#You Can Decide For YourSelf <3™️™️™️™️™️™️

[partyinthemysterymachine]

so i finished the rough draft of ch 66, started in on 67 while i had Ideas Going™️, and Realized:

tell me, my dear silent hill GOOMT readers: does this strike fear into ur hearts or do i have to work harder on that <3

#ches writes #goomt #lol. i love writing little notes to myself in chapter titles and headings <3 #(chapter 'titles' used liberally #it's whatever i call the doc in my notes lol) #(all GOOMT ch start off in Notes app and then move to Google Docs for Edit (Hell)-ening lol) #are u scared. u should be <3 #bc ch 67 is Suddenly Has To Be Longer when i realized i needed to fluff it up and Connect The Dots for better flow in #Having Things Move Along™️ #tho i've been Sitting on a huge piece of a scene since [looks at yearly calendar on wrist] #since Months since i've wrote it (lol) #so i'm glad i finally get to use it. it's not as old as SOME scenes are but it DID get cut up and out of a chapter that was #meant to be prior to the upcoming hole jump; so. There's That™️ #anyway!! i'm stoked. :) are you stoked?? i'm stoked. you guys are gonna hate me <3 you can choose your reasons why #it's really not that deep tho lmao dw. dw dw; it's all fun and games. but yeah <3 (Or Is It? >;3c) #You Can Decide For YourSelf <3™️™️™️™️™️™️ #hahahaa yeah. Anyway; [GOOMT]

[drmajalis]

"Le standard rpg moralistic choice™️" is one of the most boring tropes in western rpgs imho.

What I prefer and what I think pretty much everyone enjoys more are choices based on ideology and how you want to do things, not "do you wanna be good? or a mass murderer?"

I'm talking "choices" like disarming the nuke in Megaton in Fallout 3, or, fucking nuking the entire town. Or more recently, do you save the tieflings and the druids from the goblin army bent on wiping them out? Or do you decide to just slaughter them all?

Like, Bioware had data from the Mass Effect series which showed that less than 10% of players went Renegade on a first playthrough, when all you do is offer people a choice between being good, or bad, most people will just choose good, because that's usually what makes most sense for the story.

Compare that to (take a shot) Fallout New Vegas, just one quest, that being fixing the Helios One solar power plant and deciding who should get the power.

Should you distribute the power equally among the region, even if that means nobody really gets a lot?

Should you send it to Camp McCarren and the Strip since they are vital to protecting New Vegas from the Legion?

Should you send it to the slums in Fremont and Westside since that might help their situation the most?

Or should you use the power plant to fuel a giant space satellite laser, just for yourself!

New Vegas is filled with actual choices like this, and, if you can't even do that, you coulds try what (act surprised) Knights of the Old Republic II does and make meta comments on the futility and bizarreness of binary good/evil choices.

Early on when you arrive on Nar Shaddaa in KOTOR II a beggar asks you if you can spare some credits, and no matter what your choice, give them to him, and he gets mugged later, refuse him, and he goes out and mugs someone else, with Kreia commenting negatively on either choice you make.

Anyway I'm just really sick and tired of the boring binary morality choices and wish we had more actually intellectually debatable issues, the very fact that even 13 years later people argue over what the best ending to New Vegas is should be proof enough that it's way of doing things is objectively better.

#rpgs #fallout new vegas #knights of the old republic #baldur's gate 3 #fallout 3 #video games

[hellowoolf]

on strawberries and masonry: chapter v

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

OR

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), maria is pregnant, the dinner party trope™️, joel picks reader up (but its actually been foretold that he can hold any weight ever, so don’t even worry about it), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, SMUT !!!!!, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected piv, breeding kink (don't...even start), creampie, FEELINGS !! (as always, let me know if i missed any !!)

word count: 7.9k

authors note: an epilogue will be (probably) on the way but this is our last full chapter !! gag !! this is my first ever series and i'm so elated i decided to write and release it. this last chapter drained me mind body and soul and i don't know how i feel about it but i really hope you enjoy <3

series masterlist | masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the realization of your feelings for joel, that against all better judgment you’re tumbling somewhat unceremoniously in love with him, nestles itself between your ribs to scratch at your bones. it’s a tolerable ache, at first, and because you refuse to give into anything, you let it remain while joel fucks you on his tongue and fingers. you let him cover your skin in his spit and your slick and the marks of his fingernails, and inch closer to the doom of loving him, believing yourself capable of handling it, willing yourself to handle it. and you do. mostly.

what comes first is a need for him you’re unequipped for. his refusal to fuck you properly again (a promise he has continued to hold himself to) becomes increasingly unendurable, and you’re pushed beyond even the lust for him you’d fought against months earlier. you need him, daily, at least, pulling him behind the stables or coming to slam on his door so you can live another day. you want to please him, to mend him, to save him, even though you know you are incapable, and you try what becomes embarrassingly often to get on your knees for him, but he always denies you. yes, this is the first symptom of your almost-love, a wanting that reaches your innermost self and expands beyond the edges of you.  

the second symptom is anger, a nefarious deviousness against him, a spiteful resentment for the small ways he rejects you. you are less cautious with him, nipping at him on patrol or in the dining hall with your own sexuality, constructing heavily unsubtle innuendos and whispering them in his ear. you’re looking to punish him, so irrevocably that he’s compelled to kiss you again, to fuck you again, but until now you’ve failed at ensnaring him fully. you barely recognize yourself this way; you have never been one for this wild sort of flirting, the obvious kind, but you succumb to it regardless. 

the softness of him is the worst part. you skim your hands up his thighs and pull on the loops of his belt to tempt him to you in the ways he still refuses to give, and he’ll deny you orgasm as punishment, but still he materializes on your porch, or sits you next to him in the aftermath of the pleasure he does allot you, wet with your arousal, and lets you tell him about your life, leaves you breadcrumbs of his. he likes that spot he found on your neck that night when you cut the strawberry, wraps his palm around the base of your skull to feel the warmth of it, and with his callouses circling your skin you know that this is the most awful thing, the most terrible. it’s shameful, really, that he should show you this kindness when you’re this close to complete devotion to him.

“what d’you think, little wolf?” 

little wolf. maybe this trumps even his hand on your head. last week, with three fingers in your dripping cunt joel had stilled his hand in you, let you thrash against him while he smiled into your hairline, and you bit hard into the flesh of his shoulder, leaving the marks of your canines there. easy, little wolf, he’d grunted into you, and he felt you pulse when he said it, so he’s kept the name, uses it often.

“hm?” you lift your head from his thigh, bare legs curled up along the couch while he sits back on the cushions. he’d tugged you from your walk to your garden into his home, licked into you while you pulled on his hair, made you come on his sofa like he’d savor the stain. his hand comes from around the back of your head to your face, thumb sweeping across your chin and along your bottom lip. you take it in your mouth and suck, eyes on his as his own mouth drops open.

“bout the jam. you want me to show you how to make it?” he repeats, voice low and broken as you swirl your tongue along the pad of his thumb. you’d brought the strawberries up again, how many you have and the white fuzz they grow; noah helped you remove the heaters from inside the greenhouse as temperatures rose outside, but a chill remained, and so your plant began a slow death. you’re left now with a small batch you like the idea of preserving in sugar and heat. you like the idea, too, of joel teaching you things, of him watching you learn. you nod slowly. “when?” he tilts his head as he asks. you pull from his finger and trail little unhurried bites along his palm, down the inside of his wrist. you want to suck his blood.

“tomorrow? evening?” 

he nods, eyes hooded over as he watches you. slick drips between your thighs and sticks them together, wetting over the dried come he’d pulled from you minutes ago. you smile against his skin, teeth grazing his pulsepoint. 

“you a good teacher?”

he grins and grips back at your head, tilting your chin up to his face as he leans down to you. “a real delight, i swear it.”

your noses bump and you want to kiss him (the whole of it is you’d like to suck his tongue into your mouth and hold it there, feel behind his teeth, let him spit onto your tongue), another vice he’s denied you since that first time. he sees it in you, this wanting, so he threads his fingers through your hair to hold you in place. the tug at the roots makes you rub your thighs together and he inches closer, close enough to whisper onto your lips “go home, little wolf,” and pulls himself off the couch. he’s practically limping with how hard he is, the strong outline of his cock casting shadows as he walks away from you, and it only serves to make you wetter, but because you’re certain he won’t let you help him (you tried in the stables this morning, hay softening your fall to your knees, but he’d hauled you back up with a gruff quit it) you pull your pants back on and retreat to your home. 

stepping down his porch you bring a hand to your stomach, joel’s refusals of you burning green and orange there. the flames heat your skin and lick through your fingers, and the warmth indulges the part of you that hates him, but the rest of you (the part that loves him, lord help you) bends under the pressure. you drop your hand as you approach your house and find tommy leaned up against the fence post. panic seizes you for a moment, but you tamp it down sharply; surely, he can’t know where you’ve come from, surely he can’t smell him on you.

“isn’t this a little past your bedtime?” 

he looks up at you with a smile as you come to stand fully in front of him. “yeah, well, i figured you’d be comin back from the garden right about now.”

something sparkles across your cheeks and you hope he doesn’t notice. “mhm. how’s maria doing? she’s in the, what, second trimester now?”

tommy nods, that boyishness and the pride of fatherhood puffing his chest. “that she is. she’s a wonder, i tell ya. don’t know how the hell she’s doin it. but the nausea’s gone away now, so she’s just restin up.”

“i’ve been wanting to come by and visit, but i didn’t know if she’d want me there.” it’s the truth; you’ve seen very few pregnant women in your life, and the magnitude of it frightens and delights you. besides, as little as she seems to enjoy your company, you suspect it’s a lonely existence, cooped up by the windowsill growing little arms and fingernails, and you’re self-aware enough to know you owe yourself to her. 

tommy scratches the back of his neck. “well that’s what i wanted to come ask about, actually.”

you tilt your head. “me coming to visit?”

he hums. “maria’s been wanting some socializin, some…” he waves his hands around, looking for the word, “interaction. i figured you could come over for dinner.”

“just me?” you can’t help the surprise in your voice.

“...no. noah, too. and my brother.”

your throat dries out and you stifle a sputter. yes, indeed, dinner by candlelight with your most long standing existing friends, of which you have only two, a pregnant woman who sees you as you have been (a knife, with a girl on the end), and the man you’ve been fucking but not fucking (and you think you may be in love with him, also, but you try to keep this bit irrelevant). yes, yes. a fantastic idea! what a delight!

“i don’t…i don’t know, tommy. maria’s never been my biggest fan.” please, don’t make me come.

“come on, don’t say that.”

“i don’t mean any offense, i just don’t want to disturb her.”

“you ain’t disturbing her! i’m telling you she’d like it if you came!”

“tommy-”

“she barely tolerates my brother as it is, at least you’ll be there to occupy him. please?” and he asks with such sincerity, such unknowing of the things you’ve done to joel, and you know there is no way out.

“yeah, okay. okay. i’ll be there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“so you’re goin to this…what is it? dinner party?” 

joel’s halfway through a bite of something red and meaty when he asks, and you clamp on his moving jaw with your palm.

“don’t talk with your mouth full, sting, it’s not very southern gentlemanly.” he flips your hand away with a grunt and you bite your tongue between your molars to keep from smiling. “yes, i will be there.”

he shakes his head and leans back in his chair, looking out at the milling people filling the dining hall. “i still don’t understand the point of it anyway. the hell we playin family for?”

“joel, you are family.” his eyes flit to yours. “tommy’s family, i mean,” you clarify. he nods, some sort of relieved, the disappointed sort, you feel. you do your best to shake the stick of it, of that feeling, off.

“then why are you goin?”

“well, as it happens, i was invited. besides,” you snort, an unattractive thing but you let it pass, “i think your brother hopes i’ll keep you entertained.”

“entertained? you bein serious?”

you’re golden and beaming with how he looks at you, so incredulous and muscled and stiff with restraint from touching you, you can feel it. “i think his exact verbiage was occupy. he wants me to occupy you.”

“jesus.”

“buck up, cowboy, i’m a delight.”

“uh huh.” you think it’s meant to jab at you, that little grunt, but one end of his mouth turns up as he says it, an imperfect cover of his grin. “he ever do this kinda thing before? before i came?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and look to the ceiling. yes, he did, once. he’d been patrolling with pete mcneilson (a scrawny thing, squirrelish and panicked, but as young as you are) and decided you were fated to be wed, worked his hardest for weeks to set you up. he’d planned the dinner in hopes it would serve as a first date, but your halfway abnormality and owlish inspection of him—tommy’s words, really; he said you looked straight through the poor thing—had frightened him, you suspect. you consider lying, though these days such attempts rarely come out right with joel. you sigh. “yeah, once. maybe two years ago.” joel raises his eyebrows, urging you on. you sort of mumble, “it was a ploy to set me up, really.”

he drops his fork onto the plate, lets it rattle, and you nearly flinch. you’re somewhat surprised to find yourself expecting him to be angry, not that he’s under any obligation to be. really, you might like him to be angry, but he chuckles, instead, biting and smug as he is. “set you up with who?” 

“don’t laugh.”

he raises his hands in surrender, grinning, still. “i ain’t, only askin for a name, baby.”

how often he uses it hasn’t dulled the sharp spasm of want that word seizes you with. “no laughing.”

“what did i just say?” he leans closer. “gimme the name, darlin.”

“pete mcneilson.”

joel does not keep his promise. he chokes on his laughter, heaves with it, tenses his ribs to keep it in the box of his chest, but it tears out between you anyway. oh, how gorgeous he is this way. “christ almighty, pete?” and then, shaking his head to himself, he adds “he’d be fuckin helpless.”

you scoff. “the fuck you mean by that?”

joel continues eating again, self-satisfied with some glorious victory that lays itself over his face. “helpless with you, darlin. you’re too damn vicious for him.”

you think for a moment. “little wolf, and all that?”

he clears his throat, laughter dead in the back of his throat but eyes still pinched a little in the tension of his smile. “somethin like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you think it’s a mistake, going to this dinner, as you walk out your door, smoothing your jeans down your legs. you know it’s a mistake when you walk in and see them all, the whole lot, milling about tommy’s home, your varying degrees of relation to each clashing violently. tommy rushes through the kitchen, mashing boiled potatoes and checking on meat that pours steam from the oven when he vents the door, and maria watches his frenzy with a pleased sort of smile. you know she’ll tense when she sees you here, and so you allow her another moment of secluded safety with her husband, and look around for joel; you’re almost embarrassed at how desperately you search for him, but all of it drains from you when you find him standing next to the dining table with noah, being what could only be described as talked at. you’re filled instead with a gripping warmth, pink and new, at the sight of him, so big and disinterested. he may remain mostly secretive of his feelings with you, but joel is intrigued by you, this much you are certain of, and the picture of him this plainly un-intrigued makes you feel singular, selfish, important to him. yes, tonight is a mistake.

“i can’t believe my eyes, the town ghost has appeared,” noah calls out from across the room. you give him your best attempt at a grin, eyes pulled like gravity and lust to joel but working to keep them ahead.

“in the flesh,” you dip your head in a bow, and noah pulls you into a hug. over the slope of his shoulder you see joel, hip cocked and brittle, and you both have the same thought simultaneously, that he’s never held you like this, not once. for all his increasing softness, he has never held you like this. he’s already angry, you think, gnawing on the figure of you in noah’s arms. you pull away and position yourself between them, nodding to joel, mainly for show. “i haven’t seen you in ages, noah, how are you?” and your sincerity is barely there, so slippery with joel so close, but enough to convince noah.

“haven’t you heard? i’m a mentor, now,” he smiles with sarcasm and a little pride, too. “been showing jesse how we run the patrols and all.”

you’re trying, so hard you are trying. joel is watching you precisely, hawkishly. “so i’ve been told. you started on our patrol route your first day, i think,” and you gesture to joel, but you can’t look at him, knowing you’ll twitch too damningly in his direction.

“ah, yeah, yeah that’s right.” with a playfulness he continues, “of course, we’ve moved onto much harder routes now.” 

in the compendium of near-family you’ve concocted in jackson, noah serves as the spirited sort of brotherhood you imagine was normal decades ago. when you met, skittish and cut open as you were, noah found great joy in poking at you; your hardness grated against the easy youth he’s clung to, and you think he liked the challenge of it. as you melted more into the jackson scenery, though, became more earnestly open to friendship with him, he learned instead to lend you this ease, the sarcasm and good humor. there’s something lovely about taking it up when you speak to him, though it’s difficult now, what with the distraction at your side.

you cross your arms. “oh have you? you’re that good a teacher?” 

joel coughs next to you, nearly chokes, and you feel the gentle thrum again of a shared thought between you, of yesterday on his couch, of his thumb in your mouth, of the jam (oh fuck, that was meant to be tonight). noah pays no mind, a sweet thing but dull around the edges. “you know it, baby.”

with a squeak of his boots and a grunt under his breath, joel storms into the kitchen and out of sight. you and noah watch him go, your stomach leadened with his absence, and you pull a breath in to lighten the weight, but it’s no use. baby, baby, you know it’s baby that’s driven him away. you feel noah step a little closer to you.

“speaking of, how’s your patrol been? i can’t believe maria finally let you do it.”

you shift: joel, his hands, his voice, the man you killed for him. “they’ve been fine, i guess.”

noah bumps his shoulder into yours. “details, details! you spend every morning with the big bad wolf over there, i mean how does that feel?”

you tilt your head at him. “noah,” you scold.

he brushes off your tone, craning his neck to get a look at joel in the kitchen, continuing, “he seems fucking scary to me. doesn’t he scare you?”

you huff and shove him back, but he looks back at you like he really means it. you’re startled with the sudden urge to tell him the truth, blood and spit and all. it rises in your throat like bile, but you swallow it all back down. “no, not anymore. not…not really.” your voice is heady with the history you and joel have carved with lips and tongues, and you wonder how gory it would all become if you had indulged yourself fully, let the acid of your feelings spill out. as you think it, noah scans your face, looks through it, and you worry for a moment you’re caught, that the whole of it is spread plainly on your features, but tommy comes barreling out of the kitchen with food cradled in his arms, maria in tow, and you’re spared from any further investigation. tommy laughs out your name from the head of the table.

“jesus, i didn’t even see you come in, come sit down!”

you nod, give maria a smile, glance at the globe of her stomach. she’s glowing with it, hand along the curve of her tummy, and she does her best to smile back at you, as soft as she is capable of. noah pulls the remaining empty chair next to him out from the table and you sit, finding joel across from you, biting on his tongue and furious, quietly, desperately furious, looking between you and him. fuck.

like the love, joel’s fury fissures you in two. you are, most viscerally, delighted that joel should be so angry at noah’s arm around the back of your chair. he watches the space between you, daring it to close further, shoulders strung taut like you’re his to fuss over. your heart expands and knocks on your ribcage, arteries singing with the pleasure of it, and arousal pools between your thighs and sticks there.

toe to toe with this delight, though, contends your own boiling rage. how desperately his gaze claws at you serves as a reminder of the ways he denies you of him, of his cock and his tears and his lips on yours. you would gladly give him this, let him bark and snarl like a wild animal in some unhealthy possession of you, if he let you possess him back. but, as it is, the edge of his eyeline cuts you irreparably, marks you with an indictment of you as a lover and him as something less. it makes you fucking furious.

“ellie helps you a bunch in the garden, don’t she?”

you look up to tommy. you haven’t been listening. “hm?”

“ellie. i’m always seein her in the greenhouse.”

you nod, grin at the thought of her. “mhm. she’s been a real help, actually, and it’s nice to spend the time with her. i think a lot of the other kids are sort of afraid of her.”

joel’s eyes gleam over for a moment. he loves her, you know, and whatever rift exists between them has persisted. noah grips your shoulder and shakes it a little, and the shine dries on joel’s brown eyes.

“sounds like a bit of you.”

tommy barks out a laugh and you push noah’s hand away. “yeah, yeah.”

maria lays a hand on tommy’s bicep. “i think it’s good for her. she needs to get acclimated here. she’s not like the other kids.”

you all look to joel. he hasn’t said a thing since you all sat down, actually. he clears his throat, and the rasp of it goes down hard. “no, she ain’t.”

“from what i’ve heard she’s got a real sailors mouth, big brother. that your doin?”

joel’s face pulls into offense. “no.”

“well she musta learned it somewhere,” noah sings. so very sweet, so very dull. joel looks like he might skin him.

“she came like that.”

“came like that?” noah repeats.

this is so very off limits. tommy and maria give each other a look, and they glance across the table to share it with you. stop him, for the love of god. you turn to noah, plead quietly, “just drop it, noah.”

“what? i’m asking him about himself,” and then to tommy and maria, “i can’t ask him about his daughter?”

what began as a wholly good hearted attempt at conversation has morphed, you realize, into the same sort of bear poking noah used to do with you. he’s calling joel’s prickliness and raising him a teasing interrogation. but for all your similarities, joel is not like you now, he will not absorb it as you did. he stares, lethal and still, at noah, elbows on the table. 

“come on, we know nothing about the man. i want to hear your stories! give me something.”

joel scoffs and you ask again, “noah, please.”

“how am i doing anything wrong here?” his words devolve into childlike mumbles, unused to being denied this way. “i’m trying to make some fucking conversation.”

voice resigned from subtlety, all desperation, you call across the table, “maria, how’s your pregnancy coming along? tell us a long story about it.”

tommy snorts with your bluntness, but all three millers soften with a breath. maria rubs along her tummy, smiling down and speaking, but you go deaf to it as noah brings his arm all the way up, slinging it across the line of your shoulders. and you know, like all the other touches and like his antagonizing of joel, that he means nothing real by it. but joel takes the world in as meaningful: all of it, including noah. you can’t bear to look at him, but even still you burn with the steaming point of his gaze, frenetic and livid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“joel, jesus, slow down,” you call out as you hurry after him. tommy and maria had let you all loose to the jackson twilight, and with a smiling salute noah pranced off home, brushed already of the dust he knocked loose from joel at the dinner table. but joel eats up the ground in front of him with large, pacing strides, muscles corded in the back of his neck. you want to ride him, punch him in the stomach.

“go home.”

you catch up to him, grip a hand on the sleeve of his coat. “i will not go home. i want you to have a conversation with me first.”

joel doesn’t stop, drags you with him through the front door of his house by the fabric of his jacket. the door slams behind you and as the sound rings out joel whips around, boxing you against the wood. he heaves, little hurricane in his chest, casting shadows on you, even in the dark. “i’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

“yes, sting, i gathered that, but you’re being a fucking asshole.”

he huffs and looks to the ceiling, praying, you think, for divine intervention, or perhaps a lightning bolt to set the house ablaze. he can’t look at you when he asks it. “have you fucked him before?”

“jesus christ, no!”

he laughs, a little insane and swinging like a church bell. “seemed damn cozy in there to me.”

“yes! i’m sure we did! he saved me from bleeding out in the middle of winter joel, i told you that.” he adjusts his stance and peers back down at you, looking almost sorry with the thought of you red and unmoving, but because your fury is insatiable you poke him in the chest, adding, “besides, what if i had? what’s it matter to you anyway?”

he grips your wrist, asks incredulously, “what’s it matter to me?”

“no really, why give a shit? i promise i’ll still let you stick your fucking ring finger into my–”

“not another fucking word.”

the diseased part of you laughs with the irony of this moment, at the anger and jealousy you’d hoped for in the dining hall this afternoon; it isn’t exactly what you’d pictured. you sag with that thought. “please, baby,” his grip on your wrist tightens when you call him that, “throw me a bone. you seem entirely disgraced by the fact that we do…what we do, god forbid anyone found out, you won’t even,” you push a quick breath from your nose, “you won’t even waste the fucking energy to fuck me, kiss me. so tell me, please, what is your problem with–”

“you wanna know my fuckin problem? you drive me fucking crazy. i am clinically fuckin insane, darlin, and it’s your fuckin fault. beggin me to fuck you, fuck your face, i mean jesus, the things you ask of me.” and then, mainly to himself, “i ain’t strong enough for this shit. the hands and the eyes and the,” he remembers you in front of him, faces you again, “and the looking, i mean what—shit—what kind of fuckin look is that? you look at me like–like–”

“like what?”

“like you love me. you look at me like you love me. do you know how fucked up that is darlin? and i’m doin my goddamn best to keep you at arms length and it’s damn near impossible but i knew that first time that i–” another heave, “that i’d fuck you again and i’d love you too. be in love with you. and i couldn’t be that selfish. how could you ask me to be that selfish?”

his fingers around your wrist have formed more into a desperate sort of hold, thumb reaching up into the cup of your palm. the weight of his admission presses through your diaphragm, that i’d love you too, but the rift in you, the love and the anger, is growing savage, and you lash with it. 

“i’ve never asked a fucking thing of you. i’ve wanted, jesus joel i’ve wanted, but i never asked you to go on this emotionally stifled quest to prove—prove what exactly? that you’re good? i mean, christ, we’re both awful!” you poke him hard in the chest. “you’re awful and i–i’m awful, and,” the momentum of your fury is slowing, you can feel it dragging its feet, “and you won’t let me get close to you. i’d let you in anywhere. and you won’t,” the loving is thawing from you, and like snow in your hands it drips into water and dirt, down your front, and you’re crying suddenly, caught up in the great tragedy of what you’re about to say. “you won’t let me do it, you won’t let me love you even a little bit. but i can’t help it.” you flatten your palms on his chest, gentle, nearly losing it at the hummingbird winged hum of his heart. “if you can’t do it, i’ll leave you alone. i promise you, sting, i will leave you alone, i won’t ask again, i won’t beg it of you. tell me you don’t feel it and i’ll go.”

he takes a stilted breath in and looks down at your fingers on his front, runs his rough hands up them slowly, feeling you here with him. “i–i…” 

you nod, tears hot and fat running lines down your cheeks, and move to pull away. you open his door behind you, facing him still, but he jerks something frantic and closes it again. his hands come up next to your head on the door, and the both of you are so silent you can hear the wood creak with the press of his palms. you wait.

it comes out with a great pain at first, a terrible ache you see in the grimace of his face, but it eases as it goes, eases as he tells you, “i love you, little wolf, i do, i do.”

and then there’s a moment of stillness, of unsureness. what do you do now? what does anyone do now? oh, but he loves you, he loves you, you have to write it on a wall somewhere, burn a forest and bottle the ashes, wreak some irrevocable havoc. he loves you. 

you drag a hand from his chest up to his face, and with a shudder he leans into the warmth of it, nods against the skin, affirming some wordless agreement, and leans down to press his lips to yours. and it’s been so long you can’t help the whimper that escapes you, squeaky and wet still with the damp residue of your tears, but he’s soft and hot against you, pulls his hands down around your waist and squeezes into your spine. you say his name against his lips and he nods again, presses harder, groaning when you pull the hair at the nape of his neck. you open your mouths to one another, hoping to suck each other’s souls out, you think, and he licks into your mouth with a moan. you’re still whimpering his name somehow, over and over, meaning nothing by it other than you like the taste of it along with his tongue, joel, joel, joel, and he replies with the heated moving of his hands along your body. 

joel grips under your ass, pulls you against his cock as he ruts you into the door, speaks gruffly against your lips, “tell me again.”

and you do, somewhere between your moans, “i love you, i love you,” and he seizes with the sound of it, ducking his head to suck marks into your neck. you hitch a leg over his hip and he takes it as an invitation, dragging his cock through his jeans again along you. 

with his face still in the crook of your neck and a muffled up he hoists you fully into his arms to take you up the stairs, and if you were more lucid you would notice you’re in the same spot you were months ago, the first and only other time he let you have him, but as it is you swirl your hips as best you can against him as he walks, biting the skin that beats with his jugular. you’re drunk on the scent of him, on the pressure of his body. he lays you down on his bed and leans over you with wild eyes as he drags the fabric of your shirt up. he mouths along the skin as he bares it, mumbling into your skin, “so pretty here, baby.”

you raise your back from the bed to pull your shirt and bra off fully and he groans, hands flying to grab at your tits, tracing a line between them with his nose. “and here.” you lift your hips and he pins them with his own, the heft of his cock dragging against your clit through your pants and you mewl with it. joel moves back up to your ear, still pulling at the flesh of your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers, to whisper, “i’m gonna take you slowly. can you do that, darlin?”

and no, you’re not sure you can, but you nod breathlessly anyway.

“good girl.”

that drives you fully to madness, you think, and you tilt your head back into his bed, writhing into a moan. he smiles into you as he moves his face back down, down, past your sternum, hands moving to pull at your jeans. “can i take these off?”

“yes, please.”

he nods and pulls them from you, and runs his hands back up your legs. you can feel your own dripping, the gusset of your panties soaked through with arousal, and his smile drops as he looks at it, a single finger coming to run down the fabric. you shudder, and so does he, you think, hand still on your thigh tightening as the pad of his finger wipes along the dampness. “fuck. this for me?”

you’re already nodding. “yes, yes, you, please, touch me, please.”

and with that joel is pulling them down your legs, leaving a trail of glistening slick where the fabric sticks to your flesh, and joel heaves you to the edge of his bed, kneeling with a grunt to the floor. you hum around a whine as he bites and licks up the insides of your thighs, his own moans reverberating back to you. his fingers, wrapped around the crease where your legs meet your torso, will leave bruises, you’re sure.

“joel,” you plead, but he doesn’t really hear it, heaving open mouthed around your cunt now, breathing you in.

with a long inhale he drops his forehead to your navel, squeezes you between his hands. “so good, baby, this pussy is so good.”

your eyes slip shut and you feel yourself pulse with his words. joel sees it, too, and finally, fucking finally, closes his plush lips around your clit, slurping and sucking as you all but scream into the space of his room.

“fuck joel, fuck, oh my god.”

“yeah?”

you thread your fingers through his curls and tug, and his groan makes your hole flutter. he circles his tongue around your little button, flattens it, flicks over it with the tip, and the drool of his own spit mixes with your slick as it slides from your hole to his sheets below you. you’re fucking aching now, so empty as he sucks around you, but before you can even plead for them, you feel his two fingers slip inside you, gliding in easy around the wetness he’s pulled from you and the slip of his saliva. he curls them, petting against someplace only he has ever reached, and you keen.

“that’s it, huh? there?” and it’s only halfway smug, all the rest earnest, and you pull harder on his hair. your nerve endings flare up and catch fire, his scissoring fingers within you, his taste buds on your clit, his sheets bunched at your head, it all tears at you with unbearable feeling, you feel with an intensity that blurs your vision. with the pulse around his knuckles, joel can feel how close you are, raising his lips from you with eyes hooded. “oh, you’re close, darlin, i fuckin feel it,” he rasps, and you nod again, delirious and mouth open, as he circles his thumb in the path of spit his tongue left. the noises you make would be humiliating in front of anyone else, you think, but his brows furrow with each of your blasphemous little whines, and so you let them claw out as he watches his fingers thrust in and out of you. “c’mon little wolf, let it go, let me have it.” and you do, you throw it at him, really, pulsing around his fingers and gushing down his hand, moaning wildly something that sounds like his name as he groans with the squelch of it.

he pulls his fingers away only as you relax, spine released and flat again on his bed. he drags his eyes up and down your body, spent but not yet satisfied, as he rids himself of his own clothes, and your pussy shudders with her own heartbeat again as you take him in. his cock reaches stiff between his legs, blushing and pearled with precome, and you lick your lips with finally, finally. he pumps himself once, twice, stalking towards you again, but you stand from the bed with shaky legs, sit him in the wet spot you made together. as you sink to your knees he curses and squeezes the base.

“jesus christ, baby.” but you only smile as you run your nose up the underside of his shaft, tentatively pressing the flat of your tongue along his head to collect what’s escaped him there. the salt and musk of it makes you whine and you fit your lips around him, laving along his skin and watching his hands bunch in the sheets. you smooth your lips down his head, lower, lower, and suck, cunt fully dripping again at the noises he makes. a broken version of your name leaves him as you start to bob your head, spinning your chin as you come up, letting your teeth graze the vein along the underside. 

“oh fuck, you—shit—your mouth is so fuckin good,” and he brings a hand, now, to collect your hair and wrap his fingers around it, anchoring himself more than you, “yeah, yeah, that’s it baby, fuck.” you moan into him and his hips twitch as it moves through his skin, and fuck you want him to fuck your throat. you bring your fingers up to move his other hand, clenched taut at his side, to your head, pushing it down to show him. his fingers tighten in your hair as he starts to move you on his own, pulling you into him as you gag and swallow around his head. “oh fuck, oh fuck,” he grunts, hips starting to rut up to meet your face, and your hand finds its way to your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he thrusts deeper, sputtering as he grits out, “fucking gag on it.” you hum, so gloriously pleased with yourself and the taste of him, feeling him twitch in your throat, but with one final drag of your tongue on him he pulls you off. you start to whine but he’s heaving you up by the elbows to straddle his lap, grabbing you by the jaw to bring your face to his. your tongues meet and circle, the both of you groaning at the taste of the other, and he drags his wet cock along your seam. you angle your hips so he catches on your opening and his hands tighten on your waist.

“you still want it, darlin?”

you almost laugh, maybe you do, nodding with your hands on his shoulders. “yes, yes, please.”

and when he pushes in it is not like last time. he’s slow, agonizingly so, as he lets you sink down, your forehead dropping to his as you groan in unison. you clench and throb when your thighs meet, fully seated, and he pulses inside of you, but he doesn’t move yet, brings a finger from your waist to between the wings of your shoulder blades. as you breathe together, chests meeting in full flex, he drags the pad of his finger down, your body open and seizing with feeling of him. 

“you like to touch me there,” you whisper.

joel nods. “it holds you up.” and something about it makes you wail. when his finger reaches the bottom, he bands his whole arm around your back, pulls you impossibly closer against his chest and moves his head next to yours, asks into your ear, “can i move now?”

you twitch as his breath fans over the side of your face, whispering back some sort of please, please, and he starts to thrust into you, slowly but deeply, so deeply that his tip kisses your cervix, and you both hold each other tighter as he drags back out.

“fuck, joel, so good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“you’re fuckin—ah—soakin me, baby.”

between the whispers in your ear joel takes your lobe into his mouth, biting and releasing, kissing the spot beneath it. your body tenses in his arms as his cock ruts in and out of you, still so slow and still so much, and his bicep around your back flexes to keep you in place. 

“what is it?”

“fuck me faster, please,” you whimper. you feel his little smile into your skin.

“you said you could take it slow.”

“and i—fuck—i’m trying.”

he groans, long and with the movement of his cock in you. “one more second like this, just like this.” you try to roll your hips again but his grip stills you. “you have no patience, do you?” you shake your head. without a word, he reaches up to push your elbows up and over his shoulders, and you wrap your arms down his back. he nods a little, whispers just like that into your skin, and you throb around him.

the slap of his skin on yours rings through the room as he speeds up, thrusts meeting you, and you scream like this is salvation (you think it might be). neither of you can control your noises now, not that there was much control to begin with, and joel grits out agonized moans into the arc of your ear. your nails scrape up and down the skin of his back as he pounds up into you, clawing marks and holding there. again you’re on his name, repeating it with a fever and a cry, joel, joel, joel.

“fuck, i fuckin love the sound of my name like that, baby. you sound like you’re mine.”

you do your best to nod, head bobbing at his shoulder, i am yours, i am yours, but still it’s only his name coming out. he fucks you harder, holds you harder, moves like a zealot into your softness. he brings a thumb to your clit, circles it tightly, eats up your noises with a gluttony that pulls you right there, right there. 

“i’m so close, joel,” you whimper.

“fuck, i know, i fuckin feel it. come on, darlin, come on my cock.”

again, you do, you do as he asks, pulled tight into him as you pulse and thrash, ecstasy washing over you.

“yeah, that’s—oh god—that’s it, that’s it,” he rasps, thrusts unrelenting, slapping against the wetness dripping between you. as the rigid pleasure runs through you and your body relaxes again, he picks you up, knees his way up the bed to place you down beneath him. you watch his face pull together as he forgets his plan for a moment, fucks you into the bed with a hand on the headboard, but he collects himself again and heaves you over by the crook of your knee so your stomach is to the mattress, keeping the head of his cock inside you. you hold yourself up by your knees and elbows, feel his hands spread down your back and around the globes of your ass before he picks up his pace again, hips meeting your ass in harsh bumps that make you scream into his pillows. the kick of him inside you is coaxing your body again towards orgasm, and you arch your back for him. 

“such a tight fuckin fit, ain’t it?” you whine in response, pushing your hips back against his. he pulls you up, back flush against his chest, spreads his knees a little to rut deeper up into you. with what sounds like waning sanity, he grits into your ear, “you make it fit for me, darlin, i know you do.” your bag arches off his chest as you go stiff, so startlingly close again. you’re defying your own anatomy now, gone from the confines of your body, submerged fully in a rapture that beads like sweat down your skin. “fuck me, you gonna come again?”

“yeah, yes, fuck” you heave.

he nods against your shoulder and slides the paw of his hand down your front to rub you, using the flat of his hand to press into your clit. “i’m gonna—oh fuck—you’re gonna make me come, where do you want it?”

and you know you shouldn’t, but you’re so fucking close, and you want it. “inside, joel, please.”

his thrusts are stumbling now, losing rhythm. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? fuck,” and he laughs breathlessly, “tha’s how we’ll tell everyone, i’ll fuck you full of my fuckin baby.”

the both of you vibrate with that notion, buzzing together, barely human anymore, and suddenly you’re falling into climax, a third and quick and jolted one, pulling him with you as you clench and flutter, and the pump of his warmth inside of you feels like the most wonderfully selfish thing you’ve ever done. and as his cock softens inside you, a mix of your come sliding out, he’s really just holding you, wrapped up in his arms on his bed. he kisses you in the silence, up the line of your shoulder and to your ear. “stay here, baby,” and he pulls out as you lie all the way down, wipes you both with a rag before climbing up behind you and cradling you in the crook of his body. 

night has fallen fully now, but the moonlight peers through his window and marks the wall ahead of you. joel’s hands are warm as they run up your sides, draws his name on your hip. you smile.

“sting.”

J–O–E–L. “hm?”

“will you tell me again?”

he stretches out his fingers and leans his head over yours. you turn to meet his face. and you think it hurts him, still, to say it, but he does, forehead creased with sincerity and a will to tell you anyway. “i love you, little wolf.”

“i love you, too.”

joel thinks a moment. “are you…” you sit up a little to see him fully, and even in the darkness you can see the flush of red around his ears. “do you still want me to show you how to make the jam?”

oh god, he is so tender for such a violent thing. “mhm,” you hum, but turn all the way over to situate yourself into his chest. through the hair spattered there, you add, “later.”

his thumb finds your spine again, traces it like he’s done before. in his arms here, you can admit that this, now, is your greatest achievement, the closest you’ve ever been to sacred. the puffs of his breath on the top of your head, the slowing of your heartbeats as you both drift towards sleep, yes, this is holy, a sanctified thing, the loveliest thing you’ve ever grown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaah !! i can't believe this story has come to a somewhat-end !! i can't thank you all enough for the support on it. as my first fic it was fucking terrifying to put out, but i'm so glad i did 🍓🤍🤍

taglist: @koshkaj-blog @limerence4u @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 (let me know if you wanna be added or removed !!)

#joel miller fic #jackson!joel #joel miller #fem!reader #the last of us #tlou #hello woolf #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #on strawberries and masonry #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader

[sheepiemc]

Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon

Reason #3: can't beat a boss

You died. 

Again. 

Those mocking words appeared on the screen of your monitor for what was probably the hundredth time since you started playing this stupid game. You wouldn't exactly call yourself a Gamer™️ or anything but surely you could hold your own in a silly little video game. And this silly little video game was getting on your last nerve… 

To be honest, it wasn't the type of game you would usually get into but your favorite otaku shut-in has been going off about it non-stop since it got announced. You were certain he had already got his hands on a copy by now and was probably already an expert, but you wanted to get far enough into the game so that you could get what he was talking about the next time you hung out. 

It was the perfect plan… 

If this game wasn't so freaking hard!! After spending almost 2 hours on the character creation screen, getting your avatar juuust right, you set off exploring the game. And, boy, was there a lot for you to explore. Open world games have really found their moment recently and this game was no exception. 

After ignoring most of the tutorial, telling yourself that you can figure it out (mistake number 1), you promptly forgot where it was you were supposed to go or who you were supposed to talk to. It’ll be fine, you said (mistake number 2) and kept wandering without a care in the world.

You were having a grand old time foraging for materials, crafting items, and making food when you suddenly found yourself face to face with a radiant being of impressive stature. You stood in awe at first, expecting some kind of cutscene; this creature looked important to the lore SOMEHOW, you just knew it. 

What you didn’t expect was for the creature to raise its mighty sword twice your size and strike you down with one blow.

You were so hurt by the game’s betrayal, you didn't pick the game back up for a couple of days.

Fast forward to now, you decided to try your best to beat that righteous jerk's ass! Each failure only made you more and more determined to beat her but your patience was wearing thin. Whoever said games are better when they’re harder to beat should be forced to play in their video game avatar's shoes! 

You stop for a second and chuckle at the thought. If this were a game from the Devildom, they probably would be playing in their avatar’s shoes. Then, they would eat those words. 

After another failed attempt, you are just about ready to throw your controller across the room… but you don’t, because it's expensive and you don't have the kind of money to just destroy it on a whim.

One more time, you tell yourself one more chance, then you'll bring out the big guns. 

You take a deep breath to center yourself in the moment. You take on the celestial sonuvabitch one more time, ready to put up a good fight. You get so close to lowering that red bar, closer than you ever had before. 

You stand up out of your chair with excitement. 

This is it, this is the one, you can feel it.

One more hit and the red bar goes down completely. You watch as the character falls, body crumpling to the ground and you throw up your hands in triumph! 

"YEEEAAHHHAHA!!!" You shout, absolutely ecstatic! 

Then suddenly the screen is awash in a white light, and the character you just spent how many hours beating starts to rise. You hold your breath, unsure of what is going on. A single beam of light shoots out of their lifeless form, hitting your character so quickly, you don't have time to react. Your health was so low that one hit with that beam was all it took for you to see those dreaded, familiar words pop up on screen once more. 

You died. 

You scream. 

You carefully but forcefully throw the controller into the beanbag chair across your room and fly over to your bookshelf, frantically looking for that friggin’ script. You use it so often, you almost never put it down in the same place twice. Cursing yourself when you can’t find it on the shelf, you start tearing your room apart. 

Your cat bolts from its peaceful sleeping spot on your bed when you toss the comforter over your head. Why would it even be in here?? You don’t know but you look anyway. Maybe it fell? 

You flatten yourself to the floor and look under your bed. Using your phone’s flashlight, you spot it at the far end, slumped against the wall. Your temper rising, you crawl underneath the bed and grasp at those damn pages. 

You don’t even pull yourself out from underneath before you close your eyes and start concentrating, thinking, “LEVI! I NEED YOU!” 

You open one eye in time to see an orange light reach a little ways under the bed and you feel a presence standing in the room behind you. You don’t even think about the state your room is in or how this must look to Levi when you hear him say, “M- MC?? Where are you??”

He’s concerned, maybe on the verge of panicking but you are so frustrated, you just start yelling, still under the bed. The image of your feet sticking out from beneath your bed and your muffled screaming would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t so in your own head. 

Levi, not knowing what else to do, panics and transforms. You know this because you can smell the faint scent of brimstone that accompanies said transformation. You feel his scaly tail wrap around your ankle and pull you out from under the bed. He’s crouching down beside you, hands hovering over you, unsure if you’re injured or not. 

“MC, what happened in here? Are you ok??” The concern in his voice makes you feel a bit guilty for worrying him so much over something so trivial. 

You take a deep breath and sigh, flipping around to face him with his tail still wrapped snugly around your ankle. 

“Levi…” You look into his eyes and see the worry. It tugs at something inside you and you sigh again, “the game is too hard.” 

At first, he just stares at you, not quite sure he heard you. 

“Wait, what?? Game?” 

You throw your arm dramatically over your eyes and gesture to your computer. He looks up to it and sees your final death screen. 

He exhales something between a scoff and a laugh. His shoulders slump and he covers his face with his hand. He de-transforms once he knows there is no real danger. 

“I really thought something happened to you, normie.” 

You bristle at the nickname, “Hey!” 

He looks at you from between his fingers. “You called me here because you can’t beat a video game, I think I can call you a normie in this specific situation.” 

You cross your arms and pout, still lying on the floor. “I’m sorry I worried you but this game is driving me insane.” 

He looks around the room at the mess you made. “I can see that…” He gets up and hesitantly extends his hand to help you get up. 

You make a note of how much better at initiating physical contact he’s gotten and smile despite your sour mood. You grab his hand firmly and use him as a counterweight to tug yourself off of the floor. 

You let your hand linger in his while you stand in front of him, not saying anything. He doesn’t seem to mind but you can feel the tension rise as the silence continues. Finally, you let yourself fall slightly forward and rest your forehead against his chest. 

You feel him stiffen. “W-what were you even doing playing that game anyway?” He asks. He turns his head to look at your computer monitor again, “And taking on one of the hardest bosses in the game, no less.”

“I was trying to beat the game so I would know what you were going on about when you inevitably rambled about it for hours the next time we hung out! I know how hyped you were for it…” 

“You know that game is notorious for being very hard to beat, right?” 

“YEAH WELL, I thought I could get far enough to at least keep up with you,” you pause. 

Levi senses you still have more to say and lets you continue. “I like to hear you talk about stuff I know nothing about, I think it's fun… But I see how much happier you are when I do know what you're talking about… I like sharing my interests with you too… it makes me feel closer to you.” 

You feel Levi rub your hand with his thumb. “You did,” now it’s his turn to hesitate, “all this…” he looks around at the mess you made of your room, “because of me?” Without lifting your head from his chest, you look too. 

“Well, I’ll admit this reaction is a little bit dramatic…” Your face flushes with embarrassment. With your head still pressed against his chest, you can feel the beginning vibrations of Levi's closed-mouth chuckle. 

You look up at him and see his face, smiling uninhibitedly. Now, that's a sight that gives you life. With no hand covering his face to hide how pink he is, cheeks dimpled from smiling so big, eyes crinkled, and eyelashes wet with tears. He starts laughing harder and his mirth is contagious. 

You start giggling until you start cackling ungraciously. You rest your head on his shoulder once more and try to calm yourself, saying “I can only imagine how ridiculous I must’ve looked under the bed.” 

He keeps laughing, “Yeah, what was that?” 

"Your script fell back there, I don't know why!!" You didn’t notice in your laughing fit that his arms have now circled your waist but when you do, you quietly slip your arms around him too. 

You look back up to him and he quickly averts his eyes, cheeks now burning a bright red. You smile knowingly and look back at the mess. 

"I- I guess I can help you clean up a little," he says, looking around again. His gaze settles back to your computer, "Then we’ll see what we can do about… that…"

Your arms tighten around his middle and you press your cheek to his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank yoooooou." He stiffens again but quickly relaxes in the embrace. He pats you on the shoulder a few times and you (reluctantly) pull away from him. You put your hands on your hips. 

"Well, better get started!" 

He helps you get your stuff rearranged and back on your shelves, as well as fix your comforter and stuffed toys that were tossed all over the place. You grab the controller from the beanbag and apologize to it, giving it a little kiss. Levi shakes his head and smiles. 

After getting the room back to the state it was before the… incident… Levi stretches his arms above his head and cracks his knuckles. You roll your eyes and hand him the controller. You connect your computer to your bigger TV screen so you can both sit on your bed while you watch him play.  You lounge while he sits up with his legs criss-cross applesauce. 

“How long have you been at this?” he gestures to the TV with a nod. 

You flatten your face to the mattress and groan. “I started a couple of days ago when I met… her.” You lift your head and hold your chin in your hand. “I've been working on her ever since.” 

“Why didn't you just move on to the rest of the game? I can see you aren't very high level, you ever heard of grinding?” 

You blow raspberries dismissively. “Grinding is so boring. I was sooooo close to beating her with sheer determination alone, but now I see that she has a-” 

“Second form,” you both say in unison. 

You groan and Levi nods knowingly. His eyes don't leave the screen as the conversation continues. 

“Honestly, that’s pretty impressive… For a normie to get as far as you did in her fight.”

There’s that name (derogatory) again… You’re about to say something when you watch as he turns your little avatar around, in the opposite direction of the boss. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Just because you spent hours fighting her doesn’t mean I have to. I'm gonna level you up.” 

“Well, that just means I’m better than you.” You smile smugly at him and he scoffs.

“More like you're just a masochist! Why would you make it so much harder for yourself?” 

“Oh, I’m the masochist here?” You scoot closer to him and wiggle your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widen and his face flushes red instantly. He scoots away from you. “Nope, I am NOT going to acknowledge that comment. We’re moving on.”

“But-” You scoot closer.

“MOVING ON!” You see the controller tremble in his hands just a little.

You laugh, “Oh, Leviachan, I’m sorry! It’s just so easy to tease you!” You rest your head on his lap and look back up at the screen. You watch as a blue light erupts underneath your avatar and suddenly you have a horse! 

You shoot up and say, “Where’d you get that horse??”

Your unexpected movement startles Levi and he jumps, nearly dropping the controller. “What??? You haven’t been using your horse??”

“I didn’t know you got a horse!!”

“Next, you're gonna tell me you didn't use your shield in that whole fight.”

You don’t say anything.

“You did use your shield, right?”

You look away and say nothing. 

Now, he actually pauses the game. “MC…”

You turn back to him, with all the pain evident on your face. “What button is that?” Your voice trembles.

He puts the controller down and steeples his fingers in front of his face, covering his nose and mouth, concern evident on his face. 

“You really are a normie…” he whispers to himself but loud enough for you to still hear him very clearly.

“HEY!!” You lean back and start pelting Levi with your stuffed animals, “Ok that’s it, you take that back!” 

Levi laughs, guarding and blocking all your attacks, “Hey, we just cleaned this place!”

“I’m not a Gamer™️ but that doesn’t make me a normie, ok!?”

“How’d you make that sound with your mouth?”

“Take it back!” Out of ammunition, you lunge for him and start shaking him back and forth. “Take it back!! Take it back!!!”

“Alright, alright! You’re not a normie! But you are a filthy casual.”

You grip his jacket tightly and squint at him. “Ffffffine…” you manage to say through gritted teeth. 

You both settle and get back to the game. Levi insists on doing everything again from the beginning (“What do you mean you skipped through the tutorial? How’d you even do that??”). You excitedly show him how you had painstakingly recreated Henry as your avatar and you could swear his eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. He wants to show you all the easter eggs and foreshadowing and lore in every nook and every cranny so you know it’s gonna be a long night. It’s around 3 AM when, with you sitting between his legs, his arms around your middle and chin resting on your shoulder, he notices you’re starting to doze. You protest sleepily, saying he didn’t even get to fight the boss yet.

You don’t remember much after that but you do wake up the next day with all your stuffed animals back where they should be and a sticky note on your game controller that says, “G3T G00D, SCRUB!”

You snatch the note off of the controller and crumple it in your hand, smiling ruefully. 

Where’s that script? You’ll show him who’s a scrub… 

#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #leviathan fluff #originally posted on ao3 #you can tell when i wrote this bc of what game this was clearly based on lol #op #fic

[bg3-npc]

Various Baldur's Gate Tag Numbers

As someone starved for non-Astarion BG3 content, I decided to look up the most popular tags for the game. I wanted to compare content and following discrepancies between each. Here's what I found as of September 29, 2023:

Baldur's Gate 3: 17k followers

BG3: 11k followers

These were the most common and followed tags for the game itself. Any other tag variations didn't have enough followers/content to display numbers.

I looked at the "Astarion" tag first and found:

Astarion: 14k followers

Astarion alone has more followers than the abbreviation for the ACTUAL GAME. Okay, that's fine, the main tag still has more followers than his character. Now let's look at the the numbers for the other five main playable companions:

Karlach: 3.4k followers

Shadowheart: 2.5k followers

Gale of Waterdeep: 2.2 followers

Gale: 1.9k followers

Gale Dekarios: 1.3k followers

Again, any other tags didn't have enough interaction to display numbers. This means there are TWO ENTIRE COMPANIONS with so few followers and content, we don't even know how many people are actually following/posting them.

I genuinely don't want to start Fandom Discourse™️, but how can I not? How can I not talk about the blatant sexism/misogyny when a similar female companion has so little love? How can I not state the obvious racial prejudice against the only canonically black origin companion? I mean come on, the other white guy has THREE tags with visible numbers. The only black companion doesn't have ONE.

Characters aside, this is an open world video game. You can complete it, whatever that means to you, with as little character interaction as you want. You're probably doing YOURSELF a disservice to focus solely on Astarion.

Look. I'm not here to tell you how to play this game or enjoy it's content. I'm not here to tell you how to participate in fandom. However, while Larian Studios seemed to prioritize Astarion, he is NOT the single most interesting experience in the game.

If he's what got you into the game, great! Love having you here! If he's the only thing you enjoy though, please consider why a white dude (even if he's a fictional vampire) is the only thing that has your engagement. Especially if you're like me and HAVEN'T. EVEN. PLAYED. THE. GAME.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #karlach #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #gale #gale dekarios #wyll #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #mine #anyway wrote this angrily on the clock #🎮 bg3

[zvdvdlvr]

Hi I just saw ur post about the sh comfort, could you write a sh comfort fic, a outsiders one please, could you do Johnny hcs pleases and can you make the reader gn please

johnny seeing your SH scars ( thighs, wrists )

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑐

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐!𝑗𝑜ℎ𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦/𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚

{🧡}

looking back, johnny felt bad that he didn't push sooner

he only found out that one day at the Curtis's when you were in the bathroom and were pulling on a tank top to put a long sleeve shirt over that

johnny didnt knock, no one knocked.

when you jumped to face the intruder, johnny looked down to give you your modesty, put his eyes locked on the jagged lines criss crossing on your thighs

he looked up slowly, your paused movements giving him view to the faint scars on your wrist

swallowing, johnny turned on his heel and left, making sure to close the door when he left

he didn't avoid you; you were both dating and practically lived at the same house

however, he avoided the confrontation for fear of irritating you

you pulled him away from the group while darry and soda tossed the football around, two-bit occasionally jumping in to intercept the ball cleanly and take off in a sprint

"hey" you "hi :p" johnny

you asked him if he told anyone, and he gave you a questioning look

"my scars, johnnyboy. did you... tell anyone?"

he shrugs. "did you want me to?"

you almost cried tbh

you smile at him shyly. "do you want me to explain it? why aren't you asking me questions?" through your happines, there was confusion

the few people that had seen normally asked a lot of questions

but

you almost... wanted him to know

was it because you were dating? who knows!

"later? we can go pick up sodas and go hang out at the park?" johnny

you agreed, happy that he wasn't interrogating you, but not brushing you off

later, you both walked down to the park, drinks in hand

you explained (albeit shakily) why you made yourself bleed., and johnny listened

at some point, he shifted his coke to his other hand so he could link pinkies with you bc you sounded sad </////3333333

screaming and crying i need a johnny

after that night, johnny glances at you with A Look ™️, questioning if you had Done Anything

you shook your head; he was helping you forget that habit and

if you were still self harming (cutting), johnny would always clean your cuts and bandage them up without saying anything

your own battles are always the worst

and he knows that

but a whispered "i'm here" from him always makes you tear up

your beyond disappointed at yourself for possibly disappointing johnny and feeling upset that he would waste his time with you

HOWEVER

he absolutely DOES NOT think that :')

he's secretly in love with you!

anyhow,

if/when you finally stop turning to that to take out your emotions, (when ur snuggling or in private) johnny rubs his thumbs over your scars

one time, he whispered "you're so strong"

you were asleep (or were you?😏) so you didnt answer

if you decided to wear a short sleeve or let your scars show, johnny would never leave your side: he gets a lot of looks because of the marred skin on his face

darry sat you down, though, as the mother that he is

it was a simple "you don't need to do that anymore, we're always here for you, you're part of the gang" speech

it was touching, but funny

dally had to be held back whenever someone pointed or laughed or made a comment about your wrists

most likely by two, darry, and soda

mans strong when infuriated

mans hot af

WHOA WHO SAID THAT

if you do the shmexy time when ur older,

ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART.

kisses your scars, takes time to trace them with a light fingertip

he's so proud of how far you've come <3

sobbing i love him

if you were comfortable with it obviously,

if you had a pattern like # that, two would probably play tic tac toe with you i dont make the rules i dont wanna offend anyone

you were startled at first at how he looked up at you, holding the marker out to you

but now it your thing

johnny laughs whenever you beat two (which is always 50/50)

will edit later,

sorry if this is bad <3

#jules writes 📓 🖊 #jules writes 📓🖊 #x reader #fluff #lol #x female reader #x male reader #male reader #female reader #jules writes 📓🖊 #johnny cade x reader fluff #johnny cade x reader #the outsiders johnny #johnnycake #johnny cade #johnny cade fluff #tw: sh #tw: self half #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #s.e. hinton #outsiders #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x black reader #x plus size reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gn!reader #the outsiders ponyboy #the outsiders darry

[ask-asks]

Questions that will blow your tits clean off.

Describe one of your favourite shows in one sentence or GIF?

One of the most meaningful things someone has said to you?

What would you like to be an agent of?

Be honest, have you slept with that guy's ex wife, Susan?

A flavor combination you did not expect to like?

Pick a character, decide on something they are afraid of.

Your most controversial ship? (Be nice to each other.)

Favourite tumblr meme?

Bears!

Share an epic fail you find funny?

Favourite old time film/s?

Historically speaking, favourite weapon/s?

Fun fact?

What law of physics would you like to break?

Pick 5 to 10 characters and assign them theme songs?

If you were dancing in the street, what dance would you be doing?

WOW, MOM, EOE, 3O3?

What do you really want to cut your pizza with?

What's something frequently said to you that you want to rant about?

A smell that takes you back somewhere, anywhere?

Share a song or two that you find calming?

Speculate about your last life?

Speculate about your current life?

Speculate about your next life?

What brings you peace?

You can turn one person into a llama, who?

Something funny someone you know has said, without context?

Congratulations! You've found it! The answer!

Write a click bait headline or e-mail title?

What are you?

What did you want to be when your grew up? What do you do now?

Pick a super power to accidentally give your worst enemy?

Share a passing thought?

Have you a favourite food or two?

What's for dinner?

How do you feel about The Issue™️?

A show/game/book someone could consume to know you better?

Recommend a random piece of media you simply enjoyed to the asker?

Fill in the blank: Your life is like _____?

What are you drinking right now?

List 3 blorbos?

This spot is reserved for the Swedish Fish.

Memes you frequently quote?

What's something you've been working on?

Something you want to ask someone else?

Give yourself a pirate name?

And a familiar?

Ah, 48. This question is very important

Someone or something you're rooting for/proud of?

Your tits! Where are they?

#asks #ask games #ask lists #questions #question list #ask meme #questions list #ask #ask me

[fantasy-the-final-frontier]

I’m on my (third?) watch of Agents of Shield, currently on 2x08, The Things We Bury. And it just occurred to me how good the parallel stories are in this episode in particular, all centering around the title.

(This breakdown got a lot more in-depth than I was expecting, so I’m putting the rest under a cut)

Storyline 1: the backstory of Daniel Whitehall. Shortly after finding a person (Jiaying) who can survive contact with the Obelisk, Whitehall and his men are captured by the Allied forces (as seen in 2x01). After being interrogated by Peggy Carter, Whitehall is consigned to a Shield prison for life. But that is not his end - HYDRA members release him from prison decades later, where he can continue his research on the Obelisk, experiment on Jiaying, and work his way to the position he holds in HYDRA in the modern day.

Whitehall: We could learn so much together.

Peggy: Instead we’ll forget. Forget you, forget your work. When I leave no one else will come. No one to hear your stories, study your deadly artifacts. You’ll be buried.

Whitehall: I seriously doubt that. Nothing stays buried forever.

Storyline 2: Grant Ward kidnaps his older brother Christian to have an emotional confrontation about their abusive past. They go to the site of the well (from episode 1x08), where Grant forces Christian to unearth it. The entire time, the brothers accuse each other of gaslighting and manipulation, blaming the other for the events of that day. Once the well is revealed, Grant threatens Christian until his brother confesses to forcing Grant during the incident at the well. The storyline ends with a news story reporting the deaths of Christian and his parents.

Christian: The well. You still blame me for the well. We both know that it was you who nearly killed Thomas down there.

Grant: Do you sleep better telling yourself that?

Christian: You know, I don’t know what crazy lies that you have built up all these years, but the well doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s gone. Mom and Dad buried it.

Grant: (pause) Oh, no. They just covered it up.

Storyline 3: the search for the alien city. Taking inspiration from Fury, Coulson decides to one-up HYDRA by putting in place a series of dominoes that will gain him access to a satellite. This allows the team to locate the alien city,

Coulson: We may actually have a shot at finding the city.

Skye: Are you sure it’s something you wanna dig up?

Coulson: If we don’t, HYDRA will. We need to get there first.

I just love the juxtaposition between the three storylines! From figurative digging into Bakshi and archived Shield files in storyline 1, to literal digging in storyline 2, to the city in storyline 3 being underground, all are about the things that get buried (hence the title) but not destroyed. Usually “bury” implies a final ending, as in burying a body, but this episode shows that buried is not the same as forgotten.

Daniel Whitehall is able to gain a new life and new identity. The well is unearthed and the Ward brothers’ past is laid bare. The alien city, which was lost for thousands of years, is discovered. And to dig more into storyline 1, Whitehall’s background in 2x08 teases parts of Skye’s background - more past which was buried (redacted by Shield) that is now being revealed. Jiaying’s barely-living body is dumped in a ditch in lieu of a burial, and in 2B we learn she was nursed back to health. The buried live once more.

Season 2A is all about the past coming back in full force to influence the present, and this episode is chock-full of that theme. More specifically, parts of the past that were supposed to be hidden or forgotten, parts which are demanding themselves to be known again.

This right here is the Good Shit™️, aka my favorite part of this show, and I’m so fucking pumped!

#agents of shield #aos meta #agents of shield season 2 #the things we bury #god I love season 2 so much #there are several different ongoing storylines that are developed and paced wonderfully #and episodes like this highlight the themes between them #there’s so much surprising depth to this show!!!

[wozwaid]

platonic genshin x reader headcanons! gn pronouns

im doing random characters so send who you want me to do next!

this is a crack fic as per usual 

woz’s thought of the day: free miko from my serenitea pot 

warnings: cursing,  dumbasses being dumbasses, improper grammar bc i never paid attention to it in school and now i cant read or write oops lol

✰

itto

- somehow always shows up when someone is messing with you

- like even if a little kid bumps into you he’ll pop up behind you out of NOWHERE like “do it again bitch see what happens”

- we know hes not above fighting a child

- begs you to join his gang every single day promising he’ll share the snacks he won from an 8 year old with you (but you know he never will)

✰

jean

- “dont come in my office” but always leaves a chair next to her desk bc she knows youll come in anyways

- you drag her out of her office and she flails around like a child bc she needs to finish the work that she has to turn in in 3 years

- you guys sit under the big windrise tree (names are hard and i dont feel like looking it up) and take naps

- jean is so petty if shes upset w you she’ll put you on the cleanup crew ™️ (ft noelle) and make you chase after klee

✰

ayato

- he’s so bratty its hilarious 

- you go out for dinner and when the check comes he just gets up and leaves??? “someone else usually covers it” BITCH YOU CANT JUST LEAVE????

- gives the worst advice ever but we love him for that

- you’re stressed abt work? just get someone else to do it

- ask him to do your work for you and he’ll look at you like you’re a psychopath

✰

xiao

- ZERO social skills idk how you guys became friends

- like you’ll be relaxing by yourself and he’ll show up out of nowhere

       “...”

       “hello”

       “THE FUCK-”

- the kind of friend whos brutally honest with you without any hesitation

     “that outfit is terrible”

     “xiao this is an outfit YOU picked for me bc you hated all the others”

      “did i stutter”

✰

kujo sara

- shogun stans ™️ 

- lowkey kind of a tsundere friend? she’ll never admit that she really enjoys your company.

- yall became friends bc you talked once and she decided she liked you so she would follow you around (but at a distance bc she doesnt know how to start a casual conversation)

- you eventually went up to her and asked if she was ok and the rest is history

- naur bc if yall are REALLY CLOSE she’ll rant to you and she has a lot to say

          “how the fuck did the shogun change her mind so quickly abt the vision hunt decree i poured my blood sweat and tears into enforcing that shit-”

           “sara it is 3AM can this wait 4 more hours-”

           “i dare you to interrupt me again”

i think i have carpal tunnel from playing hatsune miku colorful stage

#platonic genshin x reader #kujo sara x reader #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #xiao x reader #jean x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #woz 📝 #woz 🧠

[fanby-fckry]

🍭🎀 for the ask game!♡

Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks

Thank you! <3

🍭 why did you start writing?

When it comes to writing in general, I’ve had a passion for story telling for about as long as I could write.

I remember there was an assignment in like 1st lr 2nd grade where my teacher had the class add “spider legs” to their stories, which were basically strips of paper that you could use to add more details to things without erasing. She used to call my spider legs “elephant legs” because I’d add line after line on every “leg.”

As for fanfiction specifically, I did it out of spite.

I saw someone say that RadioApple could never work because Lucifer likes to tempt people with sex (not canon but ok) and Alastor’s asexual. Plus the power difference would make it unhealth and wrong. :/

And in response, I wrote Tempting Entertainment: the precursor fic to UH3.

So uh, thanks random RadioApple anti from 2019. You changed my life forever, and now I have an ongoing series of RadioAppleSiren kinky queer platonic polycule fanfics that get an insane amount of interaction and comments from people telling me how much they liked my work/how wholesome the unholy 3 are/how my portrayal of Alastor’s aroace-ness.

Also, get fucked because UH3!Alastor sure isn’t.

🎀 give yourself a compliment about your own writing

I need to stop reblogging ask games that have this as a prompt, because beloved mutuals are insistent on sending it every time, and I’m going to run out of nice things to say about my work eventually.

Also, I sent one back to you as revenge but the nice kind. If I have to appreciate my work then so you!

Hmmmmmm what do I actually say about this? And what haven’t I said already?

Oh! I think I’m pretty good at noticing the trends that happen when my characters start “writing themselves” and acting accordingly.

I accidentally wrote UH3!Alastor with a bunch of my own Cluster B traits in addition to the implied canon traits. And while I tried to minimize them for a while for fear of The Discourse™️, eventually I decided it was better to double down and write with my own perspective as a person with a personality disorder in mind.

Recently I came to the realization that UH3!Alastor may have a gender preference for women when it comes to platonic and sensual attraction, which I had kind of assumed wouldn’t happen in this AU, but he did it anyway. I’m gonna be keeping an eye on that, and might be updating his microlabels.

He doesn’t know his own microlabels, but it helps me keep my writing consistent. Previously I’d had him down as panaesthetic, pansensual, and panplatonic but I think he’s actually bisensual and biplatonic. His aesthetic attraction isn’t at all based on gender; meanwhile while he can experience sensual, platonic, and queer platonic attraction to any gender, he seems to have a noticeable difference between women and everybody else.

I blame his father for this. I also blame him for a good portion of the Cluster B symptoms. Wow, I really wanna write some backstory about Alastor’s relationship with his father, because it’s hinted at in UH3 in several places, but it doesn’t come up a lot and I have so many things to say.

Uhh, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, my writing! Complimenting it!

Sometimes my characters write themselves, and I think I do a pretty good job chasing after them and taking notes. :3

#fanby answers #boyywithluv #and they were mutuals #fanby: uh3 #fanby: uhverse #uh: alastor #uh: radioapple #uh: radiosin #discourse cw #id in alt text #hazbin hotel #alastor #radioapple #radiosin

[cock-holliday]

Top 5 song lyrics and/or quotes that have Changed You™️? :) I hope you’re having a good day!

Oooh a good question. I suffer from terminal cannot-retain-lyrics disease so most of these will be quotes.

1. For my lyric ones, some songs that make me bark like a dog are Work Song by Hozier, Heaven Sent by Parker Millsap, and The Village by Wrabel, but like the whole songs not just pieces

2. An episode of the TV show Angel aptly named Epiphany had a line that seared into my memory and became a big part of my personal existential philosophy which is: “If there’s no great glorious end to this…if nothing we do *matters*…then all that matters is what we do. Today. Here right now.”

3. “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art.” -Ursula K Le Guin

4. “I’m not saying we’ll live to see some sort of paradise. But just fighting for change makes you stronger. Not hoping for anything will kill you for sure. Take a chance, Jess. You’re already wondering if the world could change. Try imagining a world worth living in, and then ask yourself if that isn’t worth fighting for. You’ve come too far to give up on hope, Jess.” — Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

5. “[Frodo] I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.

[Gandalf] So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil.” —The Lord of The Rings by Tolkein

#ask meme #list 5 things #ask #small-strong-bookish-butch #thank you!

[galaxytoons]

The Amazing Digital Underground

okay, so think of an Undertale x TADC crossover AU. No I’m not just reclothing the characters and using the same story. I’m making something new and interesting, that uses both stories in a sort of way that makes sense but is still its own thing. I’d like to call it: *drumroll* The Amazing Digital Underground! (TADU)! Lemme explain the plot I came up with:

chara is an adult that’s been alone all their life, so they create a way to escape reality. An AI world. Their first AI test is Asriel, and they grow very attached to him. Too attached. Asriel starts to get self aware because Chara programmed too many “emotions” in him, and goes insane at the realization that he’s not a real being. Chara tries to SAVE him to bring him back, but alas, no avail. Asriel was sent to the cellar. Thus, Chara created Papyrus and his assistant, Monster Kid. She gave them less “emotions”, so even if Papyrus became self-aware, he wouldn’t care and would never abstract. Papyrus started growing powerful, too powerful. He got smarter and smarter each day, that one day when Chara tried to leave, THEY COULDN’T. Papyrus had trapped them in there to play with him forever. Chara eventually abstracts of insanity, and Papyrus creates a technological wormhole in the real world where humans can get trapped in as well, where? You guessed it, Mt. Ebbot. People started disappearing into the wormhole, which began the “you can never come back if you go” legend for them. Frisk however, was curious, so they decided to go. They found the wormhole in a literal hole in the mountain. They ended up in the underground circus world, and was greeted by Toriel (the Ragatha), Sans (the Jax), Napstablook (the Gangle), Undyne (the Zooble), and Asgore (The Kinger). (There’s no Kaufmo because this follows it’s own story and not the TADC pilot’s) Day after day, frisk notices something…wrong. Glitching, things out of place….and one day, the abstracted characters break free from the cellar. Frisk gets a SUPER COOL EDGY FLASHBACK™️, and learns how to SAVE. they SAVE all the abstracts, (in this AU the term “SAVE” means to ultimately free their souls from the circus.) Papyrus witnesses the events and passive-agreessively threatens Frisk not to tell anyone. Frisk is acting weird around Papyrus and there’s a lot of tension and the others notice and pressure Frisk into telling them. They feel betrayed by frisk, and they make it up by compromising a plan to defeat papyrus and escape. But one has to be sacrificed, because someone has to SAVE the others and SAVING yourself is impossible. Poor Napstablook decides to sacrifice himself to prove his courage and that he isn’t just a sad tool for the plot. They all go through with the plan, and escape (except Napstablook because haha you get to cry now) but they didn’t exactly escape because it plays out like the end of Be More Chill (great musical btw, highly recommended) and Papyrus is an annoying voice in their heads haunting their dreams, constantly reminding them they can’t get rid of him. Aaaand yeah, that’s what I came up with so far :3 I’m currently working on character designs, I’ll post them when I finish. Ideas and art submissions are welcome, just remember my idea is to kind of mix both character designs equally instead of just putting one character in the other’s clothes.

#gooseworx #the amazing digital circus #TADC #undertale au #undertale #story #idea #AU idea #bread lmao

[alabasterandpitch]

"I know there's something else waiting for me. The world is so big and I have so much to learn now. I'll find my path out there"

Ye gods what a satisfying conclusion to this season, and so very synchronously appropriately for the place I'm at in my life right now.

It's a little funny; I picked up this show totally on a random whim looking for something to fill the time, and I recently decided to revisit it in much the same way, but this time around I find myself so indescribably happy and grateful that I did.

Definitely been realizing a lot about myself watching this show, not least of all the reasons it intrigued me so much: mostly my closeted furry-hood and uncanny personal resemblances to the protagonist Legoshi. Not to mention just a sliiight touch of homoerotic Thirst™️ for Louis, more realizations sinking in there lmao

I just can't get over how this show goes above and beyond its premise to deliver a truly moving tale packed with so many shockingly relevant themes! Desire, intimacy, self-control, the exploration of sexuality and identity, role reversal, reflextion and introspection and coming to terms with all these feelings in ourselves and grappling with how to experience them healthily without repressing yourself.

It just seems like one more of the synchronous little revelations that was just meant to be. This has been such a perfect time for me to revisit this show, being currently in the midst of my own unmasking journey, and I couldn't think of a more appropriately analogous way for Legoshi to wrap up his own journey for this season.

Its been such a rewarding experience recognizing these old pieces of myself after having done some of that reflecting and being ready to accept aspects of myself that might have made me uncomfortable before. There's still so much I don't know and am learning about myself and my community, but once again just like Legoshi, I feel like I've found a certain peace and enjoyment of that process that can only really come once you start to reflect and truly accept yourself with the same kindness and respect you would show to others. 😌

This concludes my unhinged series of personal rants live reacting to furry shit

Until Season 3 comes out ofc

🐺

#never beating the allegations #furry #furry shit #beastars #beastars anime #beastars legoshi #anime

[mangoshorthand]

18 chapters omggggg. I don't mind a big wordcount at all, but as the writer you alone should of course decide how happy you are with the result. I'm excited as hell, but I hope you don't feel rushed, take as many time as you need. ♥

Thanks for your effort and cheers!

Awh hey there! I hope you'll comment over on AO3 (can you do a guest comment and call yourself The Shadowfan™️ or something? 😆). I sincerely hope this installment lives up to your expectations.

You're right in that a big word count isn't necessary a problem, but I have the feeling there's some fat that could be trimmed.

Having said that, Part 5/AOT is 47k words and that follows 3 main perspectives (Five, MC and Aoife) and Part 6/AWF fic follows 4 or 5 (Five, MC, Aoife, Santi and some from a mystery character) so perhaps that's quite good value for the word count? I'll have to see.

Very excited to publish!

[cinnaminsvga]

When I flew to Korea. My biggest fear was starting my cycle right there on the plane🤣 cause it was due and a little late. Shout out to irregular cycles~ kidding kind of. Also mainly because the week before my flight I saw a video where the girl talked about how it suddenly happened mid flight the day she was traveling and it unlocked a new fear for me.

It waited til I entered my apartment in korea like within an hour I just was like oh no. Thank whoever was watching over me and was giving me good luck that day, and it also happened before the dinner I had to go to while I was still in the apartment. And also thankful @ myself that I packed like a 6 month supply for no reason other than just in case💀

Also sorry for the overshare I saw you got it in Japan while crouching to look at something lmao. And it activated that fear of it happening on a plane thought. I hope you got to handle that quickly or had something on you were close by so you didn’t have to tough it out. Also do you like pack let’s say your going somewhere for a week or two but you pack like 3 months of underwear you know incase you shit yourself 3 times a day every day for those two weeks and change your underwear 5 times a day for some unknown reason🤣 not that you would or that it’s ever happened but just incase that’s the one time it does. Or am I insane. It’ll be like 2 jeans 1 shorts and like 7 shirts. And pjs. But 3 months of undies and socks and period stuff)

[cont.] Can’t believe I talked about periods and shitting yourself hypothetically all in the same ask I’m so sorry🤣 My brain just caught up to that ask I just sent💀

period talk under the cut because we're bloody bitches 🌊🩸

whenever my cycle is coming up, i'll usually wear a panty liner at least two days before it's supposed to start... if the anxiety is bad (e.g. before a big flight or any event where i cant change undies) then i might even wear a whole ass pad a few days before it starts lol

lucky you that your period started before leaving your apartment HAKSDJKAS ive had experiences where im at lengthy dinner parties with no extra pads in my bag and just had to Suffer (hence why i wear dark pants most of the time... but have i started to bring pads in my bag? who can say...) but during my Squatting Incident™️, i was not close to my hotel so i was actually forced to Tough It Out for at least five more hours... it was pain, but i also got to buy an animal crossing cup for my troubles so i suppose it wasnt too bad... but the horrors... at least it didnt permanently stain my clothes 💀

i also do tend to pack a lot of pads when i travel around when my cycle starts because i do not trust international feminine products HKASDJKAS nothing against them but when youre at your lowest (i.e. your period), sometimes a little bit of home can help you a long way... I WILL SAY THO that my last period when i was in japan was unexpectedly stronger than usual... hence the whole squatting blood flood that triggered this entire conversation LMAO but yeah i ran out of pads and had to grab some from family mart... also i dont know japanese so i guess i grabbed the night time pads bc man those pads were like DIAPERS... covered my whole ass but it was thin enough that i didnt look like i was shitting my pants or smth lol

as for clothes... yes i do that thing too LMAOOO underwear is just touching WAY TOO MANY potentially disastrous areas that having extras is a necessity... i do admit though that in my past couple of travels, i have been packing more savvy than my usual anxious self... MINUS THE JAPAN TRIP BECAUSE AGAIN FOR SOME REASON I DECIDED TO PACK LIGHT??? so yeah i had to do my laundry once during the trip but that was my first time ever underpacking underwear (wow an assonance) and i had to google comprehensive steps on how to operate japanese washing machines because my social anxiety forbids me from Fumbling in Public because i think i'll be executed

anyway. i know none of you are reading all that. so tldr... ive been menstruating for years and yet somehow i am not an expert. what are the odds!!!

#thanks for the lengthy ask anon HSAKDJKASJD its funny getting these once in a while #especially bc i have been feeling chatty recently... potentially because ive stopped taking my meds and the demons are catching up #otherwise!! uh period cw i guess #okay time to pack for my trip back to vancouver!! *keeps myself self* #Anonymous #answered

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

(I will preface this by saying that I do understand JGY's characterization and role in the story and in the critique of the elitist cultivation world, he just pisses me off with his reasoning even though I can see where it's coming from and what its purpose is).

It ruffles my fucking feathers to see JGY going all "I had no choice! 🥺🥺🥺" when confronted with The Bullshit That He Did™️ because son........you were never held sword to the neck and made to kill arguably innocent people (except JGS, that mf fucked around and found out in more ways than one and he deserved it) for survival or something

You could have AT ANY POINT taken a step back

Looked inside yourself

And decided that maybe, just maybe, perhaps even

Enough is enough???

How many more stairs (metaphorical or otherwise) do you need to be pushed down on to see that all that very immoral stuff you're doing is not worth it??? What did it bring you in the end??? A death shared with probably your greatest enemy in life and your name sullied even more than it ever was before.

You're too smart for this, A-Yao.

Like

Sorry, but you weren't pushed in those circumstances by anyone other than yourself and your own thirst for power and revenge.

When you chose to do all that stuff for greed, you inevitably also chose and accepted the consequences. You're not a victim and you know it and trying to paint yourself as one is pathetic.

Still love you tho, have fun in the afterlife <3

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #original thots #jgy #guess whos stress rewatching s3 of the donghua #this is just my interpretation and you can think differently but im not going to argue w anyone so dont start discourse pls