#(Anyway if you read my posts and reply to them and are kind I appreciate it so much <3 I do not mean to disparage you at all)

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

[kingofbodyrolls]

For this rainbow, I finally picked up my professional camera again. The last images stored there tells me that the last time I used it was the 1st of December 2023. Wild. But I picked it up thanks to this pretty rainbow, which was actually a double rainbow. So pretty. This image is made up of three into a panorama shot, and Lightroom was a bit funky with putting them together, so please don't mind the badly processed house in the middle; no, we're not looking at that 😂

For people who want a wall of text status update, it's under the cut.

How are you all doing? I'm hanging in there. Not active much, but I still haven't gotten myself into deleting my tumblr app. So I still see and get all your notifs, even if I don't reply right away! I'm still taking time off, trying to figure out what I want to do with the blog for the future... I have not written a fanfic in some time now, but I have two finished stories that are ready to be published, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure about a lot of things these days... I've had dark days, written a lot of sad and dark poems (that will go on my sub blog some time in the future), and I've begun to write an original story. It's really fun; about magic, witches and mages; about good and evil and all the gray in between. It will probably bore you, but it's fun to write, even though I don't think anyone would read it except for a few friends (even though this thing might be the longest thing I'll write, turning into either two or three books lol).

Serotonin boost I get happy when I get notifs with comments and/or reblogs of my stories; it really touches my heart. To be honest, this is why I left/taking time off. I've always felt that interaction was low, and my stupid brain will not let me stop comparing myself to others, so it slowly killed my drive for writing and posting. If no one interacts, what's the point of posting? If no one interacts, what's the point of writing? But I love writing, and it's one of my creative outlets, so I couldn't let that go completely, hence I started writing original stories instead; no ones gonna read them anyway, but I can still play with characters, world building and storytelling. Those are the things I loved about fanfics---and I still do, don't get me wrong. But I feel so discouraged being on here. But I'm happy to know that a few people still care.

The Downfall This also made it quite hard for me to read; because I felt so unmotivated... I haven't read much this month at all. I tried to read a fanfic this Monday, didn't finish it and haven't picked it up since. Honestly, I've just been watching documentaries because I'm in a (tumblr) slump. I feel drained though; I feel like I've given so much, and I love it. I love making people happy, leaving lovely reviews, and it's as much for myself as it is for making another person happy---but to be honest, it has drained me. I know I shouldn't ask for anything in return, but I feel imbalanced. Like I'm not being filled with much love, if that makes sense? I don't really feel appreciated, but don't get me wrong, I don't feel hated (yeah, I'm so good at being black and white), sorry---I know I sound very pessimistic. But you guess have always been so kind to me, and I love you a lot, and I have a few super lovely mutuals and friends that are lovely internet friends that I adore, so I wanted to be real with all of you. You can hate me for it if you want to. Go ahead.

I don't think I'm going to make a recommend list this month. I haven't really read anything, so it'll be really small. And I don't like the pressure of it anymore... which is why for a long time I've thought about not doing them anymore. Maybe some day I will again in the future. But I'd still love to make rec list on the member's birthdays! And I think this will help me, take some pressure off myself (that I've created myself), so I'll still read and rec, it will just be slower---whenever I feel like it, and not because I have to read to make a monthly rec list. This isn't my job, I'm not getting paid doing all of this, and the amount of time I've been spending on both reading and writing is more than 37+ hours a week, sooo. I have to slow down.

A part of me thinks that I flew too fast, too high and too close to the sun, lol. I'm still gonna be here, you can still send in asks for rec list or whatever you want, all is welcome (except hate, because then I'll simply just delete my blog, my mental health can't take that).

To post, or not to post? Should I post the two stories that I have? Both of them are for the series Friendcation.

And for the unfinished mermaid stories I still have left, I hope I'll finish them in the future; when, I don't know. Maybe one day I'll feel love for them again, to finish them. I have them all planned out, but like I mentioned before, with low interaction, I'm really not motivated to finish them, even though part of me really want to for the like five people that are so sweet and invested, and always comments and reblogs (you guys know who you are, and I love you so fucking much 🥰).

To all the stories I'll probably never write...

I still have some other unfinished but planned stories, and I'm gonna list them here, just for the hell of it. Don't know if people would have found them interesting anyway, but here goes:

Words on a Page (a Namjoon x reader, idol!au where reader is a fanfiction writer and interviewer for a magazine and has to interview BTS). Author's comment: probably never gonna write it. It has been done before, and it was just a very very silly dream I had.

Songs of The Heart (a Jimin x reader, musician!au where Jimin is a single father and reader moves into the house next to his, hear his lonely songs etc, they meet, talk, very angsty, sad and nostalgic and 'Who' coded). Author's comment: this idea came to me after listening to 'who' and then thinking about Jimin being my next door neighbor, yeah, that's it. Don't know if this will ever get written.

IT Support (a Jimin x reader, office!au where Jimin is your nerdy coworker, but a freak in the sheets, lol). Author's comment: this has honestly been on my list for years, but I never written anything for it, and I probably never will, even though I've made the banner and all.

I do have a few more, but I've already scraped those, and then there's the four mermaid stories to add to the list. I'm probably mostly excited about the mermaid stories, and those would be my priority if I ever get back into writing fanfiction again.

I swear, I'm almost finished... Okay, this whole thing has gotten incredibly long. Sorry. Before I end this post, I just want to say how happy and grateful I am to each and everyone of you. I've met some incredible nice people on here, some really caring ones. I'll never forget that. And I'll never forget each wonderful and lovely comment, some people have really helped me, motivated me when I felt low, and when I wanted to stop writing a few months back. Thank you. I kept going, and I wish I could keep going for you, making something special, for the special people I met here. I actually really wanted to do requests for you guys in hopes that it would motivate me into writing, but I just don't know. I still want to give so much back to the people who have hyped me up, so I'm going to tag a few of you lovely people--- if you have a request for a story, you're welcome to message me or send me an ask. I don't know if or when I'll write it, but in case I get a bit of motivation, I have some things I could write from, so if you want to, you can send me a request (just keep in mind the story will probably be a one-shot from 10-20k max or maybe shorter, lol, you never know with me). You don't have to send me a request, I simply want to give back to some lovely people. I wish I could hug you.

@letjungcoook7 @honeybloomyyyy @babystarcandyjk97 @minpdrecs @bobathi @allie-is-a-panda @back2bluesidex @gimeow @antisocial-mochi267

These are but just a few of the people that have supported me on there, either by commenting, reblogging, ask, messaging--you name it. I could list many others, and one day I might make a post celebrating all mt lovely mutuals, that means a lot to me. Thank you for interacting; you've (as long with others) helped me when times were tough. Thank you.

I had actually planned to open a "recommend a fic" section/box, but I'm not sure about that. I still have so many fics on my to read list, and right now I don't want to pile more onto it. Might do it in the future, when I've finally made it through my own lists.

Okay, I have to end this post for real now.

I'm still on tumblr, I still have my app. I deleted my discord app on my phone, but I'm still part of the servers I was before, I'm just not active. It's better for me that way right now, because it all got to be too much. I was just reminded of how much of a failure I feel like (no, we're not getting into that not, store it away). But you can always contact me here. I'm lurking sometimes. I look forward to reading in a more leisurely pace and hopefully not feeling pressured to make the rec lists as I did before (even though just for the completionist in me I want to finish them for just this year, lol).

Okay. If you read this far---thank you, I adore you, I love you, you're nice, keep going 💜

[singsweetmelodies]

k

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

On a razor's edge.

Gif credits

Pairing/Au: Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak.

Word counts: 3087

Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: Joel helps you shave. there.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with very little plot, established relationship, soft Joel, Joel helps to shave your pussy (I also wrote it in the fic but I'll repeat it here, I don't mean to judge anyone's habits, I respect everyone's tastes and habits and everyone can do what they prefer with their body. Do you want to shave? Good. Don't you want it? Good too. For me it's enough that you are comfortable in your body and if you aren't I hope you can be soon), mention to reader's mom who is annoying about shaving, use of a razor, mention of a potential razor cut (it doesn't happen, there’s no blood), unprotected p in v (wrap it up IRL!), I didn't mention Joel or reader’s age but in my mind I imagine them both around 30/40, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, no other specific description of her is given, pussy pronouns, references to pussy as a flower, sex in the shower, oral (f receiving), cream pie, pet names (baby, honey), I think that's all, if by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

English is not my first language, no beta, no proofreading, I already know I'm going to notice a lot of mistakes as soon as I post this and I will have to edit again and again because I'm like this, what can we do? 💀

Comments, reblogs and interactions are very much appreciated, please be kind.

Thanks to anyone who will read this!

You love Joel.

You really love him with all your heart and soul.

You also love your private time in the bathroom, that little time in your day that you spend alone doing skincare, face masks, tweezers your eyebrows, scrubbing your body and taking a nice shower with your favorite music playing in the background.

You just took off your favorites eye patches and you're ready to shave with your trusted razor when Joel knocks on the door.

“Honey, we’re going to be late, hurry up” His voice is muffled by the closed door but you can clearly hear a certain apprehension.

You hum as you take out your shaving cream and reply, “I’ll be right there”

Your neighbor invited you to his pool party the other day and of course you enthusiastically accepted.

It’s been so hot lately that being able to enjoy his pool for a while seemed like a dream.

Unfortunately, work kept you busy all week so you couldn't make an appointment with the beautician and you've arrived today with a few hairs on your legs and in your bikini area.

You're not particularly concerned when you can't wax and totally respect those who don't, hair removal is a personal choice and everyone should be able to do what they want with their own body.

Joel doesn't care if you have them or not, he's happy to have you either way and is feral with you regardless. In fact, you suspect he especially likes it when you have some down there but still he never stopped you from choosing for yourself and he never made inappropriate comments.

Anyway, today you planned to wear your favorite bikini and you wouldn't feel comfortable with hair sticking out from the sides of your bottoms.

The fact that a woman must necessarily be hairless down there is something that has been instilled in you since you were a teenager and as much as you manage not to care about it most of the time, when you wear a bikini you still have your mother's voice in your ears telling you to make those hairs disappear.

Ugh, your mother.

You shake your head, get in the shower and wash yourself, body and hair.

Then you spread the shaving foam well on your legs. You pass the razor carefully and rinse.

This neighbor is quite wealthy and Joel has heard that he would like to renovate his house so he is fully intent on offering him a quote with his construction company, which is why he is so worried about being late.

He needs some time to approach him until there are not too many people, have a casual chat and throw out the idea.

You also want to make a good impression since his wife is the head of the neighborhood committee and you want to ask her to convince the neighbor next door to cut down some branches that end up right in your yard filling it with annoying leaves. You tried to talk to him yourself but he is a cheap man and doesn’t want to spend money to have a gardener come and do the work. Joel tried too but to no avail.

Joel, on the other side of the door, is still impatient "baby, what are you doing?" you hear him ask after another 10 minutes have passed.

“I’m getting ready,” you say out loud from the shower as you check to make sure there’s no hair left on your ankles.

“You’ve been in there for an hour, what else do you have to do?”

You giggle, Joel will never understand how long it takes to be the way he always sees you. He’s in the bathroom for a maximum of 20 minutes when he decides to trim his beard, otherwise 10 minutes is more than enough for him to take a shower and come out with a towel around his waist looking as beautiful as a God. It’s so unfair.

“I'm making myself beautiful for you” you shout at him smiling at the thought of his answer which in fact comes exactly as you imagined “Love, you're gorgeous, you don't need to do anything, just get out of there”

“I'm almost done,” you reply as you begin to spread the foam on your bikini area.

“You said the same thing 10 minutes ago and yet you're still there,” he grumbles “and I don't hear water running so I don't understand why”

“You don't understand ‘cause you're a man darling, it's not your fault” you grin while you carefully run the razor to the right of your sex, at the point where your leg attaches to your pelvis.

You can clearly see him in your head rolling his eyes, hands on his hips, his weight resting on his right leg while his left leg is slightly jutted forward, his typical pose when he's annoyed.

“Cut me some slack, baby, you know how much I care about getting this job” he replies

“Yeah I know” you say sweetly “but I can’t come around like that, I need to be extra pretty next to you”

At this point he opens the door, just enough to enter and as he does so he replies "no one has a prettier girlfriend than me, I don't know how many more times I have to tell you"

You're all busy shaving so you don't even notice him until you hear his voice closer than before.

You look up and jump, almost cutting yourself with the razor. “Are you crazy?!” you yell at him. “Joel, I almost cut my thigh because of you!”

“And how was I supposed to know?!” his expression is halfway between embarrassed and horny, his eyes scan your body as if it were the first time he's seeing it, his pupils are dilated, his jaw muscles tense and his lips tight on the verge of curling into a smile, you can see it growing at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing you like this, leaning against the shower wall, completely naked and with nipples hardened from the fright he gave you, his nerves are going away.

“So, what? I have to finish, I certainly can’t go around with only a small part of my bikini area shaved, can I?” you rumble at him feigning irritation but oh, you like the way he's looking at you, hungry and feral. And you like that particular dark shade his eyes take on when they're lit up with desire.

He frowns and asks, “Can I help you?” rubbing his neck.

“Doing this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, moving from the wall to the center of the shower, razor still clutched in your hand “Joel…”

“Let me try,” he murmurs hoarsely

“Joel, if you cut me…” you say feeling a shiver down your spine, your eyes fixed on his, sparkling in anticipation.

“I won’t. I promise” He is deadly serious.

“Okay” you say with a sigh and you immediately regret having said it.

Joel takes the razor from your hands brushing your fingers slightly and then drop to his knees fully dressed on the wet shower floor without even thinking about it, as if in some kind of lascivious trance. At least he’s barefoot.

The deal, the job, the money seem like a distant, faded memory and the neighbor’s tree? You’ll think about it another day.

His heavy breathing crackles on your skin as he brings the razor close to your skin with the most intent look you've ever seen him do.

He starts with small movements from the bottom up and shaves a small portion of the left side of your pubic area, his hand is firm and precise and he doesn't seem to have any hesitation, however he is proceeding with caution and you are grateful for it, you have been holding your breath since he started.

The razor seems so small in his hand, like a child's toy, yet it has sharp blades that could cut you at any moment if his movements were not precise.

He pulls it away from your skin to shake off excess shaving foam and rinse it under the flexible shower head and you catch your breath.

You flinch for a moment as he brings the razor closer again, “stay still” he tells you in a peremptory voice.

There is something deeply erotic in what he is doing, in his calm and dedication, in his deep knowledge of every curve of your body. It seems like he knows exactly how to move his hand so as not to hurt you.

He rinses the part, then proceeds to take more foam and spread it tickling your skin with his calloused fingers. You're even impressed that he didn't put too much on, just a thin layer, so he can see the part and have full control of what he's doing.

His jeans are now soaked and stuck to his legs and you can see a bulge growing in his crotch.

He stretches your skin with his fingers and runs the razor over you, still in small motions, shaking it, finishing the sides of the top of your pubic bone.

“I need you to lay down, baby, I have to do the bottom part” he says tilting his head to one side to look better at what he has just done.

Joel himself wanted this shower to be big enough for two people, it's his job and he knows how to be far-sighted in this.

It is wide enough for you to lie down and for him to sit between your legs without difficulty.

You bend down and lay your back on the floor “spread your legs” he tells you “keep them raised”

The floor is cool and wet against your skin but you still feel heated.

You crane your neck to look at him and his eyes are focused, deciding how to position you to do the job.

He takes your ankles and bends your legs slightly, if it was a moment when you wanted to laugh you would say that you look like a frog but now you feel like a rose of flesh. A bold, cheeky flower that has blossomed for him.

“Stay like this, can you?”

You nod because you can’t do anything else, you don’t know what to say, you’re hypnotized by his deep breathing and his eyes.

You feel a pulse between your legs.

A heat that starts to rise from below.

He smears a thin veil of foam on the inside of your thighs near your pubic area, he runs his fingers almost absentmindedly near your folds, you know that every movement is thought out, he's purposely ignoring your pussy so he doesn't lose his concentration but you can feel desire creeping through the air between you.

It's thick, heavy, and smells of your perfume that invades your nostrils now that you're playing the obscene dancer for him, with your legs bent as if you had to warm up your muscles before a show.

He draws your edges with the razor, rinsing continuously, you feel the blade glide over you, darting across your skin, only slightly resisting to your roughest hairs.

You feel a glimmer of clear drool dripping between your petals, all the way down to the crack of your butt, that gives away your eagerness.

A couple more gentle swipes and he's done.

You can hear him swallowing nervously, your throat is dry too.

“All done” he whispers, running his fingers over your smooth skin.

You sit up, legs at the sides of his body and tug at his shirt to give him a kiss. You suck his bottom lip between yours, tasting his minty flavor.

You dwell on that ecstatic feeling for a while before you let go of his lips and take a breath back into your lungs.

“Do you want me to shave it all off?” Sometimes you do, you like it when you feel just the soft, just that, that tingles every time he runs his tongue over it.

Shiny as egg white, voracious, naked luscious lips ready to salivate and swallow until they’re full.

But now you can't wait and you know he doesn't care, they're short hairs anyway, you keep them trimmed.

It's just a little line that surrounds your flower to browse.

“No baby, I need you”

The razor is lying on the shower floor, you pick it up and place it on the steel shelf that Joel installed for you to put your things on.

“Mmm tell me what you want” He asks, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with lust.

He already knows the answer.

“Fuck me” you plead, voice trembling with excitement “fuck me with your tongue and fingers, please. Fuck me with your cock. Fuck me until I see white and I’m a mumbling mess underneath you”

You put your hand over his bulge, running slowly to his zipper strained and you fiddle your fingers on his button.

You feel him squirming, his eyes feral and mesmerized by your touch and your words.

You open his jeans as he takes off his water-spattered shirt and throws it on the floor outside the shower.

Sitting like this, you notice even more the softness of his belly, that little bit of flesh that you love to bite.

He gets up to get rid of his jeans, now soaked, annoying, heavy, he throws them on the floor and they land with a dull thud.

His boxers are damp and have a big stain on the front, but it's not water. It's his pleasure dripping.

He’s rock hard leaking profusely.

He leans down and gives you a long kiss, looking at you. His hands slide slowly over your arms, slipping onto your hips, squeezing your flesh and your body arches towards him, your tongue quivers on his, every fiber of you reacts and bends gently to him.

He brings a hand to your cheek, deepening the kiss, eagerly licking the inside of your mouth, tasting you.

You moan into his lips as you feel his other hand move up and rest on the side of your breast, his long fingers reach your nipple and trace its contours, they move circling it, he does it first with his thumb and then with his index finger. He passes them over your bud, titillating it, making it harden under his fingertip.

He makes space between your knees again, makes you lay down on the floor, caressing your torso, going down to your ribs, he touches the area just below and whispers “you look beautiful here”.

You like that he appreciates everything about your body, even those parts that others ignore, he sees the overall harmony and knows how to notice the details. He knows the map of your scars and every shade of your skin. He goes down, brushing your navel and then unexpectedly goes back up and takes your lips again.

He sucks.

He tastes.

He drinks.

He lowers himself and leans over your opening. He breathes hard as he gives the first lick, with his tongue flat, crawling from bottom to top, lingering on your clit. He spreads your folds a little with his thumbs and looks at you for a moment whispering “God, baby, you have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen” he inhales your scent “and she’s so wet…” and he licks again “so sweet” another lick “and she tastes so good”

You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, pushing him against you.

He keeps his mouth glued to your slit, his tongue seems everywhere, meticulous and insatiable, it seems he can never get enough.

You listen to his movements with your whole body, as if he were speaking to you, using a language unique to yours.

You feel his hand resting on your hip, you grab his wrist and bring him back to your tit, you don't need to ask him to touch it, he silently takes your nipple between his fingers pinching and twisting.

Your ribcage expand for air, you gasp with your mouth wide open and a long moan leaves your lips rising from deep inside you.

You lift your head to see him, looking disheveled and grateful, his beard glisten with your fluids as two of his thick fingers slide into you.

He traces with his tongue that little stripe of hair he left you, which frames your lips, he caresses them, takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly.

His strong aquiline nose is hitting your clit now, fingers curl to find that perfect spot, the one that makes you see white, like you asked.

You moan in disarray “your cock – God – I want your cock, please Joel”

He gives a couple more licks and then moves, towering over you, kissing you with lips that taste of salt and lemon, of you. It’s your taste, all over his mouth.

He lower his boxers and the tip of his cock presses against your hole, slowly making its way in.

You throw your arms around his neck, giving him sloppy kisses on his sultry skin.

He grunts as he thrusts into you, you wrap your legs around his waist as he slides a hand behind your arched back, pushing you, anchoring himself to you so you don't slip on the wet floor, his knee braced on the floor.

You stammer senselessly yes yes yes, you're both close to your peak.

You feel disarmed, completely enveloped by him, by his body, by his scent.

You're sweaty, even though your skin is still wet, your body contracts against his, waves of pleasure modulating your breathing.

Your orgasm explodes in a long sigh, then it goes silent, you bite your lips, you are overwhelmed.

He takes your hands, intertwines them with his and brings them above your head, sinking relentlessly inside you, hitting again and again, deeper and deeper until you feel thick, sticky stems filling you, painting your walls, dripping from inside you onto your thighs.

His hair is plastered to his forehead, his eyes searching yours as he fills his hands with your ass cheeks, giving the last hard thrusts before he pulls out of you and lets himself go on the shower floor next to you.

You take deep breaths, trying to come back to your senses, your bodies completely exhausted.

“Well,” he says after a while, “we’re officially too late to go now.”

“Do you mind?” you ask, rolling onto your side, tracing his broad chest with your fingertips.

“No,” he replies without even thinking.

You burst out laughing together.

No, this is definitely more important.

[horreurscopes]

So, I could be out-of-bounds here since I think you meant it as dark humor, but what did you mean in the tags of that 'israel-hamas war' post? I suspect you(and op) are criticizing that framing because Israel is obviously demolishing much more than 'Hamas'(and probably doing a terrible job of actually targeting terrorists- they seem content to reduce Gaza to rubble even if the brass of Hamas escapes). I'm guessing that by saying "joining the Israel-Hamas war on the side of Hamas" you mean, if they're going to conflate Palestinians with Hamas unilaterally, then you're saying, whatever the media wants to call Palestinian civilians- you still support them. I am asking anyways though bc, given reports of increasing antisemitic activity in the US and Europe, I am worried about the potential for blurring lines between the cause of Palestinian civilians and the alt-right individuals who are likely masking their antisemitism in the context of being anti-Zionist. Although Israel's government has been the source of Palestinian loss for decades, (it seems to me that) even joking about supporting terrorism is enough to reinforce the persuasion that Israeli/Palestinian Jews and Palestinian Arabs must be mutually-exclusive peoples. I don't think it's fully rational per se(tho I'm not claiming to have all the relevant information myself, and I'm white US American goyim so like- grain of salt-), but I think that existential fear is the incredible hurdle facing Zionist Jews. (Idc too much about the opinions of non-Jewish Zionists bc I don't grant that they are dealing with the same emotional complications at this time, although that doesn't stop me from arguing w my acquaintances abt their callous acceptance of US/Israeli propaganda.) I just think..... isn't it overall harmful to allow anti-semitic rhetoric, even used sarcastically, to enter the genuine humanist cause for Palestinian liberation? Or, have I misunderstood, and you actually are not in opposition to Hamas, or something else I didn't think of?

hi! thank you for approaching the question thoughtfully and with curiosity, i really appreciate it. i was being kind of flippant with that meme, but this is the only ask i'm going to reply to on the matter given that i am neither jewish nor arab, so i'm going to answer in earnest:

hamas is a political resistance movement with an armed wing, much like the black panthers party was, and like the bpp, a large part of the organization is dedicated to social welfare and civic restoration.

they have stated that they are not against judaism, but against the zionist project. they openly support political solutions.

labeling hamas a terrorist group is a propaganda tactic used by the united states and israel to justify the horrors of settler colonization.

hamas is palestine, a part of it, even if palestinians like any other demographic on earth, are not a unified, single-minded people. to declare hamas a separate entity falls prey to the imperialist lie that there is an enemy to fight "fairly" within the people they are displacing and exterminating.

am i rejoicing in the deaths of israelis? of course not. killing civilians and taking civilian hostages is a war crime, whether it is committed by the opresor or the oppressed. the israeli government is not its people, and many jews, within israel as well as in the US, are bravely risking their lives to publicly dissent the criminal acts of the israeli government. all loss of human life is a tragedy.

no one should ever be faced with the choice between annihilation and murderous violence after exhausting all other forms of peaceful protest and being massacred like animals.

but why is it that we consider a resistance group formed within a population with a median age of eighteen a terrorist group, and not the IDF, a US-backed military force with an annual budget of twenty billion dollars?

i am currently reading hamas and civil society in gaza by sara roy to learn more about hamas and the history of israel in palestine. i'll remember to post more excerpts which i am admittedly terrible at.

but all of the information above can be found by reading wikipedia. investigating with duckduckgo searches (not gonna pretend google isn't prioritizing propaganda, to be fair), and reading reliable news coverage like aljazeera and the many journalists who are at risk of, or have lost their lives, reporting on the ground.

i have also appreciated reading posts from @determinate-negation @opencommunion @fairuzfan @ibtisams and @bloglikeanegyptian amongst others

in conclusion:

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Some Kind of Disaster - Preview

Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Concept: You saw Gally take a spear through the chest, and you are more than shocked to find him alive and well, in front of your eyes.

Preview Word Count: 970

If you like this preview, follow my writing blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there as the full fic will be posted there sometime within the next few months when I have the time and energy to edit it. I may or may not make a TMR taglist, I'm not sure??

A/N: This is based entirely on the movie version of Gally, as I haven't read the books and don't plan on doing so. The title comes from an All Time Low song of the same name - which I would highly recommend listening to in order to get the vibes for this fic. Also apparently this is the same concept as a dozen other Gally fics, but I don't really care right now - because I got inspired to do it and it's entirely self indulgent, and this is my take on the concept lmao. I am currently on hiatus, but I've been working on fics as a form of stress relief during this time - but I haven't been editing fics. This fic will be posted after its edited sometime within the next month or two. (And there is already a sequel in the works, shhh.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: the full fic will be smut, but this is more of a tease of that; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; spoilers for the films if you haven't seen them; arguing that turns into kissing; Gally has a self-deprecating/insecure inner monologue; mentions of Newt x Reader (it's one-sided in this fic, but may be something more later on ;)); Gally being possessive, Gally being rough (but the reader likes it); mention of Gally masturbating to thoughts of the reader; implications of Gally being taller than the reader (which I think is likely for most people cause Will Poulter is pretty fuckin tall); technically virginity loss (but it's not a big focus of the fic) - it's more about two people naturally enjoying their first time together (and I wrote this the same way I would write a first time in a relationship with two slightly more experienced characters) - and also nothing majorly sexual comes up in this part; this section: heated kissing with intentions towards sex, and that's pretty much it.

...

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not like them, okay?”

He spat out these words bitterly when you didn’t speak, and this left you confused. “I’m sorry I’m not some dumb brave hero guy-” 

You reached out and roughly shoved the middle of his chest again. Unknowingly, this aggravated the healed scar where the spear had gone through him, sending a dull ache through him at having the tender pink skin so roughly prodded without his chest armor on this time. 

“You’re so stupid!” You barked back, utterly insulted by his words. 

He thought this was par for the course, that you would begin hurling more insults before storming out. He thought that you would tell him his supposed ‘death’ had been the best thing that had ever happened to you, and the longing looks Newt had given you were truly something more. 

“God, you’re so-!” 

You choked on your own words and tears welled up in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath before you continued. 

“You are that dumb brave hero guy!” You yelled back, speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Gally gaped at you, and you continued. 

“What do you think all that was?” You gestured vaguely behind yourself, obviously speaking about the events earlier in the day - when he had rushed into heavy bomb fire to drag you and the others to safety. “That was the dumbest hero guy thing I have ever seen.” You said, putting a stain of emphasis on the word ‘dumb’, pinching his own phrasing for it right in the ass. 

“That was nothing, I just did that because you were in danger, and-” 

“And that’s exactly what Thomas would have done.” You replied, quickly cutting him off. “You’re every bit as good as him. You are.” 

There was a tense moment where you stared him down, deep contemplation knit across his features while you waited for him to agree with you. 

“I wasn’t when you left the Maze.” He added on, quiet guilt floating through his voice. “I wasn’t brave then. I was a coward. I couldn’t be what you needed-” 

“You have always been what I need, Gally. When will you get that through your thick shank skull?” 

You were done rehashing the past. 

You were done contemplating the details of what could have been. It hit you truly then - all that mattered to you now was the fact that Gally, your Gally was in front of you, somehow alive and well. And though it was something you never could have predicted, you wouldn’t let such a beautiful thing slip through your fingers. 

You reached out and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulling him forward roughly. At the end of that jerking motion, he was met with your lips, and he sunk into the kiss without a second thought, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh that shouldn’t have suited him so well. Adding to that softness as he reached up to gently cup your cheeks while you gnawed at him with a feral passion. 

This is exactly what he had been waiting for. This was the reunion he had wanted all along. 

In a moment, the touch, your desperate grip on the front of his shirt, the way you ran your teeth along his bottom lip, edging toward something more - it triggered something within him. A possessive streak over you that had long been dormant; something once fueled by rage and jealousy and fear over the bad things that might happen to you if he wasn’t constantly looking over your shoulder. Now, it came from something much deeper. 

That immature love he had felt for you that had only grown and matured during your time apart, adding to a hungry passion for you now that he had you back in his arms - now that he could feel the heat of your skin, smell you, hear the whimpering patter of your breath and know that you were so damn real. (Not just another falsehood of his imagination with the details poorly filled in that he tried to soothe himself with, while he had a hand on his cock.) 

He was the one who charged at you this time, shoving you backwards and walking tightly with you, crowding you back until you hit a wall. You hadn’t truly taken in your surroundings, and if you had half a mind to, you would have noticed that this was some kind of dingy store room - used for scavenged spare parts for the vehicles and old guns that needed to be repaired in order to be put into use. 

But your brain didn’t take any of that in when your back made contact with the wall, Gally still kissing you fiercely, making you downright dizzy. You didn’t have time to think when one of his hands took a possessive hold on your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip while his presence loomed over you, like the perfect protective wall you always felt that he was. He continued the heated liplock for a moment before he pulled away for air, and then, a particular query couldn’t be contained within you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked, half-teasing, still holding your death grip on his shirt. 

There was a particular hum between your thighs - something hot and beating and alive, a calling that demanded to be answered. You knew that you would be devastated if Gally stopped too soon or didn’t rise to that call. So you had to know what his intentions were now to prepare yourself for the potential disappointment. 

“Showing you how much I missed you.” He answered firmly, entirely certain, leaning in to capture your mouth again - pressing his whole body tightly against yours now. 

It sent a thrill through you - knowing that he would answer that call and thensome.

[kitorin]

boyfriend headcanons ! itoshi rin

contents. how you met, how you got to know each other, when he realized he liked you, how you started dating, dates, all fluff

warning. rin backstory spoilers, i can't write kiss scenes either, written with all lowercase intended, it's word vomit bc school has screwed me up mentally and i can't think properly atp lmao

a/n. reo, rensuke and yoichi ver coming soon, was supposed to be all four of them but tumblr didn't save some stuff so i lost motivation and i probably wrote too much for rin anyways

how you met

you were invited to hang out with a group of friends, but ended up hating it since you were basically invisible, since everyone else were talking about a common interest you didn't have

you ended up walking away, finding somewhere actually interesting, and found a muji store (minimalist retailer that sells a lot of household items and more), and had your own fun, looking through stationary, skin care, nice clothes, and more.

you were having a great time until you heard someone from the hangout looking for you and calling

rin who notices your panic right next to him, questions what's wrong (not necessarily out of concern, honestly probably because he may have found it slightly irritating)

after you explain your situation briefly, he nods and finds you somewhere to hide, and goes to deal with your friend

he's got perfect control over his facial expressions, he'd easily lie and even if your friend was persistent, he'd still scare him away

"haven't seen them in here, they left a while ago and you better stop yelling,"

"are you sure-?"

"yes. now piss off and stop disturbing everyone here,"

once he's sure your friend's gone, he goes back to where he instructed you to hide, giving you the clear

"i hope that lukewarm asshole wasn't your ex."

you're slightly amused at the word 'lukewarm' it wasn't a typical description you'd hear often. "nope, i'd never date him. thank you so much though. i really appreciate it, please let me do a favor for you"

before he can object, you grab a sample pen, scrawling your number on his hand, "send me a text and i'll do my best to help you with anything okay?" you send him a smile as his eyes widen in shock, "bye kind stranger, have a great day," and before he could respond, you were gone, rushing out the store out of embarrassment for not being able to slip away from your friend uncaught.

how he got to know you

[unknown number] : i really don't need a favor you know?

i hated that idiot anyways, loud and annoying

[you] : don't careeee, i want to make it up to you somehow, please?

i'm y/n, you?

[unknown number] : rin, itoshi rin

after he gave in to your offer, you ended up tutoring him, he didn't care about grades but his high school had a rule of requiring a certain standard of grades to compete in tournaments

turns out he wasn't even a bad student, he's diligent and consistent, he only needed a little bit of guidance and advice, with math being the exception

in between sessions, during breaks and outside of your tuition you'd talk a lot, considering how rin has no friends ("neither do you, your toxic ass friends shouldn't count" he replies when you realize it) and you're patient enough to deal with his personality

even after he has his grades up you still hangout with each other, watching horror movies, playing horror games, reading horror novels / comics (you introduced him to junji ito), and he'd even teach you some soccer when you visit his training. he also tries out all your hobbies and favourite things to do and eat

you two spend so much time together, simply because one has no other friends and the other has no healthy friendships

how he knew he liked you

BRO WAS IN DENIAL. FOR. SO. FUCKING. LONG.

he thought he had a health problem or fever when he felt his face getting hot, or that odd sensation in his stomach, or his heart relentlessly pounding against his chest

he tries to research it, doesn't believe it when he sees all those love related posts, so he literally goes to a doctor

his doctor probably almost instantly realized, and had to deal with rin's denial

"you experience these 'symptoms' with a certain someone, don't you?" the doctor doesn't even bother with noting down anything, he's 100% sure and knows it's perfectly in character for rin to do something like this

"that's not possible- that doesn't make se-," he pauses, and recalls that he only felt that way when it came to you, "... yes," he's sort of bashful, slightly embarrassed but quickly composes himself again. 'i apologise for doubting you, please continue,"

"no worries," with a grin, his doctor prepared leave and meet his next patient, "i diagnose you with love sickness,"

when i tell you, this man fucking asked him what meds to take and what to do as self treatment

his poor doctor mentally face palmed himself, sat himself back down and had a (long) talk with this emotionally repressed boy

rin still insists it's something medically wrong, but he's soon shoo-ed out of the office, while hastily being told to make sure he's honest with his feelings, otherwise it never goes right

back at home, he's lying in bed, revising what his doctor said

"rin you need to learn how to acknowledge your emotions. i understand they're confusing and i'm not a therapist, but you can't keep denying it. it's just as unhealthy to neglect your emotions as it is to ignore an injury,"

...

denial huh?

he thinks of you and his heart once again can't calm down, his face burns and his stomach is doing somersaults. he buries his face in his palm, groaning. he hated anything unfamiliar, anything that he couldn't navigate with confidence, or fully comprehend.

"do you really despise it? or do you refuse to acknowledge your feelings because you've never experienced something like this,"

his doctor's advice comes back to him, and he thinks.

if he truly loathed how you made him feel, why is he still hanging out with you, why is he still investing his time into you, why do you make him so damn happy?

he passed out eventually completely lost in thought

how you ended up dating

some time passes and you finally have the courage to confess to him only to receive a cold "i don't feel the same way," a complete lie

accepting his emotions was one thing, accepting a relationship is another. he could immediately feel regret clawing at his stomach, he wanted to tell you. badly, how much he likes you, your patience, intelligence, your kindness, literally everything

yet nothing comes out. only his stoic and stupid facade's character

you walk away after mumbling out an apology for making things awkward, and rin's left there standing, finger nails digging crescents of frustration into his palm

he's overwhelmed with his thoughts, some insisting for him to give up and accept that he fucked up, others demanding him to move and fix things

what would be worse than losing you, anyways?

and that last thought was the final push, he's basically sprinting towards you, soon his arms are wrapped around you, releasing a gasp of surprise from you.

"ri-?"

"i lied," rin blurts, internally screaming at himself to just say it, "i lied, i know i shouldn't have and i'm sorry. but i like you too much, i can't express or understand my feelings, i don't know anything about relationships or love either, and i wanted to hide how i felt so i wouldn't get hurt,"

"rin-," he doesn't let you finish, ignoring your whisper.

"but i don't care, i like you so much that i'm willing to risk hurting myself, anything's worth it if i can be with you, spend time with you, and love you. if it's for you i'd overcome all my fears of love. i can't afford love, but if it's for you i don't care anymore,"

"you're perfect, you always have been," he concludes his speech, almost breathless from how rushed it was. scarlet was dusted all over his face, teal eyes wide open.

that fact rin, someone who's never been good at communication, went this far to express how he feels for you, warms your heart even more.

"rin?"

"yes?"

"may i kiss you?"

somehow, he blushes even more, and as he nods your lips press together.

dates + other headcanons

MOVIE NIGHTS !! not at cinemas though since he prefers the comfort and privacy of his room, and doesn't like how loud or dirty cinemas can get

doesn't want to force you into anything too scary, but he secretly enjoys it when you end up clinging onto him

since he struggles with articulating his emotions, he likes using playlists and songs to (die for you - weeknd, shinunoga iiwa - fujii kaze, love, maybe - melomance, sweet - cigarettes after sex, COME INSIDE OF MY HEART - IV SPADES SUITS HIM SO WELL)

he's not a fan of pda, yet he wants to show you off to everyone he knows

if you genuinely like soccer and have an interest in it (obviously doesn't want to force you to watch 90 minutes of a sport you don't like) he'd watch his favourite games with you, even books tickets for the both of you if there are any good teams competing nearby

also takes great interest in your sports !! reads a lot about them so he can discuss them with you, and if you also compete in sports he puts together a training routine for you and asks to go to the gym together (say yes dumbass)

SURFINGGGG !! since he grew up in kamakura, he loves the beach and went to swim and surf a lot as a kid and would love to do it again with you, even if he hasn't done it in ten years (same rin, same). same with hiking too (kamakura's also famous for it as well)

visits the store with you where he always bought ice blocks with sae, the same lady who worked there when sae and rin still got around is still there, congratulates him for getting a partner, is proud of him

he's a great listener too, he prefers it over speaking a lot and you can talk to him about anything, whether you're talking shit about someone (he'd join in and start swearing) and or you're hyperfixating on your interests

whenever he gets a question related to his love life he takes a moment to blush when he thinks of you, pauses to compose himself (keeps you a secret for your privacy from the media), then says with a straight face that soccer is a priority, but everyone knows he's lying

©kouyun : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[skzstoryvault]

Pretty Princess (Chan, smut)

F!Reader x Husband!Chan

Standalone story

Reader uses Chan's insecurities for sex

Established relationship.

Chan deserves all the attention and the love. He needs to be the princess too sometimes.

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Chan. I just like the SKZ outward personas they all project and I get inspired to write these. No connection with the real artists. They all deserve the world.

Story includes smut, reader calls the shots, shy Chan, praise, uncomfortable but not unpleasant wristy

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

***

“I don’t know. Is it okay? Or too much?” Chan asks, walking out of your shared wardrobe. “Is it slutty? I don’t want to be slutty this once. But I still don't own a suit."

“Babe, stop worrying. You aren’t dressing for them, you’re dressing for me. And you know I'd show you off just as much in Ipanemas and a single hollowed out pineapple on your dick." “Are you sure it won’t be an issue?” He is standing there, in black jeans that hug his thighs just right, and a black Givenchy t-shirt that has a very inconspicuous embroidered black logo. “You could go to a convent in this fit and you wouldn’t be out of place.” You say, somewhat disappointed. “If I’m dressing for you… would you choose what I should put on? I wanna be good for you.” “Channie.. You are always good for me.” You soften and step close, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close, kissing him slowly. “I’m just a horndog, always thinking of getting my hands on you. Doesn’t matter what you have on, I’m just thinking of when I get to take it off.” 

“Fuck.” He says, as a response to your words and as a reaction to feeling himself start to fill up in his pants. “I can’t go hang out with your parents like this.” “We have time, babe,” you say. “And I was going to say. If I should get to pick what you wear, I’d need you out of this shirt anyway.” He immediately pulls it up over his head and off, standing before you in just the pants, which you open, carefully pulling the zipper down. Now that so much skin is on display, you take a nice, long, appreciative look at your artistry from last night. A trail of strategically placed hickies decorates Chan's front, from his collarbones downward, over his pecs and abs, disappearing under the hem of his underwear. You know that similar wine-coloured marks adorn his hips, inner thighs and even the insides of his knees. Your need to touch and taste him is ever-present and overwhelming. Still eating him with your eyes, you go to the jewellery cabinet and pick one of your items. A gold chain necklace, that wraps around the neck and continues down with another length of chain which connects it to a waist chain. You tie it around Chan’s neck and waist, pausing to admire the result, unable to resist slowly running your thumbs over his now hard nipples. Chan looks gone. He’s holding his breath, his pupils are dilated as far as they can go and a delicate blush tints his skin from his abs to his cheeks. 

You pick another item, a string of Ghana beads, made with gold and gems, tying it around Chan’s waist as well, watching it settle lower, on his hips. Lastly, you take a sleeveless, plain white jersey shirt from the wardrobe and hand it to your boyfriend to put it on. As soon as he pulls it over his head, you grab your alteration scissors from the drawer and go to town on the shirt. Since the fabric is jersey, you don’t have to worry about it unraveling where you cut it. The pretty cutout pattern seems random, but it’s not, and the places at Chan’s sides where you cut whole patches out expose the jewellery outlining his trim waist. 

You take his hand and lead him to the full length mirror on the door of your wardrobe. 

“My pretty baby, you did so well. This is how I want you, so I can show you off to the world.” You whisper, moving your lips against the soft skin of his neck. 

His lips part in a silent gasp, seeing himself like this, in a far more daring outfit than he would have thought of putting on. Seeing you whisper into his skin like a demon leading a virgin into sin with honeyed whispers. His jeans are still open, the way you left them, and the jailbreak in his underwear doesn’t look as painful as it could be with a zipper pulled up over it. Not breaking eye contact with him in the mirror, you reach in and free his cock from behind the fabric barrier. Your pointy, long nails clack together when your hand squeezes around him, then slowly drag down his length. He’s so hard and the moment the weight of his cock rests against your palm, you can feel its rhythmic throbbing, like a pulse. You grip him harder than you think is comfortable and watch him. If he minds that, he’s not showing it, just twitching more in your grip. You don’t even have to carry on for long, just skate the pad of your thumb over the slit in the tip and caress up and down the length with a slight twisting motion. It can’t be comfortable, and normally guys use some sort of slick stuff to make the slide easier, but Chan is turned on out of his mind, which is where you need him. “Look at you. My god boy. My pretty princess, letting me do everything I want to you.” You purr in his ear, earning yourself a high pitched mewl. “But I want to be nice, you’re nothing but good for me and that deserves a reward. My pretty baby.” You punctuate your latest pet name with a sharp nail gently sliding over his slit, then lower, to the underside, where the head is most sensitive, and that’s what throws him over the edge. He comes with a surrendering moan, panting and reaching blindly for a point of support, his head resting back on your shoulder. 

“I’m… gonna need a moment.” He says, sorting himself back in his underwear and closing his jeans, watching you wipe your hand clean of his come with one of the patches you cut from his shirt. You then step into your shoes, which have you being slightly taller than him, whereas before you were the same height. “You may have taken me apart a bit too far.” 

“Are you saying you’d rather I drove? I can do that, baby boy. You just relax.” You offer. You love the idea of him just swimming in the endorphins, not having to focus on anything and later getting tipsy on Wildberry Lillets at the party. You know how that ends usually, with you fucking him by the pond at the back of the garden or in the piano room where nobody goes these days. Later, at the garden party your parents threw at your childhood home, there is not a single woman or man who is not drooling at Chan. He is blushing and squeaking when someone makes him shy with a remark or makes him laugh. Your mom walks up to you with a Veuve Clicquot flute in hand. “Maybe next time teach your husband to dress more modestly, he’s supposed to let you shine. No one’s been able to string two thoughts together since you two arrived and he took off his jacket. Animals, all of them. At my boujee function.” “But Channie is letting me shine. Who do you think picked his outfit? You taught me to go for what I want and settle for nothing less, mom. And you taught me well.”

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

Again, I don't know if you'll see it. But I'm so sorry!

I'm the one who send a text about how hard is to be alone, in school or such, who made a (i think) p.s: not good in English.

I dunno if you'll recognize me, but I wanted to apologize, because I realized and read your "Welcome to my blog!" I saw you weren't comfortable with it. Again, sorry, I didn't read that.

And that's okay, you don't need to feel bad or anything, you don't even need to answer!

It's just a lack of my attention.

Anyway, thank you and I hope you're having a good day, byeeeee

My dear lgbt+ kid, 

You are correct in that I do not feel comfortable offering one-on-one conversations. I keep my inbox open for general topic suggestions or questions but I do not answer messages individually - but every once in a blue moon, a specific message will catch my eye or touch my heart and I will make an exception, and this one did! 

I think it’s extraordinarily sweet of you that you take the time to come back to my inbox, just to show respect for my boundaries. I deeply appreciate your kindness! 

Of course there’s no apology needed, I do not expect everyone to read the “Welcome to my blog” post and I do not feel offended by receiving personal messages despite it. I just treat them as general topic suggestions as well. I do feel some guilt about that sometimes (which is why your message touches me, it’s so sweet of you to reassure me that no reply is necessary when I’m not comfortable with it!) but I know that ultimately the kindest thing I can do is to honor my own boundaries and mental health, so I can continue to write letters for you rather than burn myself out trying to answer everyone individually.

In that spirit, I want to tell you that I looked through my inbox and I think I found your original message, and I’ll take “feeling alone” as a topic suggestion and work on a letter for you! It may take a few days but I hope to have it up soon. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[musette22]

ten questions for writers

Thank you for the tag, my gorgeous, beloved estranged wife @paperstorm 💛

I kinda feel like a fraud doing this since I haven't posted anything in a whiiiile, but I'M WORKING ON IT, so let's do this anyway.

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

79 works

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

864,537 words

3. what fandoms do you write for?

MCU (Stucky), RPF (is that a fandom?) (Evanstan), The Last Shadow Puppets/Arctic Monkeys (Milex)

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Of course I do! Always. Sometimes it takes a little while for me to get round to it, but I always reply if I can. I appreciate every single kind comment I get, more than I can say. It's so good to know that something I wrote touched someone in some way, and it's amazing to me that people take time out of their days to not only read my stories, but also leave me comments?? Mind-blowing. Comments truly mean the world, so the least I can do is reply to them!

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, thank fuck.

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! A few times, it's the most funnest thing if you're working with someone you admire and have a good rapport with. I'd love to do it again sometime!

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

STUCKY. Without a doubt. Stucky4eva.

8. what are your writing strengths?

Hmmm... I think humour, fluff & smut? Yeah. I've been told I'm pretty good at building romantic and sexual tension, which I take as a huge compliment because I love that sh*t <3

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not great at writing angst, simply because I can't deal with hurting my guys too much, which means I always end up making it fluffy again very quickly argh. I also suck at action scenes, so I've kind of given up trying, lol.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

My first ever fic was Evanstan, but I was also working on Stucky at that time. My first and last, those guys <3

Tagging @sparkagrace @voylitscope @dharmasharks @metalbvcky @fandomfluffandfuck @uhbasicallyjustmilex @rillils

[gwenphobic]

i just read your gwen x catwoman reader post and i am having a meltdown in my room. please, i need more. it was just so cute to see gwen worrying about the reader, and even cuter to see her falling hard for the reader. we all need more of that

— SO SUDDEN AND NEW

— gwen stacy x black cat!reader

a/n, posting this felt like doing the walk of shame 😞… i haven’t posted in so long. no warnings methinks besides the fact that this is extremely short.

GWEN doesn’t know what’s happening to her. She can’t think properly when she’s around you, and her stomach always hurts. Not in the way where she thinks she’s about to puke, but in the way that she thinks everything feels like way too much.

IT doesn’t help that she’s picked up the new habit of smiling like a complete loser whenever you talk to her or make some really shitty quip. It’s like— She doesn’t even know what it’s like but it makes her feel like a complete dork.

IS this the most appropriate thing to be thinking about while she resting on the wall in an alley way while licking her wounds until the next unfortunate fight? Probably not, but she’s doing it anyway.

“HEY itsy bitsy,” a voice greets out of nowhere. Gwen doesn’t jump because she had sensed it, she jumps because she sees who it is. You stand before her in all your external glory. A smile falls to her lips, and she feels lucky for the mask. “You look rough,” you tell her.

“THANKS, I always appreciate it,” Gwen says dryly, but she really does. She appreciates all your stupid stupid jokes. She could listen to them forever over and over again. “Have anything planned tonight, kitty?” she asks.

YOU step closer to her. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” you say. Gwen ignores the way her stomach internally explodes. “Guess not,” is all she can manage. You stop walking just before your and Gwen’s noses can touch.

“I really appreciated what you did for me a few weeks back,” you say, “taking me to that hospital. It was nice of you.” Gwen swallows, exhaling a shaky breath. “It’s my job,” she murmurs. You roll your eyes in reply.

“EITHER way, can I give you something to.. display my gratitude?” you ask. Gwen feels like she can hear her heart just pick up a beat and then another beat. At this rate, she feels like her heartbeat is at at least 300 beats per minute. The thumping sound rings loud in her ears. “I— I wouldn’t mind that,” she says.

YOU grin and take something out one of your pockets. “I know a big time hero like you would expect more,” you start as you take her hand, “but you’ll have you suck it up.” You slip a sleek black necklace into her hand.

GWEN stares at the necklace, swallowing. She asks, “Did you steal this?” You roll your eyes. “I bought it, matter a fact, but if you don’t want it—,” you say before Gwen cuts you off, “No, I want it.” She says it softer and more kind than she intended. She stares at you in your eyes while she says it. It makes your heart stutter for a second.

“YEAH, well, don’t get used to me being this nice,” you replies after a moment. Your cheeks feel hot. Gwen laughs quietly. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replies. What is this feeling?

YOU both just stare at each other for a moment before Gwen sighs. “Well, um, I’ve gotta get going,” she says. You nods quickly and add, “Me too. Crimes to make and places to rob.”

Gwen looks at you once more with soft eyes that are hidden beneath the mask. “Right,” she replies, “see you then, Cat.” You blow her a kiss. “Cya Spider.”

[feedthefandomfest]

I have a question because I want to comment but I feel nervous. It is very foolish but it is seriously something that prevents me from commenting-

So English is not my first language and I suffer from a disease known as 'fuck you all English leaves your brain when you tap on the comment box'. Like I'm fluent enough to write a fic but the comments break me and I can only do basic 'subject verb complement' and forget half my vocabulary because I'm so nervous, so it often ends up being broken English.

I back out of posting comments except 'i love this this is amazing thank you for writing I love it' because I'm too scared the author will take it badly ? Like, what if they find it annoying ? What if they believe I think they write bad English and I'm mocking them and they don't want me to ever read their works ever again ?

Anyways, my question is : Does it actually bother anyone to receive broken English comments? Do people find it annoying ?

I would never be annoyed by such a thing and I'm positive that's true of others as well. On the contrary, it kinda blows my mind whenever I stop to think about how members of fandom for whom English is not their first language are so often working in translation. Like the trickiest barrier I have to contend with when writing anything is sleep deprivation and your average writer's block 😅 so to imagine also rendering those words in a different language?? 🫠

To varying degrees, the tragic disease of "empty comment box = empty brain" can strike anyone, regardless of language. On the plus side, some of the tricks to break through the blankness are also broadly applicable, such as

drawing from a list of sentence starters like the ones offered here or here (the beginner bingo card also has similar tasks!!)

installing this handy script that generates a positive comment on demand, which you can modify or expand on as needed

using the floating comment box to track moments or quotes you want to compliment specifically, even with just a string of emojis 💕💕💕

I can recall a couple comments I've gotten where the person apologized or gave a sort of disclaimer that English wasn't their first language, and honestly it just made me even more appreciative of the comment? Because there are so many reasons that a reader doesn't comment, and a language barrier is the most understandable!! And yet here they are, making me smile with their words. I always want to reassure them in my reply that an apology/disclaimer isn't necessary, but I don't always know how. (And there's nothing wrong with acknowledging something you're self-conscious about, after all.)

The concept of "broken English" has also got me thinking, though... And since it turned into a bit of an essay I'll leave it under the cut. 💛

Because the term "broken English" has a lot to unpack, seeing as it's always unfairly positioned those who speak English as a second language imperfectly as lesser (broken = defective). And that strikes me as a bit ironic, considering the degree to which English is a Frankenstein's monster of a language—this conglomeration of every language it encounters and subsumes. In that sense, English itself is a broken language? Or rather the shards of numerous languages held together with duct tape and gum and a whiff of imperialism. Its usage is always in flux, always evolving as speakers adapt it to new circumstances, and those adaptations become dialects in and of themselves. There is no one English language.

I teach high schoolers, and I'm consistently struck by the growing chasm between the kinds of English I can speak and the kinds of English they can speak. And technically my job is to train them in how to use American Standard English and read literature written in American Standard English, but really I find that pretty limiting.

Take the tone of this response, for instance! The more I've leaned toward trying to articulate these complicated issues of language, the more formal my speech has become. Contrast that with the first paragraph, where I'm trying to get across this awkward earnest admiration for the extra effort required of some fans just to engage in fandom, and so I ended up using more casual phrasing and emojis in a way that (hopefully) conveys a certain warmth and self-deprecating humor and whatnot.

If I were to leave a comment on a fic that blew me away, left me in a state of awe or delight or anguish—just a puddle on the floor—I'd find American Standard English quite lacking. Downright restrictive. The unique jumbled babble of fandom-speak functions on breaking the standard rules in order to evoke an intensity of emotion that meets the demands of the moment.

Another thing about commenters who really commit to throwing the rules out the window in favor of vibes is that I get such a strong sense of personality beaming through. A distinct voice that's generated, an intense impression of there being an individual on the other side with a particular shape. And there's something delightful about that.

...I suppose this is all a very roundabout way of saying that if there's anywhere to just unleash, vocab and mechanics be damned, where it's more than okay to string together whatever words you can in service of how you're feeling, it's the AO3 comment box. 💛

[cin3maa]

☆Welcome to Fish City's greenhouse!☆

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

☆ you can call me cinema/cinna or just anything you like! i am 15!! in fact a minor (she/her only please) pronouns page <-

☆ i work as a sort of botanist for FishCity! I take care of the marine plants here (and also am tasked the burden of dealing with tomi's problematic little clones.. they keep multiplying!!!!) i am but a wee sea bunny doing my part to ensure FishCity's habitability!

☆ i really like (rot)tmnt! specifically donnie (in every iteration..smitten swoon)

☆ i can and will draw selfship with my wife r!donnie so if you dont want to see that just block the tag #selfship

☆ i like yapping!!! interact with me i swear i dont bite (,,¬﹏¬,,)

☆ i am a huge vocaloid/jpop/pjsk nerd so um yeah!!!!

☆ art requests are closed! if you send any i WILL get you!/threat

please read about my boundaries before sending any requests if open. (under the cut)

☆ 700 DTIYS (#cin3maa dtiys)

☆ donnie with other purple characters

☆ #tmnc (teenage mutant ninja cats) <- there will be more!!!

☆ #tmnt cin (my turtlesona or self insert stuff)

mooties!!! (more tba<3)

#corrupted file 📄: @urplepurplegurgleturgle

#ocean documentary 🪸: @atomic-rattz

#alien sighting 🛸: @reddbug27

#sweet n sour 🍋: @hahawasabi

☆ main tags:

#rolling 🎥 (my art)

#backstage 🎭 (my refs)

#previews 🎞️ (ask replies)

#talking during the movie {yapping)

#5 stars 🌟 (reblogs)

playlist ˚₊ · »-♡→

boundaries and other stuff! ⇩(PLEASE READ)

-> requests

i probably wont draw your oc

i wont do canon x YN requests unless i specify otherwise - i will deny/ignore you if you request it anyway. i understand you like the characters (i really do) but i just dont want to draw this kind of content as of now and i ask that you respect that.

...please dont beg or be pushy/send multiple asks with your request

if i havent responded to your request, i probably just dont want to do it or i do and am getting to it when i feel motivated

id prefer requests be primarily (rot)tmnt but if you want to request something related to any of my OTHER interests i wont mind（• ∇ ＜)

i am very obviously not going to be doing nsfw.

my commissions arent set up at the moment

the way that i personally do requests is that i get to them when i get to them. im most likely not ignoring you!!! i work at my own pace.

-> art usage

feel free to use my art as a pfp/banner etc (credit appreciated<3)

i dont mind if you repost as long as you credit me

do not edit/modify my art

do not use my art in edits

um.. i dont think this should be an issue but dont sell my art?

you can draw any of my designs but id prefer you didnt claim them as your own haha..please @ me if you do use anything id love to see it <3

-> boundaries

t/cest in/cest & proshippers fuck off. seriously, block me. this includes casey jr x turtles

^I do not count april but i probably wont draw any april x turtles anyway (he's married to me)

vivziepop (hazbin/helluva etc) generally makes me uncomfortable but i wont block you if you enjoy her works or post about them.

i do not support ai art. if you support it or are neutral please block me. if you want to start making real art but dont know where to begin or need free resources, check out this post. (or this resource post)

if we're not close be mindful of what you send in my ask box lol. i am a minor. it makes me uncomfortable if youre sending me suggestive images or something like that (especially if i dont know you very well)

DO NOT VENT IN MY ASK BOX. i dont really know how to respond.. im witewawwy just a girl im not your thewapist im sowwy💔💔

i frequently call rise donnie my wife/bf & draw selfship (sometimes) so if that bothers you im sorry ;w; when i do draw selfship i try to tag it properly so it can be filtered !!!

im still an inexperienced artist, so i probably wont be able to give very good advice if you ask (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

feel free to tag me!

dms are open

-> other interests!

project sekai (if you want to play just ask for my id<3 im almost always up to it! i main jp but i do have en.)

vocaloid/utau/synthv & jpop

^ i am kakizaki yutas #1 fan !!!! listen to his music right now

hoyoverse (genshin, star rail, zzz, hi3)

little nightmares

skullgirls

YTTD

osomatsu san

metal family

bee and puppycat

jshk/tbhk

tadc

psych

ddlc

ptp

mitm

breaking bad (pls...)

...and more but this list is already getting long

stuff in here is subject to change, thanks for reading!!! :3 like actually thank you so much!!! i really appreciate it

[quickspinner]

Do you have any hidden gem fics or lesser known authors you would recommend for Lukanette?

I'm not going to lie, it's way easier to call to mind friends' fics so the same names tend to pop up when I'm trying to think of recommendations, so this is a great question. I don't really want to claim these are 'hidden gems' or 'lesser known authors' just because they're not in the circle of authors I hear from and talk to frequently, so let's put it this way: here's some works I love that haven't come up in the recs I've been asked for recently.

(full disclosure some of them are still written by friends 😂 but may be older or don't get as much love as I think they deserve)

I don't know tumblr names for most of these authors so I can't tag them but if you recognize your fic here and would like to be tagged, shoot me a message or leave a reply and I'll edit the post to add it.

A Discordant Song by Bounemr (this one is not heavy on the lukanette but I still love it)

Standing Here All Alone by Thistle_and_Thorns

Cherry Blossoms at Midnight by FrivolousFlare

The Feel of Music by Renigan

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe by @goldenlaurelleaveswrites

Drunk Talks (and Sober Confessions) by @chrwrites

Saltinette by @freedom-shamrock

if you know, you know by RenderedReversed 

i'm in a world apart (a world where roses bloom) by nonbinarynino (STILL one of my absolute favorite ever stories)

In Vino Veritas by Marie_Chambers

The Hope of it All by Marie_Chambers

Crowned by @semi-slaughtomatic

Five-Minute Time Machine by L3245

Wingwoman by @mintaka14

So, You Met Tchaikovsky? by @mamanabeille

The Swan Song of One Marinette Dupain-Cheng by Wolfsbaene

the reason you stay by @eat0crow

Ewww... Not even dead by @bloody-writes

Acmé by @astronavigatrix

Or I could Just Kiss You... by @livrever

Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang (Lukanette Week 2019) by @semi-slaughtomatic

Brave New World: Lukanette Week 2019 by seasonofthegeek

Chai Tea and Fresh Starts by @freedom-shamrock (I still looooove this one)

Awards and Appreciation by whatarubberchicken

music to knit a broken heart by Nanimok 

In Between the Metro by damagectrl

Okay, disclaimer on this one: It is adrienette endgame, but I enjoy the Lukanette part of it so much that I'm listing it anyway. When I reread, I just stop before they breakup. I don't know that this kind of recommendation would actually be appreciated, so apologies to the author. 😂 More of What Was Once Mine by RavenclawPianist 

Oooh and I haven't read this one myself yet but friends are gushing about it so I'm reccing it based on that: Hunted by the Night Light by hislittlelady (NSFW)

Have fun! and be sure to leave the authors a comment, I'm sure they'd love it.

[sirenfromthelostcity]

The Scarlet Witch Alt

Hello! Been some time since I posted but I really hope y’all enjoy this lil thing. It is a Scarlet Witch reader story but it is NOT connected to my Movie Night series. Honestly I just wanted to practice writing more emotionally intense scenes and since this character dealt with a lot of loss I figured I’d just channel it here. Initially I wanted to write this scene with Bruce but somewhere along the way I changed my mind. Anyways yeah I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would be very much appreciated! <3

Side note: It’s Damian Wayne x Scarlet Witch reader and there are mentions of death.

Word count: 1.9k

Dick had been walking for what felt like hours, searching through the woods but to no avail. Doubt creeped into his mind that maybe he was given the wrong location so he decided to facetime Tim to confirm. Fortunately the connection in the area was decent so after a few rings he answered. 

“Hey, are you sure you gave me the right coordinates? There’s nothing here but trees and whatever else you normally expect to see in the woods.”

“Let’s see,” said Tim and Dick could hear the quick tapping of his keyboard. “On my side it shows you’re in the right area. The energy readings aren’t as crazy as last night’s but it’s still considerably high? You sure you don’t see anything hinky over there?”

“No, but I’ll keep searching. Were you and America able to find out anything new?”

“Actually yeah, new and terrible.”

“What’d you find?”

“Remember those weird markings we saw on that giant octopus that attacked America?”

“Yeah.”

“Well according to her, all the creatures that had previously attacked her had similar markings on them. I couldn’t find any leads in our database so I sent some pictures over to the league and Zatanna reached back to me. They’re runes, Dick. Not only does this mean someone is definitely summoning these monsters to attack America but that they’re also powerful enough to control these things and send them on a chase through various different universes and it wants her power.”

“Shit,” Dick grumbled. 

“My thoughts exactly,” sighed Tim. “Zatanna’s offered to help and she’s working on locating Constantine for more assistance.”

“That’s good, hopefully- OW!” Dick jerked back as he seemingly walked into nothing. Upon impact he dropped his phone and instinctively rubbed at his forehead. He stared ahead in confusion. There was nothing in the way. At least, nothing he could see.

“You okay, what happened?”

Remembering his phone, he quickly bent down and picked it up. 

“I just walked into something that’s not there.”

“Uhh… come again?”

“Something very real, or at least it felt real, knocked into my face but there’s nothing there,” Dick paused and narrowed his eyes as he studied the space before him. “Tim, look at this.”

He flipped the camera and showed his outstretched hand. 

“Okay?” Tim replied, not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be looking at. Then Dick flicked his fingers and particles of static momentarily covered the afflicted area, similar to what you’d see on a glitchy TV screen. “Oh-kay! That definitely counts as hinky. What is that?”

“My guess would be some kind of force field, it feels tingly,” Dick replied as he flicked his hand again, causing more static to appear. 

“Stop flicking it, what if it sucks you in or something?”

“Relax, Tim, whatever this thing is it was pretty adamant on keeping me out just now it’s not gonna-” Suddenly Dick’s hand sunk into the apparent portal before him and he felt a strange tingling sensation throughout his body as more particles of static started to surround the area.

He tried to use his other arm to pry himself free but he could tell the struggle was only aiding his entrapment. Tim’s distorted voice echoed all around him as he was pulled fully into the portal until he finally landed on new ground. Dick quickly gathered himself and assessed the new scene. 

The sky was a brilliant blue and a blooming garden replaced the gloomy forest scene he was in mere seconds ago. Several rows of cherry blossom trees surrounded the area and he could hear birds happily chirping. He bent down to pick up his phone and show Tim what he found but somehow the battery was completely drained. 

“Great,” he grunted as he put the now useless device into his back pocket.

He spotted a little cottage house a few meters away and with having little to no options he walked over to investigate it. Upon finding a window he peeked inside for any insight of the owner. The home was littered with books and sheets of paper but no weapons, at least none he could immediately see. There were remnants of an unfinished breakfast on a nearby wooden table, but no person in sight. Next to the unattended breakfast was a series of sketches and he squinted to get a better look at them but he couldn’t fully make out the contents of the drawings.

The questions running through Dick’s mind were growing by the minute. Judging by the contents of the cabin, he didn’t feel like there was a threatening presence but why the secrecy? Why a force field in the middle of the woods? Why let him in?  

His train of thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out his name and although he recognized the voice he almost couldn’t believe his own eyes. 

“Y/N… oh my god,” before he could think, he embraced his estranged friend. “Where’ve you been? How have you been? What are you doing here?”

Y/N lightly chuckled at all his questions and gently pulled back from the hug, “It’s nice to see you too, Dick.” 

“Did you make all of this?” he gestured to the environment and she nodded. “Why did you take off like that? We didn’t see you at the funeral. You can’t… you can’t just disappear like that.”

“I’m sorry. After everything that happened,” she briefly looked away. “I just needed to be alone. Regroup with myself. I know my departure was abrupt but I didn’t mean to make anyone upset.”

“No one’s upset, Y/N, we were just worried. The people we lost that day…I miss them every single day. But they wouldn’t want us to deal with what happened alone. Damian wouldn’t want you alone.” 

At the mention of his name she visibly tensed up and he almost regretted bringing him up. Yet before he could say anything else, she had already changed the topic.

“What are you doing here Dick? How did you find me?” 

“Actually, I think it was you that found me and let me in.”

Y/N looked at him confused and they walked together as he explained to her how he ran into her little force field. 

“There’s this girl, she’s with Tim right now back at the cave, she’s being chased by monsters. It’s a bit of a much longer and weirder story but if you’re up for it we could really use your help.”

“I’ve been out of the field for some time now. I’m not sure I’d be able to provide much help.”

“We’ve all seen what you can do, Y/N. Don’t see yourself short. Besides you created this beautiful little utopia for yourself here, honestly it’s impressive.”

At that she grinned.

“Why don’t you bring America here?” she suggested.

“Here?”

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, the bat cave is safe and all but here she’d be well hidden…” 

She turned to look at Dick as she noticed he stopped walking with her. He didn’t say anything but his look of mistrust and apprehension told her everything.The ball had dropped.

She deeply sighed and cast her look down at her feet.

“You didn’t tell me her name.”

“No,” he slowly shook his head in disbelief. “I did not.”

“You know, the hexes were always easy. But the lying… that part not so much.”

Y/N extended her hand and as she expertly moved her wrist the world she created began to fully unravel. As if someone suddenly turned off the sound, the birds stopped chirping. The garden was swallowed by her red energy and replaced with dark, dead trees. 

Even her attire changed to a dark red cloak with an intricate crown placed around her temples. Her fingertips were coated in black, the mark of the possession of the Dark Hold. The unholy book floated near her as her previous illusion finished falling apart. 

Dick’s eyes immediately went to the Dark Hold. 

“God, Y/N… what have you done?” 

“Nothing yet, but even then it’s more than what you have done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied, taken aback by not only her tone but her accusation.

“The Lazarus pit,” she snarled. “You could’ve used it on him, on them. You could have tried SOMETHING!”

“You think it didn’t cross my mind? None of them would’ve wanted that! They would’ve been nothing but a shell of who they were, a living reminder of the people we lost. The pit wouldn’t have worked the way you wanted.”

“But they’d still be here and I could have found a way to fix what the pit could not restore. I’m not who I used to be anymore, Dick. The Dark Hold has shown me so much-”

“It did more than that. It changed you, Y/N.”

“Growth is accompanied by change.”

Dick scoffed. 

“Why send those monsters after her, what do you want with America?”

“Believe me, sending those creatures after her instead of myself was mercy. All I want, all I need is her power.” 

“She’s a child! You know she won’t survive the process.”     

“I don’t relish hurting anyone, Dick. but she’s not a child. She’s a supernatural being with powers that are, quite frankly, beyond her control.”

Dick was astonished at how cold she sounded. He could not believe the words coming out of his former friend’s mouth.

“I know I can put them to better use,” she continued. “I plan on using them to leave this universe and go somewhere where Damian is alive. And despite your judgments, I’d like to offer you the chance to come with me,” She slowly started to walk around him. “You and I share the same pain, which is why I offer you this. We can leave this place. We can have Damian, Barbara, and Bruce. I can make you forget this world ever happened. It’d be as if we never lost them.” 

As she spoke, Y/N wove her hands together and summoned miniature glimpses into various universes from the book. Dick’s eyes teared up as he saw images of Barbara, Bruce, and Damian. They were alive and well having dinner together as a family in one scene and stopping a bank heist together in another. 

“You could have all of your family back,” she said as she summoned scenes of his parents, gray haired, alive and well as they introduced the performers at Halle’s Circus. “Just say yes.”

All the images and sounds tugged at his heart strings and wiped away at the tears that managed to escape him.

“No,” he pleaded. “Y/N we share the same pain. But this is not the way. I can’t trade one life for another.”

“It’s not just for one life. It’s her for them,” she gestured to their loved ones. 

“But the blood shed would not end there. In these worlds, there are other versions of us, what’s to happen to them?”

At this Y/N tore her gaze from a scene of an alternate version of herself cuddled up with Damian to him and in her eyes he saw an unrepentant gleam. From that look he knew there was no use in reasoning with her. The friend he had once known and loved was no longer there.

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” she angrily flicked her wrist and the images quickly vanished. She turned to walk away but he called to her one last time. 

“What happens next?” 

“Prepare to hand over America by sunset, peacefully.”

“And if we don’?”

“Then it won’t be Y/N who comes for her. It’ll be the Scarlet Witch.”

[homestuck-word-counter]

Things you should know about the blog and blogger!

I am an adult who lives and grew up in the United Kingdom, so my experiences and knowledge are limited to an extremely I read Homestuck a few years ago and understand all of it. Ask me any question about what the text means and I will give the correct answer.

Frequently Asked Questions (will update as needed)

"Are you a Homestuck?"

Yes, multiple

"What version of Homestuck do you use?"

The regular one.

"Do you use a website/bot?"

No, I use my personal copy of the books (just kidding, readmspa.org)

"What kinds of posts WON'T you do?"

I find a lot of my rules to be common sense, but I will not do ones that;

Make fun of the loss of life. There are exceptions! Think to yourself, "Is what's being said cruel?" "Does this go into unnecessary detail?" If the answer is yes, I won't do it.

Are racist, antisemitic, obvious dogwhistles...really just anything that dehumanizes people based on skin colour, religion, etc.

Mock people who are disabled or neurodivergent. There is obviously a difference between gallows humour and punching down, and I will do the former.

Mock queer people. AGAIN think "gallows humour or punching down?"

Is it direct text from Homestuck? In which case I will probably do it anyway but only a couple of times.

Please feel free to send me asks/submissions, mention me in posts, reblog, and reply to my posts.

I love getting questions and seeing everyone's nice messages. I won't answer all of them, but I DO see them, and I appreciate them! 💚

And yes, I stole this entire post from @bible-word-counter, and its gimmick. I don't necessarily intend to have as much an output as them, this is like my 4th gimmick blog, but the point here is to have fun.