#sorry for that last tag I really don't kno how to tag this

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

(Chaos) Heart Condition

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Luigi, Mario, Peach, Merlon Relationships: Mario & Luigi, Luigi & Peach Tags: Sickfic, Sick Luigi, Angst

Summary: There wasn't anything particularly special about the morning Luigi woke up with a weird feeling in his chest. Prompt: Heart Condition Word Count: 1,607 words

[AO3 Link] [Link to Series]

~~~

There wasn't anything particularly special about the morning Luigi woke up with a weird feeling in his chest.

It was a light pressure, of sorts, right under the center of his sternum. Or maybe it sat nestled in the side of his rib cage, he thought, poking and prodding at it as he chewed his breakfast. Mario’s curious look over the table was met with a shrug. To tell the truth, Luigi wasn't sure if this was or wasn't an extended consequence of all the intense yardwork he and Mario had done yesterday. There had been aches in muscles he hadn't even known he’d had when they’d finished. He was still sore in some of those muscles now.

But even after another hot bath and decent night’s rest, the only ache remaining was the one in his chest, and the oddity of it was enough to bring up to Mario, an anxiety lacing his words. Mario reflected that anxiety right back at him, in his own poking and prodding and quizzing of his brother on the other symptoms he might have — of which there were none, puzzlingly enough.

Nonetheless, they both ended up in Luigi’s kart, speeding towards Toad Town and the Toadley Clinic, where after a long back-and-forth filled with questions and answers interspersed with one test or another, the larger answer as to what was wrong with Luigi still lay out of reach of doctors and patient alike. Thus, they were all forced to go back to the drawing board; something that both intrigued the doctors and worried Mario something fierce. Luigi, still reeling from the experience of getting his blood drawn, was just happy to be stepping out of the clinic as the day turned to evening.

But instead of going home, they went to the Mushroom Castle, because if Luigi’s condition changed then they would be that much closer to the clinic. At least, that was what they told Peach, when she came down to greet them. Peach, of course, was completely willing to let them stay in a guest room, concern shining in her eyes, and so Mario had to go back home to get some of their things. Before running off to the kart, he made sure to hug Luigi as tight as he could, promising to be quick.

Peach and Luigi watched from a window as Mario drove away, tires screeching. Peach giggled at Luigi’s disgruntled face. “I’m sure your kart will come back in one piece,” she smirked.

“It better,” Luigi grumbled. The kart sped down the road, and Luigi’s grip on the windowsill tightened once it was out of sight. Peach reached over to gently place a hand on his and, almost on cue, Luigi’s breath hitched.

With a sympathetic frown, Peach wrapped an arm around Luigi’s shoulder, leading him to a nearby bench for them to sit on. Luigi wiped at his face, unsuccessfully stifling a whimper.

“They d-don't kno-o-ow...” Luigi tried to say, face crumpling.

Peach shushed him, pulling him into an embrace. Luigi shook in her arms as she held him, rubbing a hand up and down his back and murmuring reassurances. “Breathe with me?” she gently bade him, eying the way his chest heaved with each sob. The last thing they needed was his crying setting something about his condition off.

When his breathing steadied, Luigi pulled away. He was still sniffling. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Peach shook her head, hands on Luigi’s shoulders so he couldn't retreat far. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I can't imagine how stressful today was for you.”

Luigi sniffled again. Peach passed him a handkerchief with which to wipe his face. “What if I tried to see if I can help?” she asked as he did so. “Might be worth a shot!”

“Really?”

“Really.” Peach wiggled her fingers with an encouraging smile.

Luigi huffed a laugh, meeting her expression with a hopeful one. “Okay...”

Peach nodded firmly. Twisting to face Luigi fully, she carefully placed her fingertips onto Luigi’s collarbone. With a deep breath, the points of contact warmed with her healing magic, and Luigi could feel it spread across his shoulders and down to his chest —

“Oh!” Startled, Peach withdrew her hands. “Did you...feel that?”

Luigi looked down, pressing a hand to his heart. “Yeah...” It had felt like Peach’s magic had...stuttered, in a way. Tripped on something it couldn't see and fallen flat on its face before it could show the world what it was made of. Luigi kind of empathized with it.

“Let me...try again.” Peach put her hands back into position. Once again, the magic poured into Luigi’s chest, but this time it didn't stop for anything. It also didn't do anything at all, aside from making Luigi squirm with a ticklish sensation. But when Peach switched gears and pressed a kiss to the vein from which Luigi’d had his blood drawn, the bandage came away to reveal smooth, unblemished skin.

Peach pursed her lips in thought. “...Follow me,” she said, gathering her skirts and standing up. She set off down the hall at a brisk walk, although when she noticed Luigi scramble to catch up she slowed her pace considerably. “Excuse me,” she said to the first Toad attendant they came across. “Could you please tell Mario when he returns that Luigi and I are at Merlon’s house?”

“Merlon’s?” Luigi questioned as the Toad agreed to pass the message.

Peach smiled at him, though it was strained. “We can take my bike,” she said. “So you don't have to walk.”

“I can walk!”

“I doubt Mario would be happy to hear you walked all the way to town.”

Luigi pouted, because, well, she was right.

---

Merlon’s door opened with a bang as Mario rushed inside.

“I say!” Merlon exclaimed. “Would it really be so inconvenient for you to knock?”

Mario cringed, sheepish. He grew even more sheepish when he noticed Luigi still shocked still.

“It’s okay,” Luigi said, amusement tugging at his face. He still looked spooked above all, though, so Mario hurried to his side.

“Merlon was telling us about what he’d found,” Peach told Mario.

“Peach thought it was magic, that’s behind what’s wrong with me,” Luigi added at Mario’s confused look.

“And her intuition was right,” Merlon grumped. “From the moment that boy stepped inside the energy emanating from him was impossible to ignore. Ah, no need to make that face,” he continued at Mario’s alarm. “I wouldn't say it’s hostile. It’s, well...” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, myself.”

That didn't really give a reason for Mario to not be alarmed.

“I’d like to do a bit more research,” Merlon said. “Write to a few of my colleagues. We’ll solve this mystery yet. It shouldn’t be long! I’ll keep in touch.”

Peach and the Marios thanked Merlon, and then went back to the castle to wait. Dinner was a tense affair, everyone too worried to eat much. Or sleep much, either. The next morning, they got a messenger, not from Merlon, but from the clinic. The tests they were waiting for came back clean, and they wanted to run more. But what they wanted to test needed equipment they didn't have, so they got a referral for and an appointment at a hospital in New Donk City. And despite the knowledge that whatever was wrong with Luigi was magical in nature, Mario felt it was a good idea to take Luigi there anyway, just in case.

So after a flight on the Odyssey on which Mario barely got enough sleep to function and Luigi got none at all, the brothers were walking the streets of the city, trying to find the hospital.

Luigi yawned wide. “We’re not that far, are we?”

Mario squinted at the map they’d been given. He didn't think so. Though there was something silly about how so many years away from the city had their skills in navigating it atrophying so much.

As did their awareness, it turned out. Because while Mario was completely focused on where to turn at this intersection, Luigi stepped into the street to cross it. And then several noises happened all on top of each other — a blaring horn, a shout, a screech of tires; crunching metal, some short screams, and...something else. A discordant sound that had Mario’s heart stop just as much as the fact that his brother just got hit by a car. Because he’d heard that sound before, weeks ago, in a black room in a black castle in a purple-black Void, helpless to do anything as he watched his brother walk away against his will and get pulled into the air by —

Map lying forgotten on the sidewalk, Mario rushed past the damaged car to where Luigi had been flung to and was now waving off the concerned bystanders who were trying to help him stand. “I’m alright, bro,” Luigi reassured Mario when he got to him. Despite everything, he looked cheery. “And hey — that weird chest feeling went away! Guess we don't really need to go see the doctor after all, huh?”

Mario stared at him, eyes wide. Luigi’s cheeriness faltered. “Bro?” he asked. “I really think I’m fine; nothing’s hurting, anyway. And someone called an ambulance, so we’ll know for sure, soon!”

Mario still didn't respond. He tipped forward, resting his head on Luigi’s shoulder, hand clutched in Luigi’s shirt. Luigi hummed, resting his head on top of Mario’s, arm slung across Mario’s back, focusing on continuing to reassure Mario that he was a-ok.

Mario, meanwhile, was focused on how reachable Merlon from Flipside was.

[nobodysdaydreams]

@mahpotatoequeen thank you for tagging me!

How many works do you have on AO3? only 11, but I make up for it in word count.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 468,908 words (sorry)

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? Only three fandoms. TMBS (show and books, idk if these count as separate) and wolf 359.

Top five fics by kudos:

So...I'm in some pretty small fandoms and only started writing last year so I don't have a lot of high kudos fics. But this is what I got so far:

S.O.S

The Oldest Siblings

Who You Were Meant To Be / Treat Them With(out) Mercy (tied)

It Should Have Been Us

A Joy To Obey

Honorable mention: The highest Wolf 359 fic I have since I only started writing for that fandom like a week ago (it's a nice fic about Renee and Dominik for anyone interested): For Better or For Worse

Do you respond to comments?

Of course! I love hearing from you guys and discuss my work, fandom theories and ideas.

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

My tmbs followers know the answer to that question. Sorry S.O.S. fans (but also: not sorry at all).

Edit: Also, how did I forget, but my tmbs fic The Boys Who Waited, has a super angsty ending. It's one of my lesser known fics, but I do really like how it comes full circle in the end and you don't realize the implications of what's happening until the fic is over.

As for my Wolf 359 fics, I'd say the one with the angstiest ending is my most recent fic about Jacobi dealing with the loss of Kepler. The fic received positive critical review from the esteemed @sophieswundergarten, but the last chapter does end on a slightly ominous note/cliff hanger. Here it is if you want to check it out: The Legacy of the Artist Formerly Known As Warren Kepler (or An Ode to Whiskey Boy)

Do you write crossovers?

Not really. Some of my fics blend the show and book elements of tmbs, or reference the other, but not to the point of what I'd call a "cross over"

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Not on my fics. I think a few times on my blog, but I don't have time to think about or deal with that. I'm also neurodivergent, so sometimes I have trouble knowing whether people are actually insulting me or doing or saying something "as part of a joke". I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Do you write smut?

Nope, it's not for me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not, and I don't think so. I write for really small fandoms. It would be pretty obvious if someone did.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but @sophieswundergarten recently made a podfic of the first chapter of my fic Who You Were Meant To Be and that made my whole day! 🥰 The link to the podfic is in the chapter notes if you want to listen.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't do a lot of shipping. I wrote a few things about Renee Minkowski/Dominik Koudelka, but they're married in canon so a lot of that wrote itself. (Works are here if you're interested: For Better or For Worse / The Return of the Blessed)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

All of my SOS sequels. I'm going to try though. We'll see what happens.

What are your writing strengths?

Long fic. I can take an idea and run with it. I'm also good a picking up where I series left things off or when a show gets cancelled and leaves a cliff hanger.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Short fic. I wrote around 7k-8k words for a Wolf 359 fic and someone commented how happy they were that they "finally got a long fic about this". And I was flattered, but like. 7-8k words???? LONG????

...who's gonna tell them?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I've only done this a few times. I try my best and do as much research as I can. I want it to be accurate though, so if you're a native speaker, and I got something wrong, feel free to (politely) lmk so I can fix it.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

For the tmbs fandom S.O.S. since it's what I'm known for, but also Who You Were Meant To Be because I love a good redemption story and I've gonna a lot of really nice feedback on it.

For the Wolf359 fandom, weirdly enough, The Return of the Blessed, which is based on my own unhinged crack theory, but I love writing it.

Tagging: @itsgoghtime @oflightningandstars @myfairkatiecat @mysteriouseggsbenedict @heyitsthatonesmolgay and anyone else who wants to participate!

[mazm-imagines]

Notice! (NOT THE END OF THIS ACCOUNT I PROMMY)

Aheeem aheem wheemper...

Hi guys. Sorry for making false assurances again... just forgor to get to the halloween asks even over my fall break. However I do want to talk about certain things. I want to explain this creative block and for a moment just be vulnerable on here. There's been so much in my life right now I've been feelin like dogshit and then last night i was talking to a friend snd it all clicked. This is a really long post so I'll put it under a cut.

I have to admit... my passion for mazm is dwindling a bit. I wont be dropping the blog or anything not at all. The memories I've made here cheered me up when I was at my worst moments.

I like to write and draw to make people happy. I remember when I was 12, I came onto mazm tumblr tags to just look at things. I came across an incorrect quotes blog, and while I don't think it was the highest effort content, it still put a smile on my face because I could tell whoever ran it was passionate. People were passionate. The mod left around 2020ish??? And i remembered being so sad.

It's hard to make content for small fandoms. Heaven only knows others have it worse... some only have 3 people instead of 5/lh

I've watched mutuals leave the fandom as they lost interest. Which is completely normal like it happens. But it just. Sucks. Its hard to make art/writing when you dont have people to exchange ideas with. I know I should be writing for myself, but I also would like to know that there are people reading and watching. I want to make people happy in the same way i was happy in the past.

But the dwindling activity on here + the lack of participation in the community events such as MazM week makes me want to give up trying sometimes. Not giving up trying to write nor answer asks by any means. I do those of my free will. But give up trying to reach out. I absolutely hate forcing interest, i don't like to harass others.

As i grow older, and younger members join the fandom, i start to feel a disconnect. Not because they are doing anything wrong, and I am happy that children get to enjoy MazM the same way i used to. It's more that my tastes mature, but i don't have anyone to discuss it with. It feels strange.

There's also the fact that I've always been more fond of MazMs original works such as Pechka, Thy Creature, and Hyde and Seek. I like Phantom of the Operas more original aspects ironically, but was never quite fond of Jekyll and Hyde. I often think a large part of MazM discussions involve the adaptations rather than the original aspects. Which again, I feel a bit out of place with.

All of this, and it starts feeling a bit lonely... I must be self pitying because the discord is pretty alive and I do see people in the tags. I appreciate all the creators i see, from the bottom of my heart. Everyone that creates something or speaks their mind or participates, that is what keeps it alive. If anyone ever wants to reach out to me I am more than happy to talk and share ideas.

But I've felt my old work was juvenile. I keep rereading my current work and looking at my current art. I keep feeling "not enough". Its leaked over to my other interests too like IDV. I have to drop one of my biggest projects because I've lost passion for some of the characters due to lore shit. And the other fic, I just couldn't read my prose without cringing. Which sucked because that project was for myself, it wasn't meant to be serious it was just yume shit. But... maybe that just reflects upon how I feel with myself now. That if no one reads, then I must be doing something wrong.

I love mazm from the bottom of my heart, I admire the team so much. It's why I started to draw seriously, it's why i started to read and analyze seriously and heavily influenced my writing. I AM MAZM FAN NUMBER 1!!! i am super excited for the new edgar allen poe game of course i am. It's just seeing the team members leave one by one and the format change so drastically... i don't know. The magic is different. But I will always support MazM despite it all.

So this is where I am now. Burnt out, unable to look at my own creations properly, cold lasagne hate myself. All very kafkaesque im sure. I don't want to put out low effort posts, so that's why I've just been keeping my askbox preserved. To all the people that sent me asks, thank you so so so much. You guys are the reason i am not letting this blog go anywhere. And I am very sorry to keep you all waiting.

[chardou15]

Shattered Memories - Ch. 5

Chapter summary: Nuyia wasn't ready to meet her mother in Eywa and felt that she has no right to connect with Eywa, but she had to show that all to Miles. Due to Eywa's blessing Nuyia and Miles have the right to connect with Trees of Souls and Voices. Quaritch discovered that Eywa exists.

Pairing: Na'vi Quaritch x Na'vi Fem OC

[1,578 words]

Chapter 4. |

Oel ngati kameie. - I see you

Nuyia, oeyä 'ite... - Nuyia, my daughter

Oe ìmpeyam ngaìlä - I waited for you

'Upe? - What?

Ke, oeyä 'ite. Oe ke ìmtsun - No, my daughter. I couldn't

Sa'nok - Mother

Oe omun. Oe txopu sì - I know. I'm afraid.

Ngenga ve'ki oe... - That you hate me...

Ngaytxoa - I'm sorry

TW: cursing, manipulation

@missroro @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

If someone wanna be tagged, write to me!

A/n: This story takes place after the ATWOW so it contains spoilers. I don't have any beta for that fic so I'm sorry if you find mistakes. English is not my native language (I wish). Text in green is spoken by souls in Eywa.

"I'm not ready to do that..." Nuyia looked at the Tree of Voices nearby Hometree. She felt uneasy. "I know I have no right to connect. I'm not... I'm not one of The People anymore."

Miles stood next to her, folding his arms.

"You have. You forgot? Eywa blessed us. You should connect to the Tree of Voices and meet your mother. Talk with her, explain everything." Quaritch looked at her, seeing her worries and sadness. He knew she want to connect but Nuyia was afraid.

Nuyia snorted and rolled her eyes.

"You don't even believe in Eywa, Miles. I killed my own mother, understand? I'm not ready to do that. And probably I will never be ready."

Miles lay one of his huge hands on her shoulder and squizzed gently.

"No, you didn't. You were just a child, a 17-years old girl. Now, you have a chance to fix that mess, Nuyia. You have a chance to talk with your mother somewhere out there in Eywa or whatever. Leap the fuckin' chance!"

She sighed.

"It's not that simple. Especially I must show you how we, Na'vi, connect. You have to connect with the Tree of Voices too to hear our ancestors. If you really want to become one of The People, you must understand our culture, way of life, Eywa. You have to believe. But you don't believe it. You still make fun, Miles. Did you forget our lessons? When I showed how to feel the ground under your feet? How to hear the sounds of the jungle? Remind that, Miles. You were so proud of yourself. And I was proud of you too. I hoped you are not as stupid as I thought. But now... I don't see you in Eywa, Miles. It seems that you are just making fun of that all. We are in Tipani since the last circle of dawns and eclipses. And still... You still don't make any progress. Eywa blessed us almost half of the circle ago. Atxo was right. You are stupid as a rock."

When Miles heard Atxo's name, he caught Nuyia's hand, walking directly to the Tree of Voices. His jaw was set. Atxo has pissed him off. During that period of time since Miles and Nuyia are blessed by Eywa, Beyda'amo's son has become more and more pushy, arrogant, and confident. He won with Miles only once and Quaritch has started to train more and more intensively. Miles had scars on his torso and arms, even on his face - on the right side under the eye, on the cheek. Nuyia saw how Miles ran, hoisted up on branches, and practiced fighting with blades, clubs, and staffs. She noticed that he had an extreme talent for the second to last one. Miles was tall even as a Tipani Na'vi and much more muscular.

"What are you doing?" She asked, but he didn't answer. "Miles!"

Finally, he stopped and took his queue.

"Show me everything. Show me how to connect to the ancestors. Show me Eywa, Nuyia. But first, talk with your mother. If Eywa really exists, your mother is with her. Take your braid and connect with the fuckin' tree!"

"I have no reason to show you that. You don't understand. You will better train to defend Atxo as you did earlier."

"Sänume said..." He began.

"I know what she said!" Nuyia shouted at him. "But I'm not going to show you that! You know why. Because you don't even try to believe."

"What a stubborn, tiny woman... I'm not as stupid as you think, Nuyia." Miles took his queue and slowly connected to the tree. His pupils became bigger. Miles opened his mouth, shocked. Nuyia knew that he has heard the ancestors.

Quaritch heard everything - the voices many of people. Their happiness, worries, and pain. He heard the war's sounds, killing people. Bulldozers, ships, AMP suits, flamethrowers... And screams. So many screams. He felt the death of The People - children, women, and men. He felt pain, terror, and hatred for Sky People. He felt that all simultaneously. Quaritch's hands have shaking, and his green-yellow eyes moved from left to right. Miles became pale. and finally, he fell down on his knees. Slowly he disconnected from the Tree, shivering.

"Ma Eywa, Miles! Are you okay?! You are so pale... What happened?" Nuyia squatted next to him, laying her hands on his cheeks. His skin was warm and sweaty, but he has no temperature. He was just shocked.

Miles looked at Nuyia, resting his forehead on her shoulder and closing his eyes.

"I heard everything. I heard the ancestors. I heard their memories from the war sixteen years ago. I felt their death, Nuyia. I felt their death, pain... Everything. I felt what humans did. And now... I know you were right. Eywa is real. I felt her too. And I feel her now. On the ground under my knees, in my nose. Even in my eyes. Finally... Finally, I've became to understand that phrase.

"What phrase?" She looked at his eyes which became really huge and round.

"You know what phrase. 'I see you'. Oel ngati kameie.'

Now Nuyia's eyes became bigger. For the first time, Miles said that with understanding. She saw him in Eywa too but said nothing. Nuyia only smiled.

"I'm afraid, Miles. What if my mother hates me? Or is angry at me?" Nuyia held three sprigs in her right hand.

Quaritch took her other hand and squizzed.

"Everything'll be okay, Nuyia. I'm next to you. That is your mother. You know she loves you. Even if she is dead. Tell her everything. Eywa knows that you'll say the truth. And your mother will know that too. If something will happened, I'm next to you. As you were beside me.

Nuyia sighed and finally connected to the Tree of Voices. She heard the ancestors from the beginning. She smiled, closing her eyes. She missed them so much.

"Nuyia, oeyä 'ite... Nuyia, my daughter..." Nuyia heard. She recognized the voice of her own mother.

"Sa'nok... Mother..." She started to cry, happy to hear her mother. "Ngaytxoa. I'm sorry." Nuyia felt Miles's hand on her shoulder. It gave her strength.

"Oe ìmpeyam ngaìlä. I waited for you."

"Oe omun. Oe txopu sì. I know. I'm afraid."

"'Upe? What?"

"Ngenga ve'ki oe... That you hate me..."

Rrrta’awä laughed.

"Ke, oeyä 'ite. Oe ke ìmtsun. No, my daughter. I couldn't."

Nuyia started crying loudly. She told her mother she missed her and wanted to explain everything. Nuyia told Rrrta’awä the story with all the details. Rrrta’awä wasn't angry. She wasn't even disappointed. She finally understood her own daughter. She was young and in love.

"Nuyia... I feel a man next to you. It's not García. But another demon." Rrrta’awä said in English. "Who is that?"

"My... My friend. His name is Miles." Until recently Nuyia thought that Miles isn't her friend but now... He defended her a couple of times. They spent a lot of time together - hunting, training, flying on ikran. Nuyia every day showed Miles many things and places. And she liked teaching him. Even if he was a moron. Tall, massive, rude, and vulgar moron. He was her friend.

"I want to talk with him."

"Sa'nok..."

"I want to talk with that Miles, Nuyia."

The girl sighed and open her golden eyes red because of tears. She looked at Miles who was confused.

"My mother wants to talk with you."

"Your... Your mother? But... How?" He asked.

"Just connect to the same sprig as me and close your eyes."

He did it and heard Nuyia's mother.

"So you are Miles."

"Hello, ma'am. Nice to meet you. You wanna talk with me."

"Yes. My daughter told me everything. I know you are a demon. Like García. Thank you for defending her and saving her life."

"You're welcome."

"Probably you know that I have a favor. No, not a favor. A demand. Relevant to my daughter." Rrrta’awä was talking to Miles only so Nuyia didn't hear her. "My daughter isn't happy. I am worried about her. She is my only daughter, Miles."

"I know it, ma'am, but I don't know what shall I do. Nuyia is better than a month ago."

He heard a sigh.

"You don't know how Nuyia was before that massacre. She smiled a lot, literally glowed. Every kid in the village wanted to be like her. She was a... how do you say? Role model? I am afraid that she won't get her energy and glow back. So, please... Save my daughter, Miles. Promise me that you will save my only child from madness. I beg you.

Miles didn't know how to respond in another way than agreement.

"I promise, ma'am. I promise that I'm going to save Nuyia."

Miles literally felt the smile of Nuyia's mother.

"And two more things, Miles. One: don't come closer to my daughter. In relation. If something will happen, ask Sänume or Unipey about that. They told you what to do and what to not do. Two: Oel ngati kameie. Both of you. You and Nuyia. Tell her that."

"I'll tell. Oel ngati kameie, Rrrta’awä."

Rrrta’awä disappeared and Miles disconnect from the Tree of Voices.

He promised. But he has known that he couldn't keep that promises. He must hurt Nuyia. Psychically.

Miles looked at Nuyia and smiled at her, knowing that she'll hate him and try to kill him in the future.

[nathank77]

4/22/24

2:37 a.m edited..

So after a thorough investigation of fb, you can't hide your tags if the post is public if it's someone else's post. All you can do is untag yourself.

You only have full control over your posts. I mean you have control over your tags but I know you're not removing and re-adding your tags. I tested it with my multiple fb accounts bc I had to know. I'm actually a, "victim," of the metaverse/keyword data tracking. I went on my computer and searched first name last name family reunion, bam its there. First name last name ex husband's name bam.

So If I haven't terrified you and made you think I'm a complete psychotic mess, I mean you probably were waiting for me to make this discovery. Although I'm going to be real.

You're scared of me, you think I'm a crazy stalker, that I'm insane and you prob only come to my tumblr to make sure you and your family are safe.

I probably scared the shit out of you posting about your divorce, I could only imagine. I didn't type in info to find the photos, Elise. All i typed was your first and last name and fb constantly changed what was tagged under your name... and I thought you were communicating with me bc when I searched things up about tagging and fb I couldn't find direct answers.

Anyways If you aren't scared of me, I'm sorry I lost myself. I guess I'll check your actual fb occasionally like once a month or something. Cause that never changes and generally that's all you have control over. Unless you want to untag and re-tag yourself which isn't realistic.

I feel like a fucking idiot.

Wake up by silverstein really fits right now. I can only imagine what you see when you look at me.

As of this moment i have this:

1) your pose change

2) the fact you haven't blocked me or rejected it- which could be a way to protect yourself from me...

3) it going from everyone to friends the day before i went to the brass mill mall.

4) it going from friends to everyone the day before i went to the west farms mall.

5) your bio and profile picture changing the day after I posted about your divorce from your ex husband and how it appears he left your daughters without a father. And I posted shape shift the day before.

99% of this could be circumstantial. I mean the pose the day you blocked me is a little hard to believe unless you're protecting yourself... I don't think it was circumstantial...

The friends to everyone and back I mean it could be a way to say I'm reading...

Either way my intentions were good and fb really played with me. You never did.

I hope you don't see a psychotic crazy guy you need to protect yourself from. I'm not coming for you. I wish you'd come for me though.

I don't expect anything from you. I never expect to see or hear from you again. I can only imagine how I look. Over here like this post changed. Omg you posted this. Christ I want to jump off a bridge.

The worse part is only bc I have psychosis am I beating myself up over it- I would have assumed you could control individually what shows up when someone searches you...

Yet that doesn't matter. I'm sorry I can only imagine what you see when you look at me.

I'm sure you think I'm a psychotic stalker. I'm sure you don't see me as the boy across the Webcam anymore. I'm sure at this point our eye contacts only means one thing to you- I don't see Nathan behind those eyes anymore.

I'm sorry you met me. I'm not sorry I met you. You're still a poem earth wrote to keep me alive. Although I'm sure I'll never hear from you.

"I saw the light, I went to hell

But the devil never looked my way"

"Flatlines now I've lost my tomorrow

I've paid the debt of the time I've been borrowing

Nothing can save me

There's nothing in the mirror

Now all I am is a dead reflection"

I'll assume you are protecting yourself and you think I'm insane.

All I am is a dead reflection- I went to hell (psychosis) but the devil didn't look my way- bc I only ever meant to love you even if loving you meant never knowing you.

I truly hope you're happy and I hope I didn't terrify you. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.

Goodbye Elise.

[knights-unwelcommentary]

since I haven't seen anyone talk about it imma just dump some thoughts here: elwurd sucks as lesbian representation, and arguably as a person. she feels like she's based on A lot of bad stereotypes about lesbians being predatory or overtly sexual. the way she interacts with Joey and her whole "turning good girls bad" thing leans into the "predatory lesbian" stereotype so much I can't help but think it's intentional, and the way the fandom treats her as some goddess of gay rep drives me insane!

Hmm. That sounds frustrating

First thing, we haven't got enough clean exposition to any of the Hiveswap side characters to make informed assumptions about them, they say and do very little in Hiveswap and for all we know Elwurd could turn her fanon self and reputation on its head in the future. In Friendsim the mere interaction with MSPAreader influences the character's actions and thoughts by the nature of reader's meta adventure

Second, I feel that there's a stew of issues at play here:

-On one level, we have homestuck and related media having a thing with making terrible people likeable, most of the characters are based around stereotypes some more awful than others and they all have some degree of assholery and moral greyness, even the nice ones.

Tavros tries to be good but engages in deadly role games against other trolls and likes to make animals fight and eat each other in his room and sees nothing wrong with that

Calliope makes fandom style content about real people she interacts with without their consent, her friends being chill about it when they find out doesn't make it an acceptable thing to do

-On another level, Hiveswap seems to have a mix of fantrolls and trolls created for the story. That means there's a bunch of trolls that have the typical early homestuck fantroll format of "this is my troll, they're Alternian but they're one of the good ones" with the assholery and moral greyness added as an afterthought to fit the setting and a bunch that were created with those traits incorporated from conception. And it's real hard to find out which character is which

-On yet another one, the writers have kind of turned Alternia into a big Earth metaphor/criticism particularly focused in the United States, so it *is* probably intended when things are unsavory but familiar like Elwurd being a controversial lesbian stereotype despite Alternia being a generally bisexual alien society

-And then there's the art, by rendering everyone to look so soft it's way harder to perceive them accurately to Alternian values cause your fave's just some cute li'l bean that can do no wrong or they can do wrong but it's okay for them because reasons. This warped perception extends to even Zebruh, imo

As I've said in the past, I don't recommend emulating homestuck and homestuck related characters or their actions, as easily to project on as they are

[kkukkung]

Im crying in the school bathroom rn I seriously love wonho so much I'm in pain why is he my ideal guy in every way he's so amazing and handsome and sweet but whO CARES BEVause he don't kno me haha am I right

big mood all the time im always in pain bc he rly................ doesn’t KNOW i would let him shave off my eyebrows if he wanted 2

tardy replies as usual under the cut!

(sorted from oldest to newest)

I wouldn't even care if wonho was a high maintenance boyf tbh I'd just sit and comb his hair all day and tell him he's pretty

hdjkfh this was so long ago but i think i was mostly kidding abt him being a high maintenance bf... like he would do so much giving? but i guess the only thing he’d need is constant reassurance that his s/o loves him imo jfdhgjk... i also think he’d b someone who either doesn’t settle down ever or does it very late in his life!

annie 🌹literary queen ❤️ literally crowned with a laurel wreath! not be drum attic but this midsummer nights monsta au is so!!!! give me sistar as the four star crossed lovers then drag me to h*ll and give me this doctor faustus au i'm itching for with kihyun as faustus and k.will as mephistopheles bc i love to watch my faves s*ffer but don't let me rip until i get my much ado about nothing au with the entire cast of starship ent and a lil cameo from giriboy!

(in refence to this monsta x as shakespearean archetypes ask!) fjdshgkjs shh i lov u... why is k will as mephistopheles so Accurate esp no.mercy k will lmao. um u should write all of these? in fact if... if anyone has mx literary aus.... hmu...... i’ll n*t

another thing about that incident is that it seems like the fan doesn't think Changkyun and Jooheon undersood them?? (an extension i guess they assumed they don't understand english very well) and that's pretty problematic. it seems to me that when they didn't respond the fan assumed they didn't understand and kept repeating it, as a joke. but they literally did That to the two with the most proficient english in the group... it's rly a mess all around. it's disrespectful through and through

(in relation to that gross “d*ddy” incident from a while ago) ik i feel like some intl fans think korea is a land completely culturally and linguistically alienated/divorced from the rest of the world or something and while cultural relativism is real to some extent... the idea that koreans are completely unaware of ~outside~ things is deeply racist. like mostly white ppl think that diasphoric poc are completely Different from them? when my mum went to the states 15 years ago some ppl literally asked her if there were newspapers in china lol...

i just randomly thought of monsta x as sesame street characters mostly bc i wanna see kihyun and wonho duke it out as bert and ernie (kihyun w/ the waste paper bin on his head and wonho asking 'where's the waste paper bin' and kihyun saying 'ask me that again and look into my eyes') and also minhyuk being elmo tbh...

JKGHKJDF PLEASe!!!! when will something like this b photoshopped... minhyuk as elmo is... spot on... i remember once elmo appeared on a now-discontinued late night talk show program i used to watch when i was in primary school and he was like “elmo likes wasabi, that’s why elmo has no eyebrows” and idk why ive never been able to forget this????? very lmh. also this made me think of a monsta x muppets au n minhyuk is the pic of ass-gape kermit.... next post of mine will b monsta x as kermit reaction pics

Hyungkyun is such an under appreciated ship. Like, they just get each other so well? Why do people overlook it. ㅠ.ㅠ Do you have a moment that made you ship them? How would you describe their dynamic?

it’s bc they’re intp x intj they don’t rly... Understand each other with minimal effort/real communication lmao it’s very efficient. both quiet lil darlings who aren’t emotionally That Open but enjoy their own little space together sometimes?? their dynamic is like... they’re weird in different ways but they’re v chill together. u can tell hyungwon is super fond of changkyun like he has this Expression when ck does anything at all.... i think these two rly love each other’s personalities bc they’re both kind/gentle/peaceful types and their overall ?? vibe is just highly compatible... they’re absolute darlings... v soft together... i can’t think of a favourite moment but i rly rly love their birthday messages for each other last year like changkyun’s message for hyungwon was like “ur rly cool bruh ur rly such a great person” and hyungwon’s message for changkyun was rly... just him obviously doting on him n finding him cute jksfdhg i lov them a lot :(

soyou: i know how to make hair pretty :))) knetz: dirty fckn iljin why can't she be out there being being PRODUCTIVE in society by having babies and learning how to be a good wife for her future husband ://// smh how dare she be successful now when i'm stuck doing what society wants me to do but also anonymously attacking ppl i don't personally know on the internet bc THATS respectable the irony of ugly knetz is so transparent

The whole thing about Knetz and wonho's "scandalous" past reminded me of something. As a PSA to those people who are so insistent and pushy that idols aren't allowed to have sex/date/be anything but straight: Fuck all of you. You do not own these people, and if you really cared about them you'd be happy if they were happy. Like tbh, if anyone that famous and busy could also balance out a relationship at the same time, I'd be so happy for them. It really bugs me how all idols are supposed (1/2)(2/2) have this squeaky clean innocent image where they have to look and act a certain way and have these stupid fucking dating bans because once they don't meet up to that image their success suffers. Idols already give up so much privacy, and the last thing they need is millions of people scrutinizing every little thing they do. I don't even know where I started this rant from, but basically, GIVE IDOLS PRIVACY AND DONT JUDGE THEM FOR THEIR PASTS OR FOR BEING IN RELATIONSHIPS OR WHATEVER

yeth ty for highlighting the gross obsession w purity and productivity (like the first anon said -- a very confucian sort of ideal)... i don’t rly have anything else to add here i think. also i would fight for soyou i fact i would fight lmh who said she was his ideal type in no.mercy era... she’s rly one of my faves and the way she was slandered for the hairdressing thing was one of the most ridiculous things knets ever did lmao honestly yuk

u a kihyun stan now👀👀👀

im a @fhiz​ stan it’s the same thing tbh

ahh so i saw your tags on that jh gifset! as one of the few jh stans (or maybe there are way more than i think there are lol) i rly love his "reversal charm." he has a lot of what i lack as a person: a strong presence and a lot of confidence! i respect him so much as a person alth i rag on him a lot LMAO. sorry if this is a bit long winded but i just rly wanted to put this out there ;;

this is rly cute i lov hearing ppl talk abt their faves lovingly it rly... Heals Me. i think it’s strange how underappreciated jooheon is in this fandom especially bc he’s usually the one who catches ur eye first bc he’s so hyped by starship as being a one-in-a-million talented rapper u know? and he rly shines in mvs and no.mercy but............. y does he have the least fansites jkfhdg ?? you’re v right abt the reversal charm thing but i feel like sometimes it’s very overdone like... on lots of shows he’s asked to do aegyo when rly he should be asked to... idk... rap or dance or something?? i actually think jooheon is the most serious member of monsta x sometimes bc he seems to have a sense that he’s.. the pillar of mx if that makes sense? and that’s why he’s always pushing himself and working tirelessly like he feels very Responsible for this group, more than anyone else. idk if that makes sense!!! i love him and i want him to... unwind a bit bc sometimes he looks so stressed and tired but he still feels the need to pretend to be energetic like my heart rly hurts for him :/ this got so emo im sry i do rly love to hear that u respect him sm i love jooheon stans :(

i can see what u mean about jooheon being 1 of the most masculine. (iirc u also talked abt kihyun being that in a post a while ago) like with his face and his physique he really is striking; his body=like that slim,upside-down Y that you'd learn to draw men w/ in Anatomy 101 , but i think.. ,--not that u asked, but,, i think the jury's still out on if he's comfortable w his masculinity with the way he acts feminine lyk misogynistic comedians Can sound like dead ringers for women,? idk & i take +

(not sure if there was a 2nd part to this? there’s nothing else in my inbox so i’m sry if there was and tumblr ate it) yeth i think i meant that his demeanor is the most ~~masculine~~ whereas i think kihyun is still the most... idk... mature-masculine?? if tht makes sense, and i definitely agree w u on that second point! i didn’t think of that at the time but now that i... do... think abt it... ur right and also the way he comes back from it by putting on the >swag demeanor again in an attempt to polarise it is definitely a bit 👀👀👀 he probably doesn’t want to risk his Manly Rapper Image for real u kno? that said it’s ingrained in kpop that behaving cute --> “girly” entails that sort of “comedic” high-pitched voice + compact body language etc.... like i’m not condoning that ofc but i definitely think it’s broader than this particular case! :/ hm

maybe i'd be doing better in school if i could major in kihyunology ;~; i stan him but i def think we still don't know much about him even after all this time after debut. especially when i look at him compared to wonho who wears his heart on his sleeve (bless him i love wonho sm, gotta protect this bun at all costs!!)...but ya it just makes me wanna learn more about him like who is the real kihyun??

i want to write a kihyun meta when i have time... i feel like i Get him a bit more these days but it’s also very hard to put into words bc u kno when u kinda sorta mb get some1 but it’s a feeling rather than anything conveniently expressable gkjdhfjk.... idk if anyone wants to send in some Kihyun Thoughts + Meta feel free! :>> i don’t think he’s actually... as complex as we sometimes make him out to be lol like his behaviour is actually kind of predictable? more on his later

wait is the february comeback actually true? ugh i'm so conflicted cuz on one hand i'm excited if there's really gonna be a full length album, but i also think they need more rest but then there's the matter of getting their first win and idk i'm super psyched but i'm also worried that the boys are being overworked

i still feel like they had a comeback like yesterday lol like looking at their schedules stresses me out bc they do so much..... im glad wonho got to go to his mum’s cafe recently tho! all we can do is have faith in them rn and when it’s time... stream, buy things if ur able to, spread the news and the hype etc. i am definitely Worried abt some things like the competition they’re up against but.... gotta have faith u kno... and i feel like all active idols are kind of... permanently worked very hard but i think currently only jooheon and shownu are a bit Overloaded. also has the date been confirmed yet... it’s february already...