#things may change too but this is my idea for them for now ^^
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Also, like... I get that there is a lot of anxiety about being seen as morally good & fighting for everyone at every turn, but! Crucially, the people who try to guilt trip you or judge you off your Tumblr presence don't fucking know you. They don't know what you do off Tumblr. They may not know any other social media that you DO use for your politics and heavy posting. And, tbh, at a certain level of offline activism & direct action, it is actively dangerous for you to be posting about what you do online, so a perceived lack of interest or dedication online does not necessarily translate to the efforts you put in to causes you care about.
Fact of the matter is, YOU are the only one who knows what you get up to. If it's not as much as you think you should be doing, that's for you to assess and change. If you feel like you're doing enough, or if you feel like taking on more responsibility in activism would overwhelm you or burn you out, that's okay! You know your limits better than anyone else. You get to set your priorities. And if you really want to help with social justice causes, you HAVE to take care of yourself. Anger, fear, and guilt are not sustainable motivations to drive a movement. You NEED places to relax and have fun and not think about how bleak things can get. You NEED to have places to retreat, enjoy yourself, and remind yourself that it's all worth fighting for.
I know this, because I'm in my 30s now. When I was in my early 20s, I was friends with a lot of folks who went hard during the Ferguson protests, and while many of them are still active in their activism, almost none of them are operating on the same level as they used to. All of them are burnt out & depressed. I spend a lot of my energy urging them to take care of their most basic needs. We also have a problem with a lot of older activists being too broken & traumatized to continue organizing. And part of the problem is people within the movement encouraging people to push past their limits until they have nothing left to give. Or just having no support systems in place to help people recover while actively judging people who need them & can't continue without them.
And, like, it's hard, because it's easy to start feeling like no one cares about the stuff you care about when you're out there trying to make change -- especially true if all your activism is online posting & raising awareness. It can feel like you're talking to a void or a brick wall. The idea that you are so stressed & strung out & never let yourself take a break from the harsh reality of the world while there are people who have the audacity to make time to enjoy their lives and put their efforts into other activities that aren't directly related to The Cause -- well, that's why a lot of people resort to guilt trips. I know I did, too, when I was younger and freshly angry. And I know that those guilt trips did nothing to convince anyone of anything. In fact, it was the constant guilt trips that made me retreat from those online groups. Where they might have had any and all skills I could offer, they instead made me feel like shit for doing what I could handle at the time. And even though I knew guilt tripping was a major manipulation & abuse tactic, I still resorted to it and, in doing so, I felt wrong. Like I betrayed some of my core values by trying to make people feel so bad that they would suddenly realize that they should be ashamed & join the movement headfirst. It just... doesn't work that way. A guilt trip will turn people off. If you want people to join a movement or be more active in a movement they are already part of, it is so much better to encourage them to come with you to organized events or give them something tangible to do that they can actually accomplish. And if you're just talking about posting online, well... that is not the most important thing to focus on, and is a really bad measure to judge someone's morality.
All that to say, a guilt trip is usually a manifestation of the desperation folks are feeling. It's not right to guilt trip folks, and if you're at that point that you feel like that's the only thing that will get people to change and care, then I'm sorry to say you are probably on the verge of your own burnout and you need to take a break. Please don't let people make you feel bad for not being angry or on your activism shit 24/7. And don't judge yourself harshly when you need to have boundaries online. The best tactic will always be community building and working with people & their various skills on their level. Compassion and encouragement go so much farther than guilt.
No matter what a post on tumblr tries to tell you, your moral and ethical stances will never be determined by what you reblog and what you scroll past. Don’t let manipulation tactics force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.
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The Story of KLogs: What happens when an Mechanical Engineer codes
Since i no longer work at Wearhouse Automation Startup (WAS for short) and havnt for many years i feel as though i should recount the tale of the most bonkers program i ever wrote, but we need to establish some background
WAS has its HQ very far away from the big customer site and i worked as a Field Service Engineer (FSE) on site. so i learned early on that if a problem needed to be solved fast, WE had to do it. we never got many updates on what was coming down the pipeline for us or what issues were being worked on. this made us very independent
As such, we got good at reading the robot logs ourselves. it took too much time to send the logs off to HQ for analysis and get back what the problem was. we can read. now GETTING the logs is another thing.
the early robots we cut our teeth on used 2.4 gHz wifi to communicate with FSE's so dumping the logs was as simple as pushing a button in a little application and it would spit out a txt file
later on our robots were upgraded to use a 2.4 mHz xbee radio to communicate with us. which was FUCKING SLOW. and log dumping became a much more tedious process. you had to connect, go to logging mode, and then the robot would vomit all the logs in the past 2 min OR the entirety of its memory bank (only 2 options) into a terminal window. you would then save the terminal window and open it in a text editor to read them. it could take up to 5 min to dump the entire log file and if you didnt dump fast enough, the ACK messages from the control server would fill up the logs and erase the error as the memory overwrote itself.
this missing logs problem was a Big Deal for software who now weren't getting every log from every error so a NEW method of saving logs was devised: the robot would just vomit the log data in real time over a DIFFERENT radio and we would save it to a KQL server. Thanks Daddy Microsoft.
now whats KQL you may be asking. why, its Microsofts very own SQL clone! its Kusto Query Language. never mind that the system uses a SQL database for daily operations. lets use this proprietary Microsoft thing because they are paying us
so yay, problem solved. we now never miss the logs. so how do we read them if they are split up line by line in a database? why with a query of course!
select * from tbLogs where RobotUID = [64CharLongString] and timestamp > [UnixTimeCode]
if this makes no sense to you, CONGRATULATIONS! you found the problem with this setup. Most FSE's were BAD at SQL which meant they didnt read logs anymore. If you do understand what the query is, CONGRATULATIONS! you see why this is Very Stupid.
You could not search by robot name. each robot had some arbitrarily assigned 64 character long string as an identifier and the timestamps were not set to local time. so you had run a lookup query to find the right name and do some time zone math to figure out what part of the logs to read. oh yeah and you had to download KQL to view them. so now we had both SQL and KQL on our computers
NOBODY in the field like this.
But Daddy Microsoft comes to the rescue
see we didnt JUST get KQL with part of that deal. we got the entire Microsoft cloud suite. and some people (like me) had been automating emails and stuff with Power Automate
This is Microsoft Power Automate. its Microsoft's version of Scratch but it has hooks into everything Microsoft. SharePoint, Teams, Outlook, Excel, it can integrate with all of it. i had been using it to send an email once a day with a list of all the robots in maintenance.
this gave me an idea
and i checked
and Power Automate had hooks for KQL
KLogs is actually short for Kusto Logs
I did not know how to program in Power Automate but damn it anything is better then writing KQL queries. so i got to work. and about 2 months later i had a BEHEMOTH of a Power Automate program. it lagged the webpage and many times when i tried to edit something my changes wouldn't take and i would have to click in very specific ways to ensure none of my variables were getting nuked. i dont think this was the intended purpose of Power Automate but this is what it did
the KLogger would watch a list of Teams chats and when someone typed "klogs" or pasted a copy of an ERROR mesage, it would spring into action.
it extracted the robot name from the message and timestamp from teams
it would lookup the name in the database to find the 64 long string UID and the location that robot was assigned too
it would reply to the message in teams saying it found a robot name and was getting logs
it would run a KQL query for the database and get the control system logs then export then into a CSV
it would save the CSV with the a .xls extension into a folder in ShairPoint (it would make a new folder for each day and location if it didnt have one already)
it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a LINK to the file in SharePoint
it would then enter a loop and scour the robot logs looking for the keyword ESTOP to find the error. (it did this because Kusto was SLOWER then the xbee radio and had up to a 10 min delay on syncing)
if it found the error, it would adjust its start and end timestamps to capture it and export the robot logs book-ended from the event by ~ 1 min. if it didnt, it would use the timestamp from when it was triggered +/- 5 min
it saved THOSE logs to SharePoint the same way as before
it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a link to the files
it would then check if the error was 1 of 3 very specific type of error with the camera. if it was it extracted the base64 jpg image saved in KQL as a byte array, do the math to convert it, and save that as a jpg in SharePoint (and link it of course)
and then it would terminate. and if it encountered an error anywhere in all of this, i had logic where it would spit back an error message in Teams as plaintext explaining what step failed and the program would close gracefully
I deployed it without asking anyone at one of the sites that was struggling. i just pointed it at their chat and turned it on. it had a bit of a rocky start (spammed chat) but man did the FSE's LOVE IT.
about 6 months later software deployed their answer to reading the logs: a webpage that acted as a nice GUI to the KQL database. much better then an CSV file
it still needed you to scroll though a big drop-down of robot names and enter a timestamp, but i noticed something. all that did was just change part of the URL and refresh the webpage
SO I MADE KLOGS 2 AND HAD IT GENERATE THE URL FOR YOU AND REPLY TO YOUR MESSAGE WITH IT. (it also still did the control server and jpg stuff). Theres a non-zero chance that klogs was still in use long after i left that job
now i dont recommend anyone use power automate like this. its clunky and weird. i had to make a variable called "Carrage Return" which was a blank text box that i pressed enter one time in because it was incapable of understanding /n or generating a new line in any capacity OTHER then this (thanks support forum).
im also sure this probably is giving the actual programmer people anxiety. imagine working at a company and then some rando you've never seen but only heard about as "the FSE whos really good at root causing stuff", in a department that does not do any coding, managed to, in their spare time, build and release and entire workflow piggybacking on your work without any oversight, code review, or permission.....and everyone liked it
#comet tales#lazee works#power automate#coding#software engineering#it was so funny whenever i visited HQ because i would go “hi my name is LazeeComet” and they would go “OH i've heard SO much about you”
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I don't talk about this much but I'm just going to say it now.
there's something uniquely vile about being the daughter of a father who is a trump supporter. and not just a casual supporter, a full drank-the-kool-aid moon-landing-was-fake deep red neonazi maga crackpot. because I had to watch that change happen over the last decade. my father, an intelligent, introspective scientist, whose brain has essentially turned to mush and critical thinking skills shriveled up and died thanks to that orange rapist.
He has always loved me, supported me to be whatever I want to be, given me the most opportunities he could in life. He taught me to be kind, and forgiving, and to remember that we are all in this together. And now, while still claiming to feel that way, he vehemently, and viciously, spews hateful rhetoric and vitriol against women, against climate change, against democrats, against all the things I am, against the field of study I've dedicated my life, my soul to. We can no longer even have a regular conversation because all he does all day is sit online and watch trump rallies, listen to 'patriot' podcasts, and troll people on forums. He has nothing else to talk about, and cannot be negotiated with. Him and I used to love having sparring matches of wit, picking topics to debate in good faith. Now, any hint of a challenge and he becomes enraged, petty, and belittling. He somehow maintains this hypocritic fallacy in his mind that he is a good person, that he does everything to make my life better, and that humankind must come together to make a better future. Just, not *those* people, I guess, not them or them or them who aren't even people to him.
And I must occupy some gray area in his mind, Schrodinger's political prisoner. Because even though he knows I am a democrat, that I am a woman who will be affected by these laws, that I study climate change in the work that he supposedly supports, I must not be to him, one of 'those' people. I'm not like 'those' democrats, 'those' women, 'those' climate change cronies. Except when I am, because if we argue, if we discuss policy at all, I am just a girl, under his roof, and I have no idea what I'm talking about - because I'm young, because women aren't capable of understanding His greatness, because Elite Academia has brainwashed me into being a liberal. That my mom and I are ganging up on him, constantly, to paint him as the villain when he's only the victim. He's going to elect the man who will save us all, whether we want it or not. Our say doesn't matter, because we just don't understand.
I miss the father I knew. He was always petty, always ready to poke and prod - he hurt my feelings plenty, but I could deal with it. But I felt he was genuinely good at his core, that he tried his best. Now, I don't know him. I don't recognize him anymore. I've imagined so many times what I would say to him if I could give a speech, or write a letter, where he could not talk back and just had to listen. I don't know if I'll ever get that chance, or take it. But I know he has truly no idea how hurt and betrayed I am, and he wouldn't believe me if I told him. He knows no shame, and he does not apologize.
I'm not looking forward to spending the winter at home with him every day for two months. I don't see how I can look him in the eye. And how dare he look me in the eye after fucking me over.
I love my father, no matter what, and that's why it hurts me so badly to see him change into a stranger, and wonder if there was anything more I could have done to change his mind before this transformation completed. Knowing that it's not my responsibility to argue with him to try and make him see reason when he's too far gone and all it does is make me feel like shit, and yet.
I'm sorry to everyone who may relate to this within their own families. It's probably going to get worse. These men will feel empowered to speak their minds and force you to hear it. They try to provoke you, just so they can say you're hysterical or overreact as women do, when you get reasonably upset. Know that you're not alone in this, Trump has truly torn families apart in ways that I don't think will ever heal.
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I'd love to defend Gilmore Girls: A Year In The Life for a minute (I don't usually make long posts and may delete this later for that reason) because I feel like writing something inconsequential.
Other people get lots of comfort watching the original show (especially in the fall). I feel cozier watching AYITL. The characters are much older; the dizzy, flighty, still-growing-up feelings for Lorelai and Rory have faded, and it's full of moments that make it clear that certain things in their lives are definitely always going to be there. Constants. Luke, Stars Hollow, family, Kirk, Taylor, the changing of the seasons. Now - for my defense. (I'm rambling.)
Okay, many, many people don't like the revival. I understand. It's different in a lot of ways from the original show, and lots of expectations were not met. When I first saw it, it threw me too. But I didn't dislike it. In fact, the more I rewatched it, the more I thought it was almost better than the first show. The leading ladies are not flashy young stars anymore - Rory is Lorelai's age when the OG show first began, and Lorelai is gracefully and fabulously careening toward grandma times with all her wit and charm, all her most comfy habits, and it makes me want to hang out with her more than Season 1 of the show ever did. And I think the fact that ASP came back to write for these characters again and end it on her terms, at last, was an absolute win, and I love how she did it because it fixed so many things I thought were wrong in the show.
Lorelai is self-centered, terrified of commitment, and has no idea how to put others before herself and not run away during the hard times - unless something involves Rory.
Rory is self-centered, thinks she is special, and has no idea how to deal with not getting what she wants. The consequences of her actions almost never directly affect her, and when they do, said consequences are quickly stamped on and snuffed out by her mother/friends/family.
Emily is self-centered, desperate to be in control, and finds her worth in what other people think, in how things look, and that includes what Richard thinks.
In the show, Lorelai has moments where she learns to stay and learns to put other people who are not Rory before herself. Those moments don't last. She definitely has good intentions, but they're all conditional. She only has good intentions up to a point - and that point is usually when someone or something threatens her happiness and feeling of safety, or Rory's happiness and feelings of safety (understandable; that's her child).
In the show, Rory is told she is the sweetest kid in the whole world. Rory is told she'd never do anything to hurt anybody. Rory is told she's special, she's smarter than her peers, she's not like other girls. Rory 100% believes that. She also probably has a bit of a problem with living up to that image - she wants to be all of those things, and thinks she is, and can't handle it when it seems like people think she's not. (That may or may not have something to do with Christopher, who always had somewhere more important to be, or with Lorelai, who was so cool and strong and sure of Rory.)
And the show has moments, too, where Lorelai has to face the music and see that she's screwed up or is hurting someone with her behavior (Max, Chris, Luke, Jason, Emily, Richard, Sookie), but very very often, Lorelai breezes her way through that music and keeps moving, and flits to the next thing or person that will make her happy, because she does not know how to stay and stand and fix what she's broken. Because it only matters if she is happy and if Rory is happy. (The same thing goes for Rory in the show - consequences come, but Rory rarely has to properly deal with them herself. She is coddled and propped up the whole way.)
Now, to my point!
I watched AYITL and noticed something was different right away. Lorelai is with Luke (she should be), who is the opposite of her - constant, loyal, selfless, determined to stay no matter how hard things get. But they're not married. Lorelai is scared to really commit, and marriage is one of the hardest things you can commit to - ever. And Lorelai is not happy. Rory, for her part, is not perfectly settled as a reporter or a journalist or any of the things she was always told she could be. And she's not happy. And Emily, bless her, has lost her husband and her false sense of control is spinning away, and of course, she is not happy.
And A Year In The Life takes the show's clumsy half-arc of these three Gilmore women and perfectly completes it.
Lorelai's fear of commitment and habit of bolting when things get hard drives her to push every new chef out of the Dragonfly, refuse to expand the inn to better accommodate Michel's needs, shun Rory's tell-all of her past mistakes, shame Richard at his funeral and break Emily's heart, and worst of all, nearly wreck the closest thing to a proper relationship she's ever had: the one she has with Luke. She can't face that she misses her father, loved her father, and that maybe her mother is right about her relationship status. She can't face that people might read Rory's writing and see all her flaws and all her mistakes growing up in printed ink, and she can't run from that. And when Rory insists, Lorelai cuts ties. Lorelai has spent years avoiding marriage with Luke. She has spent years hurting her mother in an effort to defend herself at all costs. And she has spent years ensuring the Dragonfly Inn is exactly what she wants it to be; because changing it would be uncomfortable, and as a result, she won't commit to a new chef, she won't expand, and she's about to lose Michel the way she lost Sookie.
Rory's bubble of self-centeredness and assurance that she's special is popped with the needle of reality at last: she is not special. She's a young woman who has to actually work hard to find a job and make some money, like everyone her age. She is talented and she is smart, but she's not God's gift to journalism, and people keep saying no, and people keep asking her to prove her skills and her merit, and she doesn't know how to deal with that because everyone has always told her she can do anything she wants and she's the best. She wants a distinguished career and can't find anyone who will take her on; she tries to write for a raging batty feminist (hello Alex Kingston I love your work) and that goes sideways; she wants Logan Huntzberger but she turned down his proposal and now he's engaged and it has to be a secret; she wants somewhere to live - just not Stars Hollow because she's better than the thirty-somethings stuck back home. She wants Lorelai to approve of her book and insists her mother give her this, as if Lorelai hasn't always given her whatever she could. And when Lorelai says no, Rory does what she wants anyway and almost fractures their relationship over it.
Emily's control is completely gone - she can't control her emotions, she can't control her tongue, she can't control her maid or her maid's handy family, she can't even control a stupid painting of her late husband. She's on a downward spiral and her anchor is dead. She tries to regain a sense of worth, because surely that will bring happiness back. She tries to gain it from how many possessions she has, that doesn't work. She tries to gain it from Jack, who is not well-suited to her but he makes a matching accessory to the life other people will see. That doesn’t work. She tries to gain it from therapy with Lorelai, control her daughter at last, that doesn't work. She tries to control Richard's headstone, that doesn't work. She even tries to find solace with her beloved D.A.R, and she finds that emptiest of all.
A Year In The Life has these women finally face their flaws head-on and grow. The way characters should.
Rory: Rory is confronted with the fact that she is not special and has to move home like everyone else her age and get a job she does not want, because that's life, and that's what everyone else has to do in the real world. And when she's at her lowest, pouting, she gets advice from someone who has faced his own flaws long ago and has grown and who knows her at her best, and encourages her to get up and work hard (Jess Mariano, ladies and gentlemen). And she does. Rory hits bottom and takes Jess's advice and works at understanding her mother, who is not perfect, and even goes to interview her father, who is also not perfect. She fights with Lorelai over the book and insists on her own way, and when Lorelai refuses, Rory can only blame herself. She has a rabble-rousing night with her LaDB boys and winds up sleeping with Logan in one more bubble of fantasy, one more umbrella-jump of escapism, like the old days, because Logan is her weakness. And when she wakes up the next morning, Rory turns and walks away from Logan and the affair and her insistence on having what she wants regardless of who she hurts (hello, Dean Forrester and her affinity for taking spoken-for men) for the final time. And the consequences of her desires? She’s pregnant. (Come on, we all know the baby is Logan’s; Rory’s life rhymes with Lorelai’s.) She goes to Christopher to interview him for the book and is subtly asking her father why he wasn’t in her life, because she needs to know what to do with her baby and her lover. She didn’t go to Lorelai to figure that out. She went to her dad, because the truth is, Rory didn’t have her father, and part of dealing with the consequences of her actions is to work out how to take care of this baby and whether or not that means involving the father. She’s owning up. She goes to Lorelai and offers to give up this book; she doesn’t make excuses or whine, she wrote the book anyway because she believes in it, but when she’s gotten three chapters in, she respectfully goes to her mother and asks her to read it and then, for the sake of Lorelai, not herself, Rory promises to quit and throw the book out if Lorelai does not approve. Because Lorelai is more important to her than herself. Rory has worked hard and made mistakes and gotten pregnant and she has stared the world in the eyes and seen she’s not special. And she has to deal with that. And she does, finally, deal with it. And she’s happy.
Emily: Emily is confronted with the fact that nothing is inside her control—except what she does. Worth does not come from what she owns or who she’s with or what she’s wearing, and it didn’t come from her marriage, either. That wasn’t why she married Richard anyway. She is miserable and alone, and part of that is her fault. She married Richard because she loved him, and she keeps coming back to Lorelai because she loves her, and she opens up her house to Rory when Rory needs a place to write because she loves her. Emily looks around at what she has and recognizes what has worth and what doesn’t, maybe for the first time, with clear vision. She recognizes that she can’t control everything. At first, that fact keeps her down. She forgets what day it is, the curtains are closed, and she doesn’t get up in the morning. No Richard, no Lorelai, no reason to move. And then Lorelai calls her, and tells her about who Richard was and what Richard did and how it mattered, and that inspires Emily. She can get up. She buys a place on Cape Cod, totally opposite of the sort of life everyone admires and expects to have worth, and she does what she’s really always been best at—she loves. She takes care. She took care of Richard, she took care of Lorelai and Rory when they needed it, and she takes care of Berta and her wonderful family, instead of having a maid take care of her needs. She packs up and moves out, she sends Jack away, she reveals the D.A.R. for what it is and quits them forever, and she takes a job at a whaling museum because she just likes it. It’s nothing fancy, and neither is her oceanic house or the music she plays in it or the clothing she wears, because none of that is worth anything anyway. Her family is. Her friends are. She gets the painting of Richard done right and brings it with her, and she gives up attempting control of everything and only takes control of how she behaves. She gives Lorelai what Lorelai needs for the Dragonfly, and her only stipulation is that she gets to spend more time with her daughter and Luke. She loves, she takes care of others, she helps. And she’s happy. And now, the best for last. The star.
Lorelai: Lorelai sits in that stupid Stars Hollow Musical and hears a song that perfectly describes her problem—it’s never or now. Make a commitment. Do something hard. Make your life about something other than your momentary present happiness and comfort, the way you do with just Rory, sometimes, but make it a permanent change. Make change permanent! Don’t run away! …And then she runs away. She’s been miserable, she’s hit bottom, like her mother before her and her daughter after her. She’s losing friends, she’s losing Luke, she’s losing Emily, she’s losing Rory over the manuscript, and it’s all her fault. Lorelai tries to breeze past it. She does Wild. She does what she’s never done before, she does something hard and uncomfortable, but she does it for herself, and therefore it doesn’t quite work. She tries to hike, Dipper Pines won’t let her hike, she meets other women her age who think this hike is gonna fix things, it doesn’t, and she gives up and goes to get coffee because that’s her go-to. (Coffee is speedy, bad for you, and only a temporary rush—kind of everything Lorelai clings to, actually.) But the coffee shop is closed, and when Lorelai is denied that allegorical Band Aid, she goes around back and sees a great view and finally finds clarity. She didn’t need the hike—she needed to think. She needed a moment of silence and introspection to gain the insane courage to finally stop moving, stick around, and face her fears. To put her eyes on herself and then take her eyes off herself and onto other people—namely the people she loves. Lorelai calls Emily and cries, because it’s hard to do this, it hurts, but with one story, she proves she loved her father, and she knows her father loved her, and the fact that she’s calling shows that she knows Emily loves her too, and she loves Emily, and has loved them both all along. It gives Emily the strength she needs to get out of bed. That was hard, but Lorelai did it. And now she’s going to do more hard things—she’s going to commit. It’s never or now, and Lorelai chooses now. She goes home and the first thing she does is propose to Luke and become Lorelai Danes overnight. Hard. Scary. Just right. She patches things up with her daughter, and chooses Rory over herself—for the hundredth time, yes, but when it’s at its hardest for her to do. “I’ll read it when it’s done.” Lorelai expands the Dragonfly using one of the biggest monuments to her fear of commitment – the Twickham House. She goes to Emily for help, which is also super hard, but this time it’s not for Rory – it’s for her, and it’s for Michel, and it’s for the Dragonfly. And she accepts Emily’s affectionate terms. Lorelai chooses Rory, Luke, Emily, and Michel over herself, and commits, and she doesn’t run away. And she’s happy.
And all of it is earned. Finally earned.
I could talk more about the incredible writing, about ASP at her best, about the perfect themes and scenery and the very intentional end to Paris, Lane, Kirk, Taylor, Dean, Jess, Logan, Chris, and the general cast’s stories, but I’ve already rambled for too long.
Suffice it to say: A Year in the Life is my Gilmore Girls. It’s best version of the story. I think it was expertly done. Not perfect, but an ending that was earned.
#gilmore girls#ayitl#a year in the life#gilmore girls ayitl#gilmore girls a year in the life#writing#asp#amy sherman palladino#jess mariano#literati#logan#doverstar's thoughts#text post#long#long post#review#netflix#lorelai gilmore#rory gilmore#rory#lorelai#luke#luke danes#luke x lorelai#emily#emily gilmore
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Hello! That top-grossing list isn't good evidence for originality (or lack thereof) overall. So I did some analysis on all American films in 2023, 1998, 1973, and 1923.
The thing about the list of top-grossing films is that I'm not surprise it's heavily weighted towards franchise films -- just because more people are going to see them!
I wanted to see if there have been actual changes in overall American film production, so I classified every film in Wikipedia's "List of American films in [year]" lists.
Classifications (in hierarchical order, since a film may be in multiple categories): Remake, Sequel, Franchise, Adaptation, Original
More extensive data & notes below the cut, but without further ado...
THE RESULTS
We do see the proportion of movies original to screen ("original" & "adaptation") decreasing over time
BUT...it's still 80% of movies in 2023!
If you're looking for those original movies? Horror and rom-coms. In every year I looked at except 1998, there was a really clear trend of 1-2 genres with a TON of the original films. 1973 is blaxploitation and cop movies, 1923 is westerns and romances.
So there ISN'T a huge difference in originality of the movies that get made, but there IS a big difference in the breakdown of the top-grossing films by year -- 2023 is the only year with more than one sequel/franchise film in the top 10.
My guess? There isn't a big difference in what films get made, but there likely IS be a big difference in what films are advertised, or shown in easily-accessible multiplex theaters.
But I'm not going to look up advertising budgets. Because THAT would be too much.
Under the cut: more data! detailed breakdowns! fun observations!
Here's the complete breakdown! Sample sizes are 343 (2023), 254 (1998), 202 (1973), 437 (1923).
Edit: And here is the same chart filtered on top 10 highest-grossing films -- top 9 in 1923.
Fun data points:
I combine "original" and "adaptation" above because it's often hard to draw a line between them and because it got at the question posed by OP, but the proportion of non-adaptation original movies is HIGHEST in 2023! Adaptations were highest in 1923!
I think this is because there are more writers aiming at film now than 100 years ago, and the way film ideas are picked up has changed over time.
1923 is all silent movies, and I was surprised by how many are already remakes! But I guess the technology was changing so fast...
1923 also had a handful of adaptations of poetry, which I didn't see anywhere else!
Very surprised by how much porn is in 1973. By which I mean, any porn, but ESPECIALLY porn faintly inspired by Sartre's 'No Exit' -- the "hell is other people" play. (I marked it "original", for reasons I trust are clear.)
Process notes & category definitions:
Some of the movies on Wikipedia's lists were definitely not actually American films, but I didn't do any filtering -- I took the list as it was given
Sequel - to existing film franchise Remake - of a previous visual media property Adaptation - of a play/book/story/etc; didn't usually include when the play/story/etc was written shortly before by the director and was otherwise unknown, probably with the intent of going direct to film Franchise - part of an overarching franchise but not otherwise adapted/sequel; includes e.g. Barbie, Scooby Doo, standalone movies in existing universes Orig - includes biographical, loosely-inspired-by, historical, etc; classifying orig vs adaptation is HARD!
is it me or like, have movies been getting worse?????
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Sitting and thinking about how we have absolutely no idea of what is to come.
This could be a stressful four years of financial difficulties. They could literally take away our human rights. Or both.
People are either in the streets celebrating or crying in their beds. There are people playing optimist saying it couldn't possibly be that bad. There are people saying it's WWIII coming.
I don't know what to expect. I want to be realistic. I don't care about cutting corners and sparing feelings. I want everyone to be prepared. I just... I don't know what to prepare for except for the worst. It's so much better to be prepared for doom and meet nothing than it is to realize too little too late that doom has come to your door.
I have witnessed how quickly things can change when they want to. Florida was once a very queer friendly state. At least in major areas. I used to pride myself in Ybor's strong drag history. Our large pride parades and our ample youth support. There were bad patches, of course, it's always going to be rough outside of the cities... and lets be honest, safe for queer people didn't mean the same thing fifteen years ago that it does now. Safe for queer people fifteen years ago was facing less harassment and leading somewhat normal lives.
When I was in high school, gay marriage was legalized across the country. Most states, including Florida, had discrimination protection. Things were getting better.
It took only a year for things to hit the fan. So quickly, Desantis was able to rip my safety away. It took no effort. None. People STILL struggle to get gender affirming care. They tried to ban it even for COUNSELLING.
I wasn't yet on HRT when that happened. It was one of my big motivations to start. I had the privilege and luck to start HRT because I am on my parent's health insurance plan. Plus, I was able to pay out of pocket for the prescription so that if something like this happened I wouldn't get dinged.
Even with my privileged access to insurance and ability to drive a long distance, it took me a long time to start. I wanted to start months before I was able to.
They then tried to criminalize trans people with updated gender markers. They attempted to target trans people by enforcing all Florida IDs to have their AGAB gender marker. Those with updated licences could face a fine or even jail time.
That was VOTED IN. THEY VOTED IT IN.
The only reason it did not fly was because a (very merciful and kind) judge shot the fucking bird as it flew. Stating it was CLEARLY targetting and therefore against the state constitution.
Did you know I didn't even know about it until it was voted in? They snuck it in. They could do it because they wanted to.
When we entered 2024, one of the first deaths of a transgender person was in Florida.
It took only a year for Florida to go from a safer state for queer people to being marked UNSAFE for queer travel.
It took only one year.
I don't trust the "it won't happen" anymore. I was told that so many times, and then it DID. It DID happen.
I don't know what to expect from this. Like I said, I want to be realistic. I just don't know where to look for direction anymore.
I'll be working on some resources.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I may be able to answer them. If not, I'll at least post it so someone else might be able to.
Keep your heads up, kids. Keep your ears sharp and your eyes focused. We will be ready to face this. Whether that means facing rising grocery bills or facing a militia, we will be ready. Together.
#transgender#lgbtqia#gay#trans#save trans kids#nonbinary#trans pride#save trans youth#save trans lives#trans lives matter#protect trans lives#protect trans rights#protect queer rights#protect gay rights#protect HUMAN rights#protect women#protect women's rights#protect right to autonomy#stand together#together we will conquer#stand tall#lgbtq+#lgbtq rights#lgbtq community#we are not leaving#you cannot beat us#you cannot erase queer history#You cannot erase US
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About your meta, I guess the thing is if you believe that Word Of God is canon or not. Jac Schaeffer said that Agatha was thinking she wanted to save Billy and kiss Rio and that she never wanted to bring Nicholas back. For me it’s not canon unless I like what they say 😝 but the fun of reading meta is to see everyone’s sometimes wildly different takes and in the end of the day people can think anything they want because we all bring our preferences, our bias and even our traumas to it
I believe Agatha truly loved Rio, I believe there was considerable time in their lives that they weren’t toxic to each other in any way and I believe that aren’t done, they still have centuries to work out their issues but I know there are plenty of fans that don’t believe in any if that. who’s right, who’s wrong I don’t think anyone can know and as long as everyone is respectful it’s all good. I just hope this fandom continues to be fun for a long time cause we all need the distraction
It is what I love about shows like this. Honestly, I dont think there is a right or wrong way to look at things.
Like you say, everyone has their own bias and will project onto characters. I really enjoy it when people want to have discussions about the things I love. I really appreciate you wanting to talk about this with me.
And the fact that while you may disagree with me on some points, you are not mean about it and are challenging me to look at things from a different perspective. So, thank you.
While I find it interesting to read up on writers intent, I don't ever take it as gospel unless it is there on screen. Between now and a potential next project with these characters, the writers could have evolved their ideas or changed their own interpretation of the characters. So I try not to hold too tightly to what they say.
Instead, I like to take what I have seen on the screen. The characters have shown us who they are with word, action, and deed. Every choice they have made forms who they are. A show not tell approach if you will.
I agree with you, Rio and Agatha love each other deeply. There was a time that it was far less toxic, and there may come a time when that is true once more.
I want to see them in all of their evolutions and iterations.
I want to see Agatha, the mentor. She has never been one to pull her verbal punches, so she won't take any nonsense. Her dynamic with Billy is so good that I would like to see that explored more.
I want to see Billy explore his powers, find his brother, and grow up a little more without being hardened by the world.
I want to see Jen flourish as she reaquaints herself with her power once more. Still snarky but less brittle. If she ever sees Agatha and Teen, have her just turn around and get the fuck away from them. Because they only lead to death.
In the end, though, my opinion is just one in a sea of thousands. I will write some ridiculous fanfics to get this show out of my system. Maybe make them a bit too oc for my own liking. Hopefully, I will learn from that and get better.
I just want to have fun with things. I don't want to hurt anyone with things I post unless it is superficial emotional damage (I eat that shit up). I hope you keep having fun with it, too.
In the end, as much as it pains me to admit it, these are not real people. So why not just go buck wild with our imaginations and throw them in every conceivable scenario. It's not like it will hurt anyone, so why not.
Feel free to chat with me any time
#agatha all along#agatha all along spoilers#anon ask answered#agatha harkness#billy maximoff#jennifer kale#rio vidal#i appreciate you wanting to chat instead of just saying#no you are wrong#a no is a full stop end of conversation#there is not much i can do about that other than shrug say okay and go about my day#a have you considered is much more fun
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A/N: let's pretend he's taller/the same height as you are
Slow Dance
Turbo x Reader | One shot | Fluff
Warnings: None
Prompt: A good dance for comfort.
It's been a few weeks, and you've noticed Turbo has been a bit of downer recently. Or well, let's just say he's not exactly acting the same way. Currently in the past few days you haven't really hung around him.
Gazing downwards, Turbo leaned gently on his car's hood. His mind churning slightly in disdain, the new games popularity has shaken him slightly. Although he was jealous, the one thing that bothered him the most was the frequent teasing and a few insults a few people have thrown at him these past few days. He knows it's stupid to even regard those hurtful remarks but he just couldn't help but get wounded. He isn't exactly perfect, he's a boastful jerk sometimes but whose to say he deserves getting hurt? Nothing really resolves well, even though it might humble him slightly, with enough repetition it could drive anyone in a low mood.
Heading towards Turbo Time, you looked around for Turbo. Having been busy for a few days didn't help with the situation as though it feels as if the connection between both of you are getting severed by the second. So deciding to leave early from your own duties, you try to find Turbo to at least check up on him.
Your interactions together haven't exactly changed that much, he's still getting you wrapped up in a witty banter sometimes, but other times he gets a bit more lost in thought when both of you are interacting with other characters. His charisma and confidence is still noticable, it seemed to have slowly settled down over the course of a few weeks.
Although you do try to get him to open up to you, he would just deflect you with a seemingly forced, charismatic reply saying he's doing just fine, he's Turbo after all...
Running through the wide open space, you head towards the garage. The garage door is seemingly open, and soon you finally find the familiar face you've been looking for.
"There you are," breathing heavily, your quick approach startled Turbo slightly.
"Huh..? Y/N?" He asked, quickly fixing his composure, a slight smile sprouting on his face.
"What? Is it wrong for me to visit my dear friend?" You replied in a joking tone.
He sighs, smiling slightly. With arms folded together, he stood up straight. Although seemingly happy, you could still sense he's in a bit of a downer mood.
"How are you? I haven't seen you in the past few days..." You asked, leaning forwards.
"Oh you know, I'm doing fine just as always!" He replies, his smile widening sightly in a forced manner.
Humming, you nodded slightly. Not falling for another facade of his, just then an idea strikes your mind.
"Are you doing anything?" You asked suddenly looking through the cabinets in the garage.
Confused, he watched you go through a few of them, "...no? What are you doing?"
Plugging the radio somewhere, you pick out a cassette tape randomly from the box and started playing it. You both found this radio a few days ago because of getting lucked in during a storm. Since then, this has been used frequently, and since them you have figured out Turbo's secret of liking dancing. He may not be the best in the sport but hey, he looked like he was having fun last time...
"What-" holding his wrist, you pull him towards you. Surprised, he only stared at you in confusion, his face starting to flush slightly.
"Let's get you out of that mood..." You mumble in a low tone, but being a bit too close however, he replies to you shortly afterwards, "What are you talking about."
"Well, since you're not doing anything, what if I try to teach you another dance?" You asked, your hand slowly sliding downwards to hold his own.
Still a bit confused, he hesitantly agrees. He didn't exactly understand why you'd do this, but holding his hand right now made his day a little brighter. He agrees he hasn't exactly been able to hang out with you, although he denies it, he grew to long for your presence. So agreeing, he does his best to follow suit.
...
Soon though, as the song suddenly transitions into a slower, much more relaxing tune, you casually help Turbo get his footing right. And soon you both started to waltz theough the room. Surprised, Turbo slightly looked a bit unsure. He didn't exactly expect this to turn into a slow dance. But he didn't exactly complain, he admits this was...quite nice.
Remaining silent, the song continues to play in the background as the melody gently guides both of you to a peaceful sway together. The tone continued to progress in a tranquil manner, the silence between both of you soon settling down. And as you both gaze into each other's eyes, you took this chance to gift him something you've been wanting to give for some time.
Slowly, you start to wrap your arms around him. Caught off guard he stops the waltz, his whole body tensing. Frozen in place, he stood still in your embrace as he felt his heart pound faster.
Tightening your embrace, you whisper,
"It's going to be okay..."
Even if you may not know exactly what he's going through, you really did just want him to feel...to know that he'll be okay. Things will be okay. No matter the problem or scenario, you just wanted to give him comfort. And to this, he just can't help but slowly melt in your arms. As his muscles loosen slowly, for this moment he lets himself bask under your comforting embrace. No longer caring for his own ego and pride, just this time he lets himself be a subject of your consolation.
Slowly, Turbo reciprocates. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he exhales deeply before letting himself relax against you. Closing his eyes, he cherishes this moment, feeling as if all the weight on his shoulders have gone.
And so as the tune slowly turns into a lullaby, you both slowly sway to the calm rythm of the song. Each having a blissful smile on your faces, you enjoy this moment of tranquility.
(Alternate ending)
Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lets himself lean forward. But once he does, you slightly stumble backwards because of his sudden weight. Finding the wall however, you let your back lean on it for support.
Seemingly in bliss though, once you both are somewhat settled in, Turbo then resumed to snuggle his face to your chest, a sweet smile widening on his features. As his embrace tightened around you, his face continued to flush red, a silly smile still stuck in place. He never wanted this moment to end.
Gradually though, you both then descended towards the floor. Sitting down, the warm embrace you both share still continues, your arms resting on his shoulders as Turbo lets himself go lower, his arms still wrapped around your waist.
#turbo#turbo wreck it ralph#wreck it ralph#turbo wir#turbotime#turbotastic#turbo x reader#turbo x you#turbo wir x reader#turbo fanfic#x reader#wir fanfic#turbo wir x you#oneshot#wir
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Can you tell us more about Bonnie and Charon? some hcs or something like that? They are so cute
Absolutely!
☆Originally, Bonnie was just supposed to borrow the contract and Charon's services to help her find her grandma Agatha's violin. Making a plan with Ahzrukhal to return them both back, which clearly did not go as planned with Charon shooting the shit out of the bastard bartender and traumatising the woman.
☆ Bonnie was terrified of Charon for a very long time during the start of their travels together, stressing in her mind that she would suffer the same fate as Ahzrukhal if she even thought about getting rid of his contract.
☆ At the beginning Charon thought her as nothing more than a snivelling, stupid scavenger that looked like she was going to burst into tears if he just looked her way, which he wasn't too far off as she got nervous and upset whenever he did look at her for long periods of time. He starts to gain respect and feelings for her over a long period of time as events occur.
☆ He may grumble and hates how every place they enter has something trying to eat them or shoot at them, Charon starts to love the travelling they do and having zero responsibilities other than keeping a single small lady holding his contract alive.
☆ Despite being scared of him at the beginning, Bonnie still felt obligated to make sure he rested and ate. It took a while for him to accept her offers of taking nightly watch and taking the foods she made.
☆ Charon had to teach Bonnie how to properly use a fire arm, the large ghoul actually ended up enjoying teaching someone a skill and have them actually learn and listen.
☆ Both Charon and Bonnie hate bugs, are grossed out by them and it ends up in an argument on who should deal with them. Bonnie has a crippling fear towards Centaurs though, which Charon is more than happy to deal with them.
☆ Charon enjoys making sassy comments at Bonnie about things she does, says or wears, especially when she learned to shoot back at him with her own snark. Finding her getting flustered when she's trying to one up him amusing. See's it as their little thing, gets peeved and defensive when anyone else tries to join in.
☆ Romance does eventually happen with the two, but not until a few years have passed, between that the two have relations with others.
☆ Bonnie has had relationships, though very short at times, before and Charon won't be her first Ghoul.
#answering theses while at work hehehe#thank you for being into Bonnie and my version of Charon! i hope to build them up more over time#things may change too but this is my idea for them for now ^^#fallout oc ask#fallout#fallout oc answer
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full versions of my de-sticked/hsr'ed version of triple threat
types + paths
#thsc#the henry stickmin collection#ellie rose#henry stickmin#charles calvin#triple threat#honkai star rail#a-u art dump#thsc x honkai#using honkai as a general franchise term here cuz. brainrot (this is technically hsr related but my actual aus are honkai impact stuff)#so consider this a placeholder tag for whatever this is. anyway#a lot of this was thrown together as this was meant to be like “what if they were designed like mhyv characters”#hence the assymetry and the eyes and. basically everything.#though theyre not littered with too many details though even im not that mad#but the idea of taking literal stick figures and turning them into complicated ass designs was funny to me so ofc i had to do it#i do have reasons for why some things are like That though..#the stick poses were drawn before i completely figured out the style so if they look wonky…thats why#and for the record while i have these now i still wanna draw them with orb heads so. just imagine these fits but simpler and orbed for that#i jsut havent figured out how i wanna do that just yet…#anyway designs may and probably will change over the course as i figure things out... cuz the shoes arent cutting it for me#this was already done a bit ago right after the “warm up” i just needed to fix stuff and write the ID#writing outfit descriptions is difficult when you are NOT good with words...#ellie puts the harm in harmony
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an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....
the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc
#luca 2021#pixar luca#alberto scorfano#another idea i've failed to write for & so invite anyone else to run with: ciao alberto but what if he peaces out by swimming off lol#ends up in a coastal town maybe an hour's swim from genoa. but not Getting In Touch w/anyone for a while b/c plausibly he thinks that#giulia may not be a fan of him now by extension; just being too embarrassed asf to reach out to luca kinda lol....luca off doing his own#thing just fine & alberto not wanting to write him now like b/c i Ruined Everything again ahaha....#and by ''not in touch w/anyone for a while'' who knows. months; a few years even....might stumble across news of him b/c like.#say more sea folk are coming to land / more humans know abt them & not many places are as [harpoon]ly from the start anyways#portorosso exceptional in that way....maybe where alberto settles down they're like legendary but also considered Good Luck anyways lol.#anyways like some people know of him who might; say; swim down to portorosso. have their own teen who knows a teen who mostly lives on land#most convenient re sparking [wow could they mean Our alberto] if he doesn't go so far as to take up an alias lol. but why would he....#that difference in that massimo might figure that however alberto was surviving before; he could continue to do so now; but even though tha#is some comfort it's still Not Actually Enough....feeling way more Parentally towards alberto than his biological dad like that; obv#and anyways re: this [The Change gets messed up] idea it's more of an inconvenience lol but one that could still have some significance#like if he first finds out the issue exists via hopping right into the ocean; failing to change forms; never being human form'd in water b4#thee worst....crash intro course to the experience of drowning. observation of How Humans Swim / being able to grab any part of the boat...#and besides That unpleasantness it's like; hey. where's my nonhuman form at#or; of course; being in sea form even while dry....especially if he's still dealing with Nonsense on land. which is presumed.#&/or if there's an upswing in nonsense b/c of Other ways you're Othered...ofc we can consider like; tfw you're a gay fish & maybe that's no#something that on its own would be like Aah until it's like well a) i kinda wanna do things that would make this Visible and b) i've learne#that humans also Have Issues about this kind of thing....#appropriately my tablet was also all thrown off. no pressure sensitivity; input sensitivity overall was rough#but i would've had to restart my laptop about it lol like eh i'll just work around it
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really wish there was a tag that separated “I’m having Big Angry and/or Angsty Opinions about Star Wars” from “I’m goofing off with Star Wars I’m playing in the sandbox none of this is real so yes I will make my blorbo and this random glub shitto go on an adventure that makes no logical sense” posts because there’s too much of the former and not enough of the latter for my current mental state
#starlight personal#the good news is that I finally have another ketamine appt scheduled and it’s sooner than I thought they’d have an opening#the bad news is that the appointment is not tomorrow and we’re kinda at the end of my mental-emotional rope#now kids this is what we call: an inherent flaw in my treatment plan that cannot be removed#because pretty much in an ideal world I’d have ketamine appointments every 6 weeks but 1) expensive and probs can’t afford that#2) they don’t have enough availability for that to be realistic 3) can’t take off of work THAT frequently without consequences#4) I would probably start to doubt reality if I was tripping that frequently 5) I don’t think docs would allow it#treatment resistant depression and anxiety my beloathed if we could just chill that’d be great#treatment resistant PMDD my other beloathed someday I will do my damnedest to cut you out of my body#idk not to be too selfpitying on main but god it fucking sucks that I appear to be doomed to another cycle based mood thing#PMDD means I get two good weeks two bad weeks#ketamine being the only effective treatment for whatever my brain’s got going on means two good months followed by x bad months#until my next appointment#which like! two good months is better than no good months I am grateful that something helps#I just wish it was a more convenient help and it could be applied more consistently than my psych office provides#also wish I didn’t have to call them 3 times to get it scheduled but it is what it is#also also wish that I had fewer of the physical side effects of my anxiety and wouldn’t wake up puking the min things are rough#this is all to say: I want silly SW headcanons and droid headcanons and silly fic ideas and not Everyone is Always Suffering#but I’m also too lazy (I.e brain cannot make decisions rn) to search for new tags that may give me more silly#which means time to browse my bookmarks for good good comfort fics I have saved I suppose#(this is lowkey why i want to physically fight everyone i know who’s like ‘yeah meds would help but idk :/‘ like!!!!!!!!#bro it’s a privilege to have access to meds and it’s a privilege to have a body that doesn’t turn on you the min you take one!!!!#just try 10mg of zoloft I would kill for 10mg of zoloft to not make me entirely incapable of functioning!!!)#I don’t mean that - you have a right to take or not take medication and everyone’s reasons may be their own#I just had my body and have some rough feelings around treating my issues being so expensive and inconvenient#and then feeling guilty b/c I know I’m lucky that I can afford it and can take off of work for it when I need to#like I am pretty lucky to have something that works and to have a care team that helped me get here#so I don’t wanna be ungrateful or unappreciative of my own luck in this and the work that went into getting here#I’d just also like it if I could change the circumstances slightly#make treatment on the weekends an option - get my psych office to have more than 2 trip sitters so scheduling isn’t so bad
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so i don't actually suck at solo/lead guitar stuff it's just that my strings were in the way that whole time
#the only thing is that now they're low#so it's harder to mute all the other strings when playing power chords#hut that's okay i reckon I'll just bend my pointer finger more to cover them idk#they also sound rly clanky but that may be because i can't afford new strings ever#so i never change em unless they break#or they could be adjusting to the new tension#honestly I have no idea about guitar stuff#but im so excited because it's way easier to play#unfortunately i have given myself tinnitus from playing too hard for too long so :-#:(#mine#but it was worth it
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Oh baby I am getting way to ambitious with my current oni run for someone who's laptop starts screaming anytime it opens steam
#rat rambles#oni posting#Ive started expanding my base area not for the sake of providing more living space or whatver but so I can build a museum#Im going to have an artifact section an art section and ideally a critter section if I can decide how I would go abt that#Im also going to have a sporechid exhibit since Ive never actually tried to use them before#its going to be right above the biobot room since thats going to be the entrance of the museum#I may also further expand downwards at some point to build a mega relaxation section with as many rec buildings as I can affort to maintain#more focus on variety that pure numbers tho I just wanna use the stuff I usually never use#and lemme tell you my dupes will use none of them since theyre too obsessed with their damn phones but its ok I forgive them#now one thing thats going to be annoying abt this project is that for the critter section Im going to need a Lot of glass#the goal is to keep one wild creature in each containment room and to have each be fairly healthy for the critter#now I definitely wont be doing every critter as quite franky I dont have space for that#currently my only real plan is for an oakshell exhibit but I wanna do more of them#maybe a cuddle pip one would work? Id also like a shine bug one but idk how exactly to go abt it#mainly because ideally Id want one of the fancier shine bugs but I am firm on keeping these guys wild#and itd probably take a lot of work to get a wild radiant bug or smth#well more like a lot of time#I could just try to get a more middle of the pack shine bug and just call that good enough#Im pretty sure shine bug morph rates only change when they eat so in theory I could get away with taht#although technically speaking the morph odds can always just happen anyways so maybe I just leave it and hope for the best#like I have the food to spare I could very easily breed fancy shinebugs if I wanted to again I just wanna keep them wild#but yeah other critter options probably include dreckos and maybe a long haired slickster if I feel like putting in the effort#a drecko exhibit would be pretty simple tho Id just have to decide which morph#Im unsure if I wanna do a hatch exhibit or not simply because I dont have ideas to make it look cool#like I feel like for a hatch Id want it to be a stone or smooth hatch but again the breeding problem arises#now one thing I should definitely do at some point is go grab a gassy moo for the museum but thats a maybe project#mostly because I still have trauma from the last time I did a gassy moo trip lol#speaking off I still need to build a rocket that can actually be used to explore new planets#so far all my rocketry has been for data banks and artifacts#although I did just today get my first drillcone rocket up and running
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For Cryin’ Out Loud
pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader
how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters
word count: 7.9k
description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.
warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!
author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3
For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.
The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.
It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.
The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.
When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.
In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.
He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.
“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.
You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification.
You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”
He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”
You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.
“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”
He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”
“I can’t, Joel.”
“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”
“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”
“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”
The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”
"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."
"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.
“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”
You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”
“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”
"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel.
“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”
"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”
He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome.
But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.
"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.
You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.
"I don't know." You manage to say.
Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.
Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic.
He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.
"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.
You nod, "I don't know if I want that."
You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.
Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.
“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”
You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.
"I want to sleep with you."
Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.
He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.
"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.
You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.
Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.
You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”
-
Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.
The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year.
A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left.
Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.
“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”
He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”
You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.
“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."
Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.
"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."
You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you.
“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”
He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.
But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.
You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.
"Do you sleep on your side or back?"
Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.
"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."
You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"
Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.
"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."
You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.
"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"
Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.
Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.
He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.
"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.
You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.
"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."
Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.
"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”
He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.
You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.
"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."
Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.
"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."
You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.
"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."
Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.
"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."
He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.
"Go on..."
Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.
"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."
Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"
Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.
"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.
You mentally slap yourself in the face.
"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."
Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.
"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."
"Yeah, exactly..."
He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.
You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.
Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.
"So… ten years and no sex?”
You could seriously, not help yourself.
"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.
"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”
He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”
You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.
“You just give off the energy…”
“What?”
You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”
“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.”
You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.
But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.
“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.
Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.
You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.
You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.
It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.
-
When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.
You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.
His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-
His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.
“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.
“I didn’t have a nightmare.”
His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”
The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.
“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”
Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.
"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.
"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."
You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.
Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.
"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."
You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.
Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.
He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.
"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.
“You’re a brat.”
You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.
"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"
"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"
"So, you don't believe me?"
"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."
"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.
"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."
"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.
“‘Course I do.”
You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.
“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.
But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.
“I am always nice to you.”
You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”
He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.”
Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”
“Because I am!”
And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.
“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him.
Why does he already miss your hands?
He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”
“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”
“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.
“Whatever, Joel.”
As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.
Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.
He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.
You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.
“You got pat-”
“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.
“Who are you-”
“Jesse.”
He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.
“Hey, can you-”
You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.
“Can I what?”
He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”
You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.
You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.
“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking.
He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”
“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”
You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.
The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.
“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”
You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.
He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.
-
All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.
You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.
You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.
You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.
You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.
You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.
You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.
When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”
He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud.
He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”
You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?
“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”
He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”
You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.
But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?
He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.
Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?
His body was on fire, thinking about you.
You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.
You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud.
“For cryin’ out loud, woman!”
You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.
“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.
He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”
“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?”
You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing.
He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”
Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.
“Joel-“
“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”
You furrow your eyebrows, confused.
“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”
As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.
His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.
“Joel, you said we can’t-”
“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”
You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.
But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.
“Darlin’-”
“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”
It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.
You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.
His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.
“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”
Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.
“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”
He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.
He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.
You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.
He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.
“Joel… I-“
He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.
“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”
That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.
“Please, Joel.”
He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.
You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.
“You are divine, baby.”
The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter.
He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”
“Y-yes, Joel.”
“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”
Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.
“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”
He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”
“God, yes.”
Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.
His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.
You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.
“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”
You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.
“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.
When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.
“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”
You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”
“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”
He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.
“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”
He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”
You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.
But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight.
“Ready?”
Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone.
“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”
He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”
When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.
He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.
You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half.
He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.
“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”
You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.
“‘M all yours, Joel.”
He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”
You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.
“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”
“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”
His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.
Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.
He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.
“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.
“I’m more than okay.”
He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.
Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.
Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.
So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.
Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.
You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.
“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose.
He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”
tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld
#joel miller tlou#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x afab!reader#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#tlou au#tlou fic#tlou smut#joel miller fanfiction#fic: for cryin’ out loud#the last of us smut#gracieheartspedro
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SCRATCH || BANGCHAN
MINORS DNI!
pairing: idol!chan x female!reader
summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.
warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing
author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY
important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.
enjoy!
It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like.
To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you.
You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment.
And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.
“Had fun today?”
The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets.
Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him.
“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”
Now that just boils your blood.
“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying.
“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment.
“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles.
As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision.
“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.”
There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?”
The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.”
“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach.
“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”
Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself.
“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.”
“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch.
But Chan doesn’t give in that easily.
You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.”
You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge.
When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and finally answer him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.
“I–I wanted to mark you!”
And there it is.
As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.
When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made.
“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red.
Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours.
“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core.
At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused.
“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.”
With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement.
He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..”
“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”
“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye.
With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”
“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”
“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears.
When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot.
So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin.
The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you.
“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.”
His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high.
You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.
“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.
like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡
divider by:@enchanthings
#kpop#bangchan#skz#straykids#straykids bangchan#bangchan x reader#bangchan smut#chan what the actual fuck were you thinking#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz smut#stray kids dominate#skz world tour
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