#Best Interactive Displays For Education

[rakshanarajeev]

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[hamzah2203]

The Role of Artificial Intelligence in Interactive Flat Panels

The Role of AI in Interactive Flat Panels: Transforming

Education in India

Interactive flat panels (IFPs) are modern digital tools that have become popular in schools across India. These panels are not just fancy screens; they are changing how teachers teach and students learn. A big reason for this change is Artificial Intelligence (AI). AI-powered features in interactive flat panels make education more engaging, personalized, and efficient.

1. Making Learning More Interactive

AI in interactive flat panels makes lessons more interactive. Teachers can use AI to create quizzes, games, and activities that engage students. For example, AI in interactive flat panels can instantly generate questions based on the taught topic. Students can answer these questions on the panel, and the AI will immediately check their answers. This instant feedback helps students learn better because they can quickly understand what they know and where they need to improve.

2. Personalized Learning for Every Student

Every student is unique, and they learn at their own pace. AI in interactive flat panels helps teachers understand each student's learning needs. The AI can track how a student performs in different subjects and suggest personalized learning materials. For example, if a student struggles with math, the AI can recommend extra exercises or videos to help them improve. This personalized approach ensures that every student is included and everyone gets the support they need.

3. Enhancing Classroom Management

AI in interactive flat panels helps teachers manage their classrooms better. For example, AI can take attendance automatically by recognizing students' faces. This saves time and allows teachers to focus more on teaching. AI can also monitor student behavior during class. If a student is not paying attention, the AI can alert the teacher, who can then engage the student more effectively.

4. Supporting Teachers with Lesson Planning

Creating lesson plans can be time-consuming for teachers. AI in interactive flat panels can help by suggesting lesson plans, activities, and resources based on the curriculum. For example, if a teacher plans to teach about the solar system, the AI can recommend videos, interactive simulations, and quizzes related to the topic. This saves teachers time and ensures that the lessons are rich and engaging for students.

5. Improving Assessment and Feedback

Assessment is a crucial part of education. AI-powered interactive flat panels make assessment easier and more effective. Teachers can create tests on the panel, and the AI can grade them instantly. The AI can also analyze the results to identify areas where students struggle the most. This information helps teachers provide targeted support to students. For example, if many students struggle with a particular concept in science, the teacher can spend more time explaining it or use different teaching methods to ensure everyone understands.

6. Bridging the Gap Between Urban and Rural Education

In India, there is often a gap between the quality of education in urban and rural areas. AI-powered interactive flat panels can help bridge this gap. These panels can be used in rural schools to provide high-quality education that is on par with urban schools. For example, AI in interactive flat panels can offer access to digital content and resources that might not be available in rural areas. Additionally, AI can provide real-time language translation, allowing students in different regions to learn in their local languages. This ensures that every student, regardless of their location, gets access to quality education.

7. Encouraging Collaborative Learning

AI in interactive flat panels encourages collaborative learning. Students can work together on projects, share their ideas on the panel, and receive feedback from their peers and teachers. AI can also facilitate group activities by assigning tasks based on each student's strengths. For example, in a group science project, the AI might assign the research part to a student who excels at it and the presentation part to another student who is good at speaking. This kind of collaboration prepares students for the real world, where teamwork is essential.

Conclusion

AI in interactive flat panels is transforming the educational experience in India. They make learning more interactive, personalized, and collaborative. They support teachers with lesson planning, classroom management, and assessment, making their jobs easier and more effective. Most importantly, they help ensure that every student, regardless of their location or learning pace, receives a quality education. As AI continues to evolve, we can expect even more innovative ways to enhance education and prepare students for the future.

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[benchmarktechnomate]

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[globusinfocomlimited]

INTERACTIVE DISPLAY: Next Gen Catalyst in Education

   Real innovations leads to    progressive solutions 

Gone are those days when bringing books into classrooms was mandatory, when not underlining the important points in books led to some furious reactions by teachers; students of the 90s can surely tell their experiences.

Growing brains with innovative solutions such as interactive flat panel displays are now finding ways to make learning amusing instead of mundane.

In the field of EdTech learning, Interactive Displays are the most accepted innovative solution nowadays. Teachers and students are both enjoying these technological advancements in the classroom due to their excellent inbuilt features.

Interactive display and its features:

An interactive display is a touch-screen panel installed on the wall that facilitates real-time interaction among the users. It is widely accepted in classrooms as well as in workplaces because of the adoptable features included in it.

The interactive display consists of several features as it consumes low power, has 4k resolution, includes all interactive classroom suites, possesses a dual operating system, has a multi-touch enabled to function, mirrors four-screen simultaneously, and software it possesses is myviewboard or whiteboard.

An interactive classroom suite is an important feature of an interactive display:

Writing tools- Amongst the above important features that are going to be discussed in this blog are interactive classroom suites including marker, paintbrush, highlighter, laser pen, AI pen, and magic line pen available with region eraser, text, and shape pen. All the mentioned tools can make an interactive touch screen visually enlightened; by highlighting with the highlighter, laser pen, and marker to make your content easily readable and confined. AI pen used in interactive touch screen

can be used to demonstrate any concept to students using images from Google.

 Research image from the internet- While in the classroom one is supposed to enhance their imaginative capabilities to connect to texts, but what if they could instantly find images from the internet for topics listed in their book? This is the option offered with interactive displays. Having the inbuilt option of browsing one can connect to the internet for whatever references the teachers want in the classroom.

Record the session for references- In Interactive Display, you will find a screen recording feature that lets you keep track of what's happening at the classes, so if you're unable to attend classes you can listen to recordings later.

Inbuilt animated libraries- Animations are a great tool to use when studying. The animated pictures integrated into interactive displays promote visual learning, which enhances students' approach to learning.

Export/import your file in any format- Last but not least the most important feature which many would agree to be best is that you can import and export your file in any format; also, there is the option of print available. Easily share the important files or study materials amongst your circle to be informative and make others too with an interactive display.

Conclusion:

Every era has its own advantages so we cannot say that students today are very fortunate that they are able to learn in such a technologically essential environment, they do have their own challenges for sure. All technological handling really gives them a tough taste.

But with more innovative solutions coming up students are being tech-nourished and relishing the demanding learning solutions with EdTech solutions like Interactive displays.

[shellshocklove]

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.  

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”  

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[massiveharmonytiger]

So I think Gabe's portrayal was really intelligently done in the show and I'm pretty dismayed at the negative reactions. I'd argue that TV needs more portrayals of abusers that seem harmless and victims that make efforts to advocate for their own agency because that is what abuse often looks like in the real world. Yes, sometimes abuse is as in your face as with Gabe's introduction in the book version (which the show was still pretty true to, I'll discuss that below) and the other portrayals we've seen on TV, abusers being explicitly threatening or violent, victims cowering and showing visible distress, all that usual, tropey stuff. However, I think more education is needed on all the ways abuse is subtle, because this misunderstanding and this view of abuse as this black and white thing is often the reason so few victims get help, so many abusers get away with it and so many of the people around the victim and abuser, at best, are surprised when the find out what's really been happening, and at worst, defend the abuser because they're so harmless, nice, upstanding, pick your adjective and there's no way they're capable of that.

Source: https://www.domesticshelters.org/articles/identifying-abuse/the-silent-ways-abusers-control

I feel like a lot of the fandom has already fallen into this trap somewhat. Gabe from the TV show is too nonthreatening, bumbling, pathetic, silly, idiotic, nowhere near scary enough to warrant getting petrified by Medusa's head. He doesn't look like an ABUSER. And yet we're confronted with so many markers of abuse in that scene.

Gabe is harmless…

And yet he's verbally abusive to outsiders. The guy that leaves as Percy is arriving has experienced an interaction with Gabe that warrants Percy apologizing for Gabe's actions only for him to apologize back because he gets to leave, Percy doesn't. He's concerned. Sure, Gabe is fat shaming and yelling about eating fruit at the moment. The absurdity of the topic doesn't make it any less inappropriate or abusive btw, because its about the abuser having any excuse to display their dominance and power over you even if the subject matter is batshit. Ever see cases where one person in the relationship (usually a man) will police the other's clothing (usually a woman) because it's too revealing, too tacky, too whatever. That's abuse.

Gabe is harmless…

And yet he's verbally abusive towards Percy. He sarcastically greets him with the cruel nickname "genius" and immediately picks a fight with him. Percy refuses to engage because he knows, from experience, what being goaded looks like. Wrap your head around that. Kids older than him are out there having catfights and making stupid "your mom" jokes, but this infant has so much experience facing conflict, he already knows what steps to take to steer away from that kind of drama and stay in safe territory. He only engages a bit when he hears about Gabe answering Sally's phone. Anyone who's answered a friend or partner's phone before will probably consider Percy's anger and indignation a little bratty and unwarranted. The issue here is that Gabe is someone who ignores boundaries. The issue isn't that he answered Sally's phone, the issue is that he very likely did it without permission. Based on Percy and Sally's reactions (Percy is angry, Sally is resigned), he's someone who's regularly done stuff like look through Sally's phone or purse without her permission. Percy makes it clear that this is not okay, and he gets dismissed. Gabe just answers "whatever's ringin'" and Percy is made to look like the one overreacting. This is what abusers do. They're never in the wrong. And then, the cherry on top of the blue icing, he blames the victim. "What're we doing Percy, every time." Gabe's the one who picked the fight, but by the end of it, Percy's the one being blamed. This is so commonplace and anyone who's been through this knows how maddening it can be. This is such a short interaction but they pack so much into it.

Gabe is harmless…

And yet we find Sally sitting outside in the rain on the balcony, as if she's trying to ground herself after a traumatic experience. As if she's trying to bring herself into the present and not dissociate because when Percy arrives she needs to be there for him. She can deal with the Gabe stuff AFTER Percy is safe. I'll get more into Sally's interaction with Gabe in Part 2 because a lot of people were confused by the fact that she was so firm with him. There's an explanation, I promise.

A lot of people also expressed concern that we wouldn't see Gabe's truly monstrous side before he gets petrified but from what I can see, the shows been making great use of flashbacks and exposition, so I'm pretty sure this will be addressed. Percy and Sally are the heroes. It would be counterintuitive for the show to establish that and then not give them a blatant cause for turning Gabe into stone.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

[delirious-donna]

Ghosts of the Past [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: I decided that it would be cute to write a section from the POV of the couple that Kento and reader meet in the museum. I’ve grown very fond of this couple and I hope you’ll enjoy this extra little piece of the story.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

The museum was full of its usual hustle and bustle, even more so given the holidays, and it was a pleasure to be a part of the hubbub.

Felicity scanned the crowds with a keen eye, smiling at the energetic children—some more rambunctious than others—accompanied by parents trying to corral them into some semblance of order. She well remembered when her own brood were this age, and the hours spent in this much-loved building keeping them amused during school holidays.

A hand slipped into hers, more familiar than any other and Felicity squeezed the fingers of her beloved husband, glancing at him with a love that had never diminished even after all these years together. She counted her blessings for having met her soulmate so young, and for the family they had raised, as well as the fun and laughter they continued to share.

The pair perused the museum that they knew like the back of their hand, winding through the galleries and stopping to spot new artefacts and displays. This was still one of their favourite pastimes, there was always a discovery to make and even on days when it felt like they had seen everything the museum had to offer, there was always people watching to fall back on.

Much to Howard’s feigned disapproval, Felicity adored watching people. Since their children had grown up and flown the nest to build their own families it had become a ritual of sorts to indulge her social curiosities in public places such as these. There was something special about witnessing the complexities of real human relationships that scratched the itch far more than any TV drama or soap opera ever could. Friendships blooming over shared interests, young minds being educated through fun interactive education, families finding their feet with the addition of children in tow, tired parents happy to see their kids entertained to give them a moment of peace, and best of all, romance blossoming in the most unlikely places and ways.

Today was no different, with new delights to be found in every room, but it wasn’t until they neared the new photography exhibition did Felicity feel the buzz of excitement that often signalled a special find.

“You’re like a bloodhound, Flic,” Howard chuckled with a playful roll of his eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and secured his wife’s arm through his own.

“Pfft, nonsense. I’m simply drawn to where the universe wants me to be.” She didn’t believe the sentiment, but she’d be damned to admit he was right after all these decades together.

The pair admired a large mural of a cheetah made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny black-and-white images until her attention was drawn to the room by their left. There were only two occupants, a young man slowly edging around the room and an equally young woman resting on the leather seat in the middle.

Felicity watched whilst the young woman never took her eyes off the man perusing the photos on the wall. Her gaze was intent but there was a softness that infused her features with what appeared to be fondness. Perhaps even attraction? The young man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to being the focus of the woman. His posture was stiff, hands clasped behind his back with a slight rock on the balls of his feet when something interested him.

If this wasn’t a budding romance, she’d eat her hat. Felicity tugged gently at the cuff of Howard’s shirt sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the young couple and was met with a sigh of resignation.

“Leave them be,” he hissed, though there was no heat to his tone. Despite the words, he too began to watch as the young woman moved towards the man and started to speak. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was obvious after a moment that it wasn’t going well.

The couple watched on whilst the woman’s expression turned to shock then irritation. Whatever the man was saying, it wasn’t going over well, and when she strode off to the other side of the room, Howard could only feel sympathy for the young man. He looked genuinely perplexed, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as if the skin prickled from the exchange.

Felicity leaned into her husband to speak close to his ear. “Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” She chuckled, turning twinkling eyes up at him and he felt a swell of love wash through him. It did remind him of someone, himself, and the young woman would be Felicity, his Flic.

“He looks as baffled as I felt back then. You always seemed to be mad at me for something I didn’t even realise was wrong,” Howard admitted with a shake of his head.

“I was, though it hardly matters now. The only thing that truly matters is how he deals with it… will he turn on his heel or will he try to resolve the issue?”

It was obvious that the wheels inside the young man’s head were turning at an astonishing rate, but he wasn’t moving, and Felicity’s shoulders slumped sadly.

“Give him a moment,” Howard chastised, pointing towards the man’s hand. “Don’t you see how he wishes to reach for her?”

He was right. The man’s hand was stretching, reaching as if what he wanted was just out of reach. It dropped as quickly as it happened, but only because he took the tentative steps to move alongside his object of affection.

“I always reached out for you, just as he did for her. Maybe they’ll make it,” he whispered co-conspiratorially.

“He’s confused, darling. I don’t think he quite knows what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it yet. Come on,” she said, moving them towards the young couple.

The woman was near yelling, yet the man simply looked on in confusion. So badly she wished to grab them both by the ear and turn them to face one another. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was like stepping into a memory of her past, familiar and amusing. Back then, it had been far from funny but with the advantage of hindsight and a lot more life experience, she could view it for what it was.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” Felicity called loudly, pleased when the pair jumped in surprise at being interrupted. They jerked apart like naughty children, and it only strengthened her belief that they both wanted something more than their current situation.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

The look of utter shock on their faces, especially the woman, was worth it. Along with the stammered explanations that it wasn’t what it seemed, that they weren’t a couple. So that was where the problem lay. Felicity wondered if it was down to one party in particular, and her gaze strayed to the young man.

A quick assessment painted a detailed picture. Young, handsome, successful, affluent given the timepiece on his wrist but maybe too invested in his work? She couldn’t blame him; society expected all youngsters these days to chase after unrealistic dreams. A career wasn’t the only thing that mattered in life, and from the expression he wore, he wasn’t as happy as he made out. A nudge in the right direction might do the trick. It would be a shame to see a bright young woman slip through his fingers simply because he was scared to try to make it work.

“My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

Felicity offered a kindly smile at the young man, his jaw slack at the offered wisdom. She patted the woman’s arm once more as Howard led her away, but only after he offered his own incline of the head at the man. There was compassion in his eyes, and she knew that it felt like he was staring at his younger self at that moment. She knew that because it was the same for her, a ghost of the past come to remind them both where they started and how far they had come.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Felicity asked once they were well out of earshot.

Howard sighed, turning his head back for a moment before replying. “If he’s anything like me then he’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“You old softie…”

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @pseudowho @desiray562 @bloombb @markleeisdabestdrug @kentoslvt @threezzyo @themossiestchick @thejujvtsupost @ratmilk14 @levin4nami @sweetpo1son @dabislilbaby @fandomsfanficsfantasize @hotvinimon @ryomance @justmanu @w-emma-fil @orikuu @sutaagaaru @venjrnjrbhrr19

[athenaluciscaelum]

Pairing:DMC5 Dante x Reader

Rated: Mature

Words: 3134 word

Warning: unprotected sex, nsfw, talk of marriage

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Disclaimer

A constructive criticism in right tone can be welcome. But anything unkind or disrespectful or homophobic or any hate shall be deleted. I do not entertain such things and I do not mind simply deleting them. This being said I will try my best to put trigger warning rightfully in every post but if sometimes, I miss something. You can let me know and educate me on topic respectfully and I will add it promptly.

My Beautiful Bride

Summary: You and Dante have been dating for the longest time. Surprisingly, it was not you who wanted marriage, but Dante.

You and Dante had been dating for quite a while, it's been more than two years now, since you first met, and about 18 months of dating. You still remember the day you met him in the library, and you acted all weird. Later you think to yourself, 'why does it matter? If I was weird, it's not like I might see him again. But you saw him, again and again and again and again. Dante was like a sweet drug that you need in your life. He smiled, people claimed he rarely smiled. But you always saw him smiling and you loved that smile. You swear to yourself this smile is worth everything, and you swear to make him the happiest man, so no matter how hard it gets, nothing will stop you from making this man smile.

You were a little selfish, you wanted him to always smile, yet wishing that if not all, most of those smiles were because of you.

The first time you two decided to get intimate. It took time, not because you didn't crave Dante. You have wanted him since the day you understood he is all you ever wanted...yet you understand this is special, and you wanted nothing in this sacred connection you two shared to be some rushed sex on his desk, or somewhere insignificant.

You wanted it to be special. Dante was on the same page, you were all he ever knew he wanted, but now he needed. It was a soul mate kind of feeling. Though he never believed in one. And he wanted to do everything right. He got clean, got his act together, took jobs which were within his principles but also made money, he even paid attention to making space comfortable for you. All sorts of furniture in your shared bedroom, a bathtub for you, all the little decor you bought for Devil May Cry to make it home. Dante needed this to make a perfect nest for his bride. Bride? Wait. You were not his bride yet, he wanted to do it right with you. And the idea of exchanging vows to be each other. It is a perfect way to show you how much this whole thing means to him.

You both were on the same footing in most things, like the idea of humanity, how important empathy is, the idea of family, etc.

So Dante started planning. He knew he needed the whole crew to get this party started. So he got your ring size with the help of Trish. And also an idea about what sort of jewelry you like and which precious stones. You were in the shopping center with Trish...as you guys strolled around. Trish took you to a jewelry store. You didn't think much of it...just usual shopping... Trish looked at the rings, she spoke in her usual calm voice,"Anything that catches your eye, Y/N." You looked at the display and answered, "yes, this, I think you're a gold kind of girl with yellow Montana sapphire..." Trish nods trying the ring, she spoke composed, "Nice...is this what you like?" You shook your head, "No... I'm more of a platinum kind of girl.... And a ruby in the middle.." Trish raised her eyebrows, "Ruby? Huh?" You blushed, "I don't know, I wanted a red stone in my jewel for long...reminds me of Dante..." Trish smiled, her mission was a success.

Trish and Dante were on a mission. When they reached the agency, you were asleep in the shared bedroom. Dante peaked in and smiled and graced his lips as he saw your pretty sleeping form. He still remembers when he took you to his room to have your first night of intimacy together. Back then, he only had a single bed in his room, you squeezed in with him without complaining, you suggested how it meant you were closer to Dante. He held you throughout the night. He couldn't let his precious angel fall and hurt herself. And soon enough, as he spent more and more nights there, he was quick to buy a king-sized bed. You comfort was his priority. He couldn't give you all the luxury in the world, he think you absolutely deserved it. It's not like you ever complained about trivial materialistic things. But he made sure to give you all he could.

Dante went downstairs, Trish was sitting on the desk... He looked at her, "Soo?" Trish looked up at him from a magazine, "She likes platinum with ruby and I marked some design she liked in this magazine with her ring size above." Dante grinned, "Jackpot! I will ask Morrison to get me in touch with a jeweler..."

Trish smirked, "you're planning to spend a fortune on this...huh?" Dante nodded, "Best for my girl!" Trish let out a small chuckle..." So when you're proposing..." And for the first time, Trish saw Dante nervous... Trish sighed, "You ever asked her about her views on marriage or getting married." Dante was a mess, running fingers through his hair..." Not exactly..."

Trish patted his shoulder as she got ready to leave the agency, "You will figure this out." Dante sighed, sitting on his chair, his feet propped on his desk, looking at the picture of Eva on the desk, "You would have loved her.....she is not perfect, yet she is everything right in my life. A new beginning, right, mom?" Dante smiled to himself and got up to shower. He put on his sweatpants as he walked into the room drying his hair. You were sleeping, but as soon as his heavy body got deposited beside you to dip in the bed, you smiled and turned to look at him sleepy, "there is a handsome devil in my bed, I should call a devil hunter." Dante wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you flushed against his body making you giggle, you were already nuzzling his silver chest hair, you lip softly feeling his skin... Dante let out a sigh of satisfaction, "At your service...and I give discounts to beautiful babes…" He smirked as you laughed, looking up into his icy blue eyes. The room was dark and only moonlight poured in. Dante was a handsome man and this moonlit room only made him more handsome, if it was possible... you touched his cheek, your thumb softly caressing his face, he closed his eyes. You pulled yourself up a little to place soft kisses against his lips, he snaked his arms around your waist, tightening his grip to deepen the kiss, he licked your bottom lip, and you complied, as you opened your lips for his demanding tongue to come in and explore your mouth.You followed his lead. He shifted you carefully without breaking the kiss..he was above you now. He made sure his weight was not directly on you, you were so small compared to him, he wouldn't risk crushing you. You cupped his face and kissed him again and again. As his hand worked the delicate strings that were keeping your night dress tied behind your neck. Dante pulled it and started to pull the dress down, exposing your chest. He was greeted by the sight of your pretty breasts, he groaned. His hand was flat on them, feeling them taking a nipple between his index finger and thumb to squeeze it. you moaned in the kiss. He pulled away from the kiss with a string of saliva attached and lowered his head a bit, both his hands kneading your breasts. He loved how they were perfect in his hands, not small or big, just perfect, made for him. He left a trail of kisses from near your mouth to your jaw line to your neck. Now kisses turn into sucking, enough to leave marks, while sucking turned into little bites, as he trailed down from your neck to your breast. His hand feeling your curves from down the waist, stomach to your hips... keeping you firm and grounded on the mattress. He licked one of your areoles with his tongue flat, the tip of his tongue assaulting your nipple, your fingers in his soft silver hair. You moaned, as he sucked on your nipple...it was torture how good he made you feel, your core throbbing. Yet his hands keep your hip grounded on the mattress, you were flustered, he always knew how to rile you up. You let out a whine, he smirked against your nipple and let it go with a pop. He gave the same treatment to your other nipple. You tried to move your hip up for much-needed contact, but his grip was firm, he pulled up to look at your needy face, caressing your cheek with the back of his finger, "my precious angel, you're so needy..." Your eyes were full of desire, and you let out a whine, "you're such a tease..." Dante chuckled, "C'mon, babe, I just enjoy your needy face, now tell me what you want." You closed your eyes as he pulled down your dress to take it off and spread your legs, starting to rub a finger along your slit through your panties... Dante smiled, "I love your sweet noises."

Dante pressed his forehead against yours as he took off your wet panties and threw them, who knows where? His thick finger. He slid up and down your folds.....and then inserting it in as you were slick and ready, you moaned as he slowly put his middle finger in your throbbing core, he smiled, "your pussy is practically crying for me baby..." You nodded moaning, "love you so much, Dante..." Dante sighed as he kissed your lips with unadulterated love, "And I love you princess." Dante start to drag his finger in and out building up pace and making you comfortable to put second finger in..he was patients and curled his finger in as he reached your familiar spot. He was caressing your spot, making you see starts and knots in your stomach snap...as you came, he dragged his finger in and out slowly to drag out your orgasm...you were a sweaty, panting mess, hair stuck to your forehead. Dante is proud of the beautiful renaissance painting he made of you. As you were collecting yourself, Dante positioned himself between your legs, taking his sweats off, his thick and veiny cock sprung out, leaking pre-cum. Dante was big, but by now, you have got used to it. He knew how to make it all comfortable and you trusted him. He grabbed your calves, your feet on each of his shoulders. Kissing, sucking and biting the inside of your legs and thighs to litter them with his marks, same as he did to your upper body. You were sleepy and gripped onto the pillow above your head, your eyes were so beautiful, glistening, and he wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. You smiled tired, "sleep is winning." Dante pumped his cock and rubbed it against your folds to gather slick, your thighs stained from your last orgasm, Dante groaned, "Don't worry, I will leave you satisfied, and then you will be set free." You laughed but soon, he pushed himself balls deep, his eyes squeezed shut...air knocked out of your lungs as you gasped. Dante stood still cherishing how perfect your pussy felt. No matter how many times he has had you, he will never be satiated enough. He gritted his teeth and started to move, slow and deep...it was all sweet and passionate. You were sleepy, but how can you sleep when the love of your life was balls deep in you...you smiled, eyelids closing yet refusing to fall asleep..."so good... Dante...so good...." Dante picked up his pace and thrusted in and out, but not rough or fast, he wanted to feel you tonight. He will savor you. Dante snapped his hip, wet noises filled the room. He puts down your legs and lets them wrap around his waist...he leans down to entangle his fingers with yours, holding them above your head, and kiss you deeply. As he moves slowly and deep, hitting all the right spots. You came again, this time with no warning. His eyes closed as he nuzzled your face. He loved how you came around his cock, "I'm close, babe, one more for me, together?" You nodded drunk on his cock and sleepy, you were overstimulated by and aching a bit "anything for you..." With few more thrusts of his added with him cupping your face with one hand and his thumb rubbing your clit with another. You both came together. His hot cum filling your pussy, he collapsed on top of you, so satisfied. You were both sweaty and tangled, you held his face against your chest, as he nuzzled it. You softly swept his hair sticking on his forehead... He smiled and pulled out. Your pussy dripping with his and your combined fluid, making the demon inside him crave for more...you shook your head nervously, and he smiled, burying your little form against his big furnace-like body. He chuckled, "It's okay...your no is a no...my angel..." You smiled and felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

The next day, you and Trish were in the office sitting on a couch talking. You both have a curiosity about knowledge, somehow the topic of marriage came and it's technicalities. You were trying to make a comment on how marriage is, in a way no guarantee, unlike what is believed, it was seen as a safety net throughout history or said to be a safety net for women throughout history, when men benefited more out of it. It was by no means a comment on Dante, or your idea of your own life, but a general statement on how it goes with majority, in your mind, you and Dante were special. You made a hypothetical statement, "I mean think Trish. What if Dante and I were to get married? What is even the point? About the legality of it, or even church. It's not like any court or religious authority can hold him to the sanctity of marriage." Trish was shocked and quiet. You didn't understand it and smiled, "What?" You turned around to see Dante, who looked visibly hurt....but quickly tried to mask it with a smile. He grinned, "Hey babe," you stumbled on your words, "H-H-Hey, love, I-I-I-I just want to clear....." Dante laughed to cut you off in the middle, and spoke calmly, "Can we do this later, babe. I'm really missing some strawberry sundae, I'm off to Freddy's..." You were a mess and tried to grab his shoulder, "Let me come...." Your eyes pleading with him. Dante looked away keeping a fake grin, "Aren't you busy with Trish? Keep her company, I don't want to interrupt you ladies."

Dante walked off quickly, as he was away from the agency, he just walked mindlessly, his hand in his coat pocket feeling the ring. He went to his mother's grave before, his way of getting her blessings. He looked up at the sky and thought, 'What an idiot I am. Of course, why will she settle for me? Sooner or later, I always knew she would know what an idiot I am. I should cherish her, as long as she will let me have her.'

You were back at the Devil May Cry agency, but as hours passed by and Dante didn't come back, you went out. Freddy told you Dante never came. Lady didn't know, neither Morrison, nor Nero. You were so worried, you could always recognize his fake smile. You just wanted to cry, what an idiot you were, you should have never said it, even hypothetically. You have to find him and explain this to him, you can't bare the thought of losing him. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound drumming in your ears as you ran to one place Dante would be.

You walked to the lake in the forest, moonlight glowing on it. It was a little place you both found and a secret you two share. You sat beside Dante, sitting near the lake. You wrapped your hands around his arm and put your face on his shoulder. You spoke in a small nervous voice, "Hey..." Dante sighed, "Hey." Your hands cupped his face, "I love you, I didn't mean it that way." Dante chuckled sadly, "yeah....." You wanted to explain it, "Dante...." You were blank. Dante looked at you, "You should find someone better than waste your time on me." You were shocked, hurt and eyes wide, "Dante! How can you say this!? I love you! There is no one else! Nor ever will be!" Dante looked at his reflection in the lake. He hated seeing his reflection, "I always mess up, you're right. Nothing can hold me to sanctity of marriage." Your face showed pain and guilt for making him go through this, "We all mess up, like I did today, it's only human, but we got each other..." You held Dante's hand in yours, taking off his glove, bringing his hand to your face, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. Dante said nothing, you sighed, summoning all courage, your head pressed against his, "nothing can hold you to the sanctity of marriage, no power, except our love. And I dream of the day when I will exchange vows with you. Marriage or no marriage. I am not leaving your side." Dante melted, the word took his breath away. He kissed your lips softly, and you kissed him back .....you pulled away and smiled, looking into his beautiful icy blue eyes, caressing his face. "Let's go back home...." You stood up and dusted your dress, as you turned around, Dante was on one knee with a ring in his gloved hand. Dante spoke, clearing his throat, "Miss Y/N L/N, will you marry me?" You were ecstatic, this was perfect. The forest, lake, moonlight and Dante, you nodded and threw yourself in his arms. You kissed him deeply as he twirled you and slipped a beautiful platinum ring with a ruby on your delicate finger...you smiled, laughed, you were red, you were a flustered mess. Your stomach felt thousands of butterflies, you were trembling from happiness. You can't contain your smile, your legs feel wobbly. Dante picked you up bridal style, "My bride! My beautiful bride!"

You swear you could hear Dante's demon and see it's flash, only making you happier. "My handsome devil..."

Next day, you both visited Eva's grave together. Dante smiled, "She said yes, mom." You smiled, "Thank you for raising a kind and thoughtful man."

Tag: @marshmallows-and-champagne

[reverie-starlight]

{lovesick - kuroo t.}

“I pictured you with other girls in love… then threw up on the street.”

gn!reader

warnings: fluff!!! minor angst but don’t worry it’s resolved very quick!!! also, despite the lyric I’m using, there’s no throwing up in this fic, just mentions of it/feeling nauseous. I think I debated scrapping this this like 3 times. tried a new writing style (intentional tense changes) lmk what you think!!

...I might actually write for this specific lyric for other characters too, I have a lot of pent up feelings about it clearly...

there comes a point in your relationship with kuroo tetsurou that makes you question everything.

that point, unfortunately, came in your last year of high school when he stared at you a little too intently while you were laughing at one of his stupid jokes. one he’s told many times over the years, but still always managed to get you.

he grinned at you as you calmed down and you hated the way your heart thumped at the lingering amusement and fondness in his eyes.

you hated the way you were both silent after, eyes locked and no words spoken.

you hated the way his expression turned soft as if he had just had come to a satisfying realization. you knew what that meant because you were sure yours was identical.

in that moment, you hated that you had both finally accepted that maybe, just maybe, there was more to your friendship.

because it meant you had even more to lose.

cut to your second year of university. your relationship hadn't really progressed any further than the in between of friends and more.

but that in itself was a step forward because it meant your interactions were had with the unspoken agreement that you would end up together.

you didn't go to the same school anymore- you stayed in tokyo for university and he moved away for his program.

you still saw each other often enough, though, when he would visit home either during free weekends or for holidays.

kenma also stayed in tokyo, at a different university, but he was closer than his best friend that’s for sure. most friday nights were spent with him, either on call with kuroo or physically with him when he visited as kenma played video games.

everything was the same but everything was different.

kenma commented on how gross kuroo’s obvious displays of affection for you were, something he never had to do over the years.

and you'd just ignore him, obviously, but get a little giddy inside that kuroo was being so open with his fond stares and hands that were always touching you somehow.

with that confirmation that maybe you wouldn't lose him, you grew to love how his expressions turned soft for you.

you loved how your heart would beat just a bit faster (often in time with his, as you found out when he would grab your hand and place it over his chest so you could feel his) when you saw each other after a while.

you loved that you were falling in love with him, and accepted the fact that maybe you always were.

along with your excitement that one day kuroo would be yours, there was an underlying fear that you were taking too long with this game you were playing. dancing around each other, teasing, flirting- only with each other, it never extended to other people. but still...

what if he gets bored and finds someone else? what if while he’s away for school, you drift apart? the higher you go with your education, the busier you’re bound to be… what if he stops coming to visit and the dynamic you have now falls apart?

all these thoughts bubble over and make themselves known on a night out a few weeks later.

kuroo’s home again, for a week this time, and you decide to get a group of people together at a club. included are bokuto and akaashi, kenma opting to pass for his games, and one of your friends from high school.

you’re slightly drunk, giggling with her about one thing or another when the topic of conversation turns to him. she looks over at him, dancing with bokuto, as akaashi watches them from the sidelines, exasperated.

“you’re pretty good friends with kuroo, right?” she asks.

a dopey grin makes its way onto your face at the mention of his name (against your will) and you nod.

“well get this- my friend goes to the same university as him, they have a class together, and she’s thinking of asking him out after the break.”

your face falls and you’re sucked into a state of panic.

realistically, you have nothing to worry about. if earlier that day was any indication of how kuroo still felt about you, he would turn this girl down. his warm hands on your cheeks as he pressed kisses to your forehead in greeting at the train station. his hand in yours when you walked from the car to your apartment where he’s staying for the week.

(the logical thing to do here would be to tell her that you and kuroo are unofficially a thing, so he's kind of off limits, but you're too tipsy for logic at this point.)

"do you think he's looking for anything right now?"

your friend tries to get your attention, but you can't hear her. you stare at him from across the room and pictures of him cuddled up with this stranger flash through your mind, kissing her how you've always wished he'd kiss you, being pushed to the sidelines in his life as he moves on-

before she can call out to you again, you’re already dashing to the washroom, nausea settling into your stomach at the thought of him possibly falling in love with someone else. you haven’t had enough alcohol to make you sick, which makes it all worse. this feeling is here because you're in love. and want him to be yours. and he might be ripped away from you.

some might call it a newly developed strain of lovesickness.

you’re unaware that he follows you after seeing you dash in between him and bokuto.

you lock yourself in the large stall and crouch to the ground, head in your hands. making an attempt to steady your breathing, you inhale deeply and exhale slowly.

a knock on your stall can be heard. "y/n? are you in here?"

"yeah." your voice is quiet, but thankfully the music has faded to a dull thumping so he's able to hear it.

"can I come in?"

you don't know how to answer that, but you ponder on it for a second too long, apparently, because now he's stepping onto the toilet seat of the next stall over and climbing over into yours.

you look up at him pitifully and he sighs. "what's up, buttercup?"

there's no use waiting any longer. you tug on his sleeve and he moves closer, wrapping an arm around you. "my friend's friend wants to ask you out after the break and I felt sick just thinking about it."

you don't look at him when you say it, but you can hear the barely contained joy in his voice at your confession. "yeah? you don't want me to date anyone else? you finally staking your claim on me?"

he pulls you closer to him when you nod. "good. I was getting worried I'd have to be the one to give in first."

you slap his arm and he laughs. "tetsurou," you say.

"hmm?"

"I'm not going to be the one to ask you officially, that's on you."

"that's fine, I was going to anyway. I've been waiting a long time for this, baby."

you finally look up at him. "yeah?"

he grins down at you and the look in his eyes has once again gone completely soft, just for you. "oh yeah."

he shifts a bit until you're both facing each other on the (probably dirty) bathroom floor of a tiny club in tokyo and asks the question you've been yearning to hear since that day in your last year of high school.

"y/n, will you do me the honour of officially being mine?"

"well obviously," you say and finally kiss him.

BONUS:

kuroo's last day at your apartment came far too quickly.

but the days after your confession were the best days you've ever spent with him. neither of you wanted to say goodbye, conversations were had about doing semi-long distance and you were both more than willing.

that didn't stop you from trying to get him to stay in your bed a bit longer.

"y/n, come on, I have to get ready to go to the train station," he laughed as you clung to him.

"no." was your only response, and you wrapped around him even tighter. he was sitting on the edge of your bed, trying to put a shirt on, but your arms were locked around his torso.

"baby, please, I promise if you let me get up and dressed at the very least I'll come back and we can cuddle a bit longer.

he felt you smile a bit into his skin at the use of the pet name. he had been experimenting with them throughout the week and he had concluded based on your reactions to them that baby always made you smile and look away, sweetheart made you nuzzle into him and whine, and the one time he called you gorgeous you shivered and almost dropped a glass of water out of excitement. of course there were others that had good reactions, so he had a full arsenal of names to call you now.

"hmmm, but tetsurou, we both know that you could have easily gotten me off of you by now if that's what you really wanted,"

however nothing compared to how he absolutely melted into you whenever you said his name like that, in that tone.

he turned and pounced on you, reveling in your giggly shrieks as he nibbled on your neck. your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders.

"if I'm late it's going to be your fault, sweetheart, and I will make you regret it."

"so menacing, I'm terrified- NO!" you were cut off by a new string of laughter and pleading for him to stop as his hands attacked your sides.

if being late meant more time to hear your laugh and feel your skin, maybe kuroo would just give in and catch the 5 o'clock train instead.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Summer Fling Part 2/10

Part 1 Part 3

Summary - Reader has landed a research job at a marine biology lab in Portugal. She is, therefore, staying with her sister and her sister's Portuguese boyfriend for the summer holidays. There, she meets Ruben Dias, who is on vacation with his friends after the 2024 Euros. However, the two meet under the circumstances in which Ruben believes that Reader is a prostitute.

Enjoy! ☀️

Who would have thought that after a night out and several rounds of drinks, you still weren't able to turn your sleep schedule around. Apparently, you left Australia, but Australia refused to leave you, resulting in another night of laying on your back and admiring the sealing.

"Fuck, Diogo!"

"Right there!"

"Yes, right there!"

"Ohhhh God!"

However, even if you did turn your sleep schedule around, falling asleep to the sounds of your sister getting her back blown by her boyfriend would've simply been impossible.

"Yes, Diogo. Yeeees!"

You covered your ears with your hands and prayed for better times. But when that didn't work, you got out of bed, hopped in the shower, and left the house.

Diogo didn't live too far from the city of Albufeira. You and your sister were too drunk to make it back to Faro last night. Staying with him was the most convenient thing to do. You made it back downtown by hopping on a train. However, there wasn't much to see in the morning since it was still early hours. Street sweepers were seen cleaning up the aftermath of last night's partying, and soon tourists and their family's would make their way down the white sandcastle hills, exploring another day in paradise.

"One ticket to the Zoomarine, please."

You got pretty bored of lounging around the streets like a hungover hobo. The next best thing to do was to buy a ticket to the Algarve Zoomarine, a water park with live dolphin shows and displays of marine life. As a kid, you used to love visiting these types of places in Australia. However, after years of education, you saw these places for what they really were. Animal crime scenes.

You sat in on one of the dolphin shows but couldn't last ten minutes before abandoning your seat. It was simply a disgrace to see those poor animals forced to do tricks and interact with humans. All for the sake of being given fish as a treat.

"They're pretty amazing, no? Those blue puffer fish."

You came to mourn the Portuguese marine life while admiring a giant aquarium. When suddenly, a man, blonde and blue eyes, startled you. Even more so when he spoke to you with an Australian accent.

"Yes, amazing indeed." You said. "But these puffer fish should be set free in the wild, not swim around in some aquarium pool in the middle of a tourist trap."

"I don't know...." The man scratched the cap he wore on top of his head. If you hadn't been so full of yourself, you might have noticed that the text on his cap read: Algarve marine life rescue and research. "Setting these bad boys free in the wild might be more dangerous than it is for us to keep them here," the man said.

"That doesn't make any sense. All animals should be set free to live in their natural habitat."

"Well, that I agree." He smiled. "However, these particular puffer fishes are used to help produce antidotes for tetrodotoxin. It's actually ongoing research."

"You're a marine biologist?" You frowned.

The man's smile widened. "Most of us working at the park are. If not in the ocean, the best place to house our underwater friends is surprisingly in this water park."

"Oh." Heat rose to your face.

"I'm glad to see a fellow animal activist, though. Whereabouts are you from? I know an Aussie accent when I hear one."

"Sydney." You blushed. "I'm from Sydney Australia."

"Brisbane." The man offered you his hand. You shook it vigorously.

"Are you just here for the summer holidays or...?" The man's accent was suddenly flourishing.

"Yes and no. I'm actually a marine biologist myself."

"Are you now?" He regarded you curiously, his smile even wider now, which you didn't think possible.

"Well, I'm still doing my masters in marine ecology. That's actually why I'm here in Portugal this summer, to finish my research in a lab not too far from here."

"In Faro?"

"How did you know?"

"Well, I believe it's the only known marine biology lab in the Algarve region."

"Really?"

"Yes, at least the only known lab that would take on a young woman like yourself. The other labs consist of snobby middle-aged men who wouldn't care to advocate for the innocent life of puffer fishes."

"Interesting. I must have gotten lucky then."

"I doubt it. I pick my students carefully. Your research portfolio must have been stellar."

"Wait—"

The man removed the cap from his head, revealing his bleach blonde hair and surprisingly young face. "I'm Gavin Philips, and I believe to be your lab partner for this summer."

"Lab....partner?" You hesitated to shake the man's hand again, however, he insisted.

"Labpartner, examinator, professor....most students just call me Gavin."

"Gavin."

"Yes, and what might your name be?"

"Erm...it's Y/N."

"Pleasure meeting you Y/N. I look forward to working with you this summer."

"Erm...thank you."

What a coincidence, you thought, during your train ride home. To meet the man with the power to decide your future as a marine biologist was definitely not on your summer bingo card. He seemed like a nice guy, though. And you had the Australia connection, which was perhaps a good thing, knowing how things could get when working in a male dominated setting. You were in need of an ally, and Gavin Phillips might just be the right guy for the job.

"There she is! Y/N, where the hell have you been all day?"

You were welcomed back by your sister and Diogo, both looking dressed for a day at the beach. Diogo, with his mountains for muscles, carried several bags from the house to his car, a luxurious Range Rover.

"What do you mean? It's barely noon." You said.

"Yes, but Diogo is taking us to Lagos today. Didn't I tell you that?"

"No, no you didn't."

"Well, I'm telling you now. Go pack your bags and don't forget to pack an extra pair of G-strings."

"Great."

You were set for another day in party paradise. However, five days had passed since your flight from Sydney, and you still hadn't gotten an ounce of a proper night's sleep.

Part 1 Part 3

[walrus150915]

cw: discussions of nonsexual grooming

There is one thing that has been spinning on my mind ever since I watched the movie. This conversation isn't that popular in the fandom, probably due to its uncomfortable subject matter, but it needs to be discussed. I'll be the one to start

The Director has groomed Ambrosius and it affected him far into adulthood

(A really long analysis post)

Warning: I'm not a psychologist neither am I really educated in this sphere, and I never was a victim of grooming, so don't take my words as 100% truth. However, I'm a literature student, so I can analyse a few scenes and make a conclusion lol

So, to start off, let's share the definition of grooming, shall we?

"Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them."

Now, of course Ambrosius is an adult in the movie, and we can't exactly know his entire history with the Director. So this analysis will take a few things as truth despite them not being confirmed

- the Director has been by Ambrosius's side throughout most of his life. Considering the fact that she's been around even when Ballister was a child, the same can be assumed about Ambrosius

- we as viewers do not see Ambrosius's parents (because this is quite unnecessary to the narrative, maybe we'll see them in a sequel Quane and Bruno were teasing buttt¯\_(ツ)_/¯), and he's been in the Institute since childhood, so it seems like the Director was the most reliable adult in Ambrosius's life

Despite Ambrosius being a grown man, the effect the Director has on him cannot be denied. His relationship to the Director is like half his character arc, the man being torn between his loyalty to the kingdom and his lover

I will take a few scenes from the movie where Ambrosius and the Director interact and try to analyse them

Starting off strong, we've got the "acting like common children" scene. I could point out the obvious bias the Director puts in her words (villainizing an oppressed group of people as a rich white woman in power how nice of her) but we ain't coming to her throat for classism today. Pay attention to her praising Ambrosius and singling him out. "Thankfully, we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us"

Are other knights happy to be around Ambrosius tho? The answer is no

(Text below is taken from the screenplay. The scene is after Nimona's and Bal's escape)

***

Knights: I knew we never should have trusted Ballister./If Goldenloin hadn't trusted him.../Well, if Goldenloin hadn't helped him...

***

Todd: This is his fault!

Knights: Yeah!/Tell him, Todd!

Goldenloin realizes all eyes are on him

***

I think it wouldn't be wrong to assume Ambrosius's colleagues dislike him at best and outcast him at worst. Compared to Todd, who seems to be the more liked one amongst their peers (bro really is a jock bully high school stereotype in his 20s isn't that embarrassing), Ambrosius is isolated. He doesn't have anybody except Ballister and the Director. And as you all know Ballister and Ambrosius are separated for the most of the movie. So it leaves him with the Director as the closest person to interact with. Yeah...

Also in this scene she displays TWO tactics groomers use to manipulate their victims: isolation and favouritism

Another scene I'd like to pay attention to is Ambrosius's ✨iconic✨ freak out

"What's on your mind, Ambrosius? You can talk to me"

"...I'm fine, Director"

This scene actually left me confused on the first watch because it looks like a perfect moment for the Director to seem at least somewhat sympathetic. It truly seems like she cares about him

Honestly it's pretty hard for me to surely say whether or not she's being sincere or not but her goal is definitely to win over Ambrosius's trust, to make him believe she's a safe person (now that his real safe person is away ajdjdjj). That is also another tactic for groomers to manipulate their victims

And I think it would be fair to mention Director's attitude towards Ballister's and Ambrosius's relationship. It's obvious she knows about them (...not like it's rocket science have you seen these lovebirds) and disapproves. She doesn't outright state it but it's really clear

"Sir Goldenloin, is your loyalty to this Kingdom or to the knight who consorts with a monster?"

Again, amazing case of manipulation. She doesn't say Institute, nor "me" or whatever. She says kingdom. And she clearly knows that it works on Ambrosius, because he is, after all, Gloreth's descendant. Gloreth was the original protector, and Ambrosius is supposed to be the protector now. By choosing Ballister he betrays the kingdom, his bloodline and Gloreth

Now, I know this scene is not Ambrosius & the Director because it's Nimona in disguise but considering how good Nimona was in playing her part we might as well assume real Ambrosius would act the same.

Look at these eyes. He's afraid of her. She has the complete power over him. And Ballister is aware of this (if that's how he told Nimona to act)

Off-topic but I watched Nimona with two of my buddies yesterday and during this scene they both went like "Wait, who is she to Ambrosius again? Is she his mother? Because she acts like she one" and they are so damn right???

Now remember the fact that during one of the interviews Eugene Lee Yang said that the Director is Ambrosius's parental figure. Do with this information whatever you wanna do

I'm still not over her audacity in this scene. Her lip didn't even twitch and she's killing a person whom she praised for his bloodline. Saying "May Gloreth forgive you" while DRIVING A SWORD THROUGH HIM is beyond evil like??? Chill out Nancy Reagan???

I could say that this is the scene that debacles the American model minority myth (with East Asians being put on a pedestal and used to further reinforce white supremacy). A white woman killing an East Asian man while using a Christ-like figure to justify her actions (Gloreth is literally mentioned to be a Christ figure in the art book), and, if we take into account the theory that she wanted to set Ballister up so that it looks like he killed Ambrosius, BLAMING IT ON A BROWN ASIAN MAN was really a choice huh

The Director killed Ambrosius the second he questioned her, the second he wasn't useful to her

And how was he being useful to her? Allow me to introduce you to the scene which made me SUPER uncomfortable once I realized what was going on

During most of the movie Ambrosius acts rather impulsively, reflexes play a big part in his body language. And what does he do? He protects her with his body

"We need to get you to safety!"

Ambrosius was trained in a way that he needed to protect the Director with his body and his life.

Even in scenes where Ambrosius and the Director don't interact you can see how much Ambrosius is brainwashed.

"She manipulated you. She manipulated both of us. But together we'll take her down, you'll be a knight again"

"Thank you. The Director can't-"

"The Director? Oh, no, Bal. I'm talking about your sidekick"

Ambrosius refuses to even think about the effect the Director has on him. He's insisting on Nimona being the manipulator despite him being manipulated

Finally, when Ambrosius realizes something is CLEARLY wrong, he still tries to talk some sense into her

"But what if we're wrong? What if we've always been wrong?"

Despite him being a constant witness to Director's misdeeds he tries to do everything peacefully. Look at his face. This is a face of a man who doesn't want to harm. He gives the Director a chance to improve herself. I think he would forgive her after everything she's done

...but being a conservative she'd rather explode than admit she's wrong. So she attempts to kill Ambrosius again

This, again, says that no matter how much mercy you show to hateful people, they'll continue to be horrible to you. Just because they think they have a right to

Analysing Ambrosius's and the Director's relationship I think it'd be more than valid to state that she has, indeed, groomed Ambrosius to exploit and use him for her own (political and other) benefits. Other knights were brainwashed and groomed too, but something about her attitude towards Ambrosius really bugged me the wrong way

She is an excellent manipulator and Ambrosius fell victim to that, which is no surprise

Thank you for reading this! It took so long to make😭 If you want to add on anything in the reblogs please do, because the discussion HAS to happen at some point

[hauntingcryptids]

Touch Starved

Capaldi!Doctor x Reader

Summary - The Doctor has noticed your behaviour change over your time in his TARDIS and is determined to do something about it.

Based On This Request -

Warnings - Themes of depression and loneliness, not great parents

Word Count - 1292

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. This was requested and posted on my old Tumblr account and I just wanted to post it on here. I hope that you enjoy it!

------------------------------------------------------------

You were a very affectionate person. You knew this from a very young age as you would love to hug your friends and want to hold their hands constantly. Your parents, however, instilled in you the harshness of society and how many people don’t like random and public displays of affection or how some people can use your naturally affectionate against you. So, they quickly moulded your behaviour after childhood and taught you to restrain yourself. They said that affection was cute when presented in children, but annoying and awkward when seen in adults.

After you grew up and went into higher education, your parents expected you to follow their influence. So, you grew colder and more isolated with age until you barely showed your friends physical affection at all.

When you first met The Doctor, you saw this opportunity to shed the influence of your parents and to return to your warm and bubbly self, but you hadn’t tried to hug either him or Clara, yet. You grew insecure when you heard The Doctor’s protests to Clara’s hugs. He would always give in, though, but you could see that he was still a bit uncomfortable with the act. You understood that Clara was The Doctor’s companion longer than you, though it still hurt your heart every time you would see the two of them hug or hold hands.  

You wanted affection so badly your body physically hurt. You didn’t know who to tell, though. So, you internalized your past and your current wants. You began staying in more, staying in your room in The TARDIS and usually sleeping. You were conflicted with yourself. You knew what you wanted, but the voices of your parents continued to echo throughout your head. So, you stayed in and secluded yourself so as to not be tempted into giving into your more affectionate personality.

After much convincing from both Clara and The Doctor (both of them knocking on your bedroom door constantly to see if you were okay), the three of you went on an adventure together. The Doctor decided to take the pair of you to a planetary market. They both explained that they had both been there before, The Doctor many times so, but the two of them figured that you would appreciate the aesthetics of the planet, as well. You have described to both of them many times that you always loved fairs and festivals and markets as they always gave you an opportunity to meet and interact with many individuals. Even if you avoided physical touch, you loved spending time with new people.

As soon as you arrived on the planet, your spirits instantly rose. You would go from booth to booth, talking to all of the individuals from various planets and people, just happy to interact with all of them. 

You then went to one booth, excited by what they were selling, but you were unable to understand the seller. The Doctor came up from behind you and unexpectedly placed one of his slim hands on the small of your back. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying and his conversation with the seller, but your mind continued to drift to the weight of The Doctor’s hand on your back. 

Clara motioned for the two of you to join her at another booth down the main market pathway. It was clad in different accessories such as jewellery and scarves and hats. The Doctor’s hand moved up your back to between your shoulder blades as he pushed you toward the booth. Once there, he dramatically picked up various accoutrements and moved you around like a model to see which was the best looking on you. Clara giggled, then added to The Doctor’s madness by wrapping a thickly-knit purple scarf, with stars and moons embroidered into the fabric, dramatically around your neck. The pair of them stepped back and smiled broadly. 

Clara removed a strange hat from your head and The Doctor removed the scarf while you struggled to get a complicated bracelet off of your wrist. You tried to ask them multiple times what they were doing, but they always responded with a jolly “isn’t it obvious?” You had finally removed the bracelet when you saw The Doctor holding a bag out to you.

“What’s this?”

“The scarf. You looked good in it and I thought that you would want a souvenir.” He smiled and shoved the bag into your shocked hands before quickly taking your arm in his and walking after Clara who had gone to find some edible food for you and her’s Human palate.

The day continued just the same. Clara and The Doctor trying to make you happy by showing you the wonders of the Universe and the amazing celebrations of this planet. All of you ate strange foods (as long as they were safe) and you got a few more souvenirs. All the while, The Doctor always had a hand on your back or his arm hooked around yours. You couldn’t understand the change in attitude and what was happening and why The Doctor was acting so differently. The three of you even took a couple of photos in front of a monument with your arms all wrapped around each other. The Doctor, rarely, if ever, acted like this, but you were enjoying it.

You were starting to worry, though, that this was just The Doctor’s way of giving you one last great adventure before sending you back to Earth. This plagued your mind even though you tried to enjoy the rest of the day and create lifelong memories of your time with your friends. But your inner fears were continuing to rage in a confusing rubble in your brain when the three of you returned to The TARDIS and The Doctor said to prepare for a much more running-filled adventure tomorrow.

“Both of us?” You stayed behind after Clara said her goodnights and went to her room in order to ask some of your questions. 

“Not just you and Clara?”

“Why wouldn’t you be there, Y/n? Are you not feeling okay?” You shook your head in confusion.

“I just thought that you were taking me home. This adventure was so fun and happy, I had figured that it would be my last one.”

“Do you want to go home?” You practically screamed a frantic “no!” back to The Doctor, probably a bit too quickly.

“Then why would I make you do so?”

“I don't really know. I was just worried that I might have made you and Clara uncomfortable because of how much I love showing affection to the people I care about.” You were looking down at your shoes until you felt The Doctor’s hands come to firmly hold your shoulders. You looked up at him, but you were still too afraid to look him in the eye.

“Y/n, I promise you that you have not made either of us uncomfortable. We know that you care about us, and our boundaries and we really appreciate that. I do especially. I’m not that big of a hugger, but I will always love a hug from you. Whenever you need one, just ask.” The Doctor smiled bittersweetly, he could see that you were on the verge of tears, and he just wanted to make you happy. He slowly opened his arms for you, and you fell into his chest. The Doctor ran a hand over your back, rubbing relaxing circles into your muscles, while his other arm was wrapped around your neck, gently curling you into his torso. The two of you stayed like this for a while, you couldn’t tell how long, just simply enjoying the relaxing peace of the gesture.

[globusinfocomlimited]

Importance of Digital Board for classroom learning

In this fast-changing world, both the role of schools and teachers are rapidly transforming. Many EdTech brands have developed effective learning software and applications to support students’ development inside the classroom. Digital learning platforms create learning experiences that encourage students to actively participate and learn available educational content. These online learning platforms are used to create an engaging learning environment for students and offer personalized lessons for each student supporting self-paced learning.  

Today, resources that aid teachers in grabbing and holding learners’ attention are essential. Low students engagement is the most common problem faced.

Smart boards, often known as digital boards for teaching, make teaching easier by enhancing student learning. They enable teachers and students to work together to study, share files, use instructional software and access online resources.

Here are the top five benefits of using smart boards in the classroom and how they may help every student.

1. Increase student involvement

Researchers claim that because of the available K–12 content today, students are turning into digital natives, and they learn more effectively. Solutions for easy-to-use, scalable, and secure displays provide teachers more power over the curriculum. Teachers may design more engaging lessons by writing or typing on digital boards, drawing attention to subjects with highlights, circles, arrows, or zooming in—as well as sharing multimedia information like videos, webpages, presentations, and photographs. Even numerous parts of the digital board for teaching can be created so that multiple students can use it effectively and simultaneously.

2. Accommodate many learning modalities

An interactive whiteboard is helpful for all types of learners, ensuring better audio-video experiences. Learners can hear multimedia content, also hands-on the board, and write on it with a stylus or even just their fingers. Visual learners benefit from a 4K UHD screen, like the one on Globus digital boards. The smart board can be used for one-on-one interaction with learners or for educating small groups of students arranged according to learning preferences.

3. Lessons saved, shared, and sent

K–12 instructors were already setting aside some of their time to make learning easily available for children who were absent due to illness before COVID-19. However, teachers can now utilize a digital board to take screenshots of their teachings, preserving them quickly by even recording, and sharing them with the entire class as well as any other colleagues who might require them. There are countless alternatives for content. Teachers can construct review materials for students to use at home or save their own notes so they can take up where they left off.

4. Make the classroom accessible to everybody.

Digital boards for teaching make it simpler for teachers to include students via video-conference technology, whether some or the entire class is learning remotely. There is no requirement to install any unique cameras. Students who are at home can participate in class discussions and observe everything the teacher does. This not only makes hybrid learning possible but also promotes it.

5. Encourage learner’s success

Students who used digital boards to learn performed noticeably better and engage better through it rather than the traditional method of learning. Students get inclined easily toward visual learning and thus "visual materials, paintings, symbols, and screen designs improve learning and increase learning persistence."

Schools that are digitalizing their classrooms with digital learning solutions are investing in their students making them future-ready and preparing them for a better tomorrow.

[samflir]

What makes a good boot sequence?

A while ago, I had my first truly viral post on Mastodon. It was this:

You might've seen it. It got almost four hundred boosts and reached beyond Mastodon to reddit and even 4chan. I even saw an edit with a spinning frog on the left screen. I knew the post would go down well with tech.lgbt but I never expected it to blow up the way it did.

I tried my best to express succinctly exactly what it is I miss about BIOS motherboards in the age of UEFI in this picture. I think looking at a logo and spinner/loading bar is boring compared to seeing a bunch of status messages scroll up the screen indicating hardware being activated, services being started up and tasks being run. It takes the soul out of a computer when it hides its computeriness.

I think a lot of people misunderstood my post as expressing a practical preference over an aesthetic one, and there was at least a few thinking this was a Linux fanboy post, which it certainly is not. So here's the long version of a meme I made lol.

Stages

I remember using two family desktop computers before moving over a family laptop. One ran Windows XP and the other ran Windows 7. Both were of the BIOS era, which meant that when booting, they displayed some status information in white on black with a blinking cursor before loading the operating system. On the XP machine, I spent longer in this liminal space because it dual-booted. I needed to select Windows XP from a list of Linux distros when booting it.

I've always liked this. Even as a very little kid I had some sense that what I was seeing was a look back into the history of computing. It felt like a look "behind the scenes" of the main GUI-based operating system into something more primitive. This made computers even more interesting than they already were, to me.

Sequences

The way old computers booted was appealing to my love of all kinds of fixed, repeating sequences. I never skip the intros to TV shows and I get annoyed when my local cinema forgets to show the BBFC ratings card immediately before the film, even though doing so is totally pointless and it's kinda strange that they do that in the first place. Can you tell I'm autistic?

Booting the windows 7 computer would involve this sequence of distinct stages: BIOS white text -> Windows 7 logo with "starting windows" below in the wrong aspect ratio -> switch to correct resolution with loading spinner on the screen -> login screen.

Skipping any would feel wrong to me because it's missing a step in one of those fixed sequences I love so much. And every computer that doesn't start with BIOS diagnostic messages is sadly missing that step to my brain, and feels off.

Low-level magic

I am extremely curious about how things work and always have been, so little reminders when using a computer that it has all sorts of complex inner workings and background processes going on are very interesting to me, so I prefer boot sequences that expose the low-level magic going on and build up to the GUI. Starting in the GUI immediately presents it as fundamental, as if it's not just a pile of abstractions on top of one another. It feels deceptive.

There may actually be some educational and practical value in computers booting in verbose mode by default. Kids using computers for the first time get to see that there's a lot more to their computer than the parts they interact with (sparking curiosity!), and if a boot fails, technicians are better able to diagnose the problem over a phone call with a non-technical person.

Absolute boot sequence perfection

There's still one last thing missing from my family computer's boot sequence, and that's a brief flicker of garbage on screen as VRAM is cleared out. Can't have everything I guess. Slo-mo example from The 8-Bit Guy here: