this is."

"I actually feel like something's wrong."

"People are so afraid of death because they dunno when it's gonna happen to them."

"I'm not afraid of death anymore."

"I don't wanna die a virgin."

"I want to do it with someone I truly love."

"You're so supportive."

"I love our conversations."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

"How about I drive since you're not feeling so good?"

"Your boobs look great by the way."

"This is just too freaking much."

"It's your fault we're screwed."

"You act like you're happy for me, and you care about me, but you're not really happy for me."

"You couldn't let me have this one thing?"

"You knew I liked him and you went after him on purpose!"

"I swear, I would never do that to you!"

"Guys usually only want me for one thing."

"It just was never gonna work out between us."

"I don't have feelings for you like that."

"Do you know how uncool that is?!"

"Uh, you're not making any sense."

"Thank you for being nice to me when no one else was."

"You're the type of person who usually bullies me or looks right through me, but you didn't."

"You actually went out of your way to try to tell people I was part of your family."

"You really actually wanted me to be your sister..."

"You're a great person, [Name]."

"Listen, we're running out of time."

"Make love to me."

[fruitsofhell]

I used to be one of those guys when I first joined the Kirby fandom, but everytime I hear a discussion of the series writing that starts with "So the Lore is InSaNe-" and not like, "Kirby has a fun writing style that takes advantage of its cute exterior to tell cool stories that reward player's curiosity and leave lots of room for imagination-" I cringe so goddamn hard.

I kinda just hate that people approach things that encourage investment when they don't expect it as inherently absurd. Like it is fun to joke about how absurd Kirby lore can be, but it really often comes with an air of disrespect or exhaustion rather than like, appreciation that these games are made by people who want to tell interesting stories when they could easily make as much money just making polished enough fluffy kiddy platformers. And when it's not met with exhaustion, it's met with - like I said before - that tone that it's stupid for a series like this TO have devs who care about writing stuff for it. Which is a whole other thing about people not respecting things made to appeal to kiddie aesthetic or tone.

Maybe the state of low-stakes YouTube video essays just blows cause people play up ignorance and disbelief for engagement, but like I STG I hear people use this tone for like actual narrative based games sometimes. Some people don't like... appreciate when a game is made by people who care a shitton in ways that aren't direct gameplay feedback. And they especially don't appreciate it when it comes from something with any sense of tonal dissonance intentional or not.

Anyways, I love games made by insane people. I love games made by teams who feel like they wanna make something work or say something so bad. I love that energy, especially when invested into something that could easily rest on its laurels or which obviously won't be taken seriously. I love this in a lot of classic campy 2000s games, I love this in insanely niche yet passionate fanworks, and I love it in the Kirby series and its writing. Can we please stop talking about it like it's an annoyance or complete joke?

[jksprincess10]

Something in the shadows || 5. limbo

Summary: When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

CWs: Dark!Joel, monster!Joel, werewolf!Joel, NOT an omegaverse fic, fated mates, DUBCON, murders, gore, dark and horror themes, overprotective!joel, explicit smut, FMC without a name and a physical description (it's you baby), unspecified age gap, no y/n.

(3k words)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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She woke up to a cold, empty bed. She didn’t know what she had expected from a man like Joel – but part of her was still sad to wake up alone. The only reminders of Joel – bruises on her shoulder and her hips, where he had held her too strongly. As a reminder of her assault, her lip was split, blood had dried on it.

She dressed appropriately and walked slowly to the end of the hallway, where Joel’s room was also empty.

“I think he’s already up, I heard Tommy earlier.” Ellie’s voice startled her.

“Oh, thanks, Ellie.”

The older teen looked at her weirdly, up and down. “No offense, but you look like shit. You okay?”

“Yeah. Rough night… nightmares.” She lied effortlessly.

“Cool. I was just heading to the farm, catch you later.”

And with a last, weird look, the teenager climbed down the stairs. When she was free of her presence, she disappeared into the bathroom. Moving too much hurt.

“You have to tell me what the fuck happened, Joel. You’re scaring me, brother.”

The Tipsy Bison had been condemned when what remained of the bodies had been discovered by Tommy. Joel froze with pure dread as he discovered the bodies. He remembered telling her he would take care of it… and then everything was blurry. He thought he had just… talked to them. But the truth was much, much darker. The boys were disfigured, reduced to pure meat. He couldn’t have done that.

“I don’t know, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was rough, hiding an uncertainty. “I just… I talked to them, okay?”

“Talked to them?!” Tommy responded incredulously. “There is nothing left, Joel.”

The older brother’s hand trailed down his own face as he tried but failed to remember. There was a big gap between the moment where had taken care of her, then had come home to fuck her.

“This can’t be me. Do ya think I’m… I’m some sort of monster? Do ya think I could’ve hurt her and then take her into my own goddamn home?”

They had both done bad things in the past to survive but this – this has taken the cake of absurdity. 

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Tommy stopped him, his hands before him like an offering of peace. “But now, ya gotta help me clean up this fucking mess, Joel. And I won’t tell anyone about this. Because they probably deserved it.”

“What happened to you?”  Elaine asked once her new friend arrived at the laundry place, letting her bucket of water fall as her mouth opened in horror. She ran up to her, her delicate and pale hands brushing where the skin had broken. The woman jumped at the unexpected touch, but she smiled as much as her split lip allowed.

“Don’t worry. Just… got into a fight.” She gave some of the truth, sparse, breadcrumbs in the forest of her mind.  She saw the mess of water. “Let me help you clean up before anyone gets hurt.”

 While they worked, they talked. Elaine, like last time, did most of the talking. But she could see something was off with her new friend.

“What’s going on with you, sweetheart? I know it must be hard for you to trust people around here but… you can tell me anything.” Elaine had the empathy of a good mother. The kind who would take you in her arms and waited until you stopped crying. The kind she probably had before.

“It’s just… men.”

The woman with the auburn hair hummed knowingly. “Miller?”

She shrugged in response, so Elaine did not push. But she knew.

“I’m just… disappointed. I got what I thought I wanted. But I’m just left… even lonelier somehow.”

“You’re gonna have to stop speaking in riddles if you want my help.” There was no bite behind her words,

“We… had sex, yesterday. I thought we had something going on, but I woke up completely alone.” Her voice was lower, so she wouldn’t attract the local gossipers.

“Mmh. I see. Sometimes… men just need space to sort out their feelings. I wouldn’t worry much about it. Is he the one who…?” She asked as she pointed to her lip.

“Oh god no, he would never… hurt me. I don’t think so.”

But he had hurt her before, hadn’t he?

He was washing away the gore and the blood from his body, but somehow, even as the red liquid flushed down the drain, he didn’t feel cleaner. The beast was dirty, and right now, in the most inappropriate of times, it still wanted. He had left her side this morning, partly because he wanted to let her sleep in, and partly because he was afraid of what he could do to her once the want came back.  Would he hurt her to take what he wanted?

He heard the door open downstairs. She was probably done with her work. He chased the bad thoughts away as he dried himself and got dressed in dark washed jeans, a discolored shirt that was probably black in another life and a flannel that he buttoned almost all the way to the top, leaving two buttons popped open.

Joel climbed down the stairs quietly, and he cleared his throat awkwardly when he found her in the kitchen.

“Oh, Joel.”

He was overly aware of her body language, of the way she jumped slightly at his voice. “M’sorry, didn’t wanna scare ya…” His palm caressed the back of his neck as he approached her.

“I just… I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me after yesterday.”

“What? God… no.” He groaned in frustration. “Listen, I’m very bad at this.” So bad that he couldn’t even tell Tess he loved her, even when she was turning in front of his eyes. “But it has nothing to do with you or what happened yesterday.”

“Okay…” He eyed the way she balanced herself from one leg to the other nervously. “I… when you said you would take care of the guys yesterday, what did you mean?” She asked suddenly.

Something primal in him wanted him to tell her everything. But she would be horrified. So, he did what he did best. He lied.

“I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them.”

“Do you think it’s…whatever hurt me?” She asked worriedly as her fingers traced the scar across her face.

He hummed in response. “But… you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of. I got ya okay?”

And with her bright, innocent eyes, he could see that she believed him completely. She approached him with more confidence now, and her hands laid on his shoulders as her eyes traced his lips.

“Joel… thank you.” She brought her face to the older man’s level and latched her lips onto his. It lit the fire in him, as his hands trailed down her body to hold her hips. He pressed her against his body tightly, and he could already feel himself getting hard. He was insatiable when it came to her.

She let go of his lips with a sweet smile, knowing the way his body reacted to hers. “Come to the winter ball with me. Please.”

“Yeah… okay. I’ll go.” She felt his hands on her ass, and he lifted her up to leave her on the counter. His lips trailed down her jaw, the soft skin of her throat. She smelled so intoxicatingly good, with a mixture of her and… him still somewhere on her body.

“Wait… Is Ellie coming back…?”

“Will be gone all day. Said she’d meet with a friend after work.” He mumbled back, his teeth sucking a bruise into her skin, before he soothed it with his tongue. She moaned in response, her body arching to get closer to him.

“O-Okay.” She’d thought Joel wouldn’t have much of a libido due to his age, but he seemed like he couldn’t get enough, and she couldn’t complain about it. He unzipped her pants as fast as he could before his hand sneaked in her wet panties.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about this pussy.” Joel growled, his fingers already tracing fast circles on her swollen bud. The top of her body fell against his chest, and he held her with his free hand.

“S’yours Joel, all yours.” She slurred, already drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah?” He breathed against her skin. “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With his fingers, he pushed her over the edge abruptly and embarrassingly quickly, and she let out a load moan as she came in her panties.

“Fuck, come here.” He lifted her and brought her with him, as he sat down on one of the dining chairs. “Need to be inside you.” He hastily undid his belt and freed his member, before pulling her bottoms off. He held the base of his cock so it would sit upright, and with his free hand, he pulled her down on it in a slow movement.

“Joel…” She whined weakly, letting the sound die against his lips.

“Hurts?” He asked as he felt her tight heat more and more. When she was sat still on him, he waited, his hand caressing her hips, where he had left bruises the night before.

“Hurts in a good way.”

Joel cursed under his breath as he guided her hips up and down his thickness, his half-lidded eyes looking at her in wonder. “Look at me.”

When she opened her eyes and looked at his, there was this bestial glint in his gaze that she had seen before. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she bounced up and down his dick.

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep goin’.” She felt a harsh slap on her butt cheek that was swollen from the night before, which made her yelp. His fingers then came down to her clit, where he teased her. “Come on my dick.” He ordered in the shell of her ear, before biting her lobe.

His name fell from her lips as he caressed her clit with a purpose, making her gush around his cock and choke him deliciously.

“Atta girl.” She was turning limp in his grasp, so he started thrusting his hips up, giving her a break. He could feel his eyes roll in the back of his head, she just felt too good. She felt… right.  “M’so fucking close, darlin’.”

“Come in my mouth, please…” She begged, and she was already getting off him to fall on her knees in front of his legs. “Please Joel.”

He held the back of her head as he guided his throbbing length in her warm mouth. He kept her in place as he thrusted between her lips. She could feel herself gag, so she breathed through her nose and let the tears fall as he finally came into her throat. Joel pulled her away to let her breathe, and his calloused fingers chased the tears away.

“Thank you for that, darlin’.” He said as he caught his breath again. He caressed her head affectionately, before pulling her up on his lap to kiss her with a newly found softness. For once, the beast felt sated. Calm.

Days later, she stood in front of the mirror behind her bedroom door, uncertain of her choice. The dress fitted perfectly; it accentuated every curve of her body. The color, a blue that was almost white, looked so soft on her. The fabric had a nice sheen to it, that caught the candlelight and made her look like a princess. Elaine had helped her find it, and she was extremely happy to have a friend here, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t find anyone in her vague memories.

But somehow, she felt self-conscious. Even though Joel proved to be a… passionate lover, to say the least, she feared he would find someone better.

“You ready?” Ellie’s voice called, with a shy knock on the door.

She opened the door and brought Ellie inside, panicking. “Please, be honest with me. How do I look?” She whispered; afraid Joel was listening at the door.

“Damn! You look good. You’re gonna give the old man a heart attack.”

Heat rushed to her face, and she smiled shyly as she finally admired Ellie’s outfit. It wasn’t what she had expected for her, but she wore a dark blue dress shirt and black slacks. It fitted her small frame surprisingly well. Her brown curls were loose on her shoulders.

“Watch your language around the old man, yeah? You look good too.” She caressed the top of Ellie’s head playfully, before grabbing her coat and going out of the room with her.

Joel looked at his broken watch while he waited for the girls. Finally, he heard giggles and their steps coming down. He was going to make a comment on how late they were, but when he saw her… he completely froze. His mouth was half-opened, his eyes bright as he admired her shiny blue dress and the way it caressed the body he had gotten to know so quickly.

He finally looked at Ellie too and the hint of a smile formed on his lips as he saw their outfits were matching. His shirt was two shades lighter, but they basically had the same outfit.

“See? Told you, he’s having a stroke.” Ellie mumbled.

“You look good, kid.” Joel cleared his throat, then took the hand of the woman he desired in his. “And you look… wow.” He couldn’t really say his real thoughts, though. How he wanted to tear that dress off her body and see if her underwear was just as pretty.

“Okay, get a fucking room, I’m leaving without you.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

Of course, it had been hard to keep their relationship hidden as Joel always wanted to jump in her pants. Ellie had guessed it pretty quickly.

“No, no. We’re leaving.” She responded with an embarrassed smile.

The room was decorated beautifully in whites and blues, making the green of the natural Christmas tree and the colorful lights really pop. It seemed like the whole community of Jackson was present, and she felt a bit intimidated.

Two men shone by their absence, though. The two who had ambushed her and bruised her. She felt uneasy, as she wondered who had murdered them. Of course, in the deep pits of her gut, she knew who did it. She just didn’t want to give more reasons for her brain to shout “Run”.

On the dance floor, she saw Elaine and her husband. She looked beautiful with her auburn hair in a high bun, two pieces of hair framing her face. They exchanged shy movements of their hands as a salutation, from afar.

She always stayed close to Joel, but the man really seemed out of place. He kept to himself, drinking, and keeping an eye on Ellie, who was dancing with a pretty girl.

“Come on, dance with me, Joel. You won’t stay here moping around all night.”

She extended her hand to him, and he tried to look annoyed as he took it, with a grumbling “fine”.

 The music slowed down, and she wrapped her hands around Joel’s broad shoulders, as his palms embraced her lower back. Her skin, even though she was fully dressed, felt like fire against his hands. He wanted to ruin her.

She admired his face with a smile, noting how his messy curls were slightly slicked back with gel. He looked good, like this. In another life, instead of a survivalist… maybe that’s what he would have looked like as a serious businessman.

“You’re handsome.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

He grinned, the corners of his beautiful eyes forming lines that showed his age. “And you look like a fuckin’ angel.” His lips brushed her lobe as he whispered: “But we both know how you ain’t one, huh?”

Her cheeks heated up as she was reminded of how well he took care of her. She felt that constant pull and want with Joel, her lust never truly filled.

“Follow me, angel.” Joel ordered in a soft voice, his darkening eyes reading her easily.

He locked the bathroom door, and he sat her on the large edge of the sink, before going down to his knees like he was about to worship her. His body protested for a bit, the crack of his bones reminding him of his age. But he didn’t care.

“Makin’ me crazy, lookin’ like this. Want to spend every minute inside ya.” Joel growled as he kissed up her ankle, her leg, her thigh. He sucked and bit the sensitive skin there to remind her who she belonged too.

She let out a sigh of his name, her back arching as he got closer to his target. He helped her pull up the skirt of her dress until she was bare. Her pussy was covered by delicate white lace that was already wet.

“Shouldn’t even have bother to put anythin’ down there, darlin’.”

His rough hands pulled at the fabric until it ripped. She gasped.

“Joel!”

“What’s under is much prettier.” He shushed her and opened her thighs for him. He cursed under his breath as he dove in, the tip of his tongue collecting the wetness already pooling out of her hole. She was already squirming, still sensitive from the way he had fucked her that morning. His wet muscle went back to the top, effortlessly uncovering her clit to put pressure there. He licked, sucked, caressed at the bundle of nerves, until she whimpered, and he felt more nectar coming out of her.

“J-Joel, touch me, please…” She begged as one of her hands grabbed on to his gelled down curls as if to anchor herself so she wouldn’t drown just yet.

He groaned against her pussy, the vibrations giving her even more stimulation as one of his fingers breached her entrance. It was so thick, already filling her up just right as he kept sucking harder at her clit. He plunged his finger deeper until he curled it against that spongy part that he knew made her see stars.

“F-Fuck, please, please, I’m so fucking close….”

“C’mon baby, wet my face.” He mumbled against her, before putting more pressure on his tongue. He felt her grip on his hair strengthen, he heard her heartbeat faster as she came undone, gushing on his face beautifully. He ate her out through it all, until she pushed him away.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel got up slowly, crowding her against the sink as leaned in to kiss her deeply.

 She moaned against his mouth, and she was about to unclasp his belt, until insistent knocks on the door made her stop. She came back to reality slowly, realizing where they were. Embarrassed, she pulled her dress down and got out of the bathroom. She vaguely heard Joel asking her to wait, but she knew their alone time was up.

Mortified, Elaine stood in front of them.

“Oh, hi.” Her mischievous eyes told her she knew what was going on. “I wanted to talk to you, what a coincidence.” She also acknowledged Joel with a polite nod, who cleared his throat and made up some excuse about going to see if Ellie was okay. Elaine pulled her into the now empty bathroom and closed the door, before taking out a small brown bag out of her purse. She looked at her friend, confused, as she took the bag.

“It’s a tea based on a flower that has contraceptive properties. Drink it once a week, and you’ll be fine. Indigenous women used it to prevent pregnancies. I’ve been meaning to give it to you, but I didn’t see you much these days…”

“O-Oh. Thank you.” Her slick still sticking to her thighs reminded her of how much she needed this.

“You’re welcome.” With a wink, Elaine let her leave.

She hid the bag in her purse, embarrassed that she got caught with Joel, and she went back to the main event. Her eyes looked for him, but it was too crowded. Instead, she found Tommy, Joel’s brother. The younger man looked beautiful; his longer hair tied in a low bun. He wore a blinding white shirt and dark blue pants.

“Oh, hey! I hope you’re liking the party.” He told her loud enough for her to hear.

Awkwardly, she got closer to hear him better. “Yeah… it’s nice. Do you do that every year?”

“Yup, it became a tradition. Was my wife’s idea.”

She nodded and thought the conversation was done, but he stopped her by placing a delicate hand on her bare arm. She almost pushed him away, but his eyes were soft and understanding. “Look… I’ve been meaning to talk to you… about Joel.”

“What about Joel?” She asked, trying to look disinterested.

“I’m… worried for your safety. I know my brother well, but he hasn’t been the same for a while now.”

She stayed silent and let him explain, but Joel stopped their conversation by finally finding her. His hand encircled her arm a bit roughly, and he pulled her towards him while flashing a dark glare to his brother. Tommy retreated.

“Chill, Joel. Was just talkin’ to your girl and see if she was enjoyin’ the party.”

“C’mon baby, we’re leaving.” Joel said as he ignored Tommy.

He pulled her into the dark, cold night, before she could protest. She finally gathered the strength to push him away, her big eyes looking up at him in distress.

“Joel, you’re hurting me. And you’re scaring me.”

The older man stopped in his tracks and pivoted his body so he could look at her. Some of his softness was back in his eyes, but still, something dark loomed behind. “M’sorry.”

“Tommy said… you haven’t been the same. What did he mean by that?” She confronted him.

“Ignore him.”

I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them. His words flooded her memory.

“Joel, did you kill them? Josh and Kevin?”

Memories hypnotized his brain, like an out of body experience. He was inside the beast, as it destroyed the men.

“I did what was necessary to protect ya.” He responded darkly.

She didn’t know why, but tears drowned her eyes. They had abused her, badly, but she never intended for them to die like that. “Joel… you can’t.”

“Can’t control it. Forgive me, darlin’.”

She watched as he ran back to the house they shared, alone under the falling snowflakes and the moon mocking her.

[calliesmemes]

JAMES CAMERON’S TITANIC (1997)

ROLEPLAY SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE SCRIPT FOR THE ICONIC FILM TITANIC (1997). DELETED SCENES INCLUDED.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   You’re a treasure hunter. So what is the treasure you’re hunting? ”

“   She’s a goddamned liar! A nutcase! ”

“   ls there anything you'd like? ”

“   Well, here it is, the moment of truth. ”

“   I know how hard it is for people who care greatly for money to give some away. ”

“   This was mine. How extraordinary! It looks the same as the last time I saw it. ”

“   Just tell us what you can-- ”

“   I don't see what all the fuss is about. ”

“   Your daughter is much too hard to impress. ”

“   You act as if you're going to your execution. ”

“   Outwardly I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming. ”

“   You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. ”

“   Somebody's life's about to change. ”

“   We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world! ”

“   Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way. ”

“   Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you. ”

“   She’s a pistol. I hope you can handle her. ”

“   Stay back! Don't come any closer! ”

“   Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. ”

“   You're distracting me. Go away. ”

“   Don't be absurd. You'll be killed. ”

“   Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand. ”

“   I've got you. I won't let go. ”

“   Women and machinery do not mix. ”

“   Good for you son, well done! ”

“   Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale? ”

“   I know you've been melancholy, and I don't pretend to know why. ”

“   It's for royalty. And we are royalty. ”

“   Open your heart to me. ”

“   I’m afraid I'm feeling a little tired. ”

“   Look, I'm running out of time. I need your help. ”

“   Maybe she wants to make peace with the past. ”

“   Could I speak to you in private? ”

“   So, you got a name by the way? ”

“   That's quite a moniker. I may have to get you to write that down. ”

“   I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you. ”

“   Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery? ”

“   I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber. ”

“   Oh God, I am such an utter fool. ”

“   Please don't judge me until you've seen my world. ”

“   You have a gift — you see people. ”

“   I was hoping I'd catch you at tea. ”

“   Why can’t I be like you? ”

“   They didn't teach you that in finishing school? ”

“   Do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing? ”

“   You're about to go into the snakepit. I hope you're ready. ”

“   What are you planning to wear? ”

“   My, my, my... you shine up like a new penny. ”

“   I didn't recognize you. ”

“   Amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman! ”

“   Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club. ”

“   It’s a pity we’re both spoken for, isn’t it? ”

“   Where exactly do you live? ”

“   You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you? ”

“   It’s a big world, and I want to see it all before I go ”

“   Something like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count. ”

“   All life is a game of luck. ”

“   A real man makes his own luck. ”

“   What are you doing? I see you everywhere writing in this little book. ”

“   It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. ”

“   So you want to go to a real party? ”

“   You're not one of them. There's been a mistake. ”

“   Look! A shooting star. ”

“   My father used to say that whenever you saw a shooting star, it was a soul going to heaven. ”

“   What would you wish for? ”

“   I had hoped you would come to me last night. ”

“   You will never behave like that again! Do you understand? ”

“   I will not be made out to be a fool! Is this in any way unclear? ”

“   You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me? ”

“   Oh, stop it. You'll give yourself a nosebleed. ”

“   This is not a game! Our situation is precarious! ”

“   How can you put this on my shoulders? ”

“   How can you be so selfish? ”

“   We're women. Our choices are never easy. ”

“   Look, you're not supposed to be in here. ”

“   She's a goddess amongst mortal men. ”

“   You're a spoiled little brat! ”

“   You're the most amazingly astounding girl I've ever known. ”

“   You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you. ”

“   I can’t turn away without knowing that you’ll be safe. ”

“   They've got you in a glass jar like some butterfly, and you're going to die if you don't break out. ”

“   Sooner or later the fire in you is going to go out. ”

“   It's not up to you to save me ”

“   I changed my mind. ”

“   I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. ”

“   I expect to get what I want. ”

“   I want to always remember this night. ”

“   You’re trembling. ”

“   I can feel your heart beating. ”

“   It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it. ”

“   There’s no cause for alarm. ”

“   Say, did I miss the fun? ”

“   Something serious has happened. ”

“   You can't be serious! We're in the middle of an emergency! ”

“   Don't listen to them... I didn't do this! You know I didn't! You know it! ”

“   I believe you may get your headlines. ”

“   Please dress warmly; it's quite cold tonight. ”

“   Please tell me the truth. ”

“   Tell only who you must. I don't want to be responsible for a panic. ”

“   Do you know who I am? ”

“   I'd rather be his whore than your wife. ”

“   That man tried to take advantage of me! ”

“   Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?! ”

“   I'll do this with or without your help. But without will take longer. ”

“   I'm through with being polite, goddamnit! I may never be polite the rest of my life! ”

“   So... how did you find out I didn't do it? ”

“   Where you go, I go. ”

“   Don’t argue with me; you know it does no good. ”

“   I will never forget you. ”

“   It seems we've been dealt a bad hand this time. ”

“   You're a good liar. ”

“   I always win. One way or another. ”

“   You're so stupid, you're such an idiot— ”

“   You jump, I jump, right? ”

“   What could possibly be funny? ”

“   Won't you even make a try for it? ”

“   We can't expect God to do all the work for us. ”

“   Shhh. Don't cry. It'll be over soon. It'll all be over soon. ”

“   No... don't say your good-byes. Don't you give up. Don't do it. ”

“   You're going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me? ”

“   You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise. ”

[belphiesgirlfriend]

Judging Obey me! Brothers bedrooms/hcs cause why not

——————————————————————————

Lucifer:

• freakishly neat

• like you know those people that are so perfect/symmetrical that they’re almost scary, that’s his room

• type of guy to say “ah i was just tidying up, this place is such a mess!” and one thing on his desk is moved a centimeter to the left

• satan and belphie definitely come in there sometimes and move everything off by an inch

• it fucking enrages him

• he gets on the brothers asses to clean their rooms

• they don’t listen

• at most, if he’s drunk or had a really long day he might leave his clothes on the floor or his toothbrush out

• he’s such an old man he’d be doing math equations to fold his fucking sheets exactly

• really though, i feel like it’s a total control thing

• i mean my dudes entire life is out of his control, a pride demon, who’s very about control

• his brothers don’t really listen to him, he’s indebted to diavolo, etc.

• i think it probably brings him a lot of comfort to have one controlled space for himself, where he knows where everything is and has everything how he wants it

• sorry got a little deep but yk

• also???? the skeleton dude??????

• like i love him he’s iconic BUT WHY LMAO

• imagine you wake up in the middle of the night AND IT FUCKING MOVES

• nah i’d be packing my bags and staying at purgatory hall for the rest of the week thank you!

• coming back with a bible and some holy water

——————————————————————————

Mammon:

• complete and utter 180

• his room is such a mess it’s a problem

• plates, glasses, ramen cups, wrappers, all over his nightstand and floor

• when the garbage is going out he’ll come down the stairs balancing so much trash he could make a goddamn acrobat jealous😭

• only thing that’s truly spotless is his car

• if you nag him enough he’ll clean up a bit though, though definitely complain

• clothes are a whole other thing, he has an insane amount of clothing, not more than asmo, but a genuinely absurd amount

• because of this, his floor is always covered in clothes

• his room is probably one of the messiest, rivaled only by belphie

• but mammon definitely wins by a long shot

• the biggest reason his rooms a mess is just cause of the pure amount of stuff he has

• bros a grade A hoarder, he’s got stuff in there you didn’t even think existed

• he also just,, isn’t in his room super often

• he likes going out and doing stuff, plus he’s usually working jobs + modeling to fund his spending

• and if he’s not, then he’s probably in mc’s room so it makes sense he doesn’t care as much

• his bathroom though…is surprisingly clean

•on the surface at least

• he’s got a shit ton of skincare and hygiene products, some makeup too (definitelyyy not stolen from asmo)

• he’s a model so he definitely takes good care of himself

• though..i don’t think he’d ever deep clean his bathroom, or know to, if you asked him he’d be like “what no?? the sink cleans itself with the water!”💀

——————————————————————————

Levi:

• his room really isn’t all that dirty

• i mean he’s in there all the time so it’s at the very least habitable

• his biggest issue is really just having a bunch of dirty dishes he’s too “busy” to take down to the kitchen

• his idea of busy is being huddled up in blankets watching season 3 of “I’m a generic anime protagonist who just met a really pretty girl at school but i’m painfully socially awkward and then i find out she’s my childhood friend who moved away???”

• his figures though…

• shockingly well taken care of, like he’s literally the perfect owner he cleans and dusts them obsessively

• if anyone touches them, he knows.

• he has them positioned in a very specific way, he’s able to notice even the slightest discrepancy

• he’s a really good caretaker to the things he cares about

• henry 2.0 for example, his tank is always spotless, he’s well fed and treated very well.

• levi is also very hygienic, he takes good care of himself too generally,

• though he sometimes needs to be reminded to eat, drink, sleep, etc. cause of a new anime or game coming out

•when that happens he’s even more holed up in his room, if he’s close with the mc he might drag them with him, prepare yourself to be trapped in there

• his setup is godly, i don’t know much about pc building but i know he has the good shit

• you’ve seen his room, bro has 4 monitors WHO NEEDS THAT MANY?!?!?!?

• got the mic with the pop filter too you know he’s absolutely violating the other people in the cod lobby

—————————————��————————————

Satan:

• messy, but not dirty

• cluttered would probably be the best word

• his main issue is just his INSANE amount of books and cat hair…lots of cat hair.

• when he’s fostering a cat his bed is covered in the stuff it’s horrible

• the cat may be cute but the full sized scarf you can make out of its hair sure isn’t!

• you better hope your mc isn’t allergic cause you literally won’t be able to enter his room if you are

• not to say he doesn’t clean it, cause he does, he has that sticky rolly thingy

•but i swear to god it’s like it’s glitter THERES ALWAYS MORE😭😭

• his books are a fucking hazard

• cause why are the stacks so high and so close to his bed💀

• i know for a fact they’ve collapsed on him while he was sleeping

• multiple times

• he’s learned not to keep any cursed books in the stacks by his bed as a result of this

• also with that fucking candle right there???????

• bro has no self preservation skills apparently

——————————————————————————

Asmo:

• goes without saying, he’s neat

• not a clean freak like lucifer, but he likes to have everything in order to make his life easier

• his makeup and skincare especially, he has a mini fridge for it and all

• an absurd amount of perfume too, his room is like a bath and body works but with more high end stuff

• this extends to his bags too, if your out or at RAD and need perfume he’s gonna pull out like 6 and be like “take your pick!”

• but back to his room, his room smells so fucking good

• it also just has a really calming energy, it’s very comfy

• he’s strict though, no outside clothes on his bed, shoes off at the door, etc. etc.

• there’s usually a lot of bags around from his shopping sprees

• type of dude to have a white noise machine or something when he sleeps just get that vibe from him

• another clutter guy, his room is one of the best with cleanliness, but there’s lots of stuff in his room, it’s cute though, he pulls it off

• i really don’t have any complaints about his room at all, it’s cute and clean so he gets a pass

——————————————————————————

Beel:

•hmmm

•i’m putting beel and belphie’s separate cause i’m criticizing their separate sides

• he’s not overly clean but not overly dirty either

• his room really is a perfect limbo

• except for his bed

• his bed is fucking disgusting

• i just know theres crumbs EVERYWHERE

• you lie in his bed and it makes a fucking crunch sound

• okay joking he’s not that nasty, i’m sure he’d probably change his sheets frequently

• if for no other reason, cause of belphie getting annoyed at him cause his beds uncomfy to lay on

• but with all the midnight snacking he does i would not be surprised if he brought half the fridge back with him at night

• his room itself i’m thinking is pretty clean, probably some clothes on the floor etc, but he never lets it get too bad

• unlike some people (i am staring directly at mammon and belphie)

• when he has his midnight escapades he pretty much always brings the dishes back in the morning so it’s not a huge problem.

——————————————————————————

Belphie:

• clothes everywhere

• him and mammon definitely are the worst offenders

• but listen he probably doesn’t let it get nearly as bad as mammons cause of him trying to be considerate of beel

• but if he was in a room alone…good god

• he just simply doesn’t have the energy to put shit away

• some things will sit on his floor for weeks, months, years, decades, before he moves it

• a lot of the time it winds up being beel who grabs his stuff and puts it where it’s supposed to be

• this is why he’s such a brat, always getting spoiled smh

• his bed though..

• the most comfortable thing you will ever have the privilege of laying on

• there’s so many blankets and a shitload of pillows, it smells good, ur instantly so warm and comfy and the mattress is so soft you literally sink into it

• it feels like you’re literally on a cloud you’ll never find a better sleeping spot

• no wonder he never wants to get up

• i cant help but think that the twins room is a little boring, so it’s hard to give a lot of commentary on it

• i wish there was more personality like with the other bedrooms in the HOL

• seriously though they gave them the 2017 opposite twins sims 4 speedbuild delux😭

——————————————————————————

[sadhours]

How about Billy...but with a hippie gf =^

i’m not really sure if this fits but here you go! :)

here’s something short and soft for billy.

Neil can’t stand you. You’re too much like his ex wife and he knows that’s why Billy’s so infatuated with you. Neil was used to his son listening to him so he doesn’t even fathom that Billy would tell him no.

“You’re forbidden to see that girl,” he bellows when a smiling Billy closes the door after saying bye to you.

“Ha,” the smitten look on his face doesn’t dissipate at his fathers tone, “That’s funny, dad.”

“I mean it!” he tries again, “She’s a goddamn beatnik!”

The look on Billy’s face only angers Neil more. It’s twisted in humor like his dad has said the most ridiculously absurd thing he’s ever heard.

“Dad, it’s the 80’s,” he chuckles, “No one says that word anymore.”

Neil fumes, “Okay, hippie, flower child, whatever the hell they’re called these days. Either way, you’re not to see her anymore. She’s probably on drugs all the time.”

“Sure,” Billy nods, trailing back to his room with that dumb fucking look frozen on his face. Neil has half the mind to slap it off of him, but he’s trying to be better. He’ll fail soon. Him and Billy both know that.

-

Your white dress whips with the wind as you and Billy stand on the beach, hand in hand. It reminds him of his childhood. You remind him of his mother, he knows that, knows that’s why his dad doesn’t want him seeing you but he doesn’t care. You make him feel better, less alone in the world. Sure, you’re always stoned and spouting off about how this plane of existence is just the beginning of life but it comforts Billy.

Why you’re with such a hothead instead of someone more like you, Billy doesn’t understand but he tries not to question it. Like maybe you’re meant to entangle so you can calm him down and he can tell you when you shouldn’t let things go. You’re too carefree, sometimes you let people take advantage of your kindness and Billy doesn’t like it.

You pass the joint to him, sunshine fading under the horizon, “There’s a bonfire tonight.”

Billy’s already in trouble for sneaking out to be with you right now, he can’t imagine what Neil will do to him if he doesn’t come home soon.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, pulling a drag from the joint.

“How do you feel?” you ask, eyes telling him there’s nothing to be scared of but you’ve never seen Neil’s rage and the unfolds on Billy’s face.

“Uh,” he hesitates and you raise your eyebrows up. “Nice, I guess.”

“Feel your surroundings,” you instruct him, “close your eyes and clear your head, focus on the way the waves sound and how the breeze feels.”

He feels silly but he listens, he kills the rest of joint and tosses it on the sand before tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Time is still for the moment, he’s not Billy, you’re not you and his dad isn’t his dad. Nothing exists and it’s an exhilarating feeling, addictive to him. That’s why he’ll sneak out to see you whenever he can. Sure, the weeds nice but the way you make him feel is the drug.

You stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and watch as he comes back down to reality, but this time a little lighter. He kisses you and you melt into it.

“I think I love you,” he admits sheepishly when you pull away.

He tries not to worry when you don’t say it back and instead, lace your fingers and drag him along for a night of lazy kisses by a big fire.

[unfamiliaris]

Okay soooo Terzo hcs when, nsfw solo but also just like random thoughts you have on him

HIII HI OKAY I HAVE A MILLION ..... nsfw in the down there part bc I'm embarrassed ⤵️ but I'll do general stuff up here:

worlds most transgender man. To me. post top surgery but has no plans on bottom surgery

he's canonically short and I think he prefers his partners like, absurdly taller than him. like. have to tilt your head up to look them in the eye absurd.

despite having a lot of partners, I think he's mostly aromantic, with omega being his one exception. other than him, I don't think he sees himself as wanting to be With anyone, and even with omega they're not like fully and wholly exclusive. romantically they don't really see a need to involve other people but they definitely both sleep around and neither of them care

I think he has a really big sweet tooth, pastries are his go-to but he also loves dark chocolate paired with anything.

on the topic of food - he's SUCHHH a wine snob it's a little excessive. will ask for the year of every wine at every establishment he ever dines out at, WILL swirl the glass and tell you about the "notes" and such. omega finds it endearing but his brothers find it annoying

again on the topic of food, I think he can cook very well, but he can't bake. (which sucks for him considering how much he loves sweets 😭) cooking is far more loose and fluid than baking, and while I think he appreciates getting down to detail he just doesn't have the patience baking can require of someone and it makes him mess things up.

I think he's a dog person... I feel like he gives cat person vibes to most people but. idk. maybe it's just cause I've interacted w so many different dog owners that I'm more inclined to think of ppl as dog ppl but. that's what I get off of him

I think he's a very talented writer, even outside of music. I'd imagine he has a nice prose

ok time for horny stuff. hiii freaks and weirdos

a switch, but a full time bottom. he might on very rare occasions whip out the strap but it is not with any regularity

size queen . glances at omega. need I say more

LOUD. it's hard for them to fuck in secret because terzo is a goddamn screamer

big time oral fixation. loves to be kissing, licking, or sucking something. but also wouldn't say no to being on the receiving end of any one of those things

SUPER sensitive, REALLY easy to get him riled up at a moment's notice. especially his neck and thighs..

barely has any limits at all. it kind of scares omega sometimes with how far he'll ask him to go, even knowing how hurt he could get (but he always gets what he wants anyway...)

[jaquin]

Pikmin

Pikmin 1 is a masterpiece. There is no other Nintendo game that matches the level of quality that Pikmin 1 has in my opinion. Everything about it, the original concept, the presentation, the music, the gameplay, it nails it so goddamn well. It's such a timeless classic.

The sequels to Pikmin just really don't do it for me the same way Pikmin 1 does. They're undoubtedly fun to play and there are some improvements to the gameplay, but that's all they are, just more gameplay of the same concept. The magic and wonder of the first game is gone because now you don't have to worry about a 30 day timer, no stakes. I don't care about more pikmin types, I don't care about exploring these caves over and over. It's an absurd amount of repetitive content that is made to just keep the player playing. I don't think people shouldn't like it, I'd just personally rather experience something new. It makes me want to imagine a world where Nintendo would make more one off original videogame concepts that delivers a unique experience that aren't very long just like Pikmin 1. The closest thing to something like that, that I've experienced recently is UFO 50, an indie game that has 50 unique videogame experiences in one game.

When I played Pikmin 4, I was immediately turned off by the absurd amount of handholding there is. So much dialogue to press A to. Everything has to be explained to you over and over. I'm sure there is a good game here but I just can't force myself to stay interested to an experience that probably won't be as good. Though I might give it another chance someday anyways. I also haven't played Pikmin 3.

Pikmin 1 is an unforgettable experience from beginning to end. It feels like such a bold game for Nintendo to make and I wish they leaned into that bold direction more with their games. But that's not happening cuz they probably see it as bad business. Sequels are just the way to go in the game industry. This is why I mostly just play indie games.

[lunar-years]

THESE TAGS YES.

i loooove jamiekeeley (whichever way u wanna read that) however i think jamie was firmly over her in a romantic way by then. also re roy i just think of that one post like “everything is about football except for jamie except jamie is actually about keeley. but keeley is also about jamie so.”

and then we kinda cement royjamie’s relationship as positive with roy forgiving jamie and by the end 100% they are friends. roy getting close to jamie and being vulnerable with him and then saying he’s proud of him only to follow with “btw back off from keeley”….. [jamie voice] ok! awesome! i feel so great about myself and whatever we have going on. which is fucking nothing. apparently. cuz u were just buttering me up

this is so poorly written and nothing no one hasn’t already said. i just needed to rant -_- and then roy comes out looking like the bad guy but he’s literally not. he’s just repressed & even with keeley being the one to choose she’s still just a prop. which ok tbf with rj i can see how that happens ngl,, but that doesn’t mean i have to like it LOL

Me forced to look at my own spelling /grammar errors because its so annoying to add tags on this damn tumblr app 🫣 *roy springS

Anyway YEAH!! The only thing I don’t agree with you about is that I do very much think Jamie is still in love with Keeley romantically in the finale and I think he was being genuine to Roy when he told him as such. I just also think he’s in love Roy!

To me that scene is entirely about royjamie rather than keeley at its core. The whole reason Roy arranges it is because he loves keeley and wants to get back with her but he also loves Jamie (and probably doesn’t realize it yet, but DOES know he can’t stand the thought of Jamie not being in his life). he’s downright terrified being with keeley is going to change his relationship with Jamie and he quite essentially Can’t Deal With That. So he’s trying to preemptively tell Jamie how it’s going to be, because it NEEDS to be that way in Roys head since he wants to have both Keeley AND jamie as part of his life and this is the only way he can see himself getting that. He’s not intentionally trying to hurt Jamie (well, up until Jamie rightfully pushes back and Roy gets egotistical and pissy about it!). I think he really thinks he’s doing the right thing and being the bigger person by asking Jamie to back off?? Which is obviously so absurd and misguided but also so very Roy. Of course it doesn’t go well because he’s a repressed AND entitled asshole about it and thereby hurts Jamie in the process. But like. I think the intentions were warped but coming from a good place?

Meanwhile from Jamie’s POV he thought he was having literally the best day of his life, where crush #1 Keeley agreed (and was extremely excited about) going to Brazil with him AND crush #2 Roy finally asked him to hang out outside of training!! On possibly a date!!! And then he’s telling Jamie he’s PROUD of him, which is like, literally what Jamie has been waiting to hear from him!! Jamie must fully think he’s dreaming because DAMN. But then Roy (seemingly randomly) pivots to talking about Keeley and acting like his relationship with her was so much more Important and Real than Jamie’s (which. It wasn’t. Not in Jamie’s mind, certainly). I think Jamie is SO hurt because he thought he and Roy were really friends on the verge of more and then Roy instead decided to like. Be a giant dick again! Out of nowhere! So Jamie says what he says to hurt him back just as much.

It’s about keeley but it’s not about keeley, if you will. And the lines are all crossed.

Which is to say, I don’t hate that scene as much as most people. I think it actually exemplifies (in the messiest way imaginable) how deeply royjamie care about each other and how goddamn terrible they are at successfully communicating it to each other, let alone learning how to navigate those feelings together.

I do hate that Keeley lacks onscreen agency in her big “choice,” because there really IS no choice with royjamie behaving like that (though I think she’d have turned them both down regardless). And her telling them as much happens offscreen with no follow up!! Which sucks!!

[happy74827]

The Night You Left

{!!SPOILERS!! SEASON 4 EPISODES 1-8}

[Rhys Montrose x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After an argument that went wrong in many ways, you left your boyfriend in the dust. It was only later when you eventually found it to be the biggest mistake of your life.

WC: 675

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort (ish)

This one is super short, but I wanted to get something out before the weekend ended. So... enjoy!

『••✎••』

You couldn't even remember what the two of you were arguing about. One minute you were cuddled up on the sofa, watching a Disney classic, and the next you were both screaming like a bunch of banshees.

The anger you felt, which might have been unjustified, clouded your judgment and actions. At one point, you had a nagging feeling that you had gone beyond being violent and possibly had thrown his grandma's handcrafted vase at his head. It was a little fuzzy, but if you had, he must have been quick on his feet. You didn't recall seeing any blood.

At the end of the fight, which could have been hours or minutes, you stormed out with him at your tail. His begs and pleas for you not to go, his insufferable fists on the car door to get you to open up, and his demands that both of you worked out whatever it was, were the only things that came back to you.

Thinking back, you wished you had reopened the door. You wished you could have pulled him into a hug, forgiving him for everything, but your past self was a stupid idiot. A selfish, insufferable stupid idiot.

You drove off, purposely dusting him in the process, with not a care in the world. You figured he would call you later in the evening with apologies and flowers at your doorstep, but he never did. When guilt hit you, you attempted to call, but he never picked up, and Rhys always picked up when it was you.

The silent treatment went on for days, and your calls became more and more frantic.

The things you said, the things you believed you said, were not the things you meant. Of course, they weren't. You loved him more than anything, and you wanted to let him know that. If he was going to shove you out of your life, fine, but at least he should hear the truth from you.

It was then, two days later, that you found out he wasn't actually ignoring you. He couldn't call you because he was gone. Murdered. Slaughtered down in the woods like some animal. When you watched the news, your heart sank.

You felt numb like you couldn't breathe. Memories of your smiles and laughter from the early days of your relationship - the good times - surrounded your brain. His flirty personality that got you hooked, the British accent that made anything sound like Heaven, his absurd love for alcoholic beverages, the way he would prioritize forehead kisses over lip kisses, the smile he'd give you when you came into view, his hands... God, his goddamn writer hands...

The more you drank, the more he appeared in your apartment. The irony was that, although he was a figment of your imagination, he scolded you for drinking and reminded you it was his job, not yours. He would hold your hand, wipe your tears, and act as though he had never left. But in reality, he was never there.

From time to time, you still felt his lips hovering over yours, giving you the same tingly feeling you had always experienced. You believed it to be him staying around you, like the Patrick Swayze movie you used to watch together. He always hated it, but because you loved it so much, he tolerated it.

A few days after his body was found, and his funeral was held, new evidence suggested that some random, mentally ill college kid had murdered Rhys. It was hard to believe that such a pleasant and charismatic man like Rhys could be taken away so suddenly by someone who lived too much in their head.

After the article was published, explaining the whole ordeal, Rhys became forgotten by many. The man who was running for mayor was swept into the far abyss, and people moved on with their lives. But you were still drowning in your liquor.

You were drowning and the one person who could pull you up was gone. No one else cared.

[decamarks]

i bought ultrakill forever ago but never got around to playing it. what is the deal why has it spawned such a dedicated fanbase. you seem like you'd know....

IT'S JUST REALLY GODDAMN FUN!!! that's the short answer and honestly the best answer. it's really ridiculously fun. like probably one of the most fun games to ever exist.

there is a ridiculous amount of care and skill and soul packed into every design choice; it culminates in some of the most immaculately ecstatic and visceral gameplay i've ever experienced. it cannot be understated how brilliant this game's design is. the only way to really understand why it excels is to just play it!

if you'd like an anecdote to represent the overall ultrakill experience, here's mine: when i played the demo for the first time, after maybe 5 minutes i became so physically nauseous that i had to stop. and in that time i immediately went to get the full game. it's DELIGHTFUL. (see also: jerma's playthrough where he starts screaming "humans aren't supposed to be doing this" during a boss fight.)

but even aside from pure gameplay, there really is a lot to love… there's a certain self-aware sincerity to everything. it's unabashed on purpose, and in the best ways possible. despite its obviously absurd violence, don't at all mistake ultrakill for something cynical or misanthropic—there's a lot of depth and heart dancing beneath the surface, a lot of it in places i didn't expect to see it, and so much that i didn't expect to appreciate nearly as much as i do.

[okay this got too long. the rest is going DOWN HERE ↓]

like okay, obviously the music is just. insane. the goddamn midi metal/breakcore genre fusion is THE most hilarious and unfathomably genius stylistic choice that could have been made. and it's not even just that!! there's ambient & drone & harsh noise influence all across the ost, which just enchants and delights me. i DEFINITELY didn't expect it, but i love it. (the fact that there's like, a level named after a sunn o))) song, and that the latest update contains a godawful joke about trout mask replica might tell you exactly what kind of game ultrakill is, or it might tell you literally nothing.)

the writing and worldbuilding can be rich and compassionate in ways i really didn't expect, too... it's so evident that it's a work of passion, with really sincere and often sweet philosophies sprinkled throughout all the bloodshed and grotesque silliness—and often within them. it makes me smile! also gabriel is a really good character. people go apeshit over that guy. for good reason. he's just REALLY good.

if you're just interested in understanding its amassed fanbase, yeah ultrakill's is pretty ridiculous and dedicated. and it's extremely deserved! the game is fun & the characters are fun. being in early access, it's kinda built on ongoing feedback, so it makes sense people are invested. the devs really seem to embrace the fanbase wholeheartedly, which helps a lot too. that is also why, kind of inexplicably, ultrakill is kind of a gay & horny game. please note that i do not say these things flippantly or lacking deliberation; there's an extremely good essay to be written about gayness across ultrakill & its communities. like aside from the general hilarity of a game having official buttplug support, the fact that the dev team hired an artist specifically because he drew a lot of incredibly beautiful/obscene depictions of gabriel DOES say a lot. this, of course, makes ultrakill 100x better.

anyway that's the basics. i could definitely write THOUSANDS of words about this game and that's honestly... not what i expected when i booted it up the first time LOL. it really just happened to appeal to a lot of things i sincerely adore, in an unexpectedly sincere way—all while being a STUPIDLY good game.

TL;DR: it's a fun robot video game where you shoot things. and there's blood and explosions. it's good you should play it

[invinciblerodent]

getting a little bit obsessed with my "cottagecore throuple" here, because the more I think about it, the more disgustingly perfect and idyllic the whole thing is to me.

like... post-game, I like to imagine Shadowheart absolutely thriving. She's a city girl with a deep love for animals, and spotty- to nil memories, most of which are of the worst things to have ever happened in a dank torture-basement: of course a sweet, picturesque forest cottage (so far I like to think that Petyr would call it "The Hovel", even though it's by all means a cozy, nice hunter's lodge) would have her downright giddy, and she deserves every ounce of that happiness ever.

As I imagine it, when not enthusiastically learning all there is to learn about the quasi-self-sustaining life (that she had dropped herself into by shacking up with a literal forest ranger), she spends as much time outside as possible: walks barefoot in the tall grass, stops to smell every flower (and even plants quite a few, just by the vegetables), and lays in the soft underbrush for hours at a time- enjoying the sunlight caressing her face, enjoying a nice novel (and/or a cuddle with Scratch, the cub, or her boyfriend once he sits down for a moment), or just gazing up at the moon and stars in silent worship. She makes friends with every animal that crosses her path, too: SO many potions of animal speaking are consumed, it's absurd. (She's best friends with the chickens. Petyr has to start farming acorn truffles in the basement for her, and that even proves actually very lucrative- in town, that shit sells for like 10-20 gold a pop.)

She'd of course bring home everything that'll let her. Little wildflower bouquets and stuff at first, but also every critter: from juvenile racoons just weaned from their mothers (they look almost like kittens! how cute!), to elderly foxes that just want to curl up in front of the fire and warm their bones somewhere safe for a moment. She's having the time of her goddamn life, she's learning a shitton of life skills she was never taught (finally learning things not meant to make her better at hurting people!), and generally enjoying a life that, while still plagued by remnants of the past (night terrors, perpetrator trauma, loss, grief, pains both suffered and inflicted, all that great stuff), has her feeling actually content with her lot in it.

And with all this, Petyr is... very business as usual, or at least he's trying to pretend that he is. Having someone in what was his space for like 20 years is strange initially, but if there's one thing he's used to, it's adapting. Making things work. (Plus, he's like, happy, or whatever. In love. You know, that sort of rot.)

Then again, he's also used to only having to feed himself with the very little he has, not another (especially another who is inexperienced at this type of thing, and a second another who just... drops by sometimes, always unannounced and unexpected, but never unwelcome), which deep down does have him a bit (a lot) more antsy about not just being the self-appointed guardian of her happiness, but also just... their general survival.

He's keenly aware that winters in the wild are never especially easy, not when you're so far removed from the safety of a community- especially not the way he's used to being alone, without even magic to keep you warm and safe. Usually, he spends most of the year primarily occupied by preparing for winter, and even like that, there have been lean years: years when he got snowed in for tendays, when he did something stupid and all the careful prep went down the shitter, years he had to go hungry and learn to make do with next to nothing.

So he compensates for- (and distracts himself from-) that anxiety by making extra sure that the pantry is stocked to bursting with all the goods there can be, and they often head out into the woods to hunt and forage together- although he's not a great (or even a good) teacher, Shadowheart (usually Shadow, often Heart, lately Jen or Jenny in affection) does make what he used to do out of sheer need, into something also done for fun.

Hunting and foraging are fun now, and soon, the cabinets are overflowing with jars and jars of dry mushrooms, so much homemade deer jerky, jams and jellies and pickles galore... there's mead fermenting, and homemade soap curing before it can be used, firewood stacked to the height of a person... herb bundles, garlic braids, grain corn, and drying peppers are strung up on the rafters like fragrant fairy lights.

Meanwhile, I imagine that Halsin comes and goes as he pleases- not entirely unlike a beloved stray cat. He just shows up one evening as if he had left not tendays, but only a few hours ago, kicks the duff or mud or snow off his boots, and leans his staff into its habitual nook by the door. He sets whatever it is that he brought this time in its appropriate place (be it otherwise unobtainable goods from town, or just a little gift, a treat to enjoy together), and he sinks into the worn-out armchair by the fireplace that was declared his the first time he stayed.

One of the others almost always then strolls by to settle wordlessly on his lap (if not both of them- that poor chair can barely take the combined weight), and just relax as his big, warm fingers slowly work through the knots and ties keeping their hair out of their faces, and, voice rumbling deep in his chest, he tells them all that has happened in Reithwin the past while.

The many smells of dinner and the comforting scent of pipe tobacco mingle with the fragrant herbs and the crackling fire then, and creates something that can only be described as the scent of home.

.............. and then all three just fuck absolute NASTY every day, in every configuration, and on every surface available for the next, oh, month or so.