#ill never have a good relationship with ANYTHING and i just. its not fair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 4 main sources of revenue.

#ill never have a good relationship with ANYTHING and i just. its not fair

hellishjoel · 7 months

Text

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

here's my masterlist!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

#joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #hellishjoel #joel tlou #tlou #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller age gap #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pixel joel

403 notes · View notes

askganon · 25 days

Note

Great King, I need encouragement. I have not had an easy life. Any form of abuse besides sexual my parents committed against me. Any time anything is left to chance the worst possible outcome is chosen by the gods, even should I do everything right. I have more mental illnesses, mental and physical disabilities than I can count. I cant do many jobs and can hardly hold most of the ones I CAN do down, on account of the disabilities. My family comes from the worst poverty possible and its grip on me is so strong I know I will never be comfortably free from it. Everyone I've ever known has abandoned me and those that came back keep me at a healthy distance as fair weather friends. Simply put, I'm a survivor, and I intend to survive as long as there is sand in my hourglass. When I am knocked down, nails bloodied and gone, nose broken, I spit my teeth and blood out of my mouth, wipe the dirt out of my eyes and get back up only to get punched back down to the ground just to get back up again. I take pride in this fact, should the whole world and even the gods/goddesses and even lady luck herself be my enemy I will. Not. Succumb. But I am tired... I tired of being strong, I tire of pain, of being offered relief or a mercy only to have it snatched away from me at the cruelest moment against all odds, of having every bit of happiness locked behind one paywall I can never hope to meet, of having everyone like me but never cherish me... I tire not of life but never having lived. I tire of only ever surviving. I dont know what to do, where I can find relief, when or how I get to rest even if just for a moment. I know I must continue on and I know that I will but I have no desire or motivation to do so. Any words of advice or encouragement from you would be a gift, I have admired you since I was young for you have lived a similar life.

There is little I can add as endearment, for all that I would say you have already stated in your resolve.

But you have come to Demon King Ganondorf seeking wisdom. So, it is Demon King Ganondorf's wisdom you shall have.

First, I will make a wound and force it to bleed. Then, I will put salt in that wound, and make you feel the sting of truth. It is only with calm and mature reflection can one see the purpose in the words beyond appeared insult.

First, the wound.

Life is not happiness.

Life is struggle, trial, failure and pain. It can be torment and relief, beautiful and ugly, but it is never happy. Any who speak otherwise are either fools or devils.

It has been said that life is the pursuit of happiness. This is a dream for the mad.

In truth, a "good" life, or one lived well, is one not driven by happiness, but by contentment.

To achieve this, a choice must be made. It is only one choice, but it is the same choice one must make eternally. That is to choose between compromise and suffrage.

In short, will you compromise to be content, or will you suffer for it?

To place this into an example, I could have compromised as King, living content with "It could be worse." Or I could have suffered for contentment with "It could be better."

Which do you think I chose?

Now for the salt.

I have listened to the retelling of your life, and have words regarding it.

I hold no sympathy for abusers of any kind. They cannot match the skills and abilities of their peers, so choose instead to face opponents they know they can conquer. There is no honor nor challenge in an assured victory, and I expect all of them to die knowing they were failures in life and will be forgotten in death.

But as to your abandonments, I hold a different opinion. While the abandonment of one might whisper you the victim, the abandonment of all screams the opposite.

Reflect on these relationships and seek out the common root between them. Do this, but do not rest on the easy answer and use your disabilities as a crutch.

It is said that hurt people hurt people. Perhaps the abuse you sustained in your youth evolved into traits within of which you are unaware.

Seek this out within yourself. If it is discovered, then you have a choice to make.

Will you compromise with this, and remain content in your solitude? Or will you suffer to change this aspect, granting you the chance at a healthy relationship and the possibility of happy moments in a content life?

#ganondorf #legend of zelda

51 notes · View notes

livingdeadmlm · 4 months

Note

saw MK on your list i am clicking my heels and bursting into song. a kung lao fic would be awesome. i feel like no one gives him the attention he deserves

I LOVE KUNG LAO hes so silly I'm a little rusty with MK characters but I'm using what i remember from the games since i played it as a kid

Ill do some SFW and NSFW hcs of dating kung lao a mix of modern day hcs and in game hcs

SFW

What a cutie am I right? he knows it and you know it so he uses that to his advantage.

He likes to say some weird shit and when you ask about it he just looks at you confused

"Did you let in the grass light morning?"

What did you say?"

"??? Nothing babe what are you talking about?"

dinner dates ooooo

Going out to eat and cooking together he considers a good date

In the modern age, he definitely is a gym goer and loves to go to Planet Fitness to set off the lunk alarm. You don't have to work out yourself but if you go with him he tries to show off more than usual hoping that you'd throw some praise his way.

Either has the latest phone or the oldest one known to man no in between

in-game you are his assisted fighter and have a duo fatalities. kinda like In Eyes of Heaven

matching accessories can be bought for the two of you.

calls you baby girl even if you're a guy.

thinks about you all the time at work and how he can't wait to get home and eat and lay down with you

he flirts with you in public places like he's a stranger and you are the lead in a romcom

people in the shop staring as it seems like a romance blossoming before them but it's less interesting when they see once again it is Kung lao flirting with the same man as many times before

NSFW

He believes in fairness so you best believe that both of you leave satisfied no matter what.

Probably not much experience to be had out on the farms but man does he get the hang of everything quick

Head game goes crazy, He is scarily good at it and loves doing it as well

He is not into hitting or anything, he doesn't like the idea of actually hurting each other.

Tug his hair though that's his one exception

He understands taking things slow and will most of the time but at the start of the relationship he gets pretty excited fast and is really hansy grabbing at your hips, legs, and ass like you'll vanish once he lets go

occasionally he still gets that way but has some more self-control

kinda likes getting frisky in risky places and alleyways and when there are people up and walking around in a shared place

his adrenaline spikes but never goes all the way, he insists that that's too far.

if there is distance he sends nudes for sure

with shitty camera quality, he means well and sends them seriously but its hard to keep the mood up when all you have is an 8-bit photo to work with

When you've been on top he has placed his hat on your head, strokes his pride to see it on you while you're enjoying yourself

Probability a Power bottom

#male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #Kung lao x male reader #Kung lao x nb reader #M!Reader #x male reader

113 notes · View notes

adhd-merlin · 7 months

Text

merlin S1 rewatch: episode 6

it’s been a hot minute! today’s commentary is about episode 1x06, A Remedy to Cure All Ills. which I re-watched more than a month ago actually, but I’ve been busy.

just some random comments and thoughts (as usual), and not an actual review or analysis.

I think this episode is extremely underrated – I loved it the first time I watched it, and I still thoroughly enjoyed it on my rewatch. yes, it’s kind of a filler episode with a very traditional Villain of the Week format – but it's a great villain.

Julian Rhind-Tutt’s performance as Edwin is great and I love a suave, smooth-talking, scheming villain as much as the next person. The way he manipulates people, never suggesting anything outright but playing on people’s fears and biases, only saying just enough to make them reach the conclusion he wants. Something very Richard III about it. Very Iago.

EDWIN: “No… I shan’t say”

Another thing I love about this episode is the rare (unique?) instance of Merlin showing his magic to another sorcerer whom he isn't suspicious of (the audience knows Edwin is the Bad Guy, of course, but at this point Merlin doesn't).

I can’t think of another moment like this in the series. Freya didn’t actually have magic. There is Gilli, but when Merlin reveals his magic to him he already knows of the boy's intention to kill Uther, and it is a last attempt to stop Gilli from committing regicide without putting him in harm’s way. Merlin's relationship with Mordred and the Druids was always complicated by prophecies and by his role as Emrys.

But there’s none of that here. Edwin tells Merlin that magic can be used for good, and that it can be ENJOYED! which is all Merlin ever wanted to hear. And it’s a bit heartbreaking to see the hope on Merlin's face, knowing all that is going to happen later in the series.

I also loved the previous interaction between Merlin and Edwin:

“It can’t explain love”!! He’s a romantic. He loves love 🥺🥺🥺

I think the writers lost sight of Edwin’s motive a bit by the time they got to the ending. He’s not content with just killing Uther, he also wants to… rule the kingdom? And he tells Merlin they can do it together? (a concept revisited in the Cornelius Sigan episode). I don't think it works well.

I think Edwin’s final evil speech would have been way more impactful if he had tried to appeal to Merlin’s empathetic side, instead of his non-existent thirst for power, and reminded him of all the suffering Uther caused and why he deserved to die. I guess that would be a moral dilemma that deserves more than a few minutes of screen time to be resolved satisfactorily, and we’re already at the end of the episode at this point.

The series does dwell on it in To Kill the King, to be fair, but I think the “why not just let Uther die?” dilemma could have been presented before then. (Merlin's momentarily hesitation at healing Uther at the end is more to do with his fear of being seen using magic by Uther than by an actual reluctance to save the king.)

Anyway. I still think this is a very good episode overall, even with its relatively weak ending.

Other random thoughts:

The random-ass reference to alchemy. Something that wasn’t elaborated on, nor ever mentioned again (??) Missed opportunity imo.

Gaius is made "a free man of Camelot", whatever that means. (Does it mean that he, like Merlin, is not from Camelot? Or is it some kind of special privilege? We don’t know. I think maybe in Love at the Time of Dragons Gaius mentions something about he and Alice coming to Camelot but I can’t remember and I can’t be bothered to check now)

Some excellent display of brotherly concern from Arthur when Morgana falls sick. He's the one pushing for Uther to call for Edwin. We love to see it

Merlin and Gaius all but call each other father and son. DON’T TOUCH ME.

Gaius was 100% ready to let Uther die if it meant saving Merlin’s life. btw.

Gaius and Uther. WHAT ARE THEY

All the heavy hints at Gaius’s acting as a Category Traitor in the Great Purge + the only instance of Gaius talking to Kilgharrah (!!!) I am obsessed with it

The paralles between Uther & Gaius and Arthur & Merlin. I feel absolutely normal about it

“Now, open your eyes, My Lord. I want my face to be the last face you ever see.” -> I don’t care if it’s cliched, this line fucks

MERLIN CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM, AT LAST!! I was starting to worry but finally my baby is back to killing people :)

#rewatch1.jls #merlin's body count: 2

19 notes · View notes

alias-sam · 1 month

Text

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 41. (Don't Fear) the Reaper Part 3

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 1,443

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

"Are stand users fucking magnets for each other or something?!" You really hoped you were wrong about this. Another part of you hoped you were right so you didn't look like a psycho when you eventually got to Vita's room. If you knew you'd be scaling the side of Sommar Vita's house today, you would have worn better shoes. After managing to avoid Harvey and Rodger by using Golden Soul, you weren't sure if or when the stand would come back. So, you decided to face the problem at its source. Which inevitably led to you clinging off the side of the user's house, in the rain, with nothing but the fear of God and wrath like Satan to keep you from letting go.

................

Sommar sighed before collapsing on his bed. Tonight didn't go anywhere near planned. He didn't want you to meet his father, he didn't want to taint the one good relationship he had with his family issues. The little breakdown he had in the driveway didn't help his confidence that you would stay friends. It was just like him. To break things. To destroy the few bonds he had. That was anxiety talking of course, but the dark thoughts were running rampant throughout his brain.

Vita held the back of his hand on his forehead, hopefully he wouldn't get a cold from sitting in the rain. It would be just his luck though. He'd missed almost half of the school year so far because of illnesses, and generally being too weak to get out of bed. However, he had been fairing much better as of late. Sommar liked going to school. Some parts of it anyway.

He never quite understood social cues, or how to follow them, but he tried his best. He didn't understand why the other kids avoided him until they started calling him names. But he ignored them, or tried his best to do so. Sometimes he would lose his temper. He learned to embrace the so called 'freakishness' he was labeled with.

Sommar glanced at his alarm clock, seeing it was getting late. He slowly sat up, wobbling a little from lightheadedness. Despite his low mood, he decided to get ready for bed. Vita stopped at his bookshelf mid-way to the bathroom. He gently traced his finger across the book's spines before picking up a random one. There was a mix of American and Japanese comic books along with other genres in a multitude of languages, but he picked up a volume of Pink Dark Boy. Sommar liked superheroes, no matter where they came from. It was strange, comics gave him the feeling he could do anything, be anything. Despite his frail body, he wanted to help people, help his Umi, his brother, and put people like his stepfather in their place. That was one reason he liked you so much. You were strong and guarded, but selfless, and understanding. Just like a superhero. Sommar placed the book back where it belonged, deciding to go back to his original goal.

All of the bedrooms in the house had their own connected bathroom, and Sommar's was no different. As the boy brushed his teeth and proceeded with his nightly routine his gaze shifted over to a small wooden box sitting on the counter. Sommar decided to flip open the lid. Inside sat an intricate gold pendant, shaped like a beetle. A gift from his biological father. The only thing his father ever gave him.

Well... that wasn't completely accurate. Sommar was the name his biological father gave him.

He hated it.

The bastard, whoever he was, left Sommar's mother to take care of a sick four-year-old and an eleven-month-old by herself. Despite the time that had passed, Sommar still remembered his short life in Cairo. He remembered his mother's panicked expression when she found out Mannesh had been kidnapped by his own father, and taken all the way to Saudi Arabia. Sommar remembered how tightly his Umi held him during the time Mannesh was missing. He remembered getting the news his baby brother was safe and sound. He remembered how his mother told him to pack his things, and that they were moving away, somewhere his father would never find them again. He remembered the first time he met the man who would become his stepfather. He remembered the first time he heard his parents fight. He remembered all the times his stepfather got drunk after being on the water for weeks. He remembered every time his stepfather would hit his mother.

Sommar picked up the pendant and threw it across the bathroom. He hated his biological father just as much as his stepfather. Sommar never even met the man, but his actions seemed to echo in every aspect of his son's life.

Vita paused when he heard a frantic and violent banging come from his window. The boy paused before approaching the window and pulling aside the curtains.

"Holy-!" Vita jumped back when he was met with a very familiar and very soaked face.

"Let me in!" You yelled through the closed glass. Vita quickly complied, unlocking the window and clumsily helping you inside. "Well... I'm glad that's over with."

"D-did you climb up the wall?!" Vita asked, dumbfounded. Once both of your feet were firmly on the ground you let out a deep breath, still severely winded from the ordeal outside.

"That's beside the point!" Your eyes grew sharp as you grabbed Vita by his shirt collar. "Call off your stand!" You yelled.

"My...what?" Vita gave you a confused look as you glared at him.

"You heard me!"

"I r-really don't know what you're talking about!" Vita responded defensively. A gold aura started surrounding you as Golden Soul was summoned. Judging by the bright orange glow emitting from his person, and the awestruck expression that crossed his face upon seeing your own stand, you had a feeling Vita was the user you were looking for.

Before you could interrogate the boy any further, a blur of orange and bugs knocked you away from him. It was a mix of maggots, worms, and the two beetles.

"Call them off! I don't care what it takes just do it!" You knocked away what you could with Golden Soul, but you weren't going to last long. "I know its you controlling them!"

"I-!" Vita watched what was happening in an extreme state of shock, panic, and confusion.

"Sommar!" Everything going on in the room stopped at the sound of Vita's stepfather's yelling. Even the bugs. "What's going on in there!?" It sounded like he was just outside the door.

"Stall." You whisper shouted in a mix of pleading, warning, and threat.

"I just tripped." Vita responded uncertainly through his closed door. "I knocked over one of my shelves."

"Well pipe down!" The old sailor yelled. After hearing the man's retreating footsteps, the two of you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Y/n..." Vita looked your way. "What's going on here?"

"It's a long story." You groaned, watching the suddenly docile bugs retreat away from you and towards Vita. "How much time you got?"

.....................................

Senora Jones looked out at the horrendous downpour outside with concern. The sun had set, and you still weren't home. Not even a phone call. You were going to be in so much trouble when you got home as long as she had anything to say about it. Despite her frustration with your disappearance, it was heavily shadowed by the worry gnawing at her bones.

You were her child. The only family she had. She stood by the window, keeping a sharp lookout for your form amongst the raindrops and flooding road.

She had been doing this a lot lately. Waiting and worrying. Maybe it was growing pains, but you had become more of a handful as of late. Acting strangely, more restless. Always late, or tired or hurt in some way. It was hard to watch. Especially as your mother. She wanted to pretend she didn't hear you tossing and turning in your sleep, or waking with a scream in the late hours of the night. She wanted to overlook the missing medical kit and band aids. If she asked, you would feign ignorance.

She wasn't dumb. She knew something was up. But she couldn't bring herself to interrogate you. Whatever you were hiding, it was for a good reason. She knew this because you never hid things from her. Even when you had just started living with her, you always told her what was on your mind or who was bothering you.

Senora Jones stared quietly out at the town, waiting, worrying, and wondering where you were.

She loved you, but when you pulled stunts like this it made her sick to her stomach with unease.

7 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 1 month

Note

is it... is it not mutual anymore? :(

first of all anon the lil :( is so cute of u thank u for checking on me haha i was just kinda surprised its only been a week when it feels like its been way longer

but uh. ill go into it under a readmore.

its... kinda complicated? we still like each other, but i think being back in this situation reminds me of the last time i was in Something with a guy similar to this one (the biggest difference is current guy actually cares and adheres to my boundaries and i do the same for him). i think i've been kinda open with the fact how i was in an abusive... something with someone (said guy was never my bf, but we weren't Just friends, yknow? situationship or w/e you wanna call it) and this guy reminds me a little too much of the good parts of that other guy (few as they may be). he knows of said past (we were friends well before this and i've mentioned said ex-something before), and he's been mindful of it in the same way i try to openly communicate and discuss things with him (once i know how i feel).

like idk. i set a boundary recently, he's fully adhered to it, but i think that realization has... ultimately sent the fucked up part of me into defense mode and i don't know if i'm actually ready to be in a relationship. we're still going on another date next week and i've set that as the day for me to figure out how i feel for sure. i still feel fluttery and warm with him now, but if it's all punctuated by this dread i can't get rid of... then it's not fair to either of us, y'know? i'll admit said dread isn't as intense as it was before, so maybe i will be fine, but at the same time... he deserves to be in something with someone who Can fully be there for him and i'm still figuring out how much of a hold my trauma still has on me.

if anything, this might just be "right person, wrong time" if i'm honest. he likes me, i like him, but we've both agreed we can call this off at any time and go back to being friends without worry since we both have our fair share of baggage. nothing wrong with that, y'know? just... i guess i didn't how affected i am until it became real.

i'm still figuring it all out though! maybe this will pass, but... i dunno. i think if anything, i'm trying to use this as a learning experience for myself? if this doesn't work out, then i know i need to figure out what's scaring me so badly so that when i can, i can work it out in therapy. if it does work out, therapy is still in the cards, just... gotta figure things out.

i keep feeling like a shitty person for thinking "we'll do this next date, and then i'll figure myself out" but i know i still want to go on it. it's only a second date, y'know? it's okay if things don't work out. but... idk, the guilt is still there.

on top of that, i think i'm also dealing with a lot outside of this and it's definitely affecting me. figuring out grad school, dealing w my family, etc... it's a lot haha and maybe that's another sign i'm not fully ready yet.

but we'll figure it out. and if it doesn't work out, we'll probably take the time we need to take care of ourselves, and then we'll go back to being friends. neither of us wants to lose a close friendship just because we went on a few dates and it didn't work out, and i hope he's as determined as i am to ensure that doesn't happen. he's sweet. he deserves the world. and if that's not with me, then i'm still going to happily stand by and cheer him on--because he said he'd do the same for me, too.

#wooahaes.ask #asks.anon #i was kinda holding back on discussing any of this at length here but i figured i might as well because if i Do drop a vent fic...#it'll be like. obvious lmao #none of y'all are within our friend circle so i feel safer discussing it tbh like. strangers on his side know + y'all don't know him sooo..

6 notes · View notes

klaustheclock · 9 months

Text

Ok I'm sorry to like the 1 person reading this at the moment but-

Why do people think being the favorite and golden child is a good thing?

Because I'm sorry but its the worst thing ever.

Ok I'm sorry I not trying to sound rude or inconsiderate or selfish but it's really bad and I just need to rant my heart out.

Also my situation is a little different because I got really old parents(I'm talking in their 50s).

Ok so let's start with being the "favorite child". Also I'm sorry to all the people who had to deal with worst favoritism and being the unloved child. Ok so I know being the favorite sounds amazing on surface value but it's not. I'm the youngest and you probably expect me to be a spoiled brat who gets everything and narcissistic because I'm the "favorite". But that's far from the truth. I don't get everything I want, I have extremely low self esteem and I'm not a spoiled brat. I honestly used to this that all the stereo types about favored and gifted children were true but now I realize that for me and some others it's not. I used to beat myself up for these things and tbh I still do even though I've come to terms with the fact that there not true.

This is probably due to my siblings. I have two older sisters, both of which are in high school. Because my parents favor me more I have a strained relationship with them(if you can even call it that). There both incredibly bitchy to me and shit. There rude and they criticize my every more. They beat me down whenever they get a chance, even if I'm already at rock bottom. This is probably because they think they have to make me suffer because of our parents. Which isn't fair at all. I can’t even talk to them about my feelings because they'll use it against me or they just call me sensitive and won't give two fucks. They talk to eachother about there feelings and experiences all the time and just disclude me. They also talk about me behind my back and even to our parents. At first when I was younger I thought it was just them joking around with me but I realized when I got older that it wasn't. However my parents "favor" isn't even really big. Our parents still buy then what they want despite saying they wouldn’t. So they beg and get a lot of things but the moment I ask for a book or something there mad at me and calling me a spoiled brat. Which leads me to my next point.

Being the golden/gifted child

If I had a dollar for everytime I had a mental breakdown because of my grades I'd be a million air.

So I have something called academic validation. Meaning that my self worth is solely dependent on my grades. I was always a nerd but this is just to much. My oldest sister used to be in the same role but the pressure was lighter. So when she got into high school she said fuck school and started skipping classes and shit. This was bad but it didn't help that my brother who is 21 now did the same thing but worse. It started with my brother so our parents started to put pressure on my oldest sister and me, the youngest. They said the the middle child grades were fine even though they were lower the both of ours. We were always straight A students but then my sister decided she didn't care anymore that left all the pressure on me. I was only in 5th grade at the time so it was a lot on me. When I talked to my sister about it all she said was "don't care, deal with it". And so I did.

All my middle school years was just academics. I went to a Ib league school so the work was harder than your average American school. I sill managed to keep all A's but I wasn't happy at all. I never got anything for my academics anyway. My parents just brushed it off and said, "Your smart you should get these grades anyway. We shouldn't have to be expected to give you something." All I asked for was a good job or something like that. That night I broke down completely. Then I finally realized that no matter what I do ill never be good enough for anybody. I had no good traits about me. I hear no talent, I wasn't pretty, and I wasn't really a fun person to be around. I over thought everything I did so whenever we played games I couldn't deal with the pressure. Once one of my friends told me "your the only person who I know can make the game hangman unfun." It was supposed to be a joke and we laughed it off but that made me want to cry. That day i realized from another friend that we kinda grew up to fast. Looking at it now I didn’t really have a child hood. I was always fored to play catch up with my older siblings. I always had to be on par with them to even be looked at as a human being.

I was always the one people looked for help to with was good(I love helping people) but it kinda became overwhelming. I kinda just hide it with jokes about myself. I'm the therapist friend but yet I can't tell people my feelings. I can’t talk to my parents, my sisters, my friends, and I don't have a lover. They'll either just brush it off or not care at all. It hurts a lot. This leads me to often be confined and left alone with my emotions.

Which leads to me today. The me currently writing this long ass Ted talk. I have terrible anxiety and zero self worth and I feel the need to be validated with my grades and by the people around me. But even with all this I still feel empty. Like it's just hard. I turn to books and history to try and distract me but that can only take you so far. Also I find myself comparing myself to my friends because my parents always compared me to my siblings. I feel the emine pressure to fit into the mold my teachers, friends, and parents think I am and want. I work as hard as I can but it feels like I always come short.

I apologize sincerely if this comes off as selfish or narcissistic.

I wanna try and over come this and gain confidence in myself but it seems impossible. I'm still only in the 8th grade so maybe it'll finally dawn on me. It's just wherever I try to reach out for help I feel so selfish and entitled. It's like a voice in the back of your mind telling you "People deal with so much worse than this and you have the audacity to cry at these things? You shouldn't feel this way just suck it up. Your just weak, nothings wrong with you."

Thank you for listening to my rant, I apologize for wasting your time.

#i made this instead of sleeping #small rant #long reads #unpopular take #im so tired #im sorry #academic validation #i probably need therapy #gifted kid problems #gifted kid burnout

18 notes · View notes

morguemaw · 1 year

Note

hello, hope this isn't like offensive or anything. but what's the difference between lusttale and underlust?

Hihi! It isnt :) I really love talking abt lustale, it also helps make sure those who are new to my profile understand Lustale <3 I really suggest looking through my tag ill have below on this post, since it has much more info. but i will try to sum it up for you! TW for a few triggering things!

I wanna first clarify my issues with Underlust and why i made Lustale. - Underlust has lots of issues such as the curveball of MTT being raped, the owner drawing / or drawing fanart of a AU that had a nazi chara, the sudden depression Sans gathers (no build up nor mention, the fact that the skeleton brothers have canon incest relationships.

The owner clarified their mental health wasnt good to continue the AU, hence why parts are most likely really bad. They also said they have stopped working on the AU, and its a fandom owned AU now like Underswap.

The main changes are;

x Chara has the trait of passion instead of Lust, when Chara fell down the monsters were sealed underground after the battle that caused a great depression, Chara ended up passing away but the monsters wanted the trait, and tried to copy it. This failed and the trait Lust was created, as Lust and Passion can be mistaken for the Monsters not understanding x Lustale will be taking a more Slice of Life story, it will only have the visual vibes of Underlust, and loose Undertale storyline. Other then that, there will not be anything such as breaking the barrier (as the monsters are also content and happy as they are ) until very very later on. Battles are less common in this AU, too. x Flowey is made via Asriel's soul breaking, Asgore and Toriel could not have children (Toriel is infertile) and tried to combine their souls to create Asriel's soul, however it was weak and dusted, therefore being sprinkled into a rose similar to how the Rose Flowey in Underlust was made

x Almost each and every character has a new personality, job, backstory, and more. They arent just empty headed sex freaks. I want them to have actual personality instead of "Omg Sans is a femboyant stripper slay king omg" . I also wanna clarify my Lust HATES being called anything feminine or femboyant, no this isnt a issue to those who have lusts' like this.

The only things i kept the same between them are:

x Designs of the characters being similar. It would be hard to revamp Underlust with fully new designs, because that both pushes it too far from what its supposed to be, but ruins the nostalgia of the original characters. Instead i did a few tweaks, minus some characters such as Undyne, Alphys, Toriel, and in the future more characters will have larger redesigns. This is only because Sans and Papyrus are more iconic with the AU, mainly Sans.

x A few pieces of the lore i may keep; However since the lore for Underlust is very short and has alot of wonky pieces, along with a extremely short comic, its hard to really keep anything about Underlust in my AU Lustale, because, to be fair, there is absolutely jack shit to go on.

And you didnt ask for this, but my main reason for doing it is:

With Underlust, there is JACK SHIT to go off of with characters. There is ZERO development, we get to learn NOTHING about them other than they like sex and making other AU counterparts uncomfortable. All we get for story is Mettaton was raped (which is NEVER brought up again. ) and that Sans is actually depressive and has lots of self hate, which again, is NEVER brought up. We learn nothing of what characters like and dislike, we learn nothing about the AU, we learn nothing about their jobs or positions, the entire AU is built up on sex, sex, and more sex. Lustale is a revamp of Underlust where they will be fleshed out, and, i can hope, will possibly replace Underlust because, holy shit, i really dont support Underlust.

#lustale

40 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 1 year

Note

I'm neurodivergent (ADHD & Autism), and I have mental health issues that can make me a very sensitive person who has a hard time doing things; I've tried explaining this to people but they often still tell me I need to "contribute" by finding a job/going to school to "prove im doing something". It hurts whenever I get told this stuff cause its supposed to be for my benefit but often it makes me feel like I'm not worth anything if im not a "proper adult"? I've gotten this numerous times from family, but I just got a similar talking to from my partner and it fucking sucks not only cause now I feel like I'm on a deadline to fix my relationship but also I don't know if im allowed to feel upset at anyone? Idk many disabled people who are high needs/can't work so I don't know if im being dramatic about my ability or making excuses

hello there, apologies for the delayed reply to this

i just wanted to say from the bottom of my heart i'm very sorry people are telling you these things, especially that you need to "contribute" by getting a job or going to school- that's very shitty thinking and it's not fair to the person it's pushed on. getting a job and going to school don't inherently "contribute" to your local community, your family, and especially YOURSELF. you don't have to "Contribute" to anything but yourself, your needs, and your own life

being a "proper adult" is a social construct that people push that literally doesn't mean anything. i am 30 years old and i have never held down a job for longer than a year, nor have i paid off student debt loans. i have been homeless numerous times because of my illnesses. i have chronic fatigue, hypermobile EDS, arthritis, degenerated discs in my back, schizophrenia, autism, adhd and more and even if people have fewer conditions going on than that, i understand how disabling even 1 neurotype of health problem can be

i have days on end where i don't recover from symptoms, massive flare ups, days where i dislocate limbs, can't sleep, am in so much pain i can't lay down, can't walk, bad sensory overstims, focus issues, migraines, and a lot of other issues. being high needs isn't a "problem", it just means you need help, and every person needs help. abled people fail to understand that every person requires accommodation in one fashion or another.

needing reminder texts is an accommodation. needing bigger font is an accommodation. glasses are an accommodation. needing to be informed of something in advance is an accommodation. only drinking out of certain cups is an accommodation. everyone needs help with something.

if the people in your life are refusing you help, i'm sorry they're failing you. you don't deserve an ultimatum to fix your relationship by a certain date, that is so unfair to you, and that is conditional love- conditional love is not fair and often leaves people feeling very messed up. love should not be held behind barriers, you should not have to perform for love

i hope you're able to get into a better situation soon. people don't understand that disabled people are Disabled and no amount of "contribution to society" will make our disabilities go away. no amount of jobs will make you feel healthier, going to school will not reduce your symptoms. stress only adds to poor health, and you don't deserve to have to go through something just because other people feel you should.

i hope this helps, take care, if you have any more questions feel free to ask, stay safe out there, good luck in your situation.

#asks #answers #disability #autism #adhd

13 notes · View notes

babacontainsmultitudes · 1 year

Note

Swiftli? Grant/Marco? Mercedes/Carol? Autumn Oak/Linda Stampler? (spreading my own propaganda <3)

For the ship ask thing :)

Also sorry that it’s kinda a lot lmao

Hiya!!! Hehe very interesting choices, love this, let's get to it!

Swiftli: COMFORT SHIP ALERT!!!

So, okay, the thing about this ship is that it's not my default ship for Linc or even necessarily Taylor? But that's not to say I'm conflicted, no, I really like these two together!

*Romantically* I think it kinda took me a while to feel the appeal of this ship? But then like... One night on a whim I found myself making a really silly playlist for them and... That made me understand it? At least what it is for me. This and, @raemeh (iirc) made a post about their first kiss being a surprisingly good one and- gee idk that made me go 😳 as well hahaha.

And yeah! Like I said this is absolutely a comfort ship for me, they're very silly and cute together, love to rotate them around in my head, might even write them at some point who knows!

Marco/Grant: OUGH THE CUTIE PATOOTIES OH MY GOSH I'M PUTTING THEM TOGETHER IN A LITTLE JAR AND SHAKING THEM AROUND AND THEN UH GIVING THEM SOME PRIVACY EHEHEH

At the start of S2 I think it's fair to say that of all the kiddads I was probably most curious to see what kind of person Grant ultimately got with, I suppose probably because relationship troubles are such a big thing for him in S1! And I just want the best for him honestly ahaaa

😫 And I wasn't disappointed! Marco is so sweet and they're so cute together and eghhsibgosesg-

Er, despite this I'd actually like to see some angst/conflict between them? Grant has a lot of explaining to do tbh, and I sorta don't want everything he's hid and lied about to go without consequences from Marco... But of course I'd want them to work everything out in the end! I think that would make me love them even more tbh.

In general I really just want more of these two in canon! They need to kiss... Otherwise, y'know in general I have a good chunk of ships for Grant but... Ultimately so long as Marco exists in the same universe, I tend to imagine them getting together in the long run.

Mercedes/Carol: Oooh interesting! Not a ship I've thought too much about tbh, but I could get behind it! I think my main hang-up if anything is that usually when I imagine ships with either Henry or Mercedes, either one of them doesn't exist in that universe or they never met, or it's a poly thing! In this case, I'd probably like this best if Hen and Mercedes have an open-relationship sorta deal (I mean they sorta canonically do?) and these two get involved with each other within that context. 🤔 Could also get behind a 4-way poly scenario with Darryl as well, but that's not a necessity by any means!

:0 I like the idea of Carol getting to experiment and maybe learning more about her sexuality and the like the way Darryl sort of got to in S1, and Mercedes would be a lovely person to see that happen with! Yeah, they'd be cute together I think!

Autumn/Linda (Ron's mom!): I'm so fascinated by this ship??? Also love that we've just established Linda's name haha good for her good for her.

You'll have to tell me more about how you see this ship before I come to any concrete feelings about it tbh! Still, I like the premise I mean, I guess they'd actually have a bunch going for them? On its own I love the idea of the omega daddies being divorced af and their exes getting together haha it's what they deserve. But yeah they could genuinely be quite good for each other! I imagine Linda must be pretty good at dealing with people with anger issues, she'd probably have the patience to be there for Autumn in a way that matters and help her work through some things. And Autumn is an underrated catch tbh haha- :o also a very powerful druid who could possibly help Linda with her chronic illness??? The fact that she had a bit of a thing for Ron also makes her getting with his mom pretty funny to me.

Yeah idk, like I said I'm fascinated, feel free to ramble about them!!!

OKAY hehe, thanks for the ask!!!! 💜

19 notes · View notes

windvexer · 2 years

Note

id actually really like you talking about practice when youre low energy/someone struggling with mental illness. it can be hard to keep my relationships with spirits since i suffer from depression. and raising energy/getting into alternate/heightened headspace is troublesome due to that. any good tips, beside stuff like "stir your tea three times and say depression has no power over me and tadaaah youre actually a witch" or something dumb like that??? :0

This post may have helpful information for you: Ok, so you want to practice every day?

I am not really the best practitioner to ask about practicing while depressed. I used to suffer from mental illness, but I've been without it for long enough now that I'm speaking from the outside looking in. But I have a few ideas floating around.

In general:

Gods and spirits do not experience time the same way we do. It is not fair to you or to them to assume such. A month without communication may seem like an eternity to you, but can be a blink to them.

Have you ever had a friend where you guys just don't talk that much for weeks or months at a time, but whenever you start chatting its as if you never left off? It's the same concept.

If your spirits are telling you, "we won't love you any more unless you torture yourself over communicating with us as much as possible," get rid of them and make new spirit friends.

And if they're not saying that -- let yourself off the hook. You should be a proud and wild fish swimming free in the ocean, your path shouldn't make you feel trapped against unattainable standards.

There are some spiritual relationships which can be very intense and the spirit does demand high levels of communication - these would be laid out to you. If this wasn't created as an expectation for you, no need to project false needs onto spirits.

Definitely do not promise to return to communicate again at a set time. "I promise I'll be back soon" is usually a promise made out of guilt and stress, which is only going to compound guilt and stress if we can't follow through.

Try building a shrine to your spirits in a place where you can regularly see it.

Do not:

Make promises that you'll leave offerings or communicate at X intervals

Leave disposable offerings that you have to clean up in short order

Avoid making promises to spirits but still pressure yourself to try and attain certain communication/offering goals, as if there is somehow an internalized golden standard which you believe you are always supposed to strive to fulfill even though it's making your life worse and harming your path and spirituality.

Look at the shrine. Talk to it. Interact with it when you feel like it. Too brain-drained to even say hello? Then don't say hello.

Did you find a neat rock? Do you have some change in your pocket? Fancy some incense? Leave these things on the shrine as a gift.

Here is the offering ritual:

"Hi everyone, I have this and I want to give it to you." *place on shrine*

It sounds like you are attempting direct psychic communication with your spirits. That is draining and perhaps not suitable for casual encounters.

Try using a tarot deck, pendulum, runes, or other tools.

Also - just talk to them. Literally just talk to them. Do it internally if you like. This may also be called prayer, if you can untangle it from connotations of worship.

Do not:

Make yourself jump through hoops before you're "allowed" to interact with the shrine or your spirits. "Before I leave this offering I need to do a counted breath exercise so I can see how the spirits feel about the offering--" nope. None of that.

Discount the power of one-way communication - you just talking/praying to them without using tools or psychism to hear anything back.

Believe that your spirits are powerless in your life or don't care about you unless you constantly open yourself up to two-way communication

Believe that you must achieve certain physical standards before the spirits want to be with you or help you.

Definitely do:

Ask the spirits for help whenever you need it.

Understand that the spirits like hearing from you and listening to you even if you can't hear them back at that time.

Closely examine your path or practice for areas where you, A) want to practice something specific, but B) require yourself to undergo extra techniques or ritual steps before you're allowed to begin, so therefore C) often do not end up practicing, or only end up practicing unrelated techniques you didn't really want to do to begin with.

The following posts may be of help to you:

List of low-spoons spells and magic activities

Ask: Modifying practice to be less draining

Lowest spoons candle dedications

So I’m feeling a little down

#low spoons #answered #spirits #communication

105 notes · View notes

traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 6 months

Note

could I have had "countering/denial gaslighting" used on me?

tw for possible gaslighting and details of abuse/examples idk. yeah.

so sorry this is long, examples below of what's been going on in my relationships:

someone I was in a relationship with for awhile (call them Tim) has brought up time and time again would sit me down and tell me "don't you remember doing this behavior? don't you remember" like for years of our relationship it'd be the same conversation. and he kept bringing it up again but I never remembered it like it never clicked as a memory. I feel like im never telling enough of the truth and I always feel manipulative doing this but I know I have memories of them doing abusive things to me I won't go into detail and they have always gotten mad and said "I never did that. it never happened. your a liar." and well now everyone calls me a liar. and Tim kept repeating to me that, "of course you wouldn't remember bc you feel such guilt and shame for abusing me!"

and 2 of my other abusers (ill call them Bob and Mary) have also done this by bringing up "oh you did this *bad* behavior to joey (someone I haven't seen in a decade) don't you remember, I was there!" and I hit up joey bc I found his socials through someone else and joey said that it didn't happen the way my Bob and Mary said it happened and that I didn't do anything bad to him and joey wanted to know how I was doing and we had a nice chat, after not seeing each other for a decade... so ill take it from joey obviously. Then when I brought that up to my Bob and Mary, what joey had said, and they were surprised I got in touch with joey, and i said "hey I got in touch with joey and he said you guys are making things up." Bob and Mary then responded with, "yeah, well, of course he's saying that bc you probably spooked him hitting him up and of course he lied to you, of course he's saying that!" But like... joey said himself that I didn't hurt him and he had a good conversation with me, like the conversations weren't shut down quickly, he wanted to know what im up to and complimented me on things. like just chatting.

the 3 of them (bob, Mary, and Tim) have ganged up on me time and time again calling me an abuser while abusing me and telling me I deserve to be abused for what I did to joey and what I did to them...

the little bit of memories I have with Tim are of him telling me to keep it secret for him whenever he wanted to hide from the adults with me and wanted me to get nude with him where the adults wouldn't find us. but I remember him initiating that and I don't remember anything significant happening but im afraid something did. he's denied this and called me a liar and his friends call me a liar too. its such a faded memory and ive been worried for YEARS that ive been making it up (and still worry about that) but I know its a genuine memory and not some dream or fabrication of my mind. it seems to hit hard sometimes talking about what happened between me and Tim or me and Bob and Mary... it makes me have big emotional reactions to it... and I know im getting genuinely emotional I hate constantly being told im a liar or im making it up.

I was told to look at all my behaviors and all of their behaviors. like how does time, Mary, and bob act with others, or act around you? and they all are very racist, homophobic, sexist. they are sometimes cruel to others. and some of them had other people call them out on abuse too. but when I brought that up to Tim, Mary, and bob, I said: "you know, I spoke with x person and I spoke with y person and they both accused you of abuse too!" and they told me, "No you don't need to hit them up. you shouldn't even hit them up. you wanna hit them up? Fine! ill hit up those bullies from high school and see who blames who!" and "we're abusing you now bc you deserve it for being the abuser." and thats the narrative they stick with. not word for word but the gist of it. and I was bullied though, it isn't fair idk what my bullies would say about me now but they bullied me for years. I feel tripled wammied with having abuse at home, school, and in a relationship...

sorry its so long. sorry its a mess.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear about what you've been going through and please know you're not alone. It sounds like all 3 of these abusers have been gaslighting you, whether by insisting you did things you don't recall, or denying things that make them look bad. They seem to avoid accountability even if confronted by people who support your narrative of events, and aim to make you feel like you're always at fault. They also seem to justify abusing you by claiming that you deserve it for being "abusive" yourself, but in reality, there is no excuse for abuse. It makes absolute sense to be hurt and emotional from enduring this - being told that your memories are fake or that you've done things you haven't can be incredibly damaging, so please know that your feelings are valid.

It sounds like none of these people deserve to be around you if they mistreat you like this. Consider self reflecting and asking yourself if you feel these relationships are worth maintaining, or whether they're only going to continue to be manipulative and bigoted. Ask yourself if these are relationships you want to have.

If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could also help you process your experiences, these complicated dynamics, and the impact they have on you. A therapist can also help you develop some healthy coping mechanisms that you can take with you along your healing journey.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse #tw sa #tw csa #tw cocsa

2 notes · View notes

fakestage · 9 months

Text

long post about the current stage of my mental health recovery! brief sui mention but I wouldn't say its negative!

I often think about the fact that im trying to make things better and how me from just a year ago would be so proud. To be honest, I wasn't trying to get better back then. Things are still bad, of course, but I'm not actively making them worse out of guilt or because I think I deserve it. I ruined a lot of good relationships, I stopped taking care of my health, I didn't go out and interact with the world, I stopped trying to form new relationships, and overall I just wanted to die (I think I'll always be suicidal, but I haven't planned attempts in quite a long while. This is the longest I've gone without doing it I think!)

I used to strongly believe that I deserved this pain – that every terrible thing that's happened to me was because I was worthless, horrible, and a disappointment. I didn't want to look into why I was feeling that why, who made me feel that way, and what I could do to stop it. I just thought I was terrible, and that was that! There's no saving this basket case! There's no good qualities here! but that's not the truth at all. I excused my terrible actions because I thought that's all that I was – a disgusting person and nothing more. I expected people to accept my awfulness because they should know I'm terrible too. That was never fair to the people in my life who didn't see me in that way, who were nothing but kind and open and truthful with me. Who loved me despite how I viewed myself. I hurt a lot of people in my life, including myself. Whenever I would do something terrible, I would always tell myself that this is who I was, that im worthless and I don't deserve anyones kindness, that they'll realize soon enough how disgusting I am and leave me, etc etc. but in doing that, I cemented the lie that I can't get better, and I'll always hurt people. So I didn't try to be anything more. I didn't try to do anything more. I was ok with being mentally ill. This was my only defense against my own pain. I didn't think there was a way I could get better or heal, and I don't think I wanted to, either. I thought I was a lost cause. I've been so cruel to myself and others, and I don't want to be this way anymore. I'm going to get better even if it kills me. Even if it's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do. This year has been one of the most difficult years of my life, but it's also been one full of healing, friendships, and growth. I have a very long way to go. I don't want to sit here and act like I'm not mentally ill anymore or that I've become this saint of a person compared to who I was years ago, but I'm trying. I'm trying every single day to be better than who I was before. When I was younger, all I was doing was trying to die. I thought it was the only answer. But now I want to live. desperately, I want to live. Despite how the world is, I want to live. No matter how much I think about ending my life or how much I hate the situations I'm in, I still want to live. I still want to have hope. I really do want to get better

#this was so loooong but its taken me. most of my life to get to this point #I'm going to keep working on myself and I want to be a better person #sorry to any mutuals who knew me years ago to the present.#Im sure that was hard to see. even as recent as a couple of months ago #baby steps! im not going to downplay my achievements #tws ->#sui ment #mental health #sorry its late and im just. proud of myself I guess!#that feels so weird and strange to say. like I dont deserve to say that bc I dont think ive put enough effort in #but then I remember thats the devil talking & im doing a great job and I love myself #text

2 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

modestysexy

Trans girl

emlynphoenix

Lila Pitts 🖤

honeycovens

𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙂𝙄𝘾 .

autotrails

Auto Trails

camus-ername

amor fati