#IVE NEVER BEEN SO GASSED

[brewsterispunkk]

angel of small death

pairing: joel miller x reader, joel miller x f!reader

WC: 7k

prompts used: “I got shot and I’m fine! Relax, would you?” “The price of my affection is high.” tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity

summary: It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

a/n: this is my submission for @pedrostories 1,000 follower celebration! as @stompandhollar can attest, I freaked out when I was tagged in this. I’m so excited to share this with you!!

warnings: explicit! 18+! gore, smut, enemies to lovers, mean!joel, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, dear-death experience

angel of small death

- -

You’re sure there was a time that he cared about something—someone. But now, as you watch Joel mercilessly beating someone's head in with a baseball bat, you’re sure that none of that man is left.

It had been raiders. A band of less than ten of them that had picked up on your trail about twenty miles out of Milwaukee. And, of course, you hadn’t picked up on any of the signs before they attacked. And Joel is pissed.

You can already tell, and he hasn’t even stopped killing.

You stumble back a step, dropping the piece of metal that you used to fell one of the raiders that lay dead at your feet. You heave, catching your breath, and lean forward on your bent knees. Thick, crimson blood flows like ink on the linoleum tiles under your feet. You feel your stomach turn.

No matter how many times you have to do it, killing never gets easier for you.

It had been Joel’s idea to pick-over the hospital, not yours. In fact, you had been vehemently against it.

Joel had assured you though that there were no clickers. That five years earlier, when he’d lived in the Milwaukee QZ, they had gassed the place in fear of having a horde so close. Little did you know, it wasn’t clickers you needed to worry about.

But still, you need any medicine you can get.

You cough, the irony scent of blood thick in the air, as Joel finally takes a step back from the bludgeoned man dead on the floor. He drops the metal bat with a clang.

Joel breathes heavily and runs the back of his forearm over his glistening forehead. He’s wearing a T-Shirt despite the coolness of the mid-spring weather, his jacket packed away in the pack he’d dropped at the door of the small lobby when the raiders had attacked.

He looks down at the man in front of him, checking for any signs of life, before nodding in approval when he finds none.

Your sigh catches in your throat when his hard gaze turns to you.

“The hell was that?”

You gulp.

“I–”

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice is like gravel, his volume low. Joel is pissed.

When he yells was one thing; but when he’s quiet, that’s when you know he’s really, truly upset.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What did I tell you about checking all the passageways?” He puts his hands on his hips. “You almost got us killed.”

“I did my job!” You burst, white-hot anger flaring inside you. You’re tired of him speaking to you like you you’re a child.

“Yeah, alright,” Joel shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

God, he can be such a teenager.

“There was no one there when I did my checks!” You argue.

“Then you didn’t look hard enough.”

You scoff.

“Mistakes like this cost lives, sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping in condescension. “So–”

“Oh that is rich,” you kick the metal pole—what you’re sure used to be a part of an IV drip—across the room toward him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Joel’s eyes narrow.

“If you have such a problem with how I do my drills, maybe you could, I don’t know, teach me how the hell these assholes operate.”

The silence that follows is electric.

“Excuse me?”

“You always criticize how I do things,” you spit. “So maybe instead of just criticizing, you could tell me how to do them right, so these things don’t happen.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Joel shakes his head, leaning down to collect his pack.

“I never learned how to do this! I wasn’t a part of a raiding party! I didn’t have a veteran brother to show me the ropes of—”

“Don’t,” his voice is dangerous when you bring up the brother he’s only mentioned in passing before.

“Fine,” you shake your head and shoulder your own pack. “But if one of us dies, it’s on you.”

You storm past him, your shoulder slamming into his in the process. But instead of ignoring it, he grabs your wrist as you move to exit the hospital lobby.

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek as he faces you. You could count every wrinkle, every scar, every freckle if you want to. Instead, you’re focused on his dark eyes.

“Don’t let it happen again,” His voice leaves no room for argument, and you see pure ire in his gaze.

You sneer and shove him backward before storming out.

- -

Your paths had crossed by accident. By pure serendipity. You often wonder what your life would look like if you hadn’t met Joel Miller—if you’d still be alive at all.

You don’t remember much of your life before the outbreak. It comes in flashes: the flutter of pigeon wings in a big city, school assemblies, your childhood bedroom, crunching leaves, a stray cat.

Your mother died when you were thirteen, leaving you with a band of survivors looking for a QZ. There had been seventeen of you then. When you found Joel ten years later, there were five.

Initially, when you’d run into the weathered, surly man and his companion, a younger, mousy man who was always looking over his shoulder, you didn’t trust him. Not in the slightest. It had taken him saving you from an infected for you to even begin to trust him.

His companion, a boy named Wesley was bitten a month after he had joined your group. One woman was taken out by a band of raiders. Three of the remaining four left you for the Tallahassee QZ. Six months later, the last man, Jose, had succumbed to a fever. Leaving what was once a group of seven, a group of two.

It’s just you and Joel now. It has been for a year. And in that time, you’re still sure that you slow him down more than you earn your keep.

You're a decent fighter, that’s true. You’d had to learn to be after your mother died. It’s dog eat dog in the wild, and you’d intended to survive.

Joel sees you as a liability, though. Still, you don’t complain; you know he’s your best bet at survival.

You aren’t looking for a QZ—at least not for one like Tallahassee—like you and your mother had been for years before she died.

You’d heard horror stories from passersby on your way out of Florida. Stories of militant soldiers, staunch curfews, and too-few rations. You know our way around plants and herbs: you’d sooner try your luck in the wild than be confined to a QZ.

Joel is of the same mind as you. At least you can agree on something.

It’d taken you months to get some kind of a handle on the older man’s personality. And now, after a year and a half of knowing him, you sometimes still think you have no idea who he really is.

Besides your crisis outside of Milwaukee, Joel is cautious.

He always plans for the worst to happen. Prepares for it like it’s second nature to him. He doesn’t talk much either, which is something new to you.

Maybe it was growing up in a caravan of people, or maybe it’s your own talkative nature, but either way, Joel’s silence was something to get used to.

You know he has ghosts—you can recognize the same signs in him that you see in yourself. The twitches of fingers, the mumbling in his sleep, the haunted look he sometimes gets in his eyes. Joel has been through hell, you’re sure of it. Then again, these days everyone has been through hell.

Some are just better at hiding it than others.

- -

You're certain Joel hates you. That you’re an annoyance to him, something to be saddled with.

You glare at the back of his head as he walks several paces ahead of you on the shoulder of the abandoned highway.

The two of you aren’t stupid; anything could be lurking in the trees on either side of the road. You make a point to stick to as close to the forest as you can get without actually stepping in the brush.

You’re on the road North—to Boston, Joel had said. Where he thinks his brother is.

You’d bitten your tongue at the mention of his brother—Tommy, you’d learned his name was.

It’d been a few weeks ago when Joel had found some old whisky in an abandoned house you’d stayed a few days in. It had loosened his tongue just enough for his brother’s name to slip out.

You didn't tell Joel that you suspect his brother was already dead. Few survive as long as you have in this world, even fewer when they’re alone.

You’ve been quiet most of the day; you can tell it annoys him when you talk too much, and you decide to give him a reprieve, if only for a while. Joel seems to prefer the silence.

But you are so bored.

This particular stretch of highway leaves nothing to the imagination; it’s all cornfields and trees. Nothing, as far as the eye can see.

“You ever gonna tell me anything about yourself, Texas?” You ask him, deciding to speak against your better judgment. You’ve been trying to bite your tongue more, not wanting Joel to tire of your presence enough to ditch you.

“What?” Joel barks over his shoulder gruffly.

“I mean, I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a pain in my ass and you’re from Texas.”

“And?”

“And, considering you’re all the company I’ve had for a year, that’s a little sad.”

“Sad?”

You roll your eyes at the incredulity in his voice.

“Forget it.”

You don’t know why you even try. Joel is an egg that is impossible to crack.

Joel casts a look at you from over his shoulder. His hair is windswept—gray mixed with brown spun in sunlight. His brows furrow together as he looks at you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

It’s five minutes later before he speaks up.

“I, uh, I used to play guitar,” he slows down so he falls in step beside you.

“What?”

Joel purses his lips and looks down, like he regrets the small piece of information he shared with you.

“Before,” he sighs. “This. I used to play a little.”

“Guitar?” You ask, and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

You sigh. Just like always: one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes talking with Joel is like talking to a rock.

“What kind of music would you play?” You ask after a moment.

“Country, mostly,” Joel’s voice sounds far-off, like he’s recalling another life entirely. You suppose, in a way he is. “A little bit of rock. I would play for—“

He stops himself, a cough escaping from his lips. He shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice is back to its usual no-nonsense tone. “I haven’t played in years. Since before.”

You hum, continuing to walk down the road.

It’s a ghost town of cars. Relics of a bygone time, frozen like metal skeletons of the old world. It almost makes your heart ache to see them.

You remember a time when you’d ridden in a car—before this. Before you were thrust into this cavity of death and decay.

“Where’d you learn to pick out plants the way you do?”

The question takes you aback, making you look at Joel in surprise. He just stares ahead as he walks.

It’s the first question about yourself he’s ever asked you.

“My mother,” you say. “She was a botanist, before. I was young when the outbreak happened so I don’t have any schooling I can remember well. She would teach me what plants were safe or dangerous or edible or had healing properties. She made me write it all down.”

A part of you thinks that she knew she was going to die, and that’s why she made you record all your knowledge in a tattered notebook. You don’t tell Joel that, though.

“Hm,” he hums. “Didn’t realize you were so…”

“Skilled?” You snark.

“Young.” He says it like it’s a pitiful thing. You bristle.

You turn to him, arms crossed.

“I’m not that young.” You state.

“Sure ya aren’t.”

“I’ve lived,” you begin. “I had to grow up running from clickers and scavenging for food. I had to grow up too quickly. That’s something you can’t even begin to understand.”

He turns around and faces you, face stony, before giving you a once over.

You shift uncomfortably as his eyes run over you, not used to being observed. You’re sure you look ghastly. It’s been weeks since either of you have been able to do more than quickly wash up in a stream or river.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you seethe. “So don’t even try to condescend to me.”

Joel only narrows his eyes, before turning around and continuing to walk.

“You coming?”

- -

You’re as surprised as anyone when it happens.

Having a crush on Joel Miller is the last thing you expected of yourself.

One minute, you’d been climbing up a rocky hill, grabbing onto roots to pull yourself up, and the next you were tumbling downward.

Joel’s arms on either side of your waist keep you up as you fall into him, a grunt leaving him as your weight slams into his torso.

“Watch your step,” his voice is gruff beside your ear. It sends a thrill through your chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, heart beating through your chest.

“Just be careful,” he helps you get your footing, his hands coming to either side of your hips. The heat from his palms seeping through your jeans. “Don’t need you breaking your neck.”

You chuckle at that, chancing a look back at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him.

Before, you’d been able to acknowledge that Joel is an attractive man. That much is obvious.

He’s tall, and broad. And even though you’d never admit it, his constant brooding does something for you.

He always looks so grumpy. You couldn’t help but want to be the one to wipe the frown off his face.

Now, though. This is a whole different animal. Looking at Joel now, pure want courses through your veins.

His brow is furrowed, his hair outgrown in a way that makes him look a bit wild. You need to cut his hair soon. A five-o-clock shadow dusts his sharp jaw, and you imagine what it would be like to run your teeth down it.

“Y’alright?” He asked.

You’re acutely aware of how close the two of you are. If you lean in even an inch, you could—

“Hey,” Joel’s voice snaps you out of it.

“Oh,” you cough, turning back to the rocks in front of you. “I’m fine. Just spooked me is all.”

“Hm,” Joel hums, before continuing to climb after you.

- -

You’d awoken to mumbling—the same mumbling you’d grown accustomed to during your time with Joel.

It was a nightmare. You could tell the signs: the twitching, the mumbling, the jerking in his sleep.

You’d never tell him, but you couldn’t sleep whenever you heard him like this. It made your heart clench with thoughts of your own nightmares. You so desperately wanted to wake him, to shake his shoulders until he awoke, but you never had.

You knew that would plunge your relationship into something different. Something bigger, more raw.

There was a reason Joel never shared anything personal with you. There was a reason he never asked for any of your personal stories. He wanted to keep whatever relationship you had professional. You’d respect that.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Joel had whimpered in his sleep. He’d cried, begged for someone to help. You couldn’t just leave him there.

So, you grab his shoulders and shake.

“Joel,” you whisper. His brows furrow in his sleep, his lips mumbling incoherently. You say his name a little louder. “Joel.”

You can feel the exact moment he gains consciousness—his shoulders tensing and his hands going to your neck and squeezing.

Your breath leaves you and your eyes widen at his scared expression beneath you.

“Joel,” you choke out. “Joel, it’s me. It’s me.”

He releases you with a puff of air and you gasp, falling half on-top of him. Air floods through your now sore wind-pipe. You know it will bruise by the morning.

“What,” his voice was ragged and breathless. The same tone you’d imagine he had when he—-

“Why did you do that?”

Oh, he’s mad.

Great, you think. This is what I get for trying to help.

You bristle.

“I was trying to help you.”

“Trying to get yourself killed, more like.” He snaps. “I don’t need your help.”

“Like hell you don’t!” You snapped back. “You were crying, Joel.”

He looks at you, then. Really looks at you, half on-top of him, your faces inches apart. His eyes drift down to your lips, resting there for a moment. Then, they snap back up to yours, void of any emotion that you’d seen a moment before.

You scoff, pulling back from him.

“Never do that again.”

“Excuse me for trying to help,” you push, too pissed, too tired to let it go. “You woke me up with your fuckin’ whining. Forgive me for trying to get you out of whatever the hell was going on in there.”

“In there,” he spits the words at you.

“In your head, asshole! I know a nightmare when I see one.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Noted,” you glare at him, before plopping down on your sleeping bag and turning your back to him. “Asshole.” You mumble.

A scoff answered you.

“You know,” you begin, never knowing when to give up. “It wouldn’t kill you to accept help from someone for once.”

“I don’t need—“

“My help, I know.” You finish for him, knowing how angry it makes him. “But everyone needs people, Joel. Even you.”

“I don’t.” He says. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

You don’t know why you even try sometimes.

You sigh, before closing your eyes and trying to get back to sleep.

- -

You share a sleeping bag one night in late August. 

The autumn hasn’t begun yet, but it’s swelling on the horizon, bits of it bleeding through into the last bit of summer. And it’s so chilly that he doesn’t even bother arguing with you when you suggest doubling up in your layered sleeping bags to conserve body heat. 

There’s a first time for everything i guess, you think to yourself as he settles in beside you, his back to yours. 

The heat from his back bleeds into yours, even through the layers of clothing you have on. 

He zips up the sleeping bags before turning over and going still. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was dead. You never understood  that about Joel; the man can sleep anywhere. 

You’re sleeping out in the open tonight: on the corner of a tiny clearing somewhere in Eastern Tennessee. You’re the only people for miles, and still, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched. Despite your years on the road, it’s never been a fear you could shake. 

You toss and turn for a few minutes before Joel sighs in frustration beside you. 

“Can you quit your movin’?” He’s as cranky as always. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking up at the sky full of stars above you. It’s a sight you’d never tire of, even if it meant having to sleep with no roof over your head. “Can’t sleep.”

“I gathered that.”

“I just feel like someone’s watching me. Or that they’re in the woods, waiting to jump out.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Joel’s voice is dry. 

“I know,” you laugh breathily. “Still, though.”

You look up at the deep, black, inky sky, rife with twinkling lights, burning millions of miles away. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to be one of those stars—so removed from this shithole of a world you were living in now. Then, in the corner of your vision, you see it: the streaking of white across the sky.

You gasp. 

“Joel!” you say. “Joel, look!”

“What now?” he asks gruffly. 

“A shooting star!” Just then, another streaks across the black expanse. “And there's another one!”

“Hm,” Joel turns over just enough to look over his shoulder at the sky. “A meteor shower. Great. Now go to bed.”

You sigh as he turns back over, eyes remaining on the sky, now streaked with countless stars falling toward earth. And for once, you allow yourself to wonder what it might like away from all this. Free.

-

You don’t feel the bullet until after the raider is dead at your feet.

It starts as a numb feeling in your shoulder, then all at once: pain.

Searing, pulsing pain like you’ve never felt before. It takes everything in you not to cry out.

You feel something warm and wet on your hands and look down to see blood seeping through your long sleeve onto your palm.

Shit, you think. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and Joel is going to be alone.

Part of you thinks he would like it better this way: with no one to look after, no one butting their head into his business.

But you don’t have time to dwell on that thought, before Joel is barreling into the room.

“Where the hell did they even come from?” He pants, leaning into his knees. “Shit.”

You scan his body for injuries, glad when you don’t find any.

“Are you okay?” Your teeth begin to chatter, and all of a sudden you’re so, so cold.

“Fine,” he says, not looking at you. “One of them got a good swipe at my side though. Might need you to stitch it up.”

Somewhere, far off, you think you hum in response, but the fuzziness that started in your shoulder has made it to your head, obstructing your hearing.

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice is far away, removed, almost like it’s under water.

“Yeah,” you mumble, stumbling to the side, hand coming to grip your wound. “Yeah, I can—“

“Shit! You’re hit. Why didn’t you say something?”

You’re in someone’s arms, on the ground, your vision going blurry.

“No, no, no. Stay awake. Stay awake for me,” it’s Joel speaking to you. His voice holds what sounds like… panic? No, that can’t be right.

Oh right, you’re dying.

You must have messed up your checks again and missed the raiders. Like last time. Like you’d promised him you wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you cough. “Sorry, l let it happen again.”

“W-what?” You’ve never heard his voice waver before.

“S-sorry,” you’re shivering, and your hands are gripping the canvas of Joel’s jacket in a vice grip. “Sorry I d-didn’t do my checks right again.”

All of a sudden, you’re in the air, one of his hands behind your knees and the other around your back.

“Shh, shh, just stay with me.” Joel’s lips are to your forehead. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all you hear before you black out.

- -

When you wake up, you’re on the floor, in what looks like a house.

You feel cold and clammy, and your mouth is dry. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth. You shiver under your blankets.

You glance around you, taking in your surroundings.

You’re definitely not in a house—a barn maybe? There are no windows, and the raw wood that makes up the walls and floors around you make you think it is a barn or shack of sorts.

Off to one side of you, there’s your pack, untouched from the scuffle that left you with a bullet in your shoulder.

Your shoulder is numb, if a little achy. You don’t try to move it; you know better than that.

You look down to your torso and see that you’re wrapped in two sleeping bags—both yours and Joel’s.

Joel.

Where is he?

As if on cue, the door to the barn opens, and with a gust of cool wind, Joel comes in, a rabbit in hand.

Your heart stutters.

He looks…tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. How long has it been since you got shot? How long did he have to carry you to get here?

“You’re up,” his eyes are on you, glistening with something you can’t quite place. It’s the most emotion—besides anger—you’ve seen on his face. 

“Guess so,” your voice is rocky as you say it. The words catch in your throat, causing you to cough. 

“Here,” Joel scrambles, dropping his pack to the ground and pulling out his metal canteen. “Don’t try to talk. You need to drink something.”

He holds out the water toward you, and without thinking, you reach for it with your injured arm. Immediately, you regret it. You hiss, a sharp pain shooting down your arm. 

“Shit, here,” Joel kneels down beside you and you’re struck again by just how large he is. His shoulders stretch broadly under the flannel he wears. The top few buttons have been left open, exposing the expanse of his neck. 

He opens the canteen and brings it to your lips, one of his hands coming behind your head to cup your neck as you try to lean up. Heat flares your cheeks. 

“Take it easy, let me come to you,” he says. “Don’t need you pulling a muscle.”

The water tastes like salvation and you drink so much that some dribbles down your chin. If it were anyone else with you, you would be embarrassed, but this is Joel. He most likely already had to remove your shirt to dress your wound. Besides, he is the closest thing you have to a friend in this world. You try not to think of how sad that is: your only friend doesn’t even really like you. 

“Thank you,” you breathe after you’re done. You lay your head back down on the pillow, but Joel’s hand stays on your face, moving from your neck to your cheek. 

You still.

His palm covers your jaw and cheek, warm to the touch. His thumb skirts over your cheekbone, and his eyes remain on you, brows furrowed. You can’t bring yourself to look away from his gaze.

“What you did was stupid,” he says after a minute, removing his hand. His eyes move from your face to the floor as he takes a swig of water from the canteen. 

You close your eyes and sigh. 

“I know,” you mumble. “I should’ve done my checks—”

“I don’t give a shit about your checks,” his voice is quietly urgent as his head whips to you. “You didn’t tell me you were hit. You’re lucky I was able to sew you up. You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t, though.”

“But you could’ve,” he shakes his head at you.

“I got shot! I’m fine. Relax.”

“Relax?” He spits the words at you. “You scared me to death. I haven’t been so scared since–”

“Since what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs. “Just don’t ever, ever do that again. It was stupid and selfish.”

“Selfish?” You’re confused. 

“Yes, selfish.” He pushes. “Did you ever think about what would happen to me if you died?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grasp—or try to grasp—what he’s saying. 

He won’t meet your eyes. 

“That’s,” you stutter. “That’s the world we live in, Joel. That’s life. When Jose—”

“You aren’t Jose.” He says lowly, his eyes rising to meet yours. 

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Joel’s on his feet. He grabs the rabbit from the floor at his feet and goes outside, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

- - 

It’s after dinner before you venture to speak to him again.

Your dinner of roasted rabbit and expired canned green beans had been stilted at best, neither of you bothering to say more than “pass me this” or “could you hand me” that. 

Your mind has been absolutely racing with thoughts of your last conversation–the need in his voice, the spark in his eyes—but you didn’t want to push it. Not until now at least. 

“How long was I out?” you ask after he disposes of what's left of your dinner. 

Joel sits down beside you and looks at the makeshift fire in the middle of the room. The reflection of the fire on his eyes makes them look ablaze. You can’t look away. 

He’d helped you sit up before dinner to eat, finally removing you from the cocoon of blankets and layers he’d constructed around you. You noticed that he’d dressed you in a shirt of his: a worn henley, deciding to forgo whatever clothes you had in your own pack.

The weather has begun to turn; September bleeding into October and bringing cool winds and red leaves with it. With the lack of insulation in this barn, there’s no way you’ll be warm tonight. You shiver. 

“Three days,” he locks his jaw. “You were delirious for a few, before your fever broke.”

Your stomach plummets. 

Oh, god, what did you say?

You don’t have the courage to ask, so you only nod. 

“We should get to bed,” he says. “I wanna head out early tomorrow. We’ve already been here too long.”

You nod as he walks over to help you from your sitting position near the fire. 

His arms move around you, practically lifting you up so you can stand. Sometimes you forget just how strong he is. He smells like the woodsmoke and the cheap soap he uses, and Joel. The scent is heady and swarms your senses. You can’t handle him this close. 

“Here just grab onto me, like this,” his voice is right by your ear. “Good girl.”

Oh. 

Those words alight something in you and you’re sure you’re blushing up to your ears. You wonder what they’d sound like rasped in your ear. 

Seamlessly, Joel lays you down onto where the two sleeping bags are. Where you’ve been sleeping the past few days.

Your brows furrow.

“Where have you been sleeping, Joel?” you ask. 

Joel looks down sheepishly. 

“Right there,” he says. “My jacket’s warm. Besides, didn’t want you catching a cold.”

As if on cue, you feel a brisk wind breeze through the cracks in the wood and into the barn. You shiver.

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “You’ll freeze to death. Take your sleeping bag.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You need it. You’ve just been shot.”

“And I’m fine now. Albeit a little weak. I don’t need your sleeping bag too.”

“I’m not arguin’ with you,” he says staunchly. He is so stubborn, you want to throttle him. “You’re getting the sleeping bag, end of story.”

“Like hell!”

“Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Joel takes a breath. 

“I’m trying to help you.” He says quietly after a moment. “It’s the only way I know how. Over–over there, when you,” he pauses. “When you got shot. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. Let me do this. Please.”

You sit there, stunned at his admission. 

You had no idea that your getting injured would affect him this much–affect him at all. Maybe you aren’t just an annoyance to Joel. Maybe you’re a friend to him. Your mind won’t let you wander into thinking it’s something more. 

You nod. 

“Okay,” you say, voice small.

“Okay,” he nods, before grabbing the rifle. “I’ll take first watch.”

- -

You awaken to teeth chattering from a few feet away from you. 

You yourself shiver as you’re pulled from a dream of clickers and your mother, just realizing how cold it is. 

Despite being bundled in a long sleeve and two sleeping bags, the cold has managed to seep into your very bones. You can only imagine how cold Joel must be. It’s him whose teeth are chattering beside you. 

You cough. 

“Joel,” you whisper-shout at him. You reach over to shake him but think better of it, remembering what happened last time you shook him awake. 

“Joel,” you say a little louder this time, and he finally stirs. 

“What?” His voice is sinful; rough and gravely from sleep. “What happened?”

“I can hear you from over here,” you call. “I told you so.”

“That what you woke me up to say?” He asks unpleasantly, pulling his coat tighter around his body. 

“No,” you chuckle. “C’mere.”

He looks over his shoulder at you skeptically. 

“Why?”

“Just come here, old man.”

Joel grumbles under his breath—something about an ungrateful girl—but gets up nonetheless, moving a few feet over to you. 

“What?” he exacerbates once he’s next to you. You can see how his hair is disheveled from sleep in the dim light. 

“Get in here.” You pull back the covers and scoot over in invitation. 

There’s a palpable silence as he sits there, frozen, looking at you cautiously. 

“I don’t have all night, Joel.”

“You,” he coughs, voice catching. “You just got shot.”

“So sleep on the other side,” you offer. “I can’t sleep with you chattering away over there.”

Joel blows out a breath. 

“Alright.”

And in he climbs, kicking off his shoes and maneuvering his lumbering body into the tight space next to you. Every atom of your body feels electric as his scent envelopes you. Your hip presses into his stomach as he sidles up to you. 

Joel clears his throat, arms moving around you warily.

“This alright?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, scooting further back into him so your ass is pressed to his groin. 

You feel Joel stiffen and you try to withhold the smirk from crossing your lips. 

“You’re warm,” you mumble. 

Joel’s hand tightens on your hip and you feel his breath in your ear as he lays his head on the pillow next to your head. 

“Hm,” he hums, before sighing. “Go to bed.”

You close your eyes and try to sleep, comforted by the steady breaths of the man behind you. 

– -

You wake with a gasp to Joel’s hands gripping your hips in a vice grip. You’d been having a dream where Joel’s head was between your thighs, his hands holding your hips down to the bed—a real bed. 

You blink in the dim light of the barn.

“Wha—” you begin, before you realize the precarious position you’ve found yourself in. 

Shit. 

In your sleep, you’ve scooted further backward into Joel, your ass pressed up against his groin tighter than before. Your legs have somehow tangled in his, your thighs wrapped around one of Joel’s thighs, grinding. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you think to yourself, freezing. 

“I—shit,” you mumble, squirming in Joel’s still tight grip on your hips. “I’m sorry Joel, I was dreaming I—”

“It’s fine, just—quit moving.” 

It’s then that you realize that your ass hadn’t been grinding back onto just anything: it had been grinding backward onto Joel’s erection, pressing stiffly into your lower back.

“Oh,” you breathe, and Joel jumps back, scrambling to move away from you. 

“Joel, wait,” you say breathlessly. You reach back and grab his wrist without thinking and he freezes. 

Slowly, painfully, you bring his hand around your torso to the front of your hips, right to the zipper of your jeans. 

What happens next is frantic. Joel’s fingers work with expert precision, undoing the button and zipper on your jeans, and the next thing you know, his hand is in your pants. 

His fingers move fast, wasting no time sliding between your legs and into your slick. You’re already soaked.

“Darlin’,” Joel rasps and it's deep, breathy right in your ear. You hum back at him. 

“How long you been like this, huh?” he breathes, running his teeth over your earlobe. 

You open your mouth to reply, but all coherent thoughts leave your head when his finger rubs against your clit. 

The sound that leaves you is something between a moan and a whimper. You grab onto Joel’s forearm, nails biting into the skin there. Joel’s other hand snakes up your torso and palms at your breast over your—his—shirt. 

“Right there, baby?” He breathes into your ear, finger adding more pressure to your clit. You whimper and nod in response, mouth dropping open. Your hand reaches up to palm at his hair. 

“How long you been this wet, hm?” Joel asks again, sucking a bruise into your neck. “Answer me.”

“A–a while,” you breathe, grinding back into his erection that's pressing into your ass, hard and warm through his jeans.  

At your response, Joel inserts one of his fingers into you. He groans as they move in junction with the finger moving against your sensitive nub. 

“That right?” his fingers move faster, picking up the pace as you grind and whimper against him.

“And what made you such a mess?”

Heat floods your face. Are you really going to tell him? One stroke to your clit makes any inhibitions you have fly out the window. 

“You,” you say, grinding into his hands. His hand over your shirt moves under your clothes and skates up your torso, before grabbing your bare breast and squeezing.

You bite back your moan. 

“Tell me more, sweetheart.”

“Y-you, Joel,” you babble, too far-gone to fully comprehend the magnitude of what you’re saying. “Your hands, your shoulders, when you call me ‘good girl’, when you wear those stupid, stupid, jeans–”

Joel sucks a bruise into the base of your neck and you gasp.

“Think you can take another one?”

You nod against him. 

“Words, darlin’.” 

“Yes, Joel.”

“Okay, baby,” he presses a close-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, before inserting another finger and pumping faster. 

He groans against you.

“So tight,” he growls against your neck. “That’s a good girl, c’mon, you can take it.”

You clamp up on him, his words send heat running through you. 

“Oh, you like that?” Joel asks. “Being called a good girl?”

You nod. 

“You like being my good girl?”

You nod, and his fingers pick up their pace, and your heartbeat and pleasure crest, before you fall over the edge. 

You pant, finally releasing Joel’s forearm. Joel’s breath is heavy in your ear as you catch your breath. 

“Wow,” you mumble after a moment. 

Joel just blows out a breath, leaning back.

“If i’d known getting you to come would make you so agreeable, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

You chuckle, rolling over to face him. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Mm,” he hums, taking a piece of your hair and running it down your nose. 

You take this moment to observe him: his weathered face, lined with worry lines, a five o’clock shadow brushing his jawline. His salt and pepper hair is messy–a result of your hands  running through it—and his flannel is disheveled from sleep and…other things. 

Your eyes travel from his torso down to…oh. 

You start at the sight of Joel’s erection. 

“Joel,” you say, sitting up. “You didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Joel sits up with you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No–” you grab his hand as he goes to stand. “Let me.”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighs as you undo his button and zipper. “You’re hurt—”

“I’m not too hurt for this,” you counter, pulling him out of his jeans. 

You marvel at the size of him. In your experience (albeit as limited as it is), you’ve never seen someone as big as him. 

He’s… pretty. You want it in your mouth. 

You pump him, gripping him tightly. Joel hisses as you do it, head tipping backward. 

You move to kneel in front of him, leveling your face with his crotch, but a hand on your shoulder stops you. 

“No,” he says, running his fingers along your cheek. “Not tonight.” 

You nod at him, moving back so your heads are level with each other. Joel brushes a stray hair away from your eyes, before nosing into your shoulder. 

“Lay back,” you mumble. “Let me take care of you, Joel.”

He pulls back and looks at you with a stony gaze. Even now, you can’t read him. 

“Let me take care of you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before nodding. 

He lets you push him backward onto the sleeping bags. You lay down beside him and reach for his manhood again. Joel throws his head back as you squeeze, jerking him in rhythm.

You hum in response. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper to him, running your teeth along the line of his jaw like you always imagined doing. “Have you imagined this?”

Joel moans–it’s a stilted, half-formed thing that comes from the back of his throat. 

“Talk to me, Texas.”

He groans, hand moving to your hair as you suck a bruise into the junction of his neck.

“You know I have,” he pushes out. “Naughty girl.”

You hum against his neck, encouraging him to continue. 

“You in those tiny tops, never wearing a bra.”

You jerk him faster as his hips jerk up to meet your fist. 

“I-Imagined you, like this.” He rasps. “On your knees, my cock down your throat.”

“Then why didn’t you let me–?”

“You’re–hurt,” he half-moans, and you know he’s close.

“Aw,” you coo into his ear. “Big, bad Joel Miller a softy under all that sass?”

“Sh-shut u—” his words are cut off by his own climax, a moan ripping through his throat. He spurts over your hand, hips arching off the sleeping bags beneath him. 

As he comes down from is high, you lick his salty-sweet spend off your fingers.

“Did you–” 

Joel looks at you with a bewildered expression. You only stare him down with a triumphant gaze. 

“I told you I wanted to take care of you.”

[snow-and-saltea]

something about titles for stories that sound utterly generic but it ends up being a masterpiece you binge read for two days straight. i love it so much. go read "my in laws are obsessed with me" on webtoon

rambling under the cut; some spoilers but nonspecific and vague

i fkn love so much the show not tell element in this story, it never feels like i'm being spoonfed information by having five speech bubbles in one panel. characters rarely say what they truly think or feel, atmosphere and mood are set solely by composition and art, some of the most heartbreaking and scared ive felt reading this manhwa had NO speech bubbles at all and there was no fancy effects or sfx you'd normally see in comics. the world goes on normally while you see a character in pain, full body wailing with grief at the ache of heartbreak. i teared up and i didnt even know what her voice sounded like, i didnt know what thoughts were going through her mind or the overwhelming bodily sensation of emotional pain that must've wrecked her. the build up of seeing an adaptable, grounded and sometimes cute and awkward person you've gotten to know over 50 ish chapters, only to then see her doubling over in pain and screaming, soundlessly to my ears. one of the most visceral experiences ive had recently.

i don't even care if i sound like im being biased or gassing this manhwa up btw Who Give A Shit bc not me!! i will talk about the things i like about bc i like them!

i love the mc / fl most of all because of how she's such... a neat vessel to the world. not spoiling it about her backstory and disposition and such, but the way she, on paper, sort of fits into that niche of people who don't know how much they matter to people around them. usually in regression / revenge stories with an insecure low self esteem FL, they start out really defensive, angsty / edgy, and then mellow out as they receive love. but our FL is reasonable, even-tempered and logical - that her emotional "insecurity" in regards to being tethered to people around her is mostly rooted in her own "seeing is believing" mentality and understanding, somewhat sympathetically, why people wouldn't / don't like her, and she doesn't really take it to heart.

what's funny is that even when people are subtly showing adoration and love for her, she doesn't know how to take it to heart, and she gets uncomfortable and awkward about it. not in a usually fluffy "this is so moving that i cant respond sensibly" way, the way most loved FLs usually pass by as a marker to Growth, but because it puts her in an awkward situation and she doesn't know what to do about it. she gets a little embarrassed but doesn't overreact, because she probably doesn't realise the depth of their affection and doesn't attribute it to herself directly, but rather by other people's kindness. multiple times she's been surprised at when someone (who didn't before but has now warmed up to her) responds kindly to her inquiries, and while i understand her surprise, it's still funny and a little sad to me that she was prepared to take it in stride if people STILL didn't like her after all the ways she's benefitted them.

in other words pereshati you're my queen and i love you. literally who would not love her. her ease and understanding at being distrusted makes her ironically easier to trust because she doesn't hold anything against you and understand that you need to form your own judgement, even if it doesn't turn out well for her. literally who is doing it like her. queen

[crguang]

Weeeeellll since you said it’s ok to continue sending in asks. Could you give us your thoughts on Hamel and Garofano? Ik you’ve made some post about her before but now I want an 12 page essay like you did the others lol. And also perhaps Shalom too? If you think you’re able to give thoughts about her if not maybe just some thirsts? And is there any characters that have caught your attention? Personally I thought Eleven would have been in your favorites but maybe she is just not top 5. I’d like to keep asking about the characters but i think I should ask about the ones you actually have an interest in before sending in my own 12 page essay on asking you questions about them lol

-🍷

omg this hydrogen bomb… hamel and garo in the same ask… i got you. i havent met shalom or eleven yet! shalom is one of those characters that i already know i’ll love because people have said that she’s similar to kafka (hsr) in personality so im very very very excited for the 2nd anniversary so she can come home. ppl also gassed up flora unfurl a LOT so i have high expectations for that event but i know i’ll love it cause it’s yuriful. for eleven, i hvent played her event but her design definitely drew me in because she looks gorgeoussss. i love her battle kit as well but since i dont have her i have no idea what kind of character she is yet. i would say that the characters i like so far, off the top of my head, are: hamel, adela, zoya, nightingale, angell, garofano, shawn, oak casket, chelsea, sumire, uni, cabernet, bianca, chameleon, cassia, BAI YI!!! i know little about bai yi rn but she’s a menace so i already love her. im mad she isnt home yet ive wanted her since day one </3 interrogations/events play a big part in me getting attached to characters so if i dont have them it’s usually hard to tell if i like them or not but i like a lottt of them passively.

i’ll start with hamel, my angel… she makes my heart so full. i want to protect her from everything and let her dance to her heart’s content i would always be her most devoted audience :( her strength of mind is incredible. she’s such a pure soul who’s gone through unimaginable trauma and she still regards corruptors as beings deserving of peace instead of monsters like everyone else. she spent over 20 years dancing for an audience that was keeping her trapped in the darkness and instead of wishing for freedom, she wanted to stay and heal them at the expense of herself. her compassion is admirable despite what she’s been through, how her mother was using her and how the previous audiences she danced for never appreciated her as they should. at the end of the day, this is how she expresses herself and whether it’s for corruptors or selfish people, she has to dance. i love her dedication to her art and the beacon of hope she’s become. she means a lot to me because of her character arc. she was stuck at the bottom of a lake for decades, surrounded by darkness and contamination, and at the end of her interrogation she has a newfound purpose and people who appreciate her art for what it is instead of using her to console their souls. she’s able to dance for herself and her freedom being described as a spring day made me so emotional; i got a tattoo on my forearm that says “you are spring” on my darkest day to remind myself that the bad times eventually pass and rebirth is inevitable. it’s the same for hamel who’s now free of her past torments and who creates life where there was only despair. it’s really inspiring, she’ll always be my favorite character because she reminds me that a barren land can still grow beautiful things.

hamel is sooo beautiful. she was the first character that caught my attention, i got her like my second day playing the game and immediately made her my profile picture and put her on my home page for her pretty design. i love her hairr!! she looks like a mermaid, and the jellyfish she conjures up are just as cute as her. just like adela, she looks a little trapped in her clothes when they should allow her total freedom of movement so i love the contrast of the leather with the flowy dress, it’s a really nice touch. her outfit inside the black ring is different because this is how she appears to the corruptors, an angel in white. it’s so prettyyyy i love her so much.

her voice is so soft and seeing her discover new things through supervision incidents is heartwarming, like that time she tried ice cream and her eyes lit up🥹 she’s my baby fr, she doesn’t like physical touch but that’s okay, i’d still spend all my time with her. she has such a comforting aura ughhh i love her the most.

for garo……… hehehehehehe it’s pretty straightforward honestly. i have a very specific type and she fits all the boxes. i did her interrogation because i was bored and saw on her profile that she killed her husband so i was intrigued, i love widows who killed their spouse it’s a trope that i’ll always like lol. i was very pleasantly surprised when she revealed herself to be a deceiving, manipulative, lying, possessive freak. she’s so meant for me. older woman with a controlling personality? i need her. i love characters who lie so much or embody other people so much that they lose a little of themselves in the disguises they wear. garo is never straightforward when asked anything; when Chief asks about the identities she portrays she says something vague about how she’s able to lie so well because there might be some truth in them. very curious about that but i guess that’s all she had to say… and i havent made it far enough to know about the purpose behind the garden yet, so there’s really a veil of mystery around garofano for me. and i love unraveling my characters, that’s why i gravitate towards people who are reserved/closed off/hide or lie a lot. i love garo’s mastery over her craft and i think about that MBCC lovepost every day of my life. a woman who could effortlessly kill me yet chooses to caress? *takes a deep breath*

garofano’s ECB is my favorite. it’s her at her rawest, her most vulnerable, her fear and lack of control made obvious, and it’s such a different side of her. the art is fucking insane first of all, but my favorite part is the emotions on her face. the cracked picture frame, the bed of flowers as if laying in front of a blazing fire, the mannequins on the floor, the tears on her face— everything is so messy. a far cry from the control she now constantly has over herself. losing people has made her deeply afraid of it happening again, so much that she starts objectifying those she cares about. they’ve become possessions to be taken from her, and her desire to help others only stems from the need to not be abandoned again. she likes to be needed because it means that people won’t leave her, it’s so sad😭 i hope she can understand that she doesn’t have to be useful to be wanted. but she’s so gentle and i don’t think that’s a front, i love that about her. sinners come to her for help with their clothes and stuff it’s so cute i want her babies

her design is very cherished by me but i need to see her naked. very grateful to aisno for giving her a different shirt in her P3/ECB art just so that they can show us that boob window because i would’ve never known about her mole and that’s unforgivable. shes so sexy man… the tape around her neck like a necklace is really clever and her apron is super cute, she dresses like a grandmother lowkey with that shawl around her shoulders hshshfnd i’d still hit. 10.99 billion times. her bangs weirded me out at first but i’ve come to love them, they’re original i suppose… she actually makes me crazy like i need that old woman so BAD. she brings out the wolf in me that’s screaming “BREED BREED BREED BREED” like you called me a lesbian in heat well that’s really me with garo. the things i would do to her would weird out sigmund freud. i can’t even say them all because i still have some shame but like that anon said, we’d go freak4freak. the things i would do to hear her call me a good girl in that deep ass voice of hers… oh my goodness. it scratches my brain every time i bought her fucking skin just to hear that playful, “careful!” every time i log into the game. got me cheesing every time fr

my home screen is literally this picture of her birthday art and i almost made it my lock screen but my dignity stopped me… in short, she’s THE character for me attraction wise and if we get put in a room together i hope the building is empty because everyone will be hearing us.

[intertexts]

oh god i just realized I forgot to send you this. behold: the worst trivia ask out of all of them:

EPISODE 22 TRIVIA:

- they spend the first. 9 whole minutes talking about the logistics of snapping someones neck irl only to learn that its not actually possible and thats just something that was make up for movies

- "this is the most guy talk we've ever had at the beginning of a rolled. i feel like we need a trigger warning for boys"

- bizly wanted them seeing tide again to feel awkward and weird! like you're going back to your parents house after not seeing them for a really long time

- talking about how dakota has so many parental figures now and grizzly goes "except for ms. g. she has my whole heart" and WITHOUT missing a beat charlie goes "no. *i* have your whole heart"

- there was apparently a group of people on twitter who made a VERY long VERY well researched document about how all the medical stuff esp involving william would work and kept tagging bizly in posts asking how things would work and hes like "man i dont know!! i write a silly superhero show im not a doctor! it all comes down to his parents built a very strange machine that was designed to view worlds unseen!" (<< quoting the dp theme song in the most EXASPERATED voice possible.)

- "WILLIAM WISP SHOULD HAVE FUCKIN WORMS IN HIM. if we were playing this realistically william would be fuckin LOCKED UP with rigor mortis and COVERED in worms and FULL OF GASSES. he should be FOUL. and FULL OF WORMS. and I DONT WANT THAT" << hes a coward for this. btw. i feel like william should be grosser

- they just keep saying more things about how william should be so grotesque. at one point charlie goes "please dont draw this. its so gross". me, looks at my 4/7 jrwi freak week canvases that are william wisp themed. um. well.

- WARM BODIES MENTION. i love that movie. charlies like "thats how i want william to work hes undead but hes like. pretty about it"

- bizly: "because we've already explored this plot thread of William Being Dead so much, i dont want him getting a heart to just automatically fix that. its not like hes just magically alive now. i havent thought of the exact consequences yet but i want there to be some drawbacks to this to keep things interesting"

charlie: "william is just thrilled right now to be feeling stuff. i dont think hes considering the possible drawbacks"

- "ive never been prouder of any of my characters than when william wisp dented drywall"

- "why didnt vyncent get a fun surgery too" "because I'm a coward"

- they were on some absolutely insane energy for this rolled they keep going on like 5-10 minute long tangents and BARELY talk about the episode other than to mention how william should be a rotting corpse. I REMEMBER NOW that this was a SIGNIFICANT factor in my being frustrated with the heart surgery thing LMAO

- THATS IT. THATS LITERALLY IT. THE ROLLED IS OVER NOW. THIS WAS NOTHING !!!!!

TERRIBLE rolled youre right!!!!! help!!! this is so funny. great rolled guys lets wrap it up. william should be wormy and u cant snap peoples necks. good job everybody. it is really funny to me that people were... expecting medical accuracy?? how do u really seriously research putting one guys heart and another guys blood inside a body that's been dead for several years. frankly i would love to see it i'm very curious.

LOWKEY I'M GLAD HE *ISN'T* A BLOATED LOCKED UP DECAYING CORPSE!!!!! PERSONALLY!!!! i fully respect ur rights and taste to think he should be rotting and worm filled and stinky but frankly i'm on charlies side w this one. hes undead and pretty about it <33

anyway. i still have many thoughts about wiwi's soul/body/wisp relationship that i will NOT start talking about now because it would get LONG. but. its always great hearing their thoughts on it. eyes emoji. but yeah i really don't want him to be just magically fixed and alive now.... we'll see!! we'll see how it goes!!!!

[lemontongues]

yknow ive been thinking again lately about how i would like to see more realism in batman content, both canon and fandom, but not the Dark And Gritty kind. the kind thats like.

yes actually he is highly emotionally intelligent and does understand himself quite well and has just accepted that he is A Freak and decided to roll with it rather than being so horrifically emotionally repressed that he can barely even acknowledge that what hes doing is based in trauma. hes been in therapy since he was like 9 years old. he studies human psychology extensively both for himself and so he has better odds of predicting whats gonna go wrong and how when hes up against a rogue or negotiating a hostage situation or whatever. he meditates for two hours a day and is fully capable of keeping a healthy handle on his anger 98% of the time. he's nice to people and fun to be around and sincerely caring. if he were just Always Right but super isolated and reactive and cruel and controlling everyone would fucking hate him and no it wouldnt be enough to sustain his crimefighting activities, thats a stupid lone wolf fuckboy fantasy

he has a strict 9pm bedtime that he only breaks for mandatory WE/brucie activities or emergencies. if theres a gala where he needs to rub shoulders with ppl to gather intel or keep his company running he'll do it but hes Not Happy about being out until midnight and cuts out early as often as possible, and when hes chasing the joker around until 3am hes lamenting his poor sweet circadian rhythm that did nothing wrong ever in its life the whole time. when hes batmanning hes expending a fuckton of energy and he needs to make it up and have a well-established routine to counteract the punishment hes putting his body through. on a similar note, this man is building braces and compression into his suit and doing extensive physical therapy exercises every day of his life bc he wants to have helpful little things like "knees" and "shoulders" by the time hes 40, and hes probably eating a small farms worth of assorted leafy greens and several chickens per day

he is simply Never drunk and he doesnt actually have that much sex. hes really really good at faking a) being drunk and b) getting a high priority phone call from lucius the minute someone hes making out with starts trying to get his shirt off. he also does a lot of "hey look i gotta get out of here with my reputation intact, can we help each other out and pretend we're gonna go fuck?" kind of negotiating with ppl (see: his 9pm bedtime, plus sometimes hes gotta slip away from an event to be sneaky), which is how a lot of the more wild stories about him start circulating lol. this is a man who's regularly getting gassed/injected/etc with highly experimental substances created by maniacs trying to torment or kill him, he does NOT want substances like drugs or alcohol in his body that could potentially interact with them, and the last thing he needs is to be dealing with a pregnancy or sti scare. plus if he can play it safe with someone and have them think of him as a nice and trustworthy dude who just has a bonkers reputation, all the better for his batman activities!

idk i just feel like theres unexplored potential in a lot of that stuff bc so much of recent batman mythos is like HES SO HARDCORE AND CAN DO ANYTHING AND HES ALWAYS RIGHT CAUSE HES SO PARANOID AND DISRESPECTFUL OF PPL AND THEIR BOUNDARIES BUT ITS OKAY BC ITS IN THE NAME OF BEING RIGHT and im like. okay. gotta admit that i dont rly find that believable or in line with my values. can we talk about WE's sweet sweet employee benefits package and bruce designing his suit to take most of the impact off his knees when he jumps off a roof. members of the jl discovering that he gives shockingly balanced and insightful advice about their mundane personal problems. bruce printing his own batsymbol envelopes to leave people cash after he misaims his grappling hook and breaks their window. things of that nature.

[cyberbullyinc]

ok im home and ready to process a few things, last night was fucking insane and i had so much fucking fun! even tho ive never had an issue with going places by myself a part of me thought i was gonna feel somewhat uncomfortable being by myself but everyone around me also went alone but we weren’t lonely, the environment was so much fun and so much better than four years ago….. like….. infinitely better i couldn’t even put it into words, everyone was so nice and respectful and supportive even though we didn’t know each other we all had each other backs and u could literally feel it like i was not in pit, but i was still on the main floor and my row was next to the runway, last time i had VERY similar seats except i lost my spot on the fence cuz everyone started pushing, this time everyone would literally calmly walk to the fence whenever harry was coming towards us and then walk back to our seats……. listen……… listen………… NEVER in my life had i seen anything like it! ive been to several concerts and once u can get closer everything goes out the window never in a million years would i imagine ENTIRE ROWS MOVING BACK AND FORTH IN COMPLETE ORDER AS THE ARTIST WAS MOVING AROUND ?????? the performance was amazing as per usual and being high made him seem so human lmao not in like “what am i doing here he’s literally just some guy” but like….. oh! i get it! he’s having so much fun we’re gassing him up i get it im having fun too! we’re all having fun! it was amazing! the girls next to me offered to let me through to trow my flag but i didn’t really want to cuz i know i wouldn’t get it back and ive had it for four years and i made it myself…… idk lol but everyone was so nice and encouraging! the fan project was definitely my favorite part it was so moving! im literally over the fucking moon!

[ithisatanytime]

Sean Strickland Spars Influencer at UFC PI

sean strickland is such a jewish cocksucker its unreal, go back on my blog look how often i shit on sneako back around the time the kanye stuff went down, im not a sneako fan, but ive spoken extensively about this kind of shit, fighters who do this are fucking trash and this is the worst example ive ever seen of this. i was fine with literally everything but the last 5 seconds of the sparing match. if you arent a fighter, and you are “friends” with a fighter this is the oldest trick they will pull on you “hey lets spar” you dont have any training but they do, so they cover up and you cant figure out how to penetrate their defense, you try for a few minutes GASSING YOURSELF OUT IN THE PROCESS. if you have never fought youve never been tired, you dont know what that word means, when you gas out in a fight you are defenseless, might as well tie your hands behind your back and wear a blindfold im not exaggerating if you are gassed you are that defensless, if your friend is cool, he will stop it there and you will both laugh, and you will probably sign up for boxing lessons with him, if your friend is a sephardic jewish cocksucker, he will use that opportunity instead to tea off on you and hurt you real bad, ive never seen someone do it as bad as sean does it in the last 20 seconds, he went harder than ive ever seen anyone go on a nonfighter during “sparring” even if sneako himself was a trained fighter, thats not SPARRING in the last five to ten seconds hes teeing off on him with viscous upper cuts. if you have never fought or sparred you think he was being nice, if you ever have fought or sparred in any capacity that last thirty seconds is unforgivable, man fuck this faggot

[anabundanceofblue]

on the mysterious family & what they get up to

before i become even more ugly or randomly die out of a heartattack or something i feel an urge to write about a mysterious family that is a constant in my life and my suffering. it never occurred to me that innocuous things like living your life in your bedroom could be a threat to your livelihood and having every moment of your life collected, documented, datarized and then weaponised against you.

you go into the world expecting people to have good intentions because it just seems so natural but then you meet a select group of people that are entirely focused on doing bad, i have no idea why this is so but it just seems to be the case. like a thrill in messing up another persons life or face for their own gain/interest. because if someone else is fatter, uglier, dumber, poorer than you then you wont feel so pathetic about your own life.

ive met maybe 2 (those who cant be named lol eyeroll) individuals who i knew in real life and i never really talked to them either way. but somehow had been involved with this family for over 10 years will little innuclous things happening which i now realise in retrospect, almost all were at the expense of my emotional, psychological and physical health. anytime i had been close to feeling good about my self and my body i would be immediately sent back into a place i didnt like or want to be.

i suffered through chronic illnesses like diabetes (short term), fungal skin, acne, allergies, yellowing of my skin, just a whole host of nasties which i now think may have had some correlation with the "source", the closer you get to the full picture the more scary/messed up it is.

my head is entirely now preoccupied with protecting itself from tissue damage because im being gassed in my own house and my brain is constantly under threat from odours and inflammatory damage, i eat healthy food and exercise (they let me use the treadmill today, normally it's shut off by some electromagnetic thingo that makes the key not work because endorphines makes you smart and we defintely cant have that). im just going round in circles trying to get these viruses out of my body because they can only use my face and my unfortunate state to capitalise off the people that are marginally associated with me, they have no alternative ways of making money because of their default status in hell and having the keen senses to exploit other peoples weaknesses and misfortunes. it's never how can we improve the situation but always, and i mean always how do i make it worse.

i never intended to have these people around me long term and ive no clue why im the chosen one but im determined to speak my truth even if i have to suffer through another 10 years of delayed pain and suffering when you can get away with "small events" that eventually add up to life threatening events like becoming too brainy that you have to die? ok?

like for e.g. the warren guy has literally been living rent free in my head for nearly a year now, because we're supposed soulmates even though he's been watching girls getting it on via cameras and social media and using this technology to have sex with them. im honeslty shooketh and he gets away with it because he has money and the time to correct the story. even though the guy is literally a creep with ego the size of sun with not much to back it up apart from that one time he accidentally coomed too hard he needed to dispose my body to get rid of the evidence (when i entered zero universe and messed up his party).

and im pretty sure the tissue damage is quite severe because im bleeding from invisible forces inside my body. like i bled almost an entire underwear full of blood because he raped another girl spiritually and i need to cover it up for him because im a virgin & all. like im literally bleeding downstairs. and my nose is now all messed up again after being healed because i need to stay ugly and deformed and weak all my life for him to sit inside to have sex with people to clear his coom brain//elliot roger tendecies to feel powerful & good about himself so that he can continue to exploit me and people who look like me. the dude does nothing all day but chant make helen ugly in my head and pressing hard on my nose so that it becomes weakned and the outside makes goes into my brain to make it all messed up.

thats not even countign the almost one year worth of funds they received from literally chanting stupid shit inside my head and threatening to bomb anyone who doesnt obey them because he has a magical penis and it'll be the end of the world if we dont coorperate. like im pretty sure he is stacked from just having been born with that critical puzzle piece and now he's ruining my life yet again after 10+ years of slow torture and degradation. every part of me has been watched since grade 8 and it's still not enough

also the dude literally sends me really creepy cryptic messges on anonymous sites/forums and it's so frequent i cant tell his typing style. he literally sent me a video about his crush on hailey bieber on youtube sometime in january in a youtube short "my girl & i" and it's hailey and justin getting ice cream in rome ??? and thats how i pieced it together because memories dont fade even if you pay enough money to universe 5 temporarily. and one time he sent me a graph with a collection of books and it's elliot rodgers manifesto lol next to a scientology book

i mostly dont give a shit about what these rich old creeps get up to but like ive lived 10+ years in a shit condition without conscious awareness and i think i deserve not to feel this way until i actually die? so yeah im going to keep writing and screaming until someone can get this old fucker off me and my head and i can live my life in peace and quiet and the family can fuck off too and stop channelling their weird voodoo magic to get people to like them and then backstab them and justify it ad infinitum

theres more interesting areas in the black universe that you can explore but i honestly cant be bothered because im so hideous all the time and im so preoccupied with not coming off as so ugly so that people will hate me all over again because a year ago that was the most traumatic event of my entire life and it all started with the ugly old loser sat around jacking off to cute instagram girls that are his daughters age and going around using women like tissues he needs to pay more compensation in my humble opinion (me included)

enough snitching for the night because i havent slept properly if you want more interesting stories about jews and their antics, keep in touch yah i said it bitch fight me in real life you little bitch

[erdrea]

ive had pretty good luck with my random roommate placings thus far but this year has been a fucking nightmare 😭 like in my first dorm i only had half a wall separating me and my roomies living areas and my current roommate still manages to be louder than her and we have a whole room between us. and like my other two roommates had a friendship breakup so one is never around anymore and yet gasses up the apartment with the most foul smelling weed like !!! give me your plugs info so i block them and report them to the police like it doesn’t even smell like gas it just smells RANCID and on top of that she spends most of her time up with the upstairs neighbors and i can always tell she’s over bc it sounds like a silverback gorilla decided to move in upstairs and is tearing up the place

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Pink Floyd - Breathe (In The Air) [Live in HD]" on YouTube

This singer was amazed at how gross it was today and how you were saying it was gross but he said it's much worse looking at it and someone sent it back and it wasn't him and he said this is gross and he was thinking about it he said I should probably tell people no said what we're doing here is disgustingly evil to ourselves so you're dying and you're dying with it and this is all you are and we're missing out on it and you're not trying to survive and you're trying to mess with one person they're calling you the rabbit cuz the idiots threatening you and the rabbits are breathing the air the whole time and are adjusted and they're healthier and they're running around with all these bugs and he sees them in the morning and says hello it's really crazy what they're saying what they're saying is is that they're burying each other and when you're done burying someone you turn around and there's someone else to bury and it's one of you who's burying people because it makes you breathe into much and you don't care if it's sunlight you're paying people in your yards it is disgusting what's happening here you're a bunch of moronic pigs and he said it too they're all like seniles hell and these people here are going to die I mean they're they're not ready for it and down south it's really bad my son doesn't even care cuz he's going to he's going to heal he's going to feel all the stuff itchy and falling off it is a little already and some of you feel it on your arms and a scratching so badly that you're ripping the skin off it's disgusting it's trying to heal and there's bad mouthing people and you're of course senile as hell some people like Mike too he left and he's on an IV and he knows how to do it and he's not too far away and he's going to try and ride it out cuz he needs the air others are just sitting here picking their nose and they're not going to do anything they say we don't have to and things like that but you're going to have to and it's going to be necessary. Oxygen levels here in punta Gorda in his neighborhood are 24 and oxygen levels and fisherman's village are 27 so that means in probably an hour it'll be 27 down here and that's very high and that's what is going on in fort Myers all the way down into a stereo it's 26 sometimes 27 and they can't handle it at all and they're all dying

Hera

Is us up top I'm pretty sure and we said a lot yes and it is saying a lot and there are time I'm kind of saying it together so horrific site

Thor Freya

I've never seen so many people die at the same time in my life and I've seen huge wars I guess I should rephrase that it looks like peacetime and civilian life and I've never seen that before even in gassings it's never that big, it's never been in some sort of residential area and it's just oxygenation and they're dying in droves I mean these people are dying and they're screaming and crying out what do we do some lady screamingos getting an IV or hydrate like madness you know it worked for me and have too much cuz she's doing it and she's flushing it out she knows how long do I do this says however long you feel like living and she's wise ass and she got a little angry and she said this I'm not accustomed to people talking to me that way and she died and it was working but she's an a****** no it was working but not well enough it's gross you people are gross I've had enough of you and your gifted most to you than a dying you look like us and we are going in with the minority morlock and you look like some of them and we're seeing how and that's gross too your refrigerators are full of evidence and we are going after you and you are getting killed on top of getting killed and we don't need you here there's a line of people out in the middle we're going to try and attack and for some reason the oxygen went up out there and he said there's nothing stopping it because it flows across the water and it's exactly what it is and it went out like a couple miles into the suburbs and into the first line and we're out there all the time getting oxygen we have to fight you and have to have oxygen well like him constantly doing it and you died huge lines of you falling down dead and it happens every day but it just looks really weird cuz it looks like you're going to fake a salad so we have to go out there and like stab each one of you for real until we caught you off so you can't do anything it's amazingly gross there's just these scenes everywhere of dead people who look fine they're kind of black and blue and some spots but mostly you don't look like there's something wrong with them I'm going to get on with the show but I think this deserves saying something we are not very proud and you tried to get us you got yourselves and I'm sick and tired of hearing about it this is what you need to do is we need to leave we're here stories about ship loads of you on the ocean and you're just dying not even making it there because you hit that huge thing of algae so he's been closing the doors open to get past it somebody said I don't feel well after they did that and you got too much air in the first part and he died and said what's wrong with him we don't see anything because the panic after ship died by fighting I don't like you people and you said this is what you're like so you can't stand it it's too hard life is too hard already

Mac

[girltiaray]

Something from the depth of my mind - Confession #9

I have so much to say and nothing at all. I wonder what life is all about yet I "live" it everyday.

As crazy as that may sound my mind is a frenzy and my body is very still.

I sit around while my mind does the race.

I hold my breath while the emotions show up in my face.

Sometimes I feel trapped in my own body; left to figure out who is this and what are we supposed to be doing.

Almsot as if my mind and body and two separate entities doing this everlong dance during the duration of "my lifetime".

In the grand scheme of things; I can see, I can hear I can smell. At this precious moment in time all 5 of my senses are still in tact.

Thank You God!

Ive been wanting to figure out why I'm so stagnant and what can I do about it. Money is just a big of factor in my life and fear is.

Just like my mind and body; both money and fear are fighting a real battle. Id say money wins tho

I can't seem to remember the last time I truly felt free. the last time I laughed without needing reassurance or some context attached to it. Something so pure that the joy it brung me took no thought but manifested as pure action. Bliss 444

I dream of the days where I'm no longer searching but serving.

I long for the days where love is ever so close that I can touch it, hold it, kiss it, sing to it, make love to it, teach and learn from it as it does me. Why dammit I can even taste it. Euphoria

I can't seem to get a grip on reality finding myself in the in-between and the never before seen. Im just manifesting my dreams and working in between.

Im navigating the world and I aint even move. Ima star in a big bold galaxy full of gasses and fat asses and trinkets galore but nothing was more sore than a heart that truly just wants more.

Peace on Earth means Peace to my mind

What I shall seek - Is what I shall find

A testimony : June 18, 2023 @ 9:47PM RVA

[explvrer]

my sister told me that she wishes she had the artistic genes. thereby implying that i have the artist pants in the sisterhood. IVE NEVER BEEN GASSED THIS HARD BY HER.

also every time m down in the dumps about Being Human and having to try very fucking hard to be a Good Person she reminds me that it's actually very fucking cool that i continue to try to learn and grow. ahsjshsh and it makes me cry every time she says that. idk why Being Good n Forgiving Self n Loving Self is so difficult, but the most human thing to do is to pick yourself up n try it again.

in my training arc y'all !!!! in my hermit mode to new person arc !!!!

[prettyboykatsuki]

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO

[gourmetmilkshake]

i was ringing a man up today and right when i said hello he said "gosh you're so cute! you are just so cute and pretty, you could be a model, you're so really pretty" and my register froze!!!! it was so uncomfortable because the longer it took the longer he would talk and i was like eeerggghh 😬😬😬😬but since i had to be polite i was like "haha i wish i could be a model! that would be fun no work haha" like i was really tense and uncomfortable in the moment but now i'm like

in the mirror like

[obsidigan]

YA BOI GOT ACCEPTED INTO THE COLLEGE I WANTED!!!! CAN'T WAIT TO LEAVE THIS SHIT HOLE AND START THE NEXT STEP OH MY GODDD

[bitsybunbun]

Cnc diapering anon, call me Lilly.

And oh god i met a gal on a dating app and she had never tried md/lg before but was willing to give it a try, i semt her some pics and she was like "holy crap thats hot" so ive spent like eveey day further gassing up this new mommy and now she wants me to be padded for our Aquarium date.

She sent me a message "Dont worry ill make sure if you get wet to change you." And ive been a blushy squirmy baby since.

That's so wonderful!!! I hope your date goes wonderfully and you have a blast being babied at the aquarium 🥳