#but either way don't go out your way to have a tirade about it

[cainite-bite]

I think really one of the worst things you can do as a writer or an aspiring one is just... respond to negative criticism

especially when it leads you to just absolutely melt down. Like i get getting negative feedback can suck but it’s not really a crusade or a big deal. shrugging off the impulse to respond is probably the best thing you can do, because upset posting is going to lead you to replying things that probably won’t be a good look. If it delves into you attacking people it’s going to reflect poorly, even and especially to people who enjoy what you do. Non stop spam replying to constantly add one point to another to another makes you look seriously unhinged. Also people asking about confusing parts of the plot or asking why it seemed like a plotline just seemingly vanished is not an attack or a critique either and attacking someone back for something being unclear is also a pretty bad look.]

Do not be the writer of Empress Theresa just do not

[pomefioredove]

now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up

crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake

he acts so... casual about it?

swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"

"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"

okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you

"To what?"

Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."

(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)

Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices

"So you'll let me go once you get me?"

"Uhhh..."

Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him

Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him

(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)

Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess

even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast

you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!

of all the irresponsible things...

of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too

purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble

he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours

of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too

going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?

I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?

actually don't answer that

...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie

but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?

for one, you'd make a really good pillow

he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that

and malleus would hate it

...that's reason enough for him

plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?

either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie

news travels fast around school, after all

then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed

that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!

besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!

so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price

he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul is annoyed

once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about

talk about good marketing...

why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!

of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary

it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one

Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof

though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion

a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around

and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says

"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"

hint: he is not

the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it

(AKA infinite sleepovers)

and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!

he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in

right next to his of course :)

and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you

after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him

You don't always get what you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable

he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner

with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...

when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs

oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?

of all the silly, immature things...

oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding

(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)

Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile

but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately

with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"

Idia understandably freaks out

"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"

(liar)

(...but this is still different)

the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus

"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."

Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"

"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"

"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"

Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege

Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made

he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident

though, of course, he goes to you first

seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week

and he's in a great mood!

"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"

you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"

"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"

you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"

"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"

certainly he's not this naive, you think

"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"

he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"

huh. that was a strange way of putting it

but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it

and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!

"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"

he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"

"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Dick standing up for teacher reader? Pleas?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dick asked, bursting through the doors of the wedding boutique.

"Dick-"

"Baby I love you. You're beautiful and you can buy whatever dress you want. Or a tux. Or a fucking mini skirt. I don't care-" he broke off his tirade and kissed you, not as gently as he meant to. Leaving one of the shop clerks to steady you on your feet as he turned to round on your mother and step mother who had invited themselves along.

Steph had texted him about the time your mother said you 'looked like a pig' in a specific dress. One that you'd been happy about.

"And you two," Dick said rounding on your mother and step sister with a growl, "Out. Right now."

"You can't make us leave," Your mother huffed, "She's my daughter-"

"Babe?" Dick said over his shoulder, "Do you want them to go?"

"Please."

Your voice is very small. And very timid. And it does nothing to quell the fury. You'd been excited. You wanted to try on dresses and have some fun. Steph and Cass were going. Barbara was going to hook up a video call so your Grandma could be there. It was fine. Your friends were planning pedicures and lunch- It was for you. Just for you. And now you don't even want to do it. All because your mother couldn't just be happy for you.

"You heard," Dick said crossing his arms, "Leave or I call the police."

It took some squawking and some shooing but when they were unceremoniously ushered out by Steph and Cass who were all too happy to do it, Dick turned back to you and held out his hand to help you down. "Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?" Dick asked the shop owner.

"There's fitting rooms," she said nodding, happy to help now that the disturbance was over.

"Perfect." Dick lead you the direction she indicated quickly and shut the door to a fitting room. It wasn't as private as he wanted but it was something.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Hey," he murmured, "Shhh. No. You're okay. Baby please don't cry." When the Dam breaks all he can do is scoop you up. Wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest. "You look so beautiful."

"I just wanted to have a good day."

"You still can, sweetie. You don't look like a pig. Or a slut- whatever those things look like. You look beautiful, okay?" He tilted your chin up and wiped tears off your cheeks with his thumbs. "I have one request for your dress though," he teased. Eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What?"

"Mostly that it either be easy to get out of the way or easy to get you in and out of. I don't think I'm gonna be able to keep my hands to myself."

And when you giggle and thud your forehead against his chest he chuckled, rocking you for a second. "You're gonna be breathtaking," Dick said, "No matter what you pick."

"Okay but. If you don't cry when I come down the aisle I'm gonna go back and we're gonna do it again."

"Duly noted," he said grinning and he bent to kiss your head.

[effloradox]

I’m slightly obsessed with this vampire cowboy if you couldn’t tell 😅

Being the baby in a family of vampires is a difficult position to hold. You're not a baby by any means, you're in your thirties by now, but compared to the patriarch of your new family who is over three hundred years older than you, the other vampires dwarf your time on this planet. You know that this life is a blessing, that without it you'd be long dead by now, but it still stings having your age used against you in practically every family discussion.

Carlisle has more sympathy for your age difference but Edward is the worst for it. He's only seventy years older than you and yet you'd think he was seven hundred years older from the way he acts. You can't help the fact that people born in the same year as you are still alive and well, it's not like you can make time pass quicker and yet your adoptive brother seems to take great delight in pulling rank over you in any discussions about the future of the coven. Knowing he can read your thoughts of frustration does nothing to help the situation either.

Jasper knows it bothers you. He was still fairly new to the coven when you were turned, so whilst he's older than Edward he doesn't have the same position in the coven. It doesn't bother him as much since he outlives Edward, but he understand your frustrations. One of the perks of his abilities is knowing when you're reaching the end of your patience so he can quickly intervene with the suggestion of getting out of the house if only for a while so you can calm down.

It's almost a tradition at this point that not long after a move, the two of you will seek out some private spot far from the new house, far from the new town, that will become your spot for the duration of your time in whatever new place the coven has moved to.

As far as your limited experience goes, Forks seems to be a fairly nice town. Nothing like the small English town you lived in when you were human, but it's nice. It rains almost constantly, which is a nice feeling of being back home, and the people seem more than friendly enough. Carlisle had mentioned you having your tour of the high school in the upcoming days once enough time had passed for the family to have 'settled in'. The only thing you'd actually done upon arriving in town was choosing a bedroom for you and Jasper and immediate heading out to find your new spot.

Carlisle had warned you about not breaking the treaty he had formed with the Quileutes but aside from that, you and Jasper had been given free reign. It still hurt when the last thing you'd heard before you left the house was yet another snide remark from Edward about needing to baby proof the house before the two of you returned. You'd stopped running after maybe twenty minutes, and this was definitely not going to be your spot, but Jasper got the impression you needed time to process the past rather than look to the future.

"Do you think he'll always treat me like that?" You question makes Jasper pause for a moment as he considers his response. He lets his eyes drift over the small clearing the two of you are sat in before his gaze falls back to you.

"I hope not darlin'." His words do nothing to stop the ache in your chest and he knows it. He can tell from the defeated look on your face and the way your emotions flicker across your face. He doesn't need to be an empath to know how much this tirade is starting to bother you.

"Alice said that he'd stop with time, but I don't think I can spend another thirty years listening to him be so condescending about me." The mention of your precognitive sibling makes Jasper pause. For her to have a vision of something so specific would be unusual from what he's discerned over the years.

"Did Alice see something about him stopping?" You shrug lightly, pulling your knees close to your chest.

"Not necessarily. She said she saw something big happening whilst we're here that will make him stop but that could be years away." Jasper lets out a quiet noise of consideration at your words. Alice had been having more frequent visions since you'd all moved, maybe something big was on the horizon. Last time she'd had this many was just before you'd come into their lives.

"I can ask Carlisle to speak to him if you want." You take a moment to consider his offer before shaking your head lightly.

"I think that would just make him do it more out of spite. Thank you though." You outstretch a hand to him that he's more than willing to take. Even after over a decade of being together, it never fails to fill him with joy how perfectly your hand fits in his. Like you were made for him, or he was made for you. Maybe both. It certainly feels that way when you look at him with a smile that could rival the moon for how beautiful it is.

"You want to head somewhere new?" You nod at him and allow him to help you to your feet. Even now you're both standing your hands are still entwined and he smiles as he feels you squeeze his hand gently.

"Lead the way cowboy."

[atom-writings]

decay of angels celebrating halloween with their s/o

0.9k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: vulgar language, other than that, none!

a/n: wanted to do a seasonal one and I got a req for Halloween with nikolai but I couldn't understand it. dear anon what were u trying to say. pls

Fyodor

- Fyodor is not a fan of Halloween. It's rare for him to celebrate anything, much less a heathenous one like Halloween.

“Being so excited about ghouls... it seems the masses are finally showing their true faces.”

- He'll join you in whatever you want to do, but he would never help you hand out candy. However, he doesn't mind relaxing with you on the couch if you only have to run to the door a couple of times.

- (Plus, then he'd get to steal some of the candy. He hates it, but he does have quite a sweet tooth.)

- As for costumes, there's no way he'd dress up as anything silly. Every year, he just wears one of his fancy outfits and goes as a “catholic.” Which, like, yes... but he's just dressing a little different than normal.

- He will not do couples costumes. Ever.

- Although, he does appreciate the cover that Halloween can provide for him. He's found that law enforcement are often much more lenient on that day, and he always manages to take advantage of that somehow.

- Other than that, he doesn't care for Halloween at all. He doesn't like scary movies, he hates the gaudy decorations, and most importantly he hates having fun.

- He would completely abandon you on Halloween if he wasn't so paranoid about something happening if he did.

“Those hooligans outside... their faces are covered in cheap masks. If they were to do something to you, you could not even identify them afterwards!”

“But-”

“No, you aren't leaving. That's final.”

- Especially if you wear anything even a little more revealing than usual. Then he's glued to your side all night. For more reasons than just protection...

- Basically, Fyodor is a little hater. Go hang out with Nikolai instead.

Nikolai

- To Nikolai, every day of the year is Halloween. So, when the time comes around that it's Halloween for everyone else too, he's over the moon.

- Don't expect him to come along to a party or something like that, though. He's very firm in his plans every year.

- First, he decorates homes with tons of creepy shit. No, he doesn't decorate his own home. He goes along random streets flinging dead bodies (fake and real!) into people's yards along with covering front doors in cobwebs.

- Then, he sets up an (illegal) haunted house in a nearby abandoned warehouse. People come from miles away to participate, and only a few died in the process (:

”Ah, Y/N! Guess how we got more props for next year tonight!“

- Lastly, at night, he wanders around either 1. vandalizing anyone who didn't decorate or 2. scratching at people's bedroom windows and whistling like a ghost.

- You are always welcome to join him on his Halloween tirade but don't expect him to slow down for you. He's a busy delinquent!

- As for costumes, he always goes all out. Every year he gets a new one. A couple of years he's even been on stilts!

- But a few notable ones were: Black shadow creature with glowing red eyes, spiderlegged mask man, “Spike Boy“ (That one was really bad...) and Fyodor if he got love as a child! (That one was also really bad, but just for him.)

- He'd be totally willing to do a couple's costume though! Though, with one stipulation; that if you dress slutty, he has to too.

- On Halloween, he would really like to spend more time with you. Maybe one year you two will spend the night just peacefully giving out candy. But until then, he is way too much of a lunatic that night to act like anything close to a boyfriend.

(Actually… maybe you shouldn’t hang out with Nikolai on Halloween after all…)

Sigma

- Sigma definitely isn't the biggest Halloween fan, but he doesn't mind it. It's a fun excuse to make some kids happy, even if he does hate the more scary stuff.

- Usually, he isn't too easily scared, but it's different around Halloween. When he has to worry about people acting crazy and going out of their way to hurt or scare everyone... it puts him on edge. When he's that stressed out, anything scares him.

”Why do people have to go all out every year? Isn't this holiday supposed to be about kids?“

”It's about fun!“

”What's fun about crimes?!“

- So, because of that, he prefers staying at home all night. Going to parties or events makes him worry about teenagers vandalizing his place (like from a movie) so, he isn't heading out all night. And because he loves you, he'll make you stay home too.

- The most decorating he'll do for Halloween is a couple of pumpkins, maybe a sign or two. But that's it unless you want to do more.

- He does really love couple's costumes though. Every year, he tries to come up with something cute and easy for the two of you to do.

- Other than that, all his costumes are pretty basic. He doesn't care about looking creepy, he just wants to be comfortable. For a couple of years, his only costume was a big animal onesie.

- One of his favourite things about Halloween is the sweets! He absolutely adores handing out candy. Plus, sometimes, he'll bake some fall sweets for the two of you.

- He's one of those people who REALLY like pumpkin spice, so he loves the excuse to put it in EVERYTHING.

- But he basically only likes the holiday because it forces you two to hang out and relax.

- That is, when you're far away from Nikolai. He's scared of that man normally; but on Halloween? Makes him shiver.

[moumouton4]

Hi!

I'm that anon who sent the monoma request for your other page, I'm sorry about that.

So, uhm, yea if you're still okay with that, can I have some headcanons with neito and a reader who's love language is biting?

Have a nice day

When Your Love Language Is Biting || Neito Monoma x reader

Masterlist ⚜

A/n : THANK YOU so much for this request ! I love Neito so much ! 😍 I didn't know if you wanted it SFW or SNFW so I did both. the NSFW part is under the cut 😂

Warning : Biting and NSFW under the lemon cut :')

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Words count : 807

SFW :

You've always had this strange way of expressing your affection by biting people, kind of like a kitten

At first you didn't want to do it for fear that he would laugh at you. He's Neito Monoma from class B after all

He was always putting down the A class in his long, loud and provocative tirade dripping with sarcasm

This is why he is often knocked out by Kendo

What pushed you to take the plunge was the fact that although he looked to the untrained eye like a nutcase, he was calm and gentle when he wasn't in class A or when he was just with you

You were happy to see that he wasn't just vocal and eccentric

The first time you did it was one day when he looked all smug for his own good. So you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders before nibbling the top of his ear

He made a hilarious leap forward

"What are you doing creep ?"

He kind of liked it

The pink that came to his ear and the way his heart skipped a beat exposed him

It was something you did more and more often and you had your tricks to get your way

Pretending that you had learned something shameful about the A class to whisper in his ear and once again table the opportunity to nibble his lobe

As usual he squeaks and turns red before calling you "creep" or "weirdo"

But you know better than to believe his words over his tomato red face

Kendo is very happy she doesn't have to knock him out anymore, you just have to bite him on the ear or neck and he calms down

He got used to it pretty quickly and if one day you don't bite him somewhere he'll feel bad and think you'll leave him :(

Please do bite him or he'll cry at night :(

If you forget during the day he will be a bit more biting ( pun unintended ) with you his remarks being more sarcastic than usualI

If you realize why he's acting this way you'll fix it quickly by biting him on the neck or on his bottom lip after kissing him

If you do he'll be putty in your hands

If you don't he'll grab you and pull you against him and you can try to squirm out of his grip but he won't let you go if you don't bite him

"Is your stupidity such that you even forget to do this ?"

He really likes this proof of affection which is original and stands out of the other ways, a bit like him

It's not only you who shows affection in your relationship

It would not be fair

When you are alone he makes it a point to return all the affection you show him during the day

NSFW :

Besides, if you thought he was smug in his daily life, well, your opinion changed radically when you saw him in action in bed

He was insufferable but you loved him anyway

He was always wearing this shit-eating grin, shamelessly smirking down at you whether you were giving him a head or he was thrusting into you, his forearms resting on either side of your head to keep him steady as he moved above you

And if a sound has the misfortune to leave your mouth you will hear him sneer

"I know that I'm good no need to scream it to my face" / t

Sometimes you have to bite him to stop his teasings

Like he'll tease you until you beg for him to touch you. But if you feel like a brat like him you'll bite him to make him give out

Bite his shoulder or neck as he is fingering you languidly, his fingers merely touching this spot that makes you scratch his back

You also like to gently bite his inner thigh as you get on your knees

Even when you're sucking him you like to carefully graze your teeth on his cock

This makes him cum so fast he doesn't even understand how

Makes him really blushy and ashamed

You also bite each other shoulders to ground yourselves when he shoves his dick fast and deep inside of you

Sometimes he even puts his in your mouth asking to bite it while he pounds into you

Bravo he has a biting kink now

All this biting leaves purple and red marks all over you guys bodies and it's not the licking you do around it that's going to erase the beautiful bites left there

Hopefully neither of you care about it and proudly wear the marks the other has left on your body, knowing that you both match

What a powerful couple

~

~

A/n : That was really fun to do 🌊 I hope you guys liked it ! 🍞🧈 Again my requests are open 🥤🍷

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

[hannigramislife]

for my own gratification bc i just ran into nie mingjue hate in the wild, would you mind making a post that defends my poor good boy? he worked so hard and got gaslit to shit before getting murdered terribly ;; literally everyone sat there telling him "youre being too harsh" and he's just responding appropriately. like yeah, if you witness a murder, ya kinda got to do something about that as a clan leader. its kinda your responsibility, even when you care about the person who did the murdering. he was also a really young when he took on the role of clan leader and idk, it just made me rlly sad to see people dunk on him cuz wtf he's literally just trying his best in an impossible situation WHILE being perpetually fucked over by his clan's own traditional cultivation cuz now the stronger he is as a leader, the closer he is to going literally insane and dying bc of it. (mingjue did nothing wrong i will die on this hill) ((sorry for going on a tirade, im just sad and defensive of my good boy rn))

Oh no! I'm so sorry you had to go through Nie Mingjue hate! Truly tragic. I went through that once when in the beginning of me reading the books, when I still had no proper opinions, and never again.

I'm more than willing to make a post about Nie Mingjue! I'm always down to talk about Nie Mingjue tbh, he's my heart and love and if I were to have been given the opportunity to be his right hand person, I would have simply never betrayed his trust and married him. Rip Jin Guangyao but I'm different.

Anyways, I, huhhh, actually think you?? Covered it all??? Pretty much?? Yet I will talk about it. This will be long and non-coherent, because I don't have the books rn to find quotes in them and honestly, I could write essays on Nie Mingjue either way.

Nie Mingjue is a central piece of the narrative, despite the limited amount of appearances he made, and the fact that he wasn't close to the main characters at all. The entire second part of the plot revolves around him- it happened because of him. His murder is a tragedy; literally, by greek standards, man has Cassandra Curse all over him, so I don't get how people can tell me, confidently, that his death was warranted. I've been told the man had asked for it, and this has mostly been by Jin Guangyao apologists.

So let me make something real fucking clear.

Nie Mingjue did not deserve to die. Let's get that out of the way, anyone can fight me on that. Nie Mingjue had more good qualities than half the people in this fucking story, despite his flaws. After his father was brutally murdered when Mingjue was only in his teens, Nie Mingjue stepped up as clan leader. We can only speculate the hardships that await someone leading a clan at such an early age. Yet, political challenges weren't the only thing he had to battle; Nie Mingjue knew about his clan's harmful cultivation, and he knew he was going to die young. So what did he do? His best. Literally his best, always. He was always giving 100% of his abilities, because that's who he was.

Let's talk about who Nie Mingjue was, shall we?

When Jin Guangyao, still Meng Yao then, describes Nie Mingjue, he finds himself perplexed, because Nie Mingjue isn't like other men. He is not frivolous, and he has no vices; Meng Yao describes how Nie Mingjue never showed an interest in arts, or alcohol, or women. All he did was train, and fight the Wens during the war. It shows that he had a one-track mind from the start, and has got a strict discipline; yet this strictly disciplined man, leader of a clan that prizes strength, continuously indulges his lazy and undisciplined half-brother, his one and only heir, despite not understanding his interests. We gather, pretty quickly, that Nie Mingjue is a bleeding heart for his brother, and for the ones he loves in general. We see the same softer side displayed in the presence of Lan Xichen, and of course, for some time, Meng Yao.

People seem to think Nie Mingjue took Meng Yao's betrayal too harshly. As if somehow seeing a man he thought to have been just and honest commit premeditated murder, then cover it up, was something he was just supposed to get over. To this day, I can't believe how Lan Xichen was so understanding of it. But not only did Nie Mingjue catch him in a cowardly act - Meng Yao proceeds to manipulate him, using the fact that Nie Mingjue cared about him, to stab him in the back. Or front, however it happened. I get that Meng Yao was in a difficult position, that he suffered at the Jins, that he felt backed in a corner; but Nie Mingjue was a man that had extended his help to Meng Yao before, and even then, he went to find Meng Yao in righteous fury, ready to help him again. To Nie Mingjue, the idea that Meng Yao "had no other choice" but to kill - to kill in the manner he did - it could have been nothing but a betrayal.

One thing that I personally highly respected Nie Mingjue for was the fact that he did not judge Meng Yao for his background. This is not up for debate; Nie Mingjue stood up for him, quite publicly, quite vocally, when Meng Yao was being insulted over it. And not only that, but he promoted Meng Yao to be his right hand man, just like that. Because he's impulsive, and to prove a point, but it was still huge of him to do. Not even Lan Xichen would have done that - In a society built on power dynamics between social classes, Nie Mingjue was one of the few characters who did not let that define his actions. It wasn't because he was born privileged (though he was) but because he he didn't let anything other than his judgment direct his actions. Nie Mingjue also never shied away from anything; if it had to be done, he did it, no matter the cost.

Nie Mingjue was decisive, and had an iron will. When Meng Yao killed the Nie disciples in Qishan, he wanted to kill Meng Yao. Meng Yao told him, paraphrasing, that "don't you understand that if I hadn't done that, it would have been your corpse up there?" and Wei Wuxian takes it to mean "Translation: I saved you so you can't kill me, because that would mean you're in the wrong." So Nie Mingjue hesitated for a second, then said: "Fine! I'll kill you, and then take my own life!" And the only reason he didn't, was because Lan Xichen was there. Otherwise, Nie Mingjue would have killed his former friend, then followed him to whatever afterlife awaited.

Nie Mingjue is often portrayed like he doesn't understand stuff, like he's stupid, simply because of his black and white sense of morality. That's not correct: Nie Mingjue understands motive, but he doesn't accept the ends justifying the means. Scratch that, he doesn't accept or justify either, if they're unjust. The murder of the Jin commander, the murder of the Nie disciples, not executing Xue Yang - how can Nie Mingjue possibly understand Meng Yao's decisions, when Nie Mingjue would rather die, any day, than live thanks to vile actions?

And then, Nie Mingjue starts falling into qi-deviation. We know that it affected his temper the most, and his judgement. I don't understand how it works, really, so I don't know by the end how much was Nie Mingjue and how much was the mess that the spirit made of him - maybe a combination of the two. But what is certain, is that the rapid qi deviation changed him.

But I could write a hundred more pages on him, meticulously going over every single scene he has ever appeared in, because I find him that interesting. I find him the most interesting, and the most appealing character, because in a story where the navigation of the cultivation world's complex politics and hierarchies with tact and diplomacy is crucial, Nie Mingjue stands uncompromising in his principles, choosing duty and honor over anything else, even when it's hard.

[caparrucia]

Here's one of those uncomfortable tidbits that no one wants to think about and which people in cozy internet bubbles hate being reminded of:

The way you speak about people you dislike/hate is a red flag to people you do like/love.

The way you express anger and frustration and rage about people who wronged you, even people who wronged you badly, in a wider context, is very often a red flag for others around you. Do you let your anger be a justification to use dehumanizing language? Slurs? Are your personal feelings the measure you use to determine who is allowed personhood and who isn't?

This doesn't mean you're not allowed to be angry. This doesn't mean that you're not allowed to express said anger. It doesn't even mean your anger is not justified.

But if you find yourself sitting alone in your corner of rage, wondering why your personal connections tend to wither and fizz out, it probably is because you're constantly talking about people who make you angry and all the things you'd like to do to them. And like, people who first encounter that, might be sympathetic, might be wary, but the more visceral your anger is, the more readily you express it, the more people start wondering what's the threshold to trigger that behavior. Will you be talking about them in that tone too, if they piss you off? Will they be the subject of one of your tirades, if they make a mistake? Are you going to go on a rampage, calling them slurs, if it turns out they don't agree with you?

Anger is, for better or for worse, the kind of emotion you share with close friends, not with strangers trying to become friends, or new friends who don't know you yet. Anger is the kind of thing a good friend will know how to parse. But if it's a new person and all they know about you is how angry you are about something or someone, they will lack the context to understand that your anger is justified and that it's not the entirety of your personality... because you have made it so that's the only part of your personality they've seen.

Discord culture being what it is, it's fascinating how prevalent "vent" channels are, and how people just go in there and scream their rage in search of sympathy. But it tends to back fire, because to get sympathy from strangers, your venting needs to be edited to sound like you're in the right. Your anger needs to be righteous, to evoke support in those vent spaces. And it becomes a cycle.

Cause the thing is, anger isn't always justified or righteous. Sometimes you're BEC about someone! (Bitch Eating Crackers, a shorthand for "this person annoys me to an irrational amount, anything they do is parsed as a negative", "LOOK AT THE BITCH, EATING CRACKERS" etc.) And that's anger that needs to be expressed and processed! But that's the kind of anger that only close friends can handle. If you put that anger out, performing in the hopes of getting support, you're going to need to either lie egregiously about why you're angry, or you're going to alienate a ton of people because it turns out "is capable of irrational anger about things/people" is a pretty common red flag when that's all you know about someone.

Just.

I keep seeing post after post of people bemoaning being lonely and abandoned and failing to establish long-lasting connections and it's just.

It's the anger. You keep greeting people with anger and anger is a great emotion to fuel a lot of things, like change and protection and closing ranks, but it's kinda shit at building long lasting connections. Try curiosity or good will! It doesn't mean you have to stop being angry, either. If you're angry, you're angry! But when you're trying to build relationships, using anger as an all-purpose tool is like trying to hammer a nail with a saw.

[spacexseven]

GOD I am thinking so hard about yans going after a darling they previously rejected.

like. you have a crush on your coworker, [insert bsd yan here]. ur not subtle about it. ofc yan Knows, so does everyone else who watches you two interact. trouble is, they dont reciprocate. which is ok! theyre allowed to not like you! but they're also a huge dick about it which is the real issue here.

like, they do NOT let you down easy AT ALL. they might even lead you on a bit beforehand if they're the opportunistic type, paying attention to you up until you do what they want and then dropping you until they have another task lined up. they don't feel bad about it. they don't HAVE to indulge in your delusional little crush, be happy theyre paying attention to you at all! eventually they just completely shut you down. maybe you finally work up the courage to ask them out and they laugh right in your face, not able to stifle their amusement at the idea. or maybe you catch them on a bad day and your puppy-like desperation goes from being funny to annoying and they don't mince words when telling you to get lost. you're heartbroken, humiliated, maybe even a bit frightened if they said anything particularly scary in their tirade, and resolve to just avoid them as much as you possibly can from now on. maybe start looking for a new job somewhere else. 

they try to act like losing your attentions doesnt effect them at all, but they really feel your absence. they convince themselves that you're just giving them space after the… incident, but when they go looking around for you and you're nowhere to be found or you coincidentally have to leave whatever room you're in as soon as they enter it they realize that you're avoiding them. it hurts more than they'd like to admit, they find themselves seeking you out much more than they ever have before, only to be disappointed when you notice them looking at you and get visibly uncomfortable or lower your voice so they cant hear you anymore. if they ever DO manage to talk to you, you're freezing cold, all business. on your end, you're just trying not to irritate them, assuming that if they're suddenly staring at you its cuz you're doing something they don't like, but theyre completely torn up about no longer getting your attention. theyre distracted constantly by your sudden distance, no longer able to enjoy outings with coworkers if you don't attend- spending the whole time wondering if you didn't go cuz THEYRE there. now THEYRE the one following YOU around, trying to get back in your good graces in whatever way they can think of. it might start as a childish ploy to regain your attention after your ignoring them caused a blow to their ego, but the more you avoid them the deeper their feelings get. please please PLEASE stop being mad at them! they can't go on if you don't forgive them. 

id imagine it would all come to a head if they found out you were planning on quitting soon, or if they caught you going on a date with someone else in the office. they WONT lose you. they cant.

I think most characters could work with this, but especially dazai, akutagawa, jouno, chuuya, and kunikida (he wouldnt do anything out of malice hed just accidentally be pretty harsh turning you down and then feel like an idiot later.). maybe fyodor and gogol too, with some tweaking. this kinda came out a garbled mess sorry haven't slept in like 3 days lmao.

- 🩹

my friend please get some sleep :< like Seriously you are going to crash very hard at this rate i didn't get to elaborate on a lot here 'cos i wanted to write a little bit for everyone (dazai, chuuya, jouno, techhou, ranpo, akutagawa, kunikida, sigma, nikolai and fyodor) but if there's any particular group/character anyone wants to hear about send me an ask and i'll gladly ramble on and on :>

i can see either dazai or jouno doing this intentionally, genuinely liking to watch you look embarrassed and even teary-eyed at his blunt rejections. whether it's because they really couldn't care less about you or because they were just bored, they lead you on and go on to embarrass you publicly, effectively humiliating you and breaking your heart over and over.

consequently, these two also are hit the hardest when you start ignoring them. this probably happens when your carefully crafted confession is callously crushed, receiving jeering words and scornful laughter in response, and you decide you should move on from the toxicity these two carry.

jouno can sense you sneaking out the room when he enters and he pretends not to notice, but dazai straight up stares at you in a look you might even think of as betrayal if it wasn't such a crazy thought. both of them are beyond furious by your sudden withdrawal and badly concealed attempt at avoiding them. what, did you think you could hang around them for so long, smiling through all the insults and 'jokes' and then decide to one day turn around and drop them like you weren't just following them around every corner the week before?

they latch onto you with an overwhelming fervour, following you into every room and into every meeting, even the one they're not supposed to be in. mess around with your files on purpose so you'd have no choice but to come to them and ask for your things back, manage to grab themselves an assignment with you as their partner, even sit right across you during your lunch break. it's like you can never escape them, no matter how hard you try.

just try quitting, or trying to cling onto someone else. just you try, and it'll be far from an amiable ending. they're both extremely cunning and determined, and it won't end well for anyone ecept themselves.

kunikida, akutagawa and chuuya are the type where they didn't mean to be harsh but because they are so flustered/confused they end up coming out very coldly when they tell you to scram or just stop blabbering. you were only trying to be conversative by mentioning the new café downstaira and asking about their weekend, but either because of the stress of work or their inability to deal with your questions of genuine interest and helpful comments, they usually end up responding rudely. chuuya for one is known to scoff and briskly walk away while you're busy talking, hoping you don't notice his flushed cheeks after you complimented his hair. akutagawa's go to response is to just stare at you and wait for you to trail off, thinking he either did not want to hear you ramble on or he just spaced out, and quickly leave. kunikida...depending on the time of the day and how much of dazai's work he has to clean up after, it's either a resigned sigh as you continue talking (he enjoys your company after a long day, although he'll never admit it) or a sudden, angry burst of words you can barely make out.

confessing to either three is awkward, but in the unlikely scenario that it does happen, despite your belief that they barely tolerated you, they're secretly thrilled but unable to respond, leaving you dejected and them panicked. regardless, when you decide enough is enough and you should probably stop bothering them when they don't seem to want you around, they immediately try to stop you.

for chuuya, this means suddenly transforming into the helpful senior, scaring away other employees who try to dump their work on you and people who try to befriend you, as long as they want to talk to you. your unimpressed reactions only spur him on, deciding if you had nobody else, you'd finally come back to him. for kunikida, this is more subtle, taking on your workload and leaving completed forms and files at your desk, placing an energy drink nearby or someting of the sort. he isn't so reckless as to scare away everyone around you, hoping you'd realize you might have misunderstood him because he was always stressed out and come to befriend him again, as he's smart enough to know frightening you away by coming on too strong is not the best way to go. akutagawa might struggle with the subtle approach, but he tries, really. he starts lingering around you, following you silently in an unintentionally creepy way, even when you go to get something to eat. he hopes thta by sticking around you long enough, you'd recognize his intentions as good and not...anything else.

tecchou and sigma initially wouldn't realize why you kept staring at them and immediately look away when they notice. they're confused by your sudden attention on them, not recognizing the glimmer in your eyes as growing attraction and the pep in your step as enthusiasm.

eventually though, it registers, and they're over the moon. i can see both of them being pleasantly surprised, and even if a romantic relationship isn't in their plans at the moment, they like and appreciate you as a friend. still, after you keep smiling at them and asking them to accompany you for lunch, seeing you do that to anyone else is...unsettling, at the least. especially because they know what kind of intentions these other people have.

suddenly, tecchou's glare feels extremely dangerous, almost like lasers burning into the back of whoever's got your attention, causing them to awkwardly excuse themselves and leave you alone once they catch sight of his intense stare. and sigma (he's a higher up here) is piling on an insane amount of work to your companion, happily accepting your invitation to go out to eat every day of the week, now that everyone else was conveniently so busy.

nikolai would actually entertain your feelings, more so out of boredom than anything else. it's easy with him, he catches on pretty quickly—the obvious interest in your tone when you talk to him, the way you hang on to every word like a devoted worshipper, the little gifts you had on hand for him—he'd be a fool not to notice! (he kinda is one, but that's besides the point) you won't have to worry about confessions going south or a cold rejection. nikolai showers you in affection from the start, treating you warmly, laughs with you and is always there by your side.

it almost comes naturally when you admit you like him and he only pulls you closer with the arm he has constantly around you. don't be fooled though, despite not having any 'actual' feelings for you yet, he is unbelievably possessive. if you are upset about anything and decide to sulk and ignore him, nikolai is happy to annoy you endlessly until you either give in and forgive him, or if he sees you trying to busy yourself with anyone else, he's quick to come up with a lost of creative ways to get the outsider out of your relationship with him.

with nikolai, there's a lot of spontaneous skipping out on work (that you miraculously never get in trouble for), unplanned adventures and general good times until, of course, someone else tries to meddle. maybe it's a nosy coworker who firmly believes workplace relationships are unprofessional, or a newbie who stupidly ignores the obvious signs of nikolai and you being together; whatever it is, you won't have to worry, nikolai will swifltly remove all the obstacles.

eventually, he decides that life is a lot more fun with you, his partner in crime, always by his side. this is when things will really take a turn, and you start to realize he's a lot more unhinged than you would have thought previously...

ranpo is a bit of an interesting one...he knows you like him, even if you do a good job at hiding it. he obviously takes advantage of your feelings, purposely trying to make you jealous just to see you all riled up, and asks you to do things for him knowing you wouldn't deny him.

he's so proud of himself, as though he charmed everyone around him, and doesn't hesitate to poke fun at you for liking him. not as maliciously as dazai and jouno, but mean enough that it has you blinking in shock at the way he rudely declares that he was out of your league, skipping away to eat some snacks.

obviously, when he acts so high and mighty, you'd think he would be pleased by you finally taking his advice on "focusing on work instead of staring at him with hearts in your eyes" (not like he was doing anything productive most of the time), but it's the opposite. he notices your absence almost immediately, and imagine his shock and humiliation when you, who was supposed to ttail him around like a puppy, happilly eating out of his hand, were now deciding these boring work files are more important than him.

somehow they even placed the intern that just started with you for training, and now that's all that you're focused on. showing the newcomer around, chatting with them, offering your help with tasks—it was like ranpo ceased to exist and it infuriated him. similarly, if you started spending time around/with someone else from the company (cough nikolai cough), it would annoy him just as much if not more, knowing exactly what kind of intentions they had.

ranpo turns his annoying abilities to the max, now being the one to follow you around everywhere and whines at you to pay attention to him, asking you to feed him snacks and also trying to feed you in return, demanding you accompany him for lunch so he doesn't get lost, and anything else to monopolise your time. eventually, even if you stay strong, whoever you spend your time with now can't handle ranpo's overbearing and unavoidable presence, driving them away. (it helps if he's like a valued employee here too)

fyodor is the type to not do anything about your crush, not until you become useful to him. he'll entertain it, sure, staring back at you with that disarming smile and curious eyes, brushing his hand against yours for a moment too long when you hand him things, sitting right next to you when you ask him to come over and look at something—he knows the hold he has over you and he loves it.

he thinks it's cute to see you so entranced and in awe by him, and he genuinely enjoys your company as he recognizes your genuine work ethic and passion, but even then he doesn't exactly hold the same feelings for you. this is him acting to keep you onterested because he knows someone who is so in love with him despite not really knowing him is a pawn he shouldn't lose.

maybe one day you realize you'd rather not ruin a good friendship by involving your feelings, but trying to distance yourself won't be fruitful and busying yourself with another person would only lead fyodor to threaten their livelihood and even their lives. fyodor is a very jealous and possessivs man, even though you're not dating, he still doesn't like the idea of anyone other than him using you and doesn't want to risk you forgetting him.

generally, though, nobody tries to mess with fyodor, because while he's all amiable and charming to you, to everyone else he's intense and brooding; unapproachable. he has this look that makes everyone feel inferior, like he thinks of them as pathetic creatures—which he does, but you...he could make some use of you yet. he's impressed by your strong will to be by his side for so long despite receiving no sign that he might like you at all...maybe it's time he rewarded you tor your devotion?

[dazed--xx]

🦋Paper Hearts🦋

Summary: Pictures I'm living through for now, Trying to remember all the good times. Our life was cutting through so loud; Memories are playing in my dull mind. I hate this part, paper hearts And I'll hold a piece of yours; Don't think I would just forget about it……Hoping that you won't forget about it

Member: Seungmin x Reader

T/W: Break Ups, arguments crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, yelling, sad ending, slight shoving nothing too crazy, some emotional manipulation, problem avoidance, denial, (subtle mention to woojin via blacked out photo he existed people he was in the group once)

Word Count: 2.3K

Remember the way you made me feel, Such young love but Something in me knew that it was real; Frozen in my head….

You stared at the ground, the room felt smaller as Seungmin glared at you. “You think you're so perfect? You're overbearing. You nag me at all hours of the day and I can't stans it anymore” He growls harshly. You felt minuscule under his gaze. “All I was saying was you could prioritize our relationship a little bit more, Min…I can't wait around for you forever…” you state breathlessly. Tears threatened to fall as your eyes remained on your lap. “You're being selfish, Y/N if you can't handle that I'm busy then maybe this relationship is too much for you….” He threatens with a scowl. “You're right” you let out breathlessly as you nod in agreement, throwing him off guard. He hadn't expected you to agree, he stares at you in utter shock and disbelief. He struggles to find something to say, he watches in horror as you lift yourself from your spot on the couch and make your way to the door.

“W-Wait..” his call is cut off by the sound of the door closing behind you. He sighs breathlessly as everything replays in his mind. His heart cracks at the harsh words he had spit at you replaying in his mind. This can't be happening….He couldn't just let this happen.…he rushes out of the door after you. His legs move quickly as he sees the elevator door closing behind you, he slams his finger on the elevator button rapidly. His hand shakes at his side as tears build in his eyes. Once the second elevators door opens he's greeted with a bright eyed Felix and Jeongin with their manager stood behind them.

“Hey, sorry we have a schedule come up. You can't go anywhere…” Felix states patting his shoulder. Seungmins heart fell into his gut. “N-No, I-I'll be fast. I need to go…” He stammered trying to go around them to get on the elevator. Their manager stands in front of of him with his arms crossed “Unless it will be less than 5 minutes, I can't let you go. We have to leave for Japan in 45 minutes…so go pack.” He states firmly. Seungmin tries once again to get into the elevator but relents when he see that their manager will not budge. He stomps to his room and tries to call you. Dammit….he thinks to himself when the call goes unanswered. He texts you hoping you will reply and things would be okay.

As you walked home, you allowed the tears to stream down your cheeks. It's over….you think in disbelief. These past 5 years turned to nothing in a matter of minutes. You felt so stupid for caring. Seungmin had changed, he grew and realized who he truly was and you didn't fit in anymore. While you still saw each other every day, you rarely ever stopped fighting; Either due to your ‘nagging’ or his tirades. You remembered when things were different. When Seungmin seemed to love you unconditionally. You're pulled out of your thoughts by your phone's ringtone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you're greeted with Seungmins contact with a sigh; you press the decking button.

You unlock your door and trudge your way through your apartment. The darkness oddly comforting as you make your way to your bedroom and lay on your bed. You sob as you release all your pent up anger and hurt. Your body trembles as you drift off to a restless slumber.

Pictures I'm living through for now, trying to remember all the good times…Our life was cutting through so loud; Memories are playing in my dull mind. I hate this part, paper hearts and I'll hold a piece of yours….Don't think I would just forget about it; Hoping that you won't forget about it….

You had realized your relationship with Seungmin had ended long before your argument with him the other day. It was when you both had first begun to hit a snag in your relationship. You both still loved each other but, it was clear you no longer could see eye to eye. Everything you did seemed to annoy Seungmin. And his lack of time and busy schedule began to affect you more and more as Stray Kids’ popularity grew. So, while Seungmin was in Japan; you decided to pack up the memories of your time with Seungmon and return them to his dorm. Trying to make this break up as clean as possible.

So here you sat, on the ground as you stared at the photos that mocked you. Your heart shattered on the floor as the memories sat in front of you, replayed in your mind. Picking one picture up, you give yourself a sad smile as a younger version of you and your ex smiled back at you. His members littering the frame The day you guys had made things official.

Stray kids had just debuted and had a small album release party. You sat sandwiched between the clubs couch cushion and Seungmin. A blush decorated your cheeks as Seungmin placed a soft kiss on your cheek. A shy smile forming on your lips as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. “Smile!” a staff member exclaimed excitedly as Jisung jumped on the back of the couch and Felix laid across you and Seungmin’s laps. Chan sat on the opposite side of Seungmin with his arms pinning Hyunjin to Minho in a big hug. Jeongin sat on the floor with a blacked out faced person beside him. As a flash blinded you for a moment.

You sighed wiping your tears as you place the picture in the box as you lift another one. Your fingers trace over the photo outlining your beaming boyfriend as he, Jeongin and you were celebrating their first win.

“I never thought a simple hunk of metal would cause so much chaos” Jeongin joked as he stared at the trophy. Seungmin sniffled as he snatches the trophy from the maknae. “We practically died for this��” Seungmin states with astonishment. You beamed at the pair proudly. “I can't believe I saw Minho-oppa cry.” you joke, Seungmin chuckles “he cried when Jyp kicked him out of the group.” you rolled your eyes with a giggle “If I recall correctly you broke down in tears and needed a moment when he was eliminated.” you counter “but that was on t.v for me this was in person!” you stare at the trophy. A large M on the small head of the little statue. “I mean you guys deserved this anyway, Miroh is a good song. And Stay have been fighting for this” You state matter of factly. The boys nod proudly. “Ugh I need a picture” Jeongin groans as he pulls his phone out. Seungmin holds the trophy up with a surprised look as you pose with a peace sign and a smile.

Your thoughts are cut off by an influx of calls and messages on your phone. You place the rest of the photos in the box as you go to check your notifications. You see the flurry of missed calls and texts from Seungmin. You wince as you delete them, still not being able to find it in yourself to block him. Though you would never admit it to anyone, you kept up with Seungmin’s activities. You have seen the photos and videos of him from Japan. As proud and happy as you were for Seungmin, it hurt. It hurt to see him completely fine despite your last conversation.

Though he constantly called and texted you, the last time you had checked them; you were utterly disappointed with the contents. They were overly nonchalant, never once addressing your argument nor the subsequent breakup. He acted like nothing ever happened, which infuriated you. He was completely unaffected, riding the wave of stardom. So, you stopped reading them, you refused to listen to his cheerful voicemails and completely went silent as he spent his time in Japan. Finishing packing his things you close the box and place it in your car. Once you reach the dorms you leave the box with one of the managers that stayed behind to keep an eye on the dorm. You felt a heavy sting in your heart as you drive home.

Everything is gray under these skies, wet mascara. Hiding every cloud under a smile; When there's cameras. and I just can't reach out to tell you. That I always wonder what you're up to….

Seungmin’s hands shake as he tries to call you again. These past few weeks have been agony. He was able to fake a smile when with the fans or on stage but, as he sat in his hotel room all he could do was break down in tears and sobs. You hadn't spoken to him in weeks….All he could look forward to was being able to finally see you again. He'd do anything to fix this, he'd never gone this long without one of your calls or texts while he was on a tour. It made him nauseous, he couldn't handle the memory of your last conversation so, he ignored it. He knows your relationship was stronger than being able to be destroyed by a few select words he didn't mean.

Even as time went on and his calls and texts remained unanswered, he felt in his heart that once he was able to see you everything would fall back into place. He just needed to get through this flight and he'd be with you again. He'd hear your beautiful voice and see your bright smile shining at him again and things would be perfect again.

Seungmin felt butterflies in his stomach as he made his way through Incheon International. He felt an excited buzz through his body as he sat in the van making his way to the dorm. Everyone stretches and drops their bags in their rooms as they all rush to get some much-needed rest. Seungmin halts as he notices an unfamiliar box seated on his bed. He stares at it with confusion as he pulls it open. His legs felt numb as he examined the contents. His heart cracking with every gifts and picture he had pulled out of the box, clothes you've accumulated of his over the past 5 years. No…This isn't happening…He thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He calls you in a panic. Your phone goes straight to voicemail, desperation fills him as he quickly rushes out of the dorm.

I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side. But you'll be good without me and if I could just give it some time…..I'll be alright

You were sitting on your couch watching the finale of ‘My Demon’ as you heard rapid knocks at your door. Pausing the show, you stare at your door confused making your way over. Staring through the peephole you see Seungmin standing there. Opening the door slightly with a heavy sight and roll of your eyes; you stare at him through the gap. “Can I help you, sir?” you question sarcastically. “Y/N…” Seungmin breathes out with relief as his eyes scan your face. He tries to shove the door open more, trying to get a better view of you. His heart cracking slightly when it doesn't budge. “Why are you here, Seungmin?” you question, your eyes focused on the ground. “I-I wanted to see you…” He trails “W-Why is there a box of my stuff in my room? Y/N, what's going on? Why won't you let me in?” he asks in denial. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he tries to open the door again.

“Because…” you respond stoically “Seungmin, we aren't together anymore.” you fight back tears as you speak. Seungmin stares at you in disbelief. “N-No…come on. Let's just talk about this….” he pleads. You shake your head in response.

“Y/N, please….” his voice is small and pleading as he shoves on the door as hard as he can, forcing it open. His hands encase your face as he tries to get you to look at him. “Seungmin…” you sigh, your eyes focused on the ground. You hear a cry erupt from his throat, “No! Please…just—just look at me, please” he begs as he places his forehead on yours. “I love you. Please don't break up with me…I'm sorry…”

“Min, don't lie to yourself…”

He stares at you in horror as you continue to refuse to meet his eyes “I'm not…”

“You are…you don't love me. You're just used to me…but you're annoyed with my presence”

“Baby, no…” his voice is just above a whisper “I swear I love you. I love you more than anything. I don't want to lose you” He cries wrapping his arms around your waist as you continue to stare at the ground. “Look at me please!” he urges. Your eyes finally meet his and god, does Seungmin wish they hadn't. Your gaze is filled with heartbreak and disappointment. He took a step back for a moment letting his arms fall to his sides as you stared daggers at him. “Leave Seungmin….now,” you demand. He shakes his head taking hold of your hand. “Please don't make me…I'm sorry for what I said that day. Please, I didn't mean it…i can prioritize our relationship. I'll do whatever you want! Please stay with me…” He pleads with tear filled eyes. His nose a bright red.

You shake your head in response “I can't…”

“Please, I love you…you’re everything to me. D-Don’t do this…”

You close your eyes as you slowly shove Seungmin out of your apartment. Ignoring his pleas as he grips your hand tightly. “Please…baby please” He cries one more time as he's finally outside. You shake your head “I'm sorry, Min. I love you, I do but I need to love myself again…everything was too much and I just can't handle it. Please leave…I won't be changing my mind. It's over Seungmin…” you state sadly as you close the door.

Goodbye love, you flew right by love

⏪|⏸️|⏩

Taglist: @yangbbokari @havenwithleeknow

[lucimarinee]

Pushover | dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: God knows you were born either with a spine made out of bubble wrap, or just spineless entirely, it's honestly kind of sad. It bothers you, of course, how everyone else seems to know that too. Quiet, pliable and unconfrontational, you were raised to occupy the least amount of space possible, and be out of the way most, if not all, of the time, and that's not really the recipe for an assertive, self-assured woman, now, is it? No, it's not, and you are painfully aware of that. And you become even more aware of that when you go back to Texas to visit your estranged dad, on your summer break from a college course you don't really want to pursue, to spend what was supposed to be a time of relaxation surrounded by people that seem to think it's funny to push your buttons, it annoys you to no end. But no one seems to get on your nerves more than that asshole your father calls his "best friend", Joel Miller, one of those old school kinds of men who have an irreverent attitude, a bite to their sense of humor, perceptive eyes, an unwavering voice to declare his will, and a penchant for provoking you.

Warnings: NO OUTBREAK, age gap (Joel is in his late-forties/early-fifties, reader is in her early twenties), praise kink, annoyance as foreplay /hj, fingering.

Word Count: 14,756

a/n: this was posted on ao3 first, you can find it here, but I thought that I should use my Tumblr too. This one-shot has a funny story, that being I woke up in the dead of night to write it because I "dreamed about it" when I was half asleep, I like to joke that I was possessed, I didn't stop writing until it was posted. Anyway, my first Tumblr post in this style, I hope you enjoy it :).

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You had a feeling the day was going to go badly, or at least less than ideal, but it's getting a bit too much, now.

It was just a combination of small things piling up on you.

It started in your plane, you had just boarded, barely even sat down, and a woman approached you with an attitude that reeked of veiled aggressiveness, asking you if "you'd be so kind to change seats" with her, so she could sit next to her husband. Unsure if it was the pressure of her gaze on you, or just the fact you're not very good at saying "no" , you obliged, moving from your nice window seat at the front of the plane — that you chose and paid for specifically —, to a middle seat further back.

No big deal, you thought, it was just a couple wanting to sit together, sure, they should have planned their trip better and booked their seats properly, like you did, but it would be, at the very least, unpolite if you said no. What reason did you have to deny her request, after all? "No, ma'am, I paid for this seat, I'd like to stay here" ? Sounds selfish, and you're not selfish.

Of course, the change to an uncomfortable seat, squished between two strangers, made the trip a lot longer, but eventually you landed, and it was all over. Until you heard there was a mishap with the luggage, so your baggage would be delayed, making you have to wait for God knows how long for the airline to get their shit together. Still, you sighed and nodded, there was no need to complain and go on a tirade about costumer's rights, gross neglect and incompetence on the part of the company, there were people doing that already, so you didn't have to join the misery party, you just had to wait.

You were tired, hungry, sore, and just wanted to rest, let this day be over. You just got back home — well, "home" — for summer break.

Coming back to Texas on any circumstance was a fucking chore, and it didn't help you felt obligated to, either. You were just fine out of state, as fine as you can be while pursuing a degree you didn't want, putting effort and energy on a thing your heart wasn't set on, but at least you were some place else , some place other than Austin, where you could let yourself be a little more. You were planning on going on a trip to somewhere nice, you had been saving a bit of money from your internship and side gigs with the intent of treating yourself — for once —, but your father had other plans.

He got in touch with you a few months ago, going on a rant about how you don't call or get in touch at all anymore, how you've been growing distant ever since you moved out to study, forgetting that you had a father that did everything for you, gave everything to you, that it was an ungrateful look, and how it didn't suit you.

It was his own special way of saying he missed you, and wanted you to visit.

Easy to say, you thought it was best to smooth out the situation and appease him by promising to come back on summer break, basically ruining your own plans because daddy sent you a strong worded text.

What a joke, you don't want to be there.

Another sigh leaves you, this one slightly more exasperated than the last. You hate that weather, you can feel that awful hot, humid air even when surrounded by the airport's heavy-duty air conditioning, the uncovered skin of your arms feels chilly, but it's like an uncomfortable, stuffy bubble of hot air hugs you without your permission, the phantom feeling of it makes you feel like a kid again, and you don't like it.

Some more minutes pass by, you sit down on a chair with a cold backrest after having filled a form at the airline's desk and leave it at that, swallowing back your annoyance and hoping for the best, and the best case scenario was just that your bag was misplaced in another flight, and would be hopefully arriving soon, worst case scenario, they lost the damn thing, and then — just then — it would be time to get openly upset.

But you hope it won't come to that.

"Hey." a gravely voice calls loud and clear beside you, "I thought I recognized ya."

You turn to look, and have to make a physical effort not to groan and keep yourself from making a face. God fucking damn it, it's Joel fucking Miller. He looks just like you remember him from, you don't know, a couple of years ago, from the last time you dropped by on vacation, the same rugged appearance, rough around the edges, with that same annoying, rustic charm, a bit different, though.

His hair was a bit longer, the few gray hairs you remember had grown into proper gray locks, sprinkling his head here and there, same with the beard, fuller, grayer, but somehow softer looking. But that was it for the differences, he still had the same direct and piercing eyes, like he had an aim that never missed its target, and, much to your chagrin, that same infuriating grin that you never quite understood what it meant, despite him always having it on his lips every time you were around.

"Hi." you say, getting up from your seat just out of politeness, you weren't on a hug or even a handshake basis, so you just stood there, awkwardly, stuffing your hands in your pockets like you had no idea what to do with them, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, doll." he huffed a little chuckle, and had it been any other person, you would have blushed a few shades redder than his flannel shirt and apologized for your lack of respect, but it was just Joel, he seemed to enjoy being aggravating like that with you, "It's been a while hasn't it? What? Couple o' years?"

Fair enough, you muster a small diplomatic smile and nod, he's right, it had been a hot minute, but if it were up to you, it would have been even longer. Joel wore a pair of jeans and a flannel that you swear you've seen him wear before, it rings so familiar in your head, like the world's most irritating alarm clock, he's a physical, walking reminder that you're back in Texas, because he's always around you whenever you're there, courtesy of your father.

The two of them are friends, and have been for the longest time, ever since you were a tween, not that you can understand why, exactly, and for once it wasn't Joel's fault, it was your father's. It just didn't make sense that your father had friends, let alone in someone like Joel, you couldn't understand for the life of you what they had in common, and how the fuck did they meet and bond. Maybe you just didn't think of your father as someone pleasant enough to befriend or keep company, in fact, you sure don't, that's why you've been avoiding coming back for as long as you did.

But he's older, so is your dad, and maybe that's why the two of them clicked, and started doing whatever they do when they're together, you're sure they must have gone out to a bar and done things old men do.

"Yeah, it really has, huh?" you say back, looking to the side, as if it was embarrassing to even make eye contact for longer than a few seconds, "It's good to see you, though, Mr. Miller."

"Mm, don't you start with the mister thing." he raised an eyebrow, still looking at you, it made your neck burn, you weren't sure why, maybe just out of awkwardness, you never really knew how to act around him, especially not alone, and he always had such an intense stare, "Makes me sound old."

"Okay then, Mr. Miller." you can't help a little, shy grin, the kind that doesn't last for long.

He looked a bit amused, if anything, not in the same way he had back when you were in high school, it wasn't so much as the cockiness that seemed to radiate off him, he just seemed genuinely impressed with you, like he figured your insistence on being respectful to your elders was your own little way of standing up for yourself, and he didn't seem to want to fight that.

"As for your question," he continues, ignoring your teasing, "I spoke to your old man earlier, he said you'd be arriving today, but that something came up at his work, and he wouldn't be able to come and pick you up, so I offered myself to fetch ya, seemed rude to let you get a taxi or something after coming home after so long, figured I'd come to give ya a proper Texan welcome."

Oh.

He must have noticed your change in expression, your polite smile faltered to give place to a confused, if not hurt, grimace, his face mimicked yours in an involuntary display of empathy, you see his strong brows knitting together like he's trying to read you and figure out what was wrong, and how to fix it.

"Oh, I..." you hesitate, you're thinking lots of things, all of a sudden, but you've always struggled to put your feelings and thoughts into words, "Sorry, I... I'm just a bit surprised. He didn't tell me anything about being held back."

You feel stupid, hadn't Joel come up to the airport and found you, you'd have been waiting for your father to show up until you realized he wouldn't come. You pick up your phone from your back pocket to check if maybe you missed a text or a phone call, but no, there was nothing, the last thing you heard from your dad was him reacting to your text telling him your flight was taking off, and at what time it was supposed to arrive, with a thumbs up.

Nothing more.

You just sigh, yet again, you had an inkling feeling this vacation wasn't going to go smoothly, but this was just the cherry on top. Joel is quiet, letting you have a moment of peace to process, but he's staring, again, he doesn't even try to hide it, his eyes, a nice shade of brown, not unlike caramel, are softer than the rough exterior he keeps up, he seems sympathetic.

"It must've slipped his mind," Joel says with a shrug of his shoulder, not dismissive, just trying to soften the situation, make you feel less bad about it, not that you really cared at that point, this was just another instance of him not showing up in twenty-something years, "You know how he can be sometimes, hardworking fella, just focused on his job and doesn't think of anything else."

He's not wrong, but you'd still think a simple text wouldn't have hurt to send. You want to be angry, at the very least a bit miffed, but you can't muster that, instead, it's just resignation and frustration that makes you feel heavy and tired, it's hard to be mad, for some reason. You never had much practice.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." you force yourself to say, even if it sounds halfhearted and a little defeated.

"You don't sound very thrilled." he snorts a little, it sounds playful, he's not being rude, just lightheartedly ribbing you.

"Sorry, I just, uhm..." you swallow and bite down a sigh, you know exactly what's going on, he doesn't need to know, "It's fine."

You weren't about to get emotional over being slighted by your own dad in front of Joel, even if you're pretty sure he was fully aware of the dynamic between the two of you.

"Well, I'm here." the man declared, his voice always had this very firm tone of finality, you figure it's probably impossible to argue with Joel, "And I'm gonna get you home all the same, ya can talk to him then. Ready to go? Didn't bring any bags?"

It takes you an embarrassing long second to figure out what he's doing, hands on his hips, looking at and around your figure for any luggage, when he doesn't see it, he quirks a brow.

"Oh, no, I did, it's just..." you start, and you can see very clearly how he takes a long, deep breath, letting his arms go slack on his sides, and you hate when he does that, because he always does it when you let it show that something is wrong, but this time you didn't even get to explain, he must know you quite well at this point, or you just do this a lot, "There was a problem with the luggage transport, it's all been delayed, so I'm waiting on that."

His posture shifts while you speak, Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest, making him look like a solid brick wall, a strong and unyielding presence in front of you, his muscles flex and push against the fabric of the sleeves, and you don't understand why, but your neck starts burning again.

"Shit, you gotta be kiddin' me." his jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, a hand moves up to rub his temple, the wrinkles that formed on his forehead when he grimaced almost seemed to highlight the greying of his hair, he's got a very rugged look to him, but it fits, you can't say it's a bad look, "Well, alright. Have you spoken to anyone 'bout this?"

"Yeah, I filled a form at the desk just a moment ago, they told me to wait." you explain.

"'Kay, but what did they say 'bout compensation? Did they offer you anything? They owe you that, y'know that, right?" Joel goes on, almost talking over you, the man seems to be taking this issue personally, too.

"Yeah, I know that."

His brows shoot up when you don't follow that with anything else, and suddenly, all his indignation seems to turn to you, "You didn't say a thing, did ya?"

You stand there, guilty as charged, pursing your lips in a thin line, because you have nothing to say in your defense, you did mention something about compensation to the guy working at the desk, but he brushed you off with some bullshit about company policy and technicalities, and you just took it like a loser, so you guess that doesn't count.

"Fuckin' Christ, alright." Joel groans, his hand flies from his temple to his forehead, where he rubs the wrinkles in frustration, it makes you feel awful, it's always like this, especially with him, he never really tried to hide that he thinks you don't have a backbone, "I'm gonna go take care o' this. Don't you go anywhere."

"What— no, Joel, wait! " you reach out for his arm, your palm touches hard, solid muscle under the flannel sleeve, and your skin feels like it's being singed even with the protection of the fabric, "Don't make it a big deal, please, they say it must be arriving soon, it's fine—"

"Hey." he interrupts your plea with his own gruff voice, but not unkindly, in fact, you're a little shocked to see how his face is so relaxed, not a trace of anger or annoyance in his features, only calmness, "I got this."

The hand on his sleeve goes slack, but your heart starts beating like crazy once he resumes his march to the airline desk you had pointed to earlier, you trail behind him like a desperate, lost puppy, your nerves firing as you try to figure out a way to avoid a conflict or any amount of confrontation, especially on your behalf, there was no need to make a fuss over you.

It's so easy to feel small next to Joel Miller, he's a whole head, and then some, taller than you, not only is he broad, his gait and demeanor are those of a man who can take whatever the world throws at him and still be standing at the end of the day, it's kind of surprising the attendant didn't burst out laughing when you just stood next to him like an anxious shortstack, while the man comfortably leaned over the counter and spoke in his raspy voice.

He had some things to say about the matter, the two men seem to engage in some back and forth you were barely listening to, Joel would speak in his booming voice and point vaguely at you, his tone was always so resolute and determined, his words were never minced, and he always knew what to say, in a usual day, you'd judge him for being too confrontational, even abrasive, but maybe it was the combination of having him standing up for you without a moment's hesitation and the way his biceps bulged whenever he made an angry gesture or placed his hands on the desk and leaned in, that made that hot bubble of air around you feel even hotter.

"Sir, the last flight just arrived, it's likely that your luggage is on the way, you're free to check—" the man behind the desk says, and you loudly breathe out in relief.

"See, Joel, it's here, let's just grab it and go." you blurt out like your life depends on it, touching his arm again, a physical plea, trying to convince him, you can't tell if it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but the touch actually makes him pause.

"This ain't done." Joel points a finger at the workers, but his body is already turning in your direction, even if his gaze doesn't immediately follow, "But it can wait. Come on, doll, let's see if we can get ya out of this place."

It's embarrassing, it really is, it makes your heart jump to your throat, you feel the burn from earlier crawl all the way to your ears, you want to sink through the ground and disappear. There was no need for this, it was ridiculous and overkill, and it was happening all for your sake.

You don't take another good luck at him until he seats himself behind the wheel of his truck, after finally loading your long awaited suitcase in the back. You're sulking on the passenger's seat, head resting on your palm, elbow on the door, staring out the window, just waiting for him to start the damn thing and drop you off, you're just so, so done with this whole airport saga, it was complete shit, from beginning to end.

While he drives, Joel looks over at you, once, twice, maybe thrice, each time just a beat longer than the last, from your peripheral vision, you catch his jaw tightening up a bit, he seems to be contemplating something, the man knows you're moody, and it isn't like you're hiding your displeased pout, but he also knows that, if he doesn't say anything, you won't either.

"It will get sorted out." he tells you, after a moment of consideration. The man leans back comfortably as a long breath leaves him, not unlike the stress sighs you're always letting out as well, he keeps just one hand low on the wheel, and he's tapping a finger to the rhythm of the music, you have to wonder how much of that he can actually hear.

"It's fine." you say, it's your mantra. It's a half lie, "Those things happen."

"Those things aren't supposed to happen, doll." he makes a point of stressing his words, a low and firm sound coming from deep inside his chest, you see his profile from the side, and you can see him pressing his lips together, the man is probably annoyed at the way you're trying to blow it all off, he doesn't like to see people walk all over you, and he doesn't like that you let them, "There's a reason why there are policies and laws and shit like that, for this exact reason."

The way you just raise your palms in the air in a clear sign of resignation tells him that's a discussion you really don't want to have, you almost expect him to push you further, like he's always done, to probe and poke at you, and lecture you on the importance of standing up for yourself like you are a child, but by then Joel already knows he's preaching to a deaf choir, so he gives it a rest.

"I'm just sayin'..." he trails off, clearing his throat.

Your gaze focus on the scenery passing you by, trees and buildings going by so fast it almost looks like they're flying, the man next to you was always a fast driver, you remember that much from a few other times he took it upon himself to be your chauffeur throughout your life, usually when your father couldn't find the time or patience to do so.

"Thanks, anyway, I mean, for... yeah, thanks." you decide to say, still not looking at him.

You can hear him grin, that's how infuriating it is, "Don't mention it."

You just scoff, a hint of a smile making the corner of your mouth twitch upwards, that was so characteristic of him, so Joel Miller, and so stupid, "Don't act like you did nothing. That was..." you roll your eyes, but you don't notice you're shaking your head, he does, though, and that only serves to amuse him even further, "Something else, man. Thanks for... making that guy shit his pants, I guess."

You snort at your own little joke, he doesn't follow, but doesn't seem displeased, either.

The landscape is so familiar, and his presence is so familiar too, the drive is long and quiet, the kind that gives you space to breathe, but never enough to let your thoughts take a more unpleasant turn.

You try not to think about the way Joel always takes care of you, in his own little way.

"How is dad?" the question falls from your mouth.

Joel turns his head to you with a certain look in his eyes, it's quite meaningful, actually, a whole conversation happens with just the two of you making eye contact, it's silent and intense, you almost feel compelled to avert your eyes and stare at the road in front of you.

He looks like he's holding back a comment.

"Same as usual. Busy, focused." his voice is dry, no emotion to it, it's hard to tell whether he's pleased by this or not, "But we keep in touch."

It's odd that Joel seems to know more about your father's well-being than you do, but he has the decency to not say anything else about the matter, if he didn't already know from his friendship with your dad, your question made it very clear that you two don't talk much, if at all, which made this whole thing even more stupid, because you still went out of your way, postponing and cancelling plans, to accommodate a father that only seemed to get in touch with you to make you feel bad about being a "bad daughter".

"Sarah is excited to see you again," Joel added, trying to change the topic, or let you know that at least one person was actually happy with the prospect of seeing you, "When I told her I was coming to pick you up, she got real hyped about it."

That brings a smile to your face.

Sarah, Joel's daughter, was just a few months older than you, that was something else your dad and Joel had in common, besides being divorced, grumpy men in their fifties, now that you think about it. Growing up, the Millers lived close to your house, close enough for Sarah to become your playmate, you'd drop by with your father to play with her, while the adults did their own thing, and vice versa.

The memory of their house is very vivid, even after not having thought about it for the longest time, you still remember the nice hardwood floors, the narrow staircase, and how on every wall — especially in Sarah's room — there were plenty of pictures of her and her dad, on her soccer practices, after championships, or just pictures they took together for the sake of it, always very happy photos, very lively. Your room never had pictures like that.

Sarah was confident, lively and funny, pretty much everything you weren't, and still aren't, she was always more extroverted than you, carrying your whole friendship almost entirely by herself, you just tagged along, ever the dedicated follower, never the leader, it never bothered her, but it bothered you.

You were never quite able to pinpoint what exactly you felt whenever you looked at the pictures on her walls, or witnessed her and Joel interacting in a lighthearted, playful manner, or even just watched her be, but now, as an adult, you can.

It was bitterness.

You were always a very bitter child, the way she could just smile, joke, talk back at Joel, make fun of him, the way he never failed to be warm, receptive, affectionate, a perfect example of a single father raising a lovely kid on his own, the juxtaposition with your home life, which was, well, less than that, was too much sometimes, the unfairness of it all, the stark, blinding contrast that always made you feel inadequate.

Inadequate, bitter, envious .

Eventually you just stopped showing up to hang out, and you two drifted apart quietly, not unlike you and your father.

You discreetly turn your eyes to the man beside you, watching him silently drive, so relaxed, so confident, his posture said it all. Joel rested a hand on top of the wheel, and his other hand on the seat beside him, not even realizing he's drumming his fingers along the tune, not even knowing his hand was right next to your leg, if he did, would he move it, or just let it stay?

His hands looked very large and firm, his fingers were thick and strong, the back of his hand had some prominent veins that moved with every subtle motion of his arm, and you found yourself wondering about the rest of his body. You're no longer a little girl, but still, there are certain things that are better left unthought about.

"How are things goin' for ya, by the way?" he asks, voice suddenly softer, "In college, and all."

"It's fine."

There he goes again, that same long, deep breath he took at the airport, that same long, deep breath he took every time he clocked you shrugging things off, trying to put no importance into them, the look he gives you along with is loud as words, he knows you too well for you to pull that card on him.

"Don't bullshit me." he deadpans.

You're about to fire back a comment about how it's not a bullshitty thing, college really was fine, you were doing well, passing all your classes, and the courses themselves were fine, nothing to complain about, not even your colleagues or professors, you have nothing bad to say about them, or at least, that's what you like to believe, the same way you like to believe you're doing great on your own, and you like to pretend there's nothing you need or want for.

"I'm not!" you protest, he doesn't buy it, you can tell by his doubtful smirk, "I'm really not, okay? Everything is going well, my classes are good, and so are my grades, the city is pretty nice, and... and... I guess, people are fine too?"

"So what's wrong, then?"

It takes a moment for you to reply.

"I don't really want to be a lawyer, okay?" your voice is low, even shy, you can feel your face getting warmer, it's such a relief to finally tell someone this, and, if not a relief, it feels good to not have it stuck in the back of your head all the time, "I never really did. I'm just... kind of going along with it, dad wants it, and at the end of the day, I don't really mind it."

Joel considers your words carefully.

"You do know," he starts, "That to be a lawyer you'll actually have to stand up to people, for once?"

There it was, the Joel Miller you knew and didn't really like, always prodding, always trying to provoke you, always trying to rile you up, always trying to force you out of your comfort zone, to get a reaction, or at least get you to feel something.

"Oh, fuck off."

You're the one to roll your eyes, you're the one to let out an exaggerated groan, because, sure, that's how things would go with him, every time you decided to let him in and let him have a little look into your world, the world inside your head, the real, raw feelings that lay beneath the surface, and you should know that better than anyone, it's just in his nature, it's not even mean spirited, he's just an asshole.

"Nah, I'm being completely fuckin' serious right now," he says, a hint of a chuckle on his voice, but he really wasn't laughing, and, much like a father who knows exactly what he's talking about, he explains himself, "You'd be swallowed whole in a courtroom, doll, and you know that too."

He has a point, unfortunately.

"I guess. That's the kind of person I am, I suppose."

Joel shakes his head.

"Don't be stupid."

You raise a hand to him, to tell him not to patronize you.

He seems like he wants to keep going, to keep yapping about how your spine has the consistency of wet spaghetti, about how you should grow a pair already and stop acting so fucking scared all the time, that you're always hiding, you're always keeping your mouth shut, that it's not the way, but he bites his tongue and decides against it, opting for a less aggravating follow up, "What would ya like to do, then? If not law."

"I don't know. I like to paint. But I know I'm not good enough."

"Says who? Yourself?" he sounds sarcastic, and that gets you even more flustered and frustrated.

"Yes, I do, because it's true," you explain, you've told this to many other people, so many times, and none of them understood, Joel isn't going to be an exception, "And it doesn't pay really well as a career, like, at all."

"Well, now you just sound like your father."

Your cheeks flush, you can feel your entire face burning now, he has no idea how much of a dickhead he's being. You're starting to regret having told him anything about it.

"Fuck off."

You say it again, in a quiet, unintimidating way. He laughs.

"If you talked to people like you're talkin' to me right now, you'd be an okay lawyer, you know that, right?" his smile is cocky, it's so stupid, but so characteristic of him, to get under your skin like this, he was the only one that could, "Not good, but okay."

"Whatever, Joel. Shut up."

It's hard not to look at the way his neck and shoulders tense when he laughs, you catch yourself looking more than you should, he has the nerve to let his hand move towards you and he pats the top of your knee, he pats your leg twice, slowly and softly.

You surprise yourself with how your stomach seems to shrink and turn at his touch.

His fingers are firm, and you feel the strength on them, you try to ignore the tingly feeling that runs up and down your leg, like some weird, unexplainable electrical charge, and how it seems to only spread from his hand. You pretend the contact isn't affecting you, it's an easy thing to do.

He lets his hand linger there, resting on your knee for a while, and you don't fucking move a muscle, and, for once, it's a deliberate choice, you're not letting him keep his hand there, you want him to keep it there, too afraid that if you move, say something, or even breathe weird, he might just take it away from you, and you'd never forgive yourself for that.

But he interprets your stillness, and your silence — and the fact you stopped breathing for a hot second, as discomfort, and Joel promptly moves his hand from your leg, placing it back on the steering wheel, like he should, he knew you enough to know you wouldn't speak up on your discomfort, but didn't know you well enough now to know why exactly you were letting him touch you like that in the first place, but the answer is very simple:

You liked it .

And it disappoints you that he withdrew it, even though that was probably for the best.

"If you ask me," the man cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to clear the air, you couldn't say he wasn't considerate when he wanted to, "Which I know ya didn't, but that ain't gonna stop me, ya should talk to your dad about this."

You give a halfhearted laugh, not really looking at him.

"What's so funny?" Joel asks.

"It won't do anyone no good, Joel," you declare, your resigned, dejected tone seems to upset him, or maybe it's the way you sound so comfortable with that tone that upsets him, "I'm almost in my senior year, anyway, a lot of money was invested in this, and besides, he wouldn't get it."

You have nothing more to say about the topic.

Joel seems like he has plenty to say, though, like he always did, "I don't think so. In my own experience, ain't a man in this world that loves a girl more than her own father, doll."

It was meant to sound like some profound advice, like Joel always did, but to you, it felt like a blow straight to your stomach.

His experience was nothing like yours, he was nothing like your dad, far from it.

But that was a good thing.

Joel parks in front of your childhood home not much later, it's been at most two, maybe three years since you were here the last time, the sight of that house shouldn't be making you feel so uncomfortable and anxious, but it did.

He gets off the car first, while you stay stuck in your uncomfortable stupor, you only come back to reality when Joel opens your door for you, a nice, chivalrous smile — as chivalrous Joel Miller can be — on his lips, making way for you.

"Welcome home, doll."

It's so hard not to blush when he says stuff like this.

Joel carries your bags inside, even though you tell him that you can take care of them yourself. He tells you not to worry. You follow him quietly, the only sounds filling the hallway are his heavy footsteps, the clanking of keys against the wooden door, and the loud tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock, you used to be kind of scared of that clock as a little girl, it made such an intimidating, imposing noise.

The house was empty, that's what you first assumed, at least, judging by how dark and neat everything was, smelling strongly of furniture polish, not a thing out of place, it felt like it was just you and Joel, in your childhood home, you tried not to let your mind wander to what would happen if it were really just you and him.

He carried your bags so easily, he must be so strong. You know he works in construction, that's why his hands look so rough, and probably feel rough, too, you didn't get to feel it on your leg thanks to the fabric of your jeans, but you're sure of it, you can almost imagine the coarseness on your skin, the warmth, he could pick you up so easily if he wanted to—

Heavy, hurried footsteps making their way down from the second floor startle you out of your thoughts, you know those steps far too well, you grew up trying to listen for them whenever the house went too silent, or when you were laying in your bed, staring at the plaster-white ceiling of your room, trying to gauge if it was safe to get out yet, or if he was in a bad mood and you should wait.

Those are your father's footsteps.

He comes down the steps in a frenzy, and his feet almost don't respond to his brain's command to stop when he finally spots you and Joel, he seemed distracted by something on his phone.

"Oh, shit— I didn't hear you enter." he says with a slightly awkward laugh, but still unabashed, it's not directed to you, however, his attention is on his friend, "Can you believe they're not going to pay me for the overtime I had to do at the office? That's ridiculous, isn't it?"

He wasn't paying attention to you, and, for a reason you don't understand, you can't help but feel relieved and happy, not like he'd actually have any energy to spare for his daughter.

Joel shook his head, a sort of smirk on his face, the way they're standing makes them look like the best of friends, and yet, something about how Joel stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his body slightly to your direction tells you he's unimpressed, "Hey, now." he points at you with his head, his command is clear, and you didn't think you— or your dad — would live long enough to see someone bossing him, "I brought your princess, didn't I?"

Your dad only now notices you, his face lights up, though not really in a heartwarming way, and not in a manner that you could find even remotely appealing or warm.

It was a look and reaction of a man who just remembered he forgot to pick up his child, which, in a way, he kind of did.

"There's my baby girl," he walks up to you and engulfs you in a bear hug, it's very sudden and awkward, he's squeezing you a little too tight, you never really fit in his hugs, but you hug him back nonetheless, "How was the trip?"

"It was fine." you say.

It rolls off your tongue so easily, sounds almost so beautifully rehearsed, automatic, like an answering machine, because it really is.

Joel gives you a weird look, you're not looking at him, but you can feel it burning on your nape, like he can't seem to figure out why the fuck you'd say that, when it would take at most thirty seconds to tell your father, with enough detail, what a mess it was. Your dad was a lawyer, if someone would know how to deal with an incompetent airline who almost lost your luggage, made you wait for a long time, inconvenienced you, and wouldn't budge about compensation, that someone was your dad, why wouldn't you tell him about it? Why would you opt for the almost political, statesmanlike "fine", when it's so clear by how you said it that it wasn't, in fact, "fine"?

Your dad chuckles, letting go of you, his arms move away from your shoulders and back, "I'm glad to hear that."

He says, you smile, Joel coughs.

Then it's complete silence for a second or two. No one really knows what to say, and you almost think it's your fault for answering noncommittally, but your father speaks up, before Joel does.

"It's so good to have you back, baby girl, this house has been so empty." your father says, a weird, forced chuckle at the end, Joel is starting to see where you got your awkwardness from, "I just got home from the law firm, but it was just to grab some papers, I should be heading back, but, uhm, let's have dinner later, yeah?" he was making a move for the front door, the one you closed behind you not even a few minutes ago, his eyes going back to his phone, "Joel, you and Sarah should join us, I'm sure she—"

"Now, hang on a minute," Joel cuts in, he's quick, that man never misses a beat, "You gotta go back right now? What, can't ya stay just a few more minutes? Catch up with your girl, and whatnot?"

It was very obvious — to you — what he's trying to do, Joel Miller is tactful enough to not cut a leg off just because it's bruised, but he's still a man who likes to brute force some things, and right now, he is trying to brute force you an opportunity, because Joel Miller seems to enjoy taking things upon himself that he had no business interfering in.

Your father stops in his tracks, hand frozen on the doorknob, mid-turn, he looks confused, if anything, speechless, like he couldn't think of a single possible thing to say right now, looking between his friend and you, uninterested, unfazed.

"How's... How's college?" he eventually asks, it sounds impersonal, but Joel sighs like he just won a jackpot.

He did it, he gave you a very clear opportunity, and Joel was right there beside you to support you, you could say — even if briefly, superficially — what you were thinking, what you were feeling, just to get a word out, and then maybe talk through it over dinner, with some good father-daughter quality time, a desperately needed heart-to-heart, that's what he hoped for, that was his intention behind doing that, it had to be.

"It's fine." you say, a short answer, nothing too detailed, and a complete lie.

A look of exasperation and confusion crosses Joel's eyes.

Your father, though, smiles, that same diplomatic, polite smile you always give people, and he nods, "I'm glad to hear, dear."

You three stand still where you are, you because it's routine, your father because he's confused and awkward, and Joel because he's too fucking astonished to move a fucking muscle.

"Well, we can talk more about it when I get back." your dad declared, the door lock clicked and he was about to leave, "Dinner tonight, guys."

Your dad is out the door not long after that, it closes with a slam behind him, leaving you and Joel in a cold, stale-smelling home.

For a long time, nothing is said between the two of you.

"Alright." you mutter, almost as if to yourself, taking your bag in your hand, the wheels clattering against the floor, and Joel moves behind you, following you upstairs to your room.

"Are you— You can't be serious right now," he says, trying to mask his complete bewilderment, and doing a shit job at it, " 'It's fine' ?!"

He tries to say it like you would say, a high, mocking, shaky voice, his arms open in a defeated, almost hopeless, manner.

"Joel, not now," you tell him, walking down the long hallway, and not looking back at him, "I'll be sleeping."

"What— no."

You try closing the door to your room, but it slams loudly on Joel's open palm with a lot of force, you're pretty sure you didn't close it that hard, that was his doing, you still can't help, though, to feel more worried about your door than about his hand. He pushed it wide open again, towering on your door frame, but didn't cross the threshold, you felt weirdly trapped, your bag and your body feel heavy, you set the luggage down.

Joel's expression is unlike any other you've ever seen, and the look in his eyes is so intense, full of indignation, your knees wobble a bit under his scrutiny, you hate yourself for that, you don't want him to notice that, he shouldn't be seeing you so affected.

"Y'know, I used to think you were just a very weird kid," he starts, Joel sounds legitimately, personally offended, his outrage is palpable, it's like he can't barely keep it in, but it's trying to so very hard, "Just— painfully shy, didn't know how to talk to no one, didn't really talk at all, went along with everything, and everything was fine, 'cause that's what you always said, all the fuckin' time, and I really thought it was, for the longest time."

"Joel—"

"No." his tone leaves no room for discussion, his expression hard, but when you immediately shut up, it almost seems to upset him more, "I really thought you'd grow out of the pushover phase, I even thought I could help it by urging you a little—"

"I'm not a pushover!" you frown, trying to sound strong and firm, but it was clear the words had no bite to them.

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit, doll, you're the biggest pushover I've ever met," he scoffs at you, still leaning against the frame of your bedroom door, "As a kid, you'd go along with whatever Sarah wanted to do, as a teen, I had to witness you going out with the most stupid looking boys I've ever had the displeasure of setting my eyes on, now you're a grown-ass pushover!"

"Why are you mad at me?" you ask, you're so fucking confused, you feel attacked, really, literally cornered by the man. On any other day, you'd be bawling your eyes out, but Jesus fucking Christ, you were so done with today, you have been bottling up so much shit you could feel your bile taint your mouth with its bitter taste, you were furious.

"I'm not mad at you, doll, I'm mad for you."

After he says that, there's a pause, he didn't mean to get into a yelling match with you, and he looked disheartened. Joel rubbed one of his big palms over his face, like he's suddenly feeling so much more tired than before.

He was such a caring man, and it makes your chest feel warm, even though his concern for you wasn't your idea of a nice conversation.

"I'm mad for you, because this sucks, girl," he says, sounding tired, he takes a deep breath, and then his voice gets more serious, lower, calmer, and you know he's getting his emotions in check, "Your dad is a good friend, though I'm starting to question how good of a father he is, if even he pushes you 'round like this, but c'mon, doll, you ain't a little girl anymore."

"Oh, shut up." you scoff, this time your tone has more venom behind it, your voice gets higher, but still doesn't come out as a scream, and your body is shaking from rage, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" he scoffs back, but on his lips a smirk appears, fuck, he's doing it again, he's playing with you, just like he always did to urge you, to get on your nerves, to see how far he could push you until you blow up, but the only reason you never blew up was because no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

"Let us see if I don't, then," Joel continues, just his head trespasses the threshold of your room, like the rest of his body is being held back by some invisible force, he wants to provoke you, but at the same time seems to have no intention of violating your space, it was a weird mix of things, you never understood him, "You're a fine, grown woman, studying something ya don't wanna study, going places ya don't wanna go, talking to people ya don't wanna talk to, hell, doll, what else is being shoved down your throat, and you just take it without a peep? Do the guys you go out with also trample all over you?"

"Just shut up." you repeat yourself, and he smirks wider, because it's working, he can see it in how tensed your posture became, he could feel it, and the worst part is that it was true, every word of it.

"What is it that you want, huh? I ain't ever heard that combination of words come out o' your mouth, ‘I want’ , even as a kid, I have no fuckin' idea of what you really want, of what you'd ask of someone, and it's starting to look like you don't either."

"Oh, my God— I want you to shut the fuck up, Joel, and close the goddamn door! How 'bout that?!" you explode, yelling, it wasn't even a particularly high or loud voice, but your outburst was unexpected, you couldn't hold back, your anger had nowhere else to go but forward, you didn't mean to yell, but you did.

It came out of your chest with so much force you could feel your face going red from embarrassment.

He blinked.

Once, twice.

You'd have thought you broke him, the look of surprise in his face, and the silence that fell upon the two of you was unnerving, but at least you made him stop talking, at least the constant, buzzing noise in the back of your mind is no longer there, it's blissfully quiet.

"Very well." he nods decidedly, and closes the door.

Joel closes the door behind him, finally stepping into your room, the heavy lock clicks, the air feels thicker, like he's somehow managed to take the whole thing up a notch, and, to be fair, he fucking did.

"That's a good start." it sounds like praise, because it is praise, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates inside your stomach and shoots directly down between your legs.

It's the kind of voice that has no business existing outside of a bedroom, you think, his southern drawl dripping on each of the words like hot, sticky honey, and you could just fucking cry from how arousing it actually was.

He walks in further in slow, careful steps, like you're some kind of wild animal, Joel's body moves towards you, eyes fixed, never breaking the staring contest you two started.

Joel Miller's presence was already overwhelming on itself, his physical height, his build, the way he looked like he could easily snap you in half, but you've seen this man care for his daughter more times than you can remember, you've seen him go out of his way for people who couldn't stand him, his family, and most importantly, you, the kid he babysat whenever your dad just had to stay late somewhere.

He wasn't scary, quite the opposite, he was magnetic, upsettingly so.

"So, doll," Joel continues, "How's it going to be?"

His eyes are intense, his presence is so, so big, you're feeling smaller by the minute, and yet he still didn't even get that close, still didn't try to touch you, he was waiting for an answer.

"What?"

"'Cause I ain't goin' to ask again, I don't like to repeat myself," he said, the tone was softer than what the words sounded like, almost reassuring, it was so different to what you're used to, his face gets closer, you could see his beard better now, and his eyes were unbearably dark, "I ain't doin' a damn thing, unless you tell me what ya want."

What a low blow, but that's how Joel Miller was, the man never played fair.

"I can't." you tell him, voice soft and weak, but there was an undertone of rage to it, the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted to say and how, and he knew that, too, it was maddening.

He has the gall to roll his eyes and click his tongue at you, like he's annoyed at having to repeat himself for a third time, you can't believe it, and his hands come to rest on his hips, his body open, so you can clearly see, read him like a fucking open book.

"I ain't going nowhere, I ain't leaving this room, unless you say something," Joel starts again, a very deep frown between his brows, you'd even dare say that he's frustrated, and then it comes again, his voice, so low, it was nothing more than a rumble, and yet the hairs of your arm and neck are raised, you shudder, "Now, how is it gonna be, sweetheart? I'm all ears."

It was a clear invitation, he wasn't asking you again, the question had an ultimatum, and it wasn't hard to tell that this is Joel's idea of giving you the push you need to break free.

A breath you didn't realize you were holding came out shakily, a lot of pent-up emotions coming up to the surface, but Joel waited, you were the one in charge, you were the one setting the pace here.

And if there was something you knew about him, it was just how stubborn he could be, growing up with that fucking asshole pushing your damn buttons all the time taught you that much, but the intent behind his attitude was never really clear— until now. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole of his word, once you took control of the wheel, there would be no going back, but you do have a choice — which was his point all along —, you can either tell him to leave, or tell him what you really want, but you have to say it like you mean it.

"I don't want you to leave." you say, your voice is low, but that's just because you don't trust what kinds of sound could escape from your mouth if you tried to talk louder.

"Okay." Joel nods at you, his smirk is a full smile now, a proud grin on his lips, but that wasn't good enough for him, not the answer he wanted to hear, and he tells you so, "You're doing good, doll, but let's be more positive, aight? I wanna hear you say what you want ."

Fuck, you're trembling, he's close, so close to you, your sense of smell is so heightened, you think, because the scent of his cologne is the only thing you can smell in that small room of yours, the deep breath you take is not even voluntary, your body is reacting on its on, the tingling, fluttering feeling you felt through your body sets and pools in your lower tummy, it's an all too familiar sensation, the arousal is undeniable.

You got all wet just with some soft words and his smell, and you know he's noticing it, it was clear, not even in a million years would Joel miss how his proximity is affecting you, his gaze is unbearable.

You'd rather not say it, but there's no other choice, your words have to come out crystal clear, otherwise he's just going to stay there and make you wait for him, that was also part of his little game, so, for fuck's sake, you take the bull by the horns, and you take another step.

"I want you to stay." Your chest heaves with your breathing, but your tone is unmistakable, he wanted to hear your voice, so there you go, saying exactly what's on your mind, your real thoughts, the ones you wouldn't dare saying aloud.

Joel looks impressed.

"Atta girl." there's a new intensity in his gaze, the smugness and pride is still there, but you've seen that kind of look before on other men, that glint of thirst, it's the most dangerous one, "Then I'll stay, darlin'. See? Wasn't it easy?"

" No. " you find it in yourself to huff, your newfound braveness is a surprise even to you, but it's hard to be anxious and self-conscious when he's moving closer to you so decidedly, "Nothing is ever easy with you."

He tilts his head to the side briefly, a small gesture of agreement, his steps are slow, but not as calculated anymore, they're shorter now, his eyes are still locked on yours, but the tension that you felt so keenly in the beginning, that air of challenge was gone, his entire focus was now solely on you.

"Guilty as charged," Joel chuckles, a hand reaching to your cheek, and the moment his thumb makes contact with your skin, you lean into the touch, it feels cold against your burning face, and it's probably the only thing keeping you from melting completely, "But doesn't it feel good, to finally let out the truth?"

His thumb moves along the softness of your cheek, he caresses the apple of it, his eyes darting down to look at your lips, his smile gets even softer, and then he says, "To finally be honest with yourself and say what you want."

His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your chin, and then, he cups it with a gentleness that surprised you, but then you remembered, this was no stranger, this was Joel, and the knowledge of knowing this is the same man who has watched you grow up made something hot and sticky build up in the pit of your belly, a desire so powerful that it has your brain go all mushy, your words stuck in the back of your throat, it was a pain to get them out.

" Touch me. "

Joel Miller has no right being that attractive, he shouldn't look this good, he should not have this effect on you, he had no right on having you in such an infuriating and sudden chokehold, he wasn't even trying.

You couldn't find the words to describe exactly what you’re feeling, they were all lost in a muddle of lust, it's an unbearable, mind-numbing kind of horny that had your whole body reacting so quickly to such simple actions, it was a mix of things that were starting to make you feel out of sorts.

It's not just the arousal, nor just the fact that he's here with you, so close to you that you could feel the warmth emanating from his big body, nor even just the fact that, since you're on a roll of being honest and letting loose of your inhibitions, this was your long time crush touching you, hooking his hands below your ass to lift you up as easily as he picked up your luggage from the airport.

The yelp you let out is far from the most graceful noise you ever made, your arms shoot around his neck to steady yourself, but aside from the abrupt rising, you were never at risk of falling, his arms are so solid under your thighs, more solid than the floor that was under your feet just a few seconds ago, you feel. Your core is pressed flush against his abdomen, you can feel his body warmth, and you've never been so glad to be wearing good denim pants, otherwise you would have made a mess on him just by being held.

"No need to be scared." Joel snarks, carrying you somewhere.

"A little word of warning would've been nice, though," you say back, his nose is so close to yours, and it makes your face feel warm, even the tip of his beard tickled the side of your cheek, he smelled so nice, you really are a mess.

"Oh, sorry, princess, next time, I'll do just that, just let me put you where you want first." his drawl is the last drop, his smirk is so self-assured, he knows he's dangling a treat over your head.

Joel sets you down on your room's desk, the man sets his hands firmly on top of your thighs and unceremoniously spreads them wide, making room for his body, and your eyes are just glued to the view, looking down at the show he was putting on of how your bodies seemed to be aligned to fit so perfectly together, your imagination ran wild trying to picture just how obscenely hot it would be to watch yourself get stretched out by his cock from that angle.

You set your own hand on his chest, and you don't know if it's his cologne, or if it's him, but he smells so nice, he has a musky, earthy scent of man that had you dizzy and out of focus.

"Hey, look at me." he commanded you, lifting your chin up with his fingers, "I ain't doin' anything until ya tell me, remember? How's it gonna be, darlin'?"

"Oh, you're unbelievable..." you shake your head, your words come out riding a laugh, he had you just where he wanted, the only thing stopping you was just your clothes, but he still was dead set on making you spell it all out for him.

"C'mon, doll," Joel insists, a smirk pulling the side of his mouth up, his fingers digging deeper into your thighs, you could see the shape of his dick pressing hard against the front of his pants, his other hand moving up, ghosting over your waist and chest, "It's an easy question, ya just gotta say the word, what's the holdup?"

The holdup was your pride, and maybe some remnants of shame you felt, you were never the bold kind, or the kind that openly spoke of her sexual desires and wants, that's the kind of person you never saw yourself as, even as an adult with an active sex life, so when faced with Joel, his hard-set insistence, the challenge in his dark, lust filled eyes and his soft, deep voice presented to you, the request seemed out of character.

Your words are there, but it was so difficult to bring them to light, they're at the tip of your tongue.

"We gotta practice that assertiveness, if you're really going through law school." Joel quips, and he knows exactly what he's doing, it was just the final push of well-meaning annoyance to get you talking, because how could you put up with his teasing and mocking you and not tell him to just shut the fuck up and kiss you already.

"Shut up."

He did shut up.

Joel shut the fuck up, and closed the short distance between your lips and his.

The first brush of lips was a question, barely touching yours, but it was enough to make you let out a pathetic, expectant little sigh. The second one, you met him in the middle, unwilling to let him keep toying with you like that, finding a place for your lips between his.

Joel was kissing you.

You've been waiting for that kiss for years now.

Well, maybe two, max, but that was more than enough for you.

Growing impatient with those sweet pecks, you're the first to part your lips, you brush your tongue over his bottom lip sheepishly, but with an eagerness of a person who has been denied something she wanted for such a long time, he pulls back slightly just to spite you, but Joel is far gone at this point, too. One of his hands shoots up to grab hold of your face with such despair it almost hits you, "Sorry.", he tries to murmur, but it gets lost in your mouths as soon as the apology comes out. Lord, his tongue, though.

Joel tastes like nothing else, a combination of scotch and a very distinct, personal taste that had you salivating for more. Your teeth click, a mess of lips and tongue, his beard scratching you, and it's probably the hottest fucking thing in the whole world to feel. His breath comes out harshly through his nostrils, and he lets out a guttural groan as the hand on your face goes down, exploring your neck and shoulders, keeping you still by your throat, a cheeky thumb pressing down on the hollow that your pulse ran through, just enough to feel it.

He's showing off, that much is clear to you, by the way he's so unabashed about how his tongue is in your mouth and yours is in his, the wet sounds you make echo through the room, the quiet sighs, moans and hums he's drawing out of you, it makes you feel suddenly bashful.

"Oh, don't go shy on me now, doll, c'mon." Joel pulls back, his breath fanning hot on your lips, the thumb at your neck moves down and rubs circles on your collarbones, he's got this smug smirk on his face, you've always wanted to wipe it off.

"Jesus— shut the fuck up, Joel." it comes out so much easier now that you've got a taste of him, it was all too clear to you what you really want.

He smiles, he smiles that smile you know means he's about to be a jackass, and the look on his face was pure sin.

"Keep him out o' this, princess." his low laugh rumbles through his chest, his mouth is so close to yours, he was clearly teasing you, testing your resolve, his grip on your thigh was so hard that it had a delicious sting, it had you all aflame inside and out, the tension between you so palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife, "Ain't nothing holy 'bout what I wanna do to ya."

The next thing that came out of your mouth was just an unintelligible whimper, the way his lips and beard pressed and rubbed against the soft skin of your throat felt heavenly, it tickled just the slightest, but it wasn't enough to make you pull away. You tipped your head to the side and offered your neck to him, giving him space to do as he pleased, and Joel, like a moth to a flame, moved quickly.

His mouth was so hot, his teeth biting a mark onto the crook of your neck, making you let out a soundless, shuddery breath, a sharp, small gasp followed after a second of realization, that's gonna leave a mark, and you have no idea how to explain that to your father, hiding it just doesn't seem like a reliable option, but then you feel it, Joel's lips curling up in a smile against your flesh, that fucking bastard , he did it on purpose.

With a kiss and a long swipe of his tongue over the bite, he appeases you, the worry and surprise wear off as he licks the salt off your skin, Joel is relentless in his pursuit, he's trying to take everything off of you, your taste, your breath, your moans and sighs, he's set out on devouring you.

"God, ya look so good, darlin'. Look at you." he murmurs into your neck, his voice is strained, the drawl he puts on the pet names so obvious, and so incredibly sexy, it has a direct link to the growing dampness that has taken over the seat of your panties, his eyes move up slowly, the appreciation he's making it very obvious that he sees you as nothing less than a feast.

You could barely take it.

"Fuck." your voice comes out strangled, a newfound boldness fills your mind, the warmth in your body making you brazen. Your hands shot down to the fly of your jeans, "Stop looking at me like that, for fuck's sake—"

The sight of your hands going for your pants had a riveting effect on Joel, he went from teasing and self-satisfied to horny in an instant, and he seemed to have forgotten everything he was doing and that idiotic fucking game he was playing with you, he watched, rapt and eager as you unbuttoned and unzipped a way for him, and he's not very patient, not right now.

Joel doesn't wait for you to try and get the damn thing off your body before he pulls — better yet, yanks you — to him by your nape for another kiss, and presses his other hand on your tummy with clear intent, sliding a tantalizing trail down, until he can stuff his fingers right down your jeans and the seat of your panties.

"Wait—" you gasp, not able to fight off his iron grip on you, but it's not like you want to, "Let me get them off—"

"Ain't no need for that." Joel denies, shaking his head slightly, the hand in the back of your neck keeps you from pulling away from him, the kiss that he plants on your lips is rough, it's bruising in the best of ways, you feel it on your cheeks, but most importantly, you feel his fingertips slide easily past the waistband of your panties, just then he allows you to lean back ever so slightly, probably with the selfish motivation of being able to touch you better — as selfish as that can be.

God , you're a mess, you can feel it as his finger first touches you, sliding down your folds, just how obscenely wet it feels, the shuddering breath you let out when his digit meets your clit is just embarrassing. You have never, ever been so horny in your life.

Joel chuckles, not mockingly, he just thinks your reactions are the most adorable fucking thing, his voice is muffled when he talks into your neck, you can barely feel it as he moves to whisper in your ear, his finger tracing lazy, tight circles over your clit, "You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," he groans, your fingers have a vice grip on his arms, "That for me?"

Yes, yes, yes . Fucking yes, that's all because of him, and you got like that even before that motherfucker laid a finger on you, but he didn't need to know that, the last thing Joel Miller needed was that big of an ego boost, or else you were gonna find yourself a real problem to deal with.

"Fuck—" you bite back a sob, but can't hold back how your body jolts as a reaction to his touch, those fucking little circles, the slickness makes his finger glide over your sensitive little nub, he's barely even applying pressure, just taking his time getting acquainted with how you like it, he's mapping your actions and reactions like he hasn’t known you for pretty much forever, his beard and teeth and lips still kissing and biting a hot trail from one side of your neck to the other, you'll be a mess once this is over, and you hope it never ends, "C'mon— Joel— I thought we were getting to the good part?"

He lets out an indignant little snort, the sound he makes as he nips at the hinge of your jaw is something you have no way to describe, he wants a fucking piece of you, he wants it all, the thought sends your heart fluttering, you had no way to know, but this was just the appetizer of the main course.

Joel hums, he hums into the space between your jaw and ear, his finger not leaving the top of your cunt, and it's starting to get really frustrating, you could feel a spark, something that could've become something, if only he put some actual work into it.

"Ya got somewhere to go?" he teases, "So impatient..."

"C'mon, Joel, please ..." your plea clearly has an effect, you can feel the low rumble in his chest, he can't stop himself, even though you could see the glint of something devious in his dark brown eyes, a cheeky finger moving lower, searching, rubbing down your pussy, Joel is taking his sweet, sweet time with it all," Please, I want you insi—"

His thick, rough digit easily pushes past the wet, tight rim of your opening, his fingertip sinks inside, just the barest of it, but it's enough for you to lose it for a second, his touch has a jolt shooting up your whole body, your nails digging into his shoulders, the surprised moan you let out makes your cheeks burn hotter than before, it's so different to be touched by someone else, it feels like he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he'd make you take it.

There's absolutely no way anyone else could touch you like he does.

No man in this world would ever be as good as him, it was that simple, it was a truth you knew well and true.

Joel was a force of nature, you could never understand it, not even if you tried.

Your breath catches in your throat, a sharp gasp follows his finger pressing further in, it's just so fucking good to have something filling you in, filling up that insane emptiness you were feeling just a second before, it slides in so easily, making squelching sounds as your wet cunt opens up around it, taking it all, as much as he can give it to you, sliding in and out, just to test how wet and pliant your cunt is for him.

"Oh, fuck... God, yes, yes , Joel, like that." the praise, the satisfaction that's coming from your words seem to do things to Joel, too. His body moves forward, trying to press closer to yours, his face buries deep into the crook of your neck, the scent of his hair, the scent of his cologne, the sweat he's breaking, his warm breath fanning out and spreading a hot, wet wave on your skin, you hug him for dear fucking life, if the desk under you gives in, you at least know you can hang onto him, your nails latch on the fabric of his red flannel, desperate.

"You're doin' so good, baby," you hear him speak against your throat, he kisses you there, right below your ear, the vibration of his deep voice is something you'll feel in your core, forever, it'll never go away, it'll follow you, it'll stay in your memory and will come back every time you think of him, of the moment you got fingerfucked by him on top of your desk, "So fuckin' good , look at you."

God, how are you going to forget about that? It was going to drive you crazy for days, months, years to come, just thinking about Joel praising you and fingering you at the same time was almost too much. You felt his fingers wrap around a fistful of your hair, his lips on yours again, just as he slides another finger in. Fuck, if he could keep doing that— if you two could keep that up for the rest of your break, Texas would never be so fucking awful anymore, you'd come back again every time, at every opportunity, just for him.

It's just too good, the friction, the growing moans and whines that spill from your mouth are swallowed by him, and they just seem to make him go on, go harder and deeper, a curl of his fingers hits something so right that a full-bodied shudder passes through you on a round trip, a sob wrenched from your throat. He smirks, and keeps hitting the spot over and over, until he has you squirming and bucking your hips up in his direction, grinding, riding his fingers like a desperate girl, so filthy.

"Fuck— please, Joel— god, right there—!" you hiccup, your mouth hangs open as you squeeze your eyes shut, for a moment the only sounds that can be heard are his breathing, the quiet muttered praises he showers you in that you can't quite make out right now, and that wet symphony of your pussy around his thick fingers, your voice seems to clog and get stuck on your throat, your tummy tightens up, like a coil, the pleasure so overwhelming.

One of your hands slams loudly on the wood under you, just holding on to him isn't enough anymore, the firmness of the desk provides you with just enough support to brace for what it felt like imminent impact.

"C'mon, doll," he urges you, he can feel you fluttering and clenching around his fingers, holding on to his knuckles, God, it's one of his favorite feelings now, no pussy ever felt like yours, and he didn't even get to see the damn fucking thing yet, just fingering you under your beat up jeans was more fun and satisfying than most sex he'd had as of recently, "Show me— c'mon, that's it," he speaks lowly, "I want you to cum for me, alright, sweetheart, cum for me."

Your voice breaks free in a mellow shriek, a gasp for air, a loud sigh of relief as it washes over you like a tidal wave.

"fuckJoelyesyesyesYESpleaseitfeelssofuckinggood—"

What comes out of your mouth is just a string of undecipherable, desperate, whiny moans, your whole body jerks forwards, and it almost feels like falling, but he's there right in front of you, strong as ever, more than anyone you've ever met, to hold on to you, kissing soothing patches on the little skin your t-shirt offers him, but he'll take it, he'll take everything he can get, he'll kiss you forever, if he can.

Joel only lets go of you — barely — back on the desk when your whole being relaxes from the sudden tension, you had gone slack in his arms, but that's not new. His hands come back out of the confines of your pants, and the wetness he found inside makes your thighs shiver, a faint silky, translucent trail connects you for a moment, before it's gone as quickly as it came.

God, your legs feel like jelly, you don't think you have it in you to walk, but it can't stop you from trying. What can stop you from trying, however, is the man in front of you.

"Nah, ah, slow down." he reprimands, pulling you back up before the tip of your toes could even touch the floor, though his tone isn't stern, and he has a grin on his face when he simply sticks his fingers, all coated in your arousal, inside your mouth, "Don't go runnin' off on me."

There's no energy left in you, or will, to fight him, he can call you a fucking pushover if he wants to, but you do as he clearly commanded, sucking his digits clean, eating your own release straight from his fingers.

He's pleased, with you, with your blatant display of compliance, of eagerness and how willing you were to be so goddamn dirty in a heartbeat. Joel is pleased with you.

"There's a good girl," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes fixed on yours, he looks like he's not able to take them off you, like if he blinks, he'll miss something really, really good, "Just perfect, darlin’, you’re perfect."

The words sound like a lull, his thumb moves to trace the line of your bottom lip, your eyes flutter close, and the weight of your own exhaustion presses on you. A soft smile curls his lips, it's warm and sincere, you feel like melting in a puddle at the sight, it was hard not to give into it.

"Hey..." he calls out for you, pulling you a bit closer, just so he can brush your nose with his.

You blink, a little lost, you could get so lost in him.

"Fuck, did I knock you out?" he chuckles, lovingly pulling you against him, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and let him do what he wants with your hair, run his clean hand through your locks, he's kissing the shell of your ear again.

"Maybe." Joel can hear the smile on your voice as you say it, you take in a deep breath, almost as if you didn't get enough air throughout all this, "This was... insane."

"Is that a compliment?" his laugh, so clear, and his breath tickling the side of your neck has a warmth spread on your chest.

"Absolutely." you nod, your arms come to lock around his frame, almost like a hug. It's funny, that's probably the first time you ever hugged him, "Don't get too used to it, if you don't start changing up your attitude a bit."

His response is an annoyed grunt meant only halfheartedly, you almost think it's a threat of a laugh, actually, "I'll take what I can get, then."

Joel pushes you away a little, just so he can get a good look at you, his eyes roam your current less than regal state with an almost worried glint to them, trying to gauge if you're okay, or if there was something else you needed. He's always been very attentive to details, after all, his eyes linger a bit on your hair, a little longer than what you think it should.

"So," he starts, not knowing if he should bring this up, but, well, the thought had already crossed his mind, so he just let the question come out, "Was it worth it? Using your words?"

"It... was. I liked it a lot, honestly, you— you did great, I wasn't expecting... you know."

"Uh, yes, I was not expecting it either."

A soft laugh leaves your mouth, a smile plays on your lips.

"Oh, so it wasn't a plan of yours all along? Some machination of yours?" your tease earns you a very dragged out eye roll, it takes another laugh out of you.

"What do ya think I am? Some kind of mastermind?" he scoffs, shaking his head, and looking a little bit hurt, like you'd offended him, "You know, not everythin' that I say has some kinda double meanin'. Not everyone's like that."

"No, no, I get it," you assure, patting him in the shoulder, "Not everything you say is some secret agenda."

Joel's frown and slightly pinched expression dissolves with that, a tiny sigh leaving his lips, and he takes a few steps backwards, to give you space enough to put yourself, "Think ya can fix yourself up? Take a nice shower, put on some clothes that don't smell like fuckin' Boston?"

You cock your head to the side, and look down at yourself, then at him, "What about you, though?"

"Me?" Joel seems legitimately confused for a second, until he follows your gaze down, his hard on is still there, hard as ever, straining the denim of his pants. He looks back at you, a brow raised, arms crossed, you know that posture, some stupid fucking quip is about to come out of his mouth, "Think you can take it?"

The idea has a shiver running through you, you felt the dull ache on your inner walls, even as your breathing steadied.

"I don't think you can, not right now." he says before you can get a word in, and he grins at you, it's different that his other grins he'd always give you before, but it has the same fondness, "I'll be fine, I'm a grown man, I can handle it."

He could say that all he wanted, but you still see the discomfort, the little fidgety moves he does to find a good way to position his junk.

You could do it, though. If it came to that.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure you need a fucking shower." he claps back instantly, not giving into your offer, "I made a mess all over you."

"So crude, Jesus..." you scoff, but your feet dangle under you, completely carefree, the edge of the desk is digging on to your flesh, you think it'll bruise a bit, you can feel it in your ass, it was worth it, "You kiss your daughter with that mouth?"

"Sure, all the time." Joel grins, and takes the liberty of starting to tuck in his flannel back into the hem of his jeans, "And do even worse shit to you."

"Wow, real fucking classy." your voice is laced with sarcasm, though it lacks bite, your legs sway left to right as you watch him put himself back in order. It's such a mundane task, really, and you feel a little dumb for not realizing how you pulled and tugged at him, though he doesn't seem to mind.

Silence falls over you both as he finishes putting himself back in order, it's a comfortable kind of silence, for once, but Joel is still the first one to break it.

"If ya need me to, I'll stay a bit longer until after you shower, help you put your things in place..." he's interrupted by a buzz, Joel reaches a hand to his front pocket for his phone, an iPhone half a dozen generations old, checks the screen, and stuffs it back in, unbothered, "That kind of thing."

Your brows shoot up in curiosity, he didn't even pay whatever it was on his phone half his mind, his attention never faltered from you, his offer still hangs in the air, you want him to stay, but—

"Don't you have... things to do?" you ask, genuinely curious, "I mean, someone rang you up."

"It's just Sarah textin' me, askin' if I picked you up from the airport already, because I seem to be takin’ a long time to come back." Joel explains it to you, his gaze sweeps your desk and the floor, where the little chaos your activities had brought to it was. The laptop's screen has gone dark, so it probably died, but it's the only thing he could see out of order, "Should I tell her?"

He smiles at how you laughed, the affection in his gaze makes you feel warm inside.

"Don't you dare," you reply, jumping from the desk, your knees a little wobbly, and you fall right into his arms. Joel doesn't mind holding you, keeping you close to him, you feel like the luckiest woman in the whole state, maybe in the world, "But you should go back to her, y'know? She's your daughter."

"Yeah, I didn't forget that." he seems to not have forgotten how to be sarcastic, either, "But I know she's fine, you sure you don't want me to stay."

"It's fine." you say with a shake of your head.

Joel, like you were watching an old scene from an old movie, takes that characteristic deep breath of his, the trigger seems to be your tagline, it riles him up so much, apparently. You think it's funny.

"Fine— girl, didn't we have a whole conversation about this? I had to finger more words into your vocabulary, do I have to fuck this one out of you?" his exasperation, like his smile, is soft and tender, the scowl on his face, though, it's almost intimidating, if it wasn't because you already had him all figured out.

"You can try." your words have a double meaning, a playful note, but you meant every word. You'd let him have your body if he so much as asked for it, Joel already knows that, however.

"I mean it, it's alright."

"Do you?" he presses you further, he wants to make sure you're not just saying that for the sake of it, brushing his offer off just because it could apparently inconvenience him, you forgot, for a moment, how that man was stubborn as a fucking mule.

"I do." your tone is decided, "Besides, you two will come for dinner with my dad and I, right? He invited you."

"Yeah, he did." Joel muses, a bit lost on his thoughts, "Think ya can keep your trap shut around him for dinner about this?"

"Think you can look him in the eye during dinner after this?" is your rebuttal, Joel looks a little embarrassed, a little bashful smile pulls on his mouth, his gaze flutters down, looking for something that's not on the floor, on the walls, anything to keep himself from meeting your eyes.

"Guess I'll figure it out." his hand finds your cheek, caresses the curve of your face, he sighs, a sound of longing. Joel pulls away from you, the distance already making his body ache, it's not lost on you, you kinda feel the same way.

But it's fine, it really is. You'll see him and Sarah later today, still, this is not over, whatever this is.

The man opens the door to your room, opening it so he can leave, "I'll see you later, then, doll." he says, but then he shoots you a glance of mock sternness to you, over his shoulder, "I'll still fuck the 'fine' outta you, ya hear?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"Alright, old man."

And before he closes the door, you catch one last glance of him, for now.

You hope he does.

[tangledinink]

heyyy guys. is this a bad time? srry i know its the autism contest today (go vote for donnie) but uhmmm second chapter of my i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now? fic is out. read it on a03 or below the cut!

[ previous chapter ]

Out of the three of them, Leo was the fastest. Donnie was a close second, and Raph brought up the rear, but none of them were slow by any means. Donnie knew, in the back of his mind, that their Dad was more than capable of some shocking speed when the situation called for it, though he was typically more inclined to amble.

 But goddamn. He always kind of forgot just how fast their dad could move when he heard one of his children scream. 

 They could already hear him opening Mikey's door and demanding to know what happened by the time Leo, Raph and he were even breaking the top of the basement stairs, their hearts thudding in their ears because oh my god. Mikey was either just attacked by one of those shady alley cats that Dad told him not to feed, or he had finally managed to stab himself through the hand with a pencil while trying to do that flip-trick thing he liked to do-- one of the two. 

 "What's going on!?" Leo demanded as the trio skidded to a halt in front of Mikey's door, with Raph crying, "Are you hurt?!" At almost the exact same time, all three of them bunched up around the doorway to see what was going on.

 The good news was there were no maniacal tabbies in sight, nor any writing utensils sticking out of his little brother's palm. A good start. The bad news was the smoldering scrap of paper and wire sitting on his baby brother's burnt desk.

 "I don't know!" Mikey wailed, his eyes wide and beaded with tears. Their father kneeled down next to him, placing a hand over Mikey's trembling shoulder in what was likely an attempt at comfort. "I was just sitting here working on a sketch and my notebook caught on fire!"

 Donnie blinked slowly.

 "It caught on fire?" Leo echoed, his voice cautious.

 "Yeah! It just-- it just went up in flames!" Mikey sobbed. "All-- all of my sketches are ruined...!"

 Raph visibly hesitated, exchanging a look with their father before he spoke, "Uh. Well. The important thing is you weren't hurt--"

 "Your notebook just spontaneously burst into flames? On its own? With no outside intervention?" Donnie deadpanned, his lips pursed. He stumbled slightly when Raph smacked him on the shoulder, glaring at his brother. What!? Like he was the only one thinking it! Come on, were they seriously not wondering the same thing?

 "It did! I swear!" Mikey pressed, tearing up all over again. "I really– I wasn't doing anything--"

 Donnie glanced wildly between his brothers and father, gesturing at the youngest slightly. They didn't seriously – There was no way– 

 "Science doesn't work like that!" He squawked. "You can't have fire without heat and fuel, it's literally basic physics! They're the main ingredients of an exothermic reaction-- does nobody else in this household respect the sanctity of the fire tetrahedron?!"

 "Donatello." 

 "Oh, but when I cause an explosion, it's a problem--"

 "Donatello." His father's voice was a bit harder this time, and immediately effective at stopping Donnie mid-tirade, his frame freezing in place and his lips still curved into a slight scowl. "Why don't you and your brothers go back downstairs? I have this under control." 

 Donnie scowled, his brows bunched together and his lips set in a deep frown, and he really thought about protesting or even refusing for a moment, not wanting to be so easily chased away. But, after a moment longer, he relented, turning to trudge back the way he came with a dramatic huff. "This is so unfair." He muttered as he went, his two brothers right behind him. The three retreated back to the basement, and Donnie's foot had barely even passed the bottom step before Leo turned on his heels to face the other two, giving a wild wave of his hands.

 "What the hell was that?!"

 "Hey," Raph muttered, as if he actually cared about any of his brothers swearing nowadays-- it was just reflex.

 "No, I agree with Leo." Donnie immediately declared, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's no way his notebook actually just burst into flames. I mean, you could maybe convince me that some electrical equipment overheated, but there's no way there would be that dramatic of an effect, and I see no reason why it would center on a notebook of all places, unless Michelangelo was sitting there with a high-powered magnifying glass and directing a sunbeam, in which case he definitely went into my room--"

  "Yeah, what Donnie said. But the, like, the sane bits." Leo interrupted. "I'm pretty sure homework doesn't just set itself on fire."

 "What, you think he's lyin'?" Raph questioned.

 "Well either that or he's finally lost it. Like, this isn't just Mikey weird, this is, like. Weird weird ." Leo insisted.

 "Why would he lie though?" Donnie questioned, a brow quirked. "Surely he's not that desperate to get out of doing schoolwork. He's been doing really well as of late-- And if he needed to destroy evidence, I can think of about thirty-seven other, much more effective methods just off the top of my head that he could have employed. And none of them involve him physically endangering himself nor scaring the absolute living atoms out of the rest of us."

 Raph kept quiet, seeming to consider this for a moment, before his eyes got wide, his face paling a bit.

 "You don't-- you guys don't think he's smokin', do ya?" 

 "What?! No way! Come on, Raph, don't be crazy." Leo scoffed. "First of all-- What, and throw away his whole athletic career? You know how much he loves skateboarding and dancing and 'razzing his tazz' and all that. He's not that stupid. Second of all, there are about eight million other places he could go if he wanted to smoke in secret besides here. Like… literally all of New York City. Or even just, I dunno, the balcony?! Not his own room? I'm pretty sure we would have noticed by now if he was smoking in his room!" 

 "But why else would he be lighting stuff on fire!?" Raph cried.

 "I dunno. Maybe just for fun or something? Donnie lights stuff on fire all the time."

 "HEY!"

 "You do, don't try to deny it."

 "That's DIFFERENT, it's science--"

 "Anyway. What teenage boy doesn't go through a 'lighting stuff on fire' phase? I'm pretty sure I read that in one of Dad's parenting books one time." Leo concludes, planting his hands firmly on his hips as if that were the end of it. Donnie rolled his eyes.

 "You didn't. Raph didn't." He pointed out.

 "Which means, statistically, Mikey definitely has to!" Leo replied.

 "That's not how statistics work--"

 "Bup-bup-bup-bup. Both of you, chill. Look, Dad said he's handling it, so he's handling it! We don't gotta sweat it. Just let them work it out, come on. I bet they'll be done before we finish even one round of Smash Bros."

---

 "Michelangelo."

 Even when he spoke, prodding him gently with his words, working so hard to keep his voice steady and even and calm, his youngest son wouldn't look up at him. Wouldn't meet his eyes. He kept his head down, sniffling weakly and making soft, hiccupy sounds that sank wetly to the floor around them. Yoshi was no stranger to his children's tears, but that didn't mean it ever got easier to hear. It made his chest twist.

 "Mikey." He tried again, idly rubbing the teenager's shoulder. "Tell me again exactly what happened--"

 "I promise I'm not making it up!" Mikey immediately cried, his head bobbing up, the little rainbow beads in his hair clicking softly against one another. "I swear, Dad, it really did just catch on fire! I swear I'm not lying or anything! Why would I-- I-- I mean, my, my sketches, all my homework, my notes, you know I wouldn't--"

 "I know." Yoshi assured quickly. And he did. Michelangelo was certainly no angel, contrary to what his name might suggest, and he was just as capable of getting into trouble as the rest of his boys were. Did he really think Yoshi was dumb enough to not be aware of that tagging thing he was doing with his Posca's? And how many parent-teacher conferences had he been called to over the years? And which one of his sons was the only one who had ever gotten suspended for fighting? 

  But a liar, Michelangelo was not. As much as he tried, he just didn't have it in him-- he always cracked with even the barest amount of pressure, much to his brothers' chagrin. It had taken years off his life when they first moved up here into the city. He had spent weeks and weeks driving their cover story into the four of them and subtly teaching Michelangelo in particular how to divert and distract and dodge. 

 Without meaning to, his eyes flickered down to the small golden bracelet encircling his son's wrist, the tiny orange gem inlaid in it catching the light for a moment. One of a matching set of five-- one of which was on his own arm at this very moment.

 "Remember, my son, what do you do when people start asking too many questions?" 

 "CRY!"

 "That's right! Good boy!"

 (Wait, was it his fault he cried so easily now? He's getting distracted. Focus on the now.)

"I know you're not lying to me, Mikey. You are not a very good liar." He teased, smiling the tiniest bit. He wasn't rewarded with the smile he was hoping for, so he pressed on. "I'm sure that whatever happened, it was an accident... And that there's a reasonable explanation! I'm sure. Perhaps there was just a short circuit somewhere, and a spark caught your paper. I will have your brother look into it. I'm simply glad you weren't hurt." 

 Mikey paused, frowning a bit, his eyes searching and unsure. Yoshi fought to keep his face as calm and reassuring as he possibly could.

 "I'm sure your teacher will understand, I will... write her a note. And, uh... we will get you a new desk..."

 "You believe me?" Mikey said, brows knit together in a crease. "And...you’re not mad? I'm not in trouble?"

 "No, you're not in trouble."

 "But-- My desk is burnt-- I mean, when Donnie--"

 "You're not in trouble," Yoshi repeated. "Just… be careful, my son. I do not want you to get hurt." 

 Mikey stayed quiet for a moment, staring their father down before they finally gave a very slow nod.

 "Okay..."

 "Good boy." He said, offering him a small, albeit forced smile, rubbing his son's shoulder in reassurance one more time before he got back up to his feet (with an exaggerated groan of effort.) "It is late. Go get ready for bed. We'll worry about the desk later."

 Watching his son's muted nod, Yoshi made his exit, closing the door firmly behind him and inhaling deeply--frozen for just a moment now that his son's eyes were not on him.

 Michelangelo was not a liar.

 That was what worried him. 

---

“I’m just saying—“

“Raph.”

“That if you were—“

“Raph.”

“We would help you! We just want you to be safe!”

“Raph! For the last time! I don’t smoke! I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my entire life!”

“I’m saying, I mean, if you DID, I mean, Raph wouldn’t be angry! I just.” 

He sniffled loudly.

“I JUST REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU AND—“

“Okay well, now I am gonna start smoking.”

“NO!!!”

---

Yoshi floated through the next few days, muscle memory, thankfully, filling in for him while his brain was occupied elsewhere. It was a good thing that his family had been to approximately eight-million martial arts tournaments over the past decade, or he may have been in trouble. Luckily, everything was, by now, second nature-- ensuring everything needed was accounted for, getting everyone to the gymnasium on time, signing in to each event and finding a seat... 

 He wanted to be present. He wanted to be aware of what was happening around him, to pay attention to the tournament, but it was a struggle to even keep his eyes open. The act of ‘sleeping’ had recently been superseded by that of ‘pouring over Hamato Clan scrolls,’ searching desperately for some sort of an answer or explanation, or even better, a solution.

 Yoshi had never regretted his choice to turn his back on his ‘destiny’ before. He had never regretted choosing not to finish his training, and failing to unlock his ninpo. What use did he have for such things? And what benefit could he possibly find in throwing his life away for the sake of a 'what if,' a what if that had never come to pass in his clan's history? Perhaps life had not turned out exactly as he had planned, and all his choices as a young adult had not exactly been the wisest, but... 

 This choice? No. He had never regretted it.

 Until now.

 Now, his bones ached with remorse. Perhaps if he had learned it himself, he would be more useful now in ensuring his son's safety. He had lit his notebook on fire for god's sake-- What if he had hurt himself? What if the fire had spread?! And how was he supposed to keep his children safe when this power wasn't something that he understood, nor something that they were even aware of themselves?

 He grumbled softly to himself, squinting a bit and hunching over in his seat on the bleachers. Uncomfortable-- these always hurt his back. Thinking about this, it hurt his head. For the thousandth time in his life, he wondered if he was making the right choice as a parent. As a person. He didn't want to deceive his sons. It was never his intention-- It wasn't his plan-- But--

  "Yoshi."

 Yoshi Hamato started slightly in response to his own name, momentarily distracted from the rather consuming task of pushing two small children on swings in tandem. He had tried to negotiate taking turns, but Raph and Mikey had insisted they wanted to swing together...

 He grit his teeth a bit at being interrupted in the middle of an outing with his children by what was, he assumed, a fan or reporter, but when he turned to face the voice, he froze in place. Ice climbed up his throat and lodged itself there.

 "... Hinata."

 They looked different from the last time he saw them-- older, certainly-- but he still recognized the face of his cousin right away. Not dragging his eyes away from the other, he slowed the two children's swings to a stop, leaning down to speak to them.

 "Why don't you boys go and play with your brothers in the sandbox for a little bit? My arms need a break, and then we can swing some more."

 "I don't wanna play in the sandbox!" Mikey immediately protested, his eyes wide. 

 "Mikey--"

 "Come on, Mikey. It'll be fun." Raph interrupted, taking his little brother's hand in his own. "I'll let ya bury me!" 

 The four-year-old immediately lit up at that, wasting no time at all in throwing himself off the swing and sprinting in the direction of the sandbox, where Donnie and Leo were already gathered. Raph followed after, but not after just a moment of hesitation, glancing at their father for just a second before running off.

 As helpful as his eldest’s reaction was, it made Yoshi’s heart twist to think on it too hard. He wasn’t the eldest by much. He was still a child as well. 

 This was why they had moved to the surface. This was why Yoshi had chosen to risk exactly this scenario. But he had still hoped it would not happen. And he did not think it would happen this quickly.

 Rising up to his full height once more, he narrowed his eyes at his cousin, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest or plant his hands on his hips. He was not a teenager anymore.

 "Why are you here, Hinata." He slipped easily into his native tongue, knowing that Hinata would do the same. He would never forget the language he spent the first eighteen years of his life speaking, but now, after all this time, he would admit, Japanese almost felt foreign in his mouth.

 "Yoshi! It is so good to see you again-- After all this time, we all thought-- I mean--"

 "We both know perfectly well you are not here for pleasantries, Hinata." He snapped, his temper flaring for a moment, getting the better of him. "You did not travel all the way to New York to say ‘hello’. Why did you come?"

 "... We heard in the news, that you have children. What a surprise for all of us, after how adamant you were growing up...!"

"And what business is that of yours?"

 "Yoshi," Hinata said, a sigh weighing down their voice. "I know that you never completed your training, but--"

 "And they will never start."

 "Yoshi, please, be reasonable."

 "I am being reasonable!"

 "You are the last direct descendant of the Hamato Clan, Yoshi! You, and now them! We have a duty! A responsibility to the world!"

 "Them!?" Yoshi hissed, gesturing violently to the sandbox across the playground, where his three children excitedly worked to try to bury their older brother. He struggled to keep his voice down. " They have a responsibility to the world?! A duty to fulfill?! They are children!"

 "You think I am not fully aware that it is a great burden to bare!? Do you think the rest of us have reveled in it?!" Hinata spat. "Just because a task is difficult does not mean you can abandon it, Yoshi!"

 "Why!? What is stopping us!?" Yoshi threw up his arms. "If you are content wasting your life preparing for the return of a scary story, be my guest! But you will not drag my children into it. I will not send them away to be raised without a parent. I will not sacrifice them for some supposed greater good. And I will not be convinced otherwise." He hissed, each word burning his lips from how cold they came out-- a surprise each time. 

"Yoshi. Please. We are your family. We cannot do this without you."

"Listen to me carefully, Hinata," Yoshi said, his eyes narrowed into slits. "The Hamato Clan will have no part in my sons' lives. They will not train them. They will not speak to them. They will not attempt to make any form of contact with them. And if any of you do, then you will be hearing from my lawyers. None of you will touch a single hair on their heads."

 He leaned in a bit closer. 

 "And if anyone attempts to, then I will break all of the fingers on their hands, and worry about the lawyers later. Do you understand?"

 Hinata kept quiet for a moment, their eyes searching the other, as though they were trying to decide whether or not their cousin was serious. Eventually, their shoulders slumped. 

 "... Your grandpa missed you, Yoshi."

 "Stop."

 "He was devastated when we heard you had gone missing."

 "Hinata."

 "Until his dying breath--"

 Every muscle in Yoshi's body jerked and tensed, coiled tight and hot. His lips curled into a snarl, and he clenched his hands into fists.

He walked away. Hinata did not follow him.

He sat with his children in the sandbox until he was sure Hinata was gone. He pushed Raph and Mikey on the swings for five minutes longer, as he had promised, and then he let Leo and Donnie have a turn, to be fair.

 Raph asked him who the person from before was. Yoshi told him it was an old friend. Mikey asked him if he was sad because he seemed sad. Yoshi smiled and said that Mikey should not worry about it, and he was fine. They did not ask any further questions, and Yoshi was relieved.

 He brought his sons home, parked them in front of the television, and locked himself in his room to weep as softly as he could.   

 He laid in bed and he wept until his eyes were swollen and his head ached. He felt stupid for being so upset. Hadn’t he renounced the Hamato Clan ages ago? Nothing had changed— He always knew that this would be his response if his family sought him out again. Hadn’t he known that his Jiji was surely gone by now, given the time that had passed? But still, it was different for it to be confirmed. It was different for everything to be spoken out loud and real and definite and unable to be taken back.

 The term ‘uncontrollable sobbing’ had never really meant anything to him before. He had cried before, sure, but this was different. He hadn’t thought it could be so literal. This was horrendous.

 When he finally ran out of tears, he curled up on his side, hidden beneath sheets and blankets, feeling rather pitiful and unsure of what to do with himself. His chest was all hollow and empty now, like something had been carved out of him. And all that was left was this deep, terrible frustration.

 The world felt so hideously unfair in this moment. He thought of every other human on the planet who didn’t have the same problems as him, who had families without destinies or sacrifices, and he resented each and every one of them. He thought, “How could they do this to me?” He thought about his mother, and his jaw set. He thought about the hours of training he had endured as a child, and his face flushed with anger, heady and dark. He thought of Hinata, who he had grown up alongside, played with, shared secrets with, and he wished they were here— or anyone, truly anyone in the world was here in their place— so he could kick their teeth out of their skull and stomp on their throats. 

 How dare they try to take his children from him? 

 Seething, lit up red in every part of his soul, simmering like oil, he slowly sat up, inhaling long and slow before letting it out again. No. The Hamato Clan and their traditions would never touch his children. They would not so much as graze the silhouettes of their lives. His children would never be kept awake at night learning lore and stories from fabricated scrolls. They would never be informed of their purpose in life, nor told that they had no say in it. They would never be taught to fight, never endure hours of martial arts lessons, never cry or beg for their training to finally be finished for the day— 

For the second time that day, a sudden noise startled Yoshi from his thoughts, and his head bobbed about at the low thud and scrabble from the living room.

 Ah. Mmm… Yes. Of course. His beloved and innocent sons. One of his eyes twitched a bit, and he debated his next action for a moment. He didn’t especially want to interact with any of his children given his current… whole emotional situation, but, after a bit of hemming and hawwing, relented that he probably should go and check that no one was injured. Grumbling a bit to himself, he dragged himself to his feet, shuffling down the hall to peer around the corner and into the living room.

“Give up now! You’re no match for me and my super rad skills!” Leo shrieked from in front of the TV, his mouth set in a mischievous grin. 

“Oh yeah?” Raph echoed his younger brother’s smile before leaping at his brother. “Watch this! POMPADOUR PUNCH!”

Yoshi noted dimly that whatever cartoons he had left them with had long been exchanged for one of his many films, which was now flickering across the screen. Donatello’s doing, he assumed. 

“Mikey! Cover me! We gotta get to higher ground!” Leo yelped through laughter, throwing himself at the couch and attempting to climb up the back of it. Michelangelo, as instructed, koala-hugged his oldest brother’s legs in an attempt to slow him down. 

“Donnie! Raph’s been got! You gotta stop Leo!” Raph barked, very obviously trying to rope the purple one into the shenanigans and include him in the fun. 

 Donnie gave a determined chirp and a nod in reply, his expression turning very serious in such a way that Yoshi had to smile a tiny bit. 

 “HA! I’d like to see you try! No one can stop a NINJA!” Leo crowed, striking a pose to mirror Yoshi’s own younger self on the television. It certainly wasn’t CORRECT, but… It wasn’t bad, either. His boys were still young, but Yoshi had, admittedly, taught them some of the basics of stances and things of the like when he needed something to keep them busy in the sewers… He was a bit surprised that his children had retained any of those lessons, but it was evident in how they held themselves that they did. 

 And… letting them watch Kung-Fu movies probably had an influence as well, admittedly.

 Sighing softly, Yoshi leaned against the wall, resting his cheek against the cool drywall. He thought, absently, of how he and his cousins would play this way when they were small and met at family gatherings, and his shoulders slumped slightly, the tight muscles unwinding. He thought of how they would train together, coaching one another through difficult stances or sequences and celebrating when they finally got it down, and the heat in his cheeks slowly tempered and faded. He thought of the pride he wore so brazenly as a child— proud of his destiny, proud of his heritage, proud of the abilities he had built for himself. Proud to be a Hamato. He silently wiped at his face, brushing some of his hair from his face. He had thought he had run out of tears, but perhaps he hadn’t.

 The frustration and anger were gone now. The hollow was simply hollow now— empty and worn. Yes, something had been carved out. He recognized the grief. And he was still completely sure of himself when he said that the Hamato Clan would never touch his children.

 … But he supposed that, perhaps, he didn’t have to abandon every part of his past.

 It might be okay if they dipped their toes into some of the traditions. Perhaps they could still be Hamatos on their own.

“Point!”

 Had he fallen asleep for a moment there?… Yoshi cursed himself internally when he realized that he had missed the entire match in favor of old memories. His eyes refocused on the scene before him— his son standing over a somewhat shaken-looking opponent on the mat, the referee gesturing to Donatello in victory.

 He was too busy lost in his thoughts to pay attention. He wrinkled his nose a bit, but he could see Donnie’s head turn, glancing to the stands to search for him in the crowd. As soon as he was able to catch his eyes, Yoshi offered a small smile and an appraising nod, which earned him a barely-contained beam in response.

 As soon as the eyes had been removed from him, Yoshi let out a breath, slumping against the wall. A close one… Now was not the time to be worrying about such things. Given the family’s hectic schedule, Yoshi was not able to be present for nearly every competition his sons participated in… He owed it to them, at least, to be present when he did. 

 Though, truth be told, he doubted he had missed too much. He had known before the match had even started that Donatello would win. At an event this size, there would be very few other competitors who would pose any real challenge to any of his boys.

 They were quite good. After all, he was the one who had taught them to fight in the first place.

---

Donnie caught sight of their father in the doorway just a moment later, pausing in his climb up the back of the couch to try to tackle his twin brother. The other three caught on quickly, glancing back around at Yoshi with wide eyes. The transition to the surface had been an adjustment for all of them, and they still sometimes had a bit of trouble remembering what was OK for the sewers VS OK for polite society— But generally speaking, their Dad didn’t always appreciate roughhousing and shouting, nor climbing on top of furniture.

 Yoshi gave a soft exhale of laughter through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure that, eventually, they would all figure out that freezing upon eye contact would immediately clue him in that they knew they were breaking the rules, but… not yet.

 Not yet.

“You changed the movie.” He remarked, wandering into the living room to join them.

“We wanted to be ninjas.” Mikey volunteered from the floor, his little head popping up from behind the cushions. “Like you, Daddy!"

Of course. Ninjas like him.

 He bit the insides of his cheeks. That? Maybe not… today. But…

 “ … How would you boys like to learn to talk like ninjas do?"

[ next chapter ]

[hermitcraftx]

I agree with your post about hermit fans in regard to things being very popular. I’ve seen more people being angry and annoyed about scarian in the last six months than people celebrating it. Not tagging shipping is shit but it’s better than harassing people. I don’t know what was put in the water but something changed drastically and I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s seen it.

IT'S FUCKING INSANE! This fandom used to be so positive and welcoming and overall way more pleasant than some... other MCYT fandoms, but now??? I can't log on without seeing untagged negative interpretations in the main tags, can't express an opinion without getting anons calling me heterosexual sympathizers and hoping that I die, everyone has turned their back on everything that used to make this fandom really... fun? Like, I don't tag ON MY BLOG, but usually I don't maintag my shipping posts, and if I do, I tag the ship name so people can filter it.... I don't maintag duo names. What the fuck happened to make everyone so- miserable. Anons are probably going to be permanently off for me, too many people comfortable with their opinions and not comfortable with mine and desperately needing to tell me that.

And like- look. I get not liking interpretations. Personally I'm not a fan of the Double Life cheating arc because of how abusive and out of character people made Grian be, and I had to avoid ao3 for a bit because of that and filter the fucking tags. Same thing with found family dynamics. Just because you don't like something doesn't make it "overrated and popular" and just because you don't like something doesn't make it immoral or unethical either!!! People have to make everything a moral standpoint nowadays and it's really exhausting-

But that's a tirade. All over all the confessions blogs there's "scarian is overrated" despite Grian having nearly 10mil subscribers and most of them being on YouTube and considering all the hermits friends or family truthing them. Yes, there is more shipping than before- that's because Hermitcraft season 8 made it very obvious that the people on the SMP and the people IRL are very different, and it's no longer considered RPF. None of the real hermits died via moon explosion, ZombieCleo often says she's doing "lore", they make different skins, even GRIAN acknowledges that he's acting and playing a part with the permit office. Despite all that, there's STILL wars on shipping and people insisting that we're shipping real people, I fought this war on the DSMP side of things and it's SO TIRING.

DND podcast listeners, do you ship the people playing the characters? NO!!!!! Unless you do, in which case, have fun with that. I don't really care about RPF and I filtered the tags for it a long time ago, so maybe they do do that.

Every other day I see "Third life is overrated" "Last life is overrated" (LAST LIFE IS OFTEN THE LEAST FAVORITE SEASON I SEE PEOPLE SAY!), "the life series is overrated" "the cactus ring is fucking stupid" "they left the desert but we didn't" "no, THIS interpretation of scarian is bad and wrong" and like... guys. Guys. Fandom is supposed to be fun. It is not supposed to be a full time job. It is not supposed to be moral or ethical and you shouldn't feel the need to police shit. Jesus Christ, every other month there's a new fad that tumblr users flock to and once it's over everyone goes "EWWW THAT WAS LAME AND OVERRATED AND I NEVER LIKED IT ANYWAY" like.... I promise you cannibalism as an allegory for love is not mainstream you are just on Tumblr.

Like Good God. If it's so bad here go to Twitter. I'm sick of all the complaining and misery and hatred and I miss when things were fun- people are so scared of being cliche that they don't want to write things that they enjoy. Where are the coffee shop aus???? Where are the fun silly things??? Where are the 100k grimdark fics with worldbuilding??? Wheres the 500k fics that aren't even about the same characters anymore but that we love just the same??? Where are the forums and people talking to each other in comments and meeting each other that way??? Where are the roleplay servers?????? What are you all doing??????

People are scared of being judged. They want to do what everyone else is doing. They don't want to be cringe or cliche and every day I see a "cringe culture is dead" post and then someone making fun of another part of fandom, an antithesis to their previous statement. They don't want to be late to things, either. Who cares if Last Life was a couple years ago? Draw the fanart anyway!

I'm scared. Maybe I'm just old, but every post I see I notice that I get maybe a 10th in reblogs of what I do in likes, and I don't even post my art or fics to this site. Every post is like that. More and more people only like posts and they die, unseen, by everyone. More and more people misuse archive of our own's functions, treating it like it has some algorithm, when it doesn't, and it never has and hopefully never will. I see fic reuploads to "gain traction" (not how it works) and people reaching out to find RP partners (breaking TOS) and all sorts of other shit on both sites and it fucking horrifies me. I'm not even that old- I'm eighteen, and I can already tell how fandom has changed for the worst for everyone. Fandom used to be a community. Not consumption.

It's just... sad. Old fandom had PLENTY of fucking problems, and we have problems here too, but at least the positives outweighed the negatives. It's so... mean here, now. Even the happy things are mean-spirited. People treat it as if certain people have invaded this fandom space, spreading horrible opinions and ruining it for everyone, but the truth is is that shipping is always going to be a thing. It's a foundation of fandom- fandom started with housewives in the 1950s writing Star Trek fanfiction. You can never get rid of shipping. You can just interact with what you want to interact with and leave others to mind their own business.

[gothicprep]

even better, re: the cut: the ‘I think my husband is trashing my novel on goodreads’ article is the first of a NEW advice column by the same author of the disastrous ‘lure of divorce’ personal essay from last week.

lol i was debating talking about emily gould when that essay came out, but i figured "nobody cares about your weird interest in gawker media lore" and decided against it. but i'm going to interpret this as permission to just go crazy on main.

context for readers who don't know: emily gould, on valentine's day, published an essay that's ostensively about divorce, but it's actually about a lot of other things. not even *a* divorce, because she decides against getting divorced at the end of the essay. i wouldn't bet on anything that comes after the end of this essay, but that's a separate question.

it's probably important to establish who emily gould is for what i'm about to say to make any sense: she was a media darling in her 20s. she was one of the first people to get Very Famous from blogging, an editor at gawker, and probably the best known writer there during the mid to late 2000s. very american apparel indie hipster sleeze era personality. could probably be described as a "literary sex symbol" insofar as the literary world has those things.

there were two things that she was famous for in this era. one of them was this post she put on gawker about how she had broken up with her boyfriend and it was a massive success. if you comb through old archives, people were talking about this like it was the brangelina split. i want to say this was a dam breaking moment for a particular kind of personal branding/internet personality that involved revealing things about your personal life, which eventually took over more broadly and gave rise to the culture we have now online. the other thing was this very unfortunate appearance she had on larry king live or something after she'd been taken to task for the "gawker stalker" feature on gawker, where people would send in tips about celebrity sightings around the city. someone sent in a tip about jimmy kimmel being drunk and obnoxious in a bar, and because kimmel is the world's biggest baby, he flipped out and went on this whole tirade about how it was a threat to his safety. in reality, he was just mad that someone saw him drunk in public and said something about it. kimmel and a few other guys confronted her about this on larry king. she looked like a deer in headlights and either wasn't prepared/hadn't been prepared for what was coming. like kimmel told her she was going to hell on live television. mess. there was also some really public drama she had with lena dunham but i don't really remember the details.

she never really disappeared between then and now. she's been writing for the cut for a while, which i guess you could say is her aging into a different kind of women's journalism. she's published a few books, but she hasn't really found her footing since her breakout success in her 20s didn't turn her into the established writer she probably hoped she would be. there was a time where it seemed like she was positioned to be this generation's joan didion, but that didn't end up happening.

so that brings us up to this essay, which was preceded by the last little bit of gossip that i need to get out of the way, even though she mentions it in the essay. in her personal newsletter, she made a crowdfunding request for money to "taking an infinite hiatus from hetero marriage and monogamy. they are a trap for women, full stop. sometimes a trap can be cozy. mine was, until it wasn’t." she does mention she's having a manic episode. she's upfront about the fact that something is going on with her.

anybody who's at all familiar with gould and her financial challenges must question the wisdom of giving money to this, but she presents it very much in the spirit of "men are pigs. men are trash. divorce that man now." and as we learn later, gets money from lyz lenz, who has a book out that's basically the feminist case for divorce and being a single mom.

so gould is not just neck deep in this divorce literature, but producing it to some extent. maybe a crowdfunding request isn't truly a literary form, but it's written in a persuasive way that fits with other writing in the liberate yourself through divorce canon. but the valentine's day essay, while i don't think it's great, i do think it's interesting how it breaks from form. it's not an anti-man personal essay, and these always are. so it was nice to read something a bit different. well, maybe not different, but retro.

i've never been a fan of gould's work, but it did get me wondering "what itch are people trying to scratch when they read essays like this?" because it's like the reader wants them to be an explicitly moral fable, but they want it to be racy and spicy. like one of those mid century pulp novels with a painting of a woman on the cover looking kind of slatternly with a lot of makeup on. it'd be called something like "wild trash" and the subtitle would be "she couldn't wait for her divorce". it's smut about a woman who's sinning gratuitously and flouting society's expectations. and usually with these books, there'd be some kind of cosmic comeuppance for her where she'd get syphilis and die in a pauper's prison or whatever.

and i think people come to stories like this because they want to read something like that. you're gonna read about a woman who was debauched and all the naughty behavior in graphic, titillating detail. and at the end, you get served up a nice, neat conclusion. her husband divorces her and finds love with a kindergarten teacher from iowa. so it flouts the "rah rah divorce him" essay and the pulpy personal essay that some people want. if you're going to write a 3,000 word apology, at the very least, it is a novel take on it.

but i think what the problem is with an essay like this is that it's very... dated in its style. the expected thing with personal essays in the 2020s, the thesis of them usually boils down to something about what a great person the essayist is. most of them do this. that's why you get privilege disclaimers in them – the point of the essay is how the essayist is sensitive and kind and wonderful. even when there are flaws, they're overcome, or something systemic lead this to happen. a flawed woman is because patriarchy made her thus.

to give a better example of the kind of thing i'm talking about, you'll see an essay in the atlantic or new york times magazine and it follows the same formula. Woman Has Personal Life Grievance. Step Back. Here's Why This Is A Big Issue In Society, Bolstered With Statistics. Here's Why If This Woman Was Black Or Poor Or Gay Or Trans, It Would Be Even Worse. Back To The Personal Anecdote... you know what i mean? it's a very well established formula, but you can't have that with "also i'm a dirtbag". once you're talking about society and societal issues of which you're just a little representative – because those are the stakes. it has to be universal – you can't just be talking about yourself.

and then there's this question of personal writing more generally. you aren't a fictional character, you're yourself. and whether you want it to be or not, every personal essay is going to function like a cover letter. it's presenting you to the world. and i don't like these, but i don't want gould's style of personal essay to come back either. it straight up ruined a lot of women's lives who wanted to get their foot in the door in media, got $75 from xojane to write something lurid about their personal lives... and their career never took off. so now this is just on the internet forever.

this old piece in slate sheds a light on just how exploitative that whole thing was.

"don't make life decisions based on emily gould's writing" is useful advice for more reasons than one.

[drinksglue]

I have an account on Aethy. Should I stay on there, or leave it and move to another instance? Is this discourse justified or is it just a few people complaining about the rules?

You should absolutely stay! The main people who were causing issues have left and/or have been banned. Explanation of the situation under the cut.

Essentially, it started because one or two people were reposting other people's artwork from other websites without permission. Aethy explicitly has rules against this that I guess they didn't read, and they got upset that this rule was enforced.

One of the users involved then went on a tirade that basically equated artists who don't allow reposts to the likes of Disney in terms of abusing copyright, so even though that user claimed they reposted without permission because they couldn't get permission, it's clear that permission isn't actually a factor to them in the first place and they assume that asking would (or should) result in a "yes".

Then someone said the rule wasn't clear enough and should be elaborated on, when "don't repost art that isn't yours without permission" is pretty clear. They got aggressive and claimed that Aethy is making "secret rules" when they wouldn't get an answer (that they wanted). Meanwhile, Aethy IS elaborating on this rule to users who aren't acting like entitled assholes. They just aren't humoring people who are cursing them out (and they shouldn't).

If I saw someone acting like this, I wouldn't want them on MY website either.

People involved basically started harassing Aethy staff, sending them aggressive emails cursing them out (by their own admission), calling them cunts, and daring to call that "how adults talk to adults".

The only reason there's active discourse over this is because it seems to have just happened + the individuals involved are super loud about this and are equating being told to stop being aggressive over a clear "don't steal art" rule to "censorship" and the Hayes Code.

Aethy most certainly does not censor art (that you have the rights/permission to post), and they have been very good at communicating with the userbase and are open to questions about their rules.

They just aren't going to entertain people who are acting the way these people are acting, and that's what has these folks upset. Staff doesn't have to tolerate being called "cunts" or "stupid" or "idiots" just because someone couldn't handle being told "no" on one of the most anything-goes websites on the Internet.

Aethy is a fantastic instance with the most permissive rules on creative expression of any website, with an active mod team that does not put up with bullshit. The only people who are going to take issue with this are people who want to start bullshit.

[aurelim]

Louis/Eloise

The Royal

❝I have to. It's my duty to serve the people of Oceanic.❞ ❝Listen to me. Ignore what everyone else will say. You are perfect the way you are. You are my everything, love.❞

Age: A month younger than MC

Race: Human

Gender: Male or female, depending on player choice

Pronouns: He/him or she/her, depending on player choice

Physical appearance: The Royal has slightly tanned skin due to intensive time spent in the sun, although their parents try their best to maintain the natural fair-pale shade. They have a heart shaped face framed by wavy red hair, either tamed or tied up in a bun with two small strands on the side. Soft brown eyes that can go cold at a poor choice of words and freckles dotting their cheeks. 5'7" no matter the gender.

Trope(s): Forbidden love, impossible love, royalty, [REDACTED]

As the heir to the throne of Oceanic, the Royal has a heavy weight on their shoulders that they cannot shake off—the expectations of the people and their parents often reminds them of their duty to deliver responsible decision for the betterment of the kingdom. For most of the week, they are cooped up within the castle walls, fulfilling their tasks as the one next in line. However, during a small portion of the day where their schedule is empty, the Royal will always go to visit their private shore by themself. A tradition they have upheld since they were young.

In public appearances, the Royal comes off as an understanding, charming, mature young adult—exactly what everyone expects from the heir. All warm smiles and dimples. But behind closed doors, the fake smiles drop and shoulders slacken. The fire in their eyes never goes out but they allow themself to be exhausted. Just once.

Their idea of relaxing is by standing in front of the waves, shoes off, and enjoying the smell of salty air and water. A servant usually has to come and fetch them, as they do not keep track of the time. And recently, they have been going more often due to undisclosed reasons... as well as sneaking off to town to do gods-know-what.

There have been rumors circulating around them, particularly involving [REDACTED]. Are they true? Are they not? You will have to wait until it is announced.

Chance encounters are life-changing. You don't think you would have ever noticed the Royal had it not been for Cordelia and K. And more importantly, you do not think you would have ever met them on the streets without your...unique circumstances. Little had you realized then the potential to gain a powerful ally, as well as a lifelong friend.

Fun Facts About the Royal:

There is so much lore I want to write down about them, but they would all be major spoilers for the game! So for now, take this condensed, somewhat short intro post for now. But expect to see some huge updates to this as further chapters are released!

Also would you call them "Lou"? Been thinking about an easier nickname besides "The Royal" and it's pretty cute! Though they are accustomed to everyone calling them by their first name

Their original design was going to be heavily inspired by Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid. However, it was changed to an appearance similar to Ariel. Maybe your headcanon is that he's Ariel's son or grandson? That's what mine is lol

Has a very refined taste for red wine. Likes it especially from their own kingdom but imported tastes are good too

Loves drawing. And because they live right by the sea they have a lot of sunset sketches and swirls of water in their notebook

Has a diary where they write down about their day; if you romance them you'll probably find long romantic tirades about you

Actually likes wearing crowns if it is light and only in the castle

Sheltered kid growing up—while their parents may have exposed them to monarchy politics early in their life they remained relatively naive and unaware of certain...things

Things that will remain unmentionable

Knows some secret passageways within the kingdom due to safety reasons, but they may show it to you if you are lucky enough!

Stuffed animals creep them out and they are all over the walls of the castle thanks to their father's love for hunting

No, not stuffed animals. Like actual taxidermy

Deathly allergic to gossipy people and mice—physically wilts at the mention of either one

Would buy you anything you want just to please you. This will especially show during the crushing stage, but it will be a habit that never dies down *if* you get married

Can resist puppy eyes with a huge question mark. But usually not because they are a major people pleaser. It comes with their job