#constant state of being unfortunately

[valewritessss]

Recently I’ve developed more of a “this is something I usually overthink about but right now we’re going to do it anyway because I refuse to live my life in fear” mentality and I’m kind of loving it

[supportgaza]

From Gaza to Ireland: Out of the Fire of War to the Fire of Soul-Crushing Survival Guilt and Fear for my Family

Note: My main account (@mahmoudkhalafff) was unfortunately terminated by Tumblr for no reason. This is my back up account. Please continue to boost my campaign. We are too close!

At times of peace, having to be away from your family for months and years is a high price you pay for obtaining an academic degree or securing a better job. Imagine while you are away, they were trapped in a besieged strip of land and thousands of missiles rained down on that besieged area of 360 km² around the clock for almost 11 months. That would crush every cell of your mind and drive you crazy, wouldn't it?!

Imagine suddenly getting addicted to watching the news and the gory videos and pictures all the freaking time. You follow relevant social media pages that only show images, videos, and stories of entire families that were wiped out in an instant in an airstrike and deemed as collateral insignificant damage. While plunging deeper and deeper into an unprecedented state of acute depression, I wondered: how come all my suffering from displacement, fear, and hunger in Gaza for 5 months during the war before being evacuated to Ireland is nothing but a drop compared to my ocean of suffering now?

The constant thinking of my family in Gaza during the genocide and all the potential scenarios is consuming my sanity and mental health at a time in my life and a place where I am required to be 199% focused and productive. To give you a glimpse of my horrible psychological suffering these days: I fear going to sleep because I know horrible horrible nightmares are waiting for me on the other side. Some have to do with the horrors of wars I witnessed in Gaza myself and others relate to the horrible potential scenarios I keep thinking about.

Seeing the images and pictures of Gaza makes you think a thousand earthquakes hit every neighborhood of the Gaza Strip! Nothing and no one has been spared. The horrific war has turned the place into a hell on earth, unfortunately. How can young people have any hope for a better future seeing the mass destruction and the relentless Israeli efforts to stifle Gaza and squeeze hope out of its people as a form of collective punishment. How monstrous and heartless!!!

Amid all this chaos and madness, my number one priority and focus is evacuating my family to Egypt as a first step and hopefully reuniting with them in Ireland at a later stage.

Please do consider helping me save my family by donating, reblogging, and sharing.

Note: Vetted by:

1. @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi # 151 on the spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List]

2. @riding-with-the-wild-hunt Here .

Tagging for reach <3

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ibtisams @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @sayruq @fairuzfan @sar-soor @fallahifag

@el-shab-hussein @taamarrud @humanvoicebox

@plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-lindigo @soon-palestine @communistchilchuck @palestinegenocide @northgazaupdates2 @northgazaupdates @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45-helping-others @kyra45 @commissions4aid-international @feluka @appsa

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[yourstardarling]

Lilith Analysis

(Lady Lilith, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

In my perspective, Lilith symbolizes the female intuition which is often vilified in our patriarchal society. She questions the status quo, defying societal norms and forges her own path for how she lives her life. In some interpretations, Lilith is depicted as the serpent in the garden, tempting Eve with the apple as revenge for her expulsion after refusing to submit to Adam. Targeting Eve instead of Adam, shows how Lilith understands the curious nature within women to want to know more and what ifs. It is the same curiosity that made Pandora open the box releasing malicious spirits into the world.

The energy of Lilith is a vengeful one as she sought revenge against God for her banishment out of the garden. In her expulsion, she was stated to steal babies and harm innocent lives, unsympathetic to anyone in her way. So within our charts, Lilith shows where we've experienced profound shame and societal rejection. It is where we are often demonized for refusing to yield to others' expectations. If we don't heal this pain it often becomes a form of self-destruction, fueling a need to gain revenge, harming anyone in our path. This part of our chart is usually suppressed, relegated to the shadows, but integration of this energy is crucial. Mainly because keeping our shame underneath the surface will often cause self-sabotage within the house Lillith is in. Finding the underlying root of the problem will often lead to reclaiming of your power, making Lilith be an energy of magnetization and authority. Neglection will only exacerbate internal conflict.

Lilith in the 1st:In the first house, these individuals are the walking embodiments of Lilith. They are often faced with deep-seated feelings of shame regarding their sexuality and physical appearance. Many have endured the pain of bullying in their youth, which has made them feel shunned out from society. This shame becomes a heavy burden that feels as if it is a part of them, complicating efforts to express their true self openly. Consequently, a portion of their identity remains veiled, guarded against potential judgment or rejection from others. Yet, beneath this veil within their unconscious, lies a potent magnetism. A profound sense of sexuality that others find rather attractive or unsettling. They find themselves both desired and feared. But honestly like Britney said it’s because, "All of the boys and all of the girls want to if you seek Amy." Lilith's influence in this house encourages independence and self-assertion. It teaches the importance of standing firm in the face of societal pressures and refusing to be demonized for your own authenticity. However, yielding to criticism and seeking external validation risks facing internal conflicts. A constant battle against yourself. That is why confronting the shadow aspects of one's personality should be practiced, as it offers a pathway to self-discovery and empowerment. When you are able to show resilience and unwavering faith in yourself, you're able to garner admiration and respect from those around you. The ability to transmute pain into productive actions serves as a magnetic force, attracting allies and opportunities alike. Learning to embrace your inner sexual energy is imperative, as it is something that cannot be suppressed. Unfortunately, this embracement may invite unwanted attention, leaving you vulnerable to exploitation and trauma. Overall, the role of Lilith in the first house is one of self-acceptance and defiance against societal norms. It's a journey marked by challenges, but also by profound personal growth and authenticity.

Lilith in the 2nd: In the house of personal gains, Lilith has felt great shame surrounding her personal values. Individuals with this placement have a hard time surrounding their self worth and physical assets. Possessive tendencies lie beneath the surface, as a consequence from being betrayed in the past. People may have taken advantage of them for their material value and stolen from them. Financial wounds run deep making them unable to properly trust themselves with money. Might find themselves in cycles of reckless spending, prioritizing instant gratification over long term investments. The types go on a shopping spree and then feel guilty for indulging materialistically.These people can either be overindulgent or extremely picky when it comes to what they spend. There is an inherent value of pleasure and spending resources on things that make you feel good.The sign Lilith is in will give you an idea on what you unwarily spend money on and guide your financial decisions. Implementing a budget plan can be very beneficial in uncovering and healing shame surrounding your spending habits. It will help you regulate your spending. Underlying shadow challenges when it comes to self worth is another aspect of this placement. Leading to having doubts about deservingness and attaining success. Lilith in the 2nd, prompts a reevaluation of your values. Rather than being overly picky, you're encouraged to be intentional in your pursuits. Learn to align your investments with your deepest values and aspirations. Family dynamics may also contribute to your relationship with money, with the possibility of past generations engaging in questionable financial practices. Additionally, Lilith's immature aspects may tempt individuals to resort to unethical means of acquiring wealth, such as engaging in sex work or participating in illicit activities. However, succumbing to these temptations risks exploiting others and ultimately perpetuating cycles of harm. In navigating the influence of Lilith in the 2nd house, you are urged to exercise caution and integrity in financial dealings. By confronting shadows and cultivating a sense of self-worth, they can transcend shame and reclaim power over their financial well-being.

Lilith in the 3rd: When Lilith is in the third house of youth and mental stimulation, these individuals have deep shame within their speech and communication. Oftentimes they were demonized as a child, facing constant scrutiny about their childish behavior. Parental guardians made them seem like they were to blame for the smallest issues that occurred. In school they may have felt shunned out from their peers, becoming the target of bullying and ridicule. This ridicule can even come from their teachers that overly criticized them for not being the perfect student, leading them to feel like they were a bad kid. Might indicate having a speech impediment, having a hard time communicating how you feel and issues surrounding being able to read. Your intelligence was significantly downplayed from the earlier years of school which made you believe you were dumb. For this reason, you may prefer being quiet and only speaking when you are needed to, often avoiding starting conversation. To others you may seem standoffish when you speak, but instead it can be anxiety to say what you really want because of public reaction. This Lilith wound is one centered around your inner child and taking back power over your mind. Intrusive thoughts of feeling less than can often be an underlying trigger, but you must recognize that these voices in your head are not your own. It is programming from the ridicule you received as a kid. Mindfulness and meditation practices can help regulate the outside input that comes in your head. You're a very intellectually capable individual that often understands knowledge about topics considered unconventional by society. Don’t be ashamed of what you know and use it to teach other people information you are passionate about.

Lilith in the 4th: Within the house of home and heritage, Lilith has wrested with feeling of shame for her family background. These individuals can often grow up feeling sexually repressed by their family. Criticism for what they were and being called a slut for wanting to express themselves. This placement reminds me of Meg from Family Guy, and how she is consistently made the butt of all ridicule by her family. As you went through puberty, you could've felt uncomfortable being objectified by family members. Some could've faced even faced exploitation by their own family. There is a strange focus on purity within the household and committing towards conservative ideals of presenting yourself. From their point of view, you may be seen as someone who is promiscuous and disobeying traditional values. You might find it hard to feel at home within yourself because of these past afflictions. This can even lead to you feeling ashamed about your emotional responses, often viewing them as evil instead of necessary feelings. Aside from sexuality, this Lilith placement also indicates having shame regarding your origin. There might have been concealed truths about your birth, unraveling as you mature. Might have felt like your family were strangers and you did not belong with them. Issues with the mother figure can be highlighted by this placement. You don't get along well and could feel a sense of cruelty from her. A shadow side to you is kept veiled from your family, which makes you feel like an outsider by them. You may have a reputation of being the rebellious cousin. They may harbor outdated ideologies such as racism, homophobia and xenophobia, that makes you more ashamed of them. The home you grew up in may have been the cause of this shame too, because of its design or infestation issues. Overall, stepping away from your family's point of view of the world is a big factor with this Lilith placement. You cannot allow their lives to dictate who you are meant to be. Learning to nurture yourself and finding your own community is an essential part of your journey. As time pass, you may discover yourself becoming a space for other people to confide in about their personal issues. A testament to Lilith making a home for herself outside the boundaries of Eden.

Lilith in the 5th: In the fifth house, individuals have grappled with profound shame surrounding the way they experience pleasure within their lives. Their childhood may have been faced with restrictions on the ways they could have fun, such as engaging in hobbies solely to appease their parents rather than for personal enjoyment. Activities you found enjoyment in, felt like you needed to keep hidden away from other people in order to not get ridiculed. There are plenty of hobbies you enjoy that others will find unorthodox to have. For example, going to shooting ranges, participating in drag shows, taking part in the circus or cosplaying your favorite characters. When it comes to your talents, you might face envy from others because they want the attributes that you have. May face hate in your extracurricular activities and being outcasted by team members. In your own eyes, your often unsure about your talents and feel like you're not good enough in your practice. Additionally, there is also shame regarding sexual pleasure. You might find it fun to explore, but some experiences make it unsettling for you to enjoy. There may be a need to keep your sex life a secret from other people. However, sex positivity can be a notable aspect of this placement though, not having much conservative notions in your sexual experiences. When it comes to children, you might feel some shame for not wanting to have kids and face scrutiny from others for this stance. You can even feel like you hate the thought of children and not wanting them around you. If you do end up having kids, they can exhibit Lilith quality traits of rebellion and unorthodox behavior. There is definitely a shadow side to how you gain pleasure with this placement, indulging in self destructive behaviors and selling yourself away for fun. You must learn to tame that primal urge within you when you are having a great time. Especially as this can lead to addictions to pleasure, such as having a gambling, drug abuse and being overly sexual. Learn to set boundaries when you're having fun.

Lilith In the 6th: In the house of service, Lilith plays a commanding role within her work space. This placement reminds me of The Devil wears Prada, where Miranda was seen as a formidable figure by her colleagues. Similarly, coworkers may harbor similar feelings toward you, casting you as assertive & harsh. You may face a lot of scrutiny in the workplace and could even work in an environment where there's a prevalence of discrimination. Workplace harassment can occur here as well, oftentimes facing oversexualization. Navigating and accepting your shadow persona in the workplace becomes essential. As long as you come there to do your job, that’s all that matters. Just try not to lash out at your colleagues because of misconception and other issues. There may be a big rumor that you are lazy for not doing as much as everyone else. However, you're the type of person that only comes and does the work that is necessary, not overworking themselves as everyone else. On the flip side, you can be hyper focused on work and do a lot more in your day that others don’t really see. This can take a toll on your health and work stress can be a big indication of this placement. Speaking of health, you might have a terrible relationship with health officials. Health experts in the past might have treated you poorly and even faced a misdiagnosis. Your relationship with health overall is something you can feel intense emotions around. A health condition could make you feel like you don’t have the same capabilities as other people. Might struggle with digestion and eating food to nourish yourself. There is a lot of necessary shadow work to uncover within your habits and daily routines with this placement. Learn to not be so hard on yourself, making time to properly maintain your physical needs.Health is wealth after all.

Lilith In the 7th: When Lilith lies in the house of partnerships, there is often shame surrounding the close connections these people have. They often easily attract people with Lilith energy in their lives, such as rebellion, ostracization and outcasts. You're often able to see the version of others that they keep hidden underneath. For some reason, people can feel like they can trust you with their problems and you make space to not judge them. Something about you just allows people to feel easily able to open up their shame to you. It might be because there is a part of you that has felt the same shame of being shunned out by other people. In your love life, there could be a tendency to feel outcasted by your partners which leads to having a warped perception of yourself. Partners often can make you feel like you are too much and incapable of being loved. May find it hard to feel their needs being met in their personal relationships. Here lilith indicates issues of being taken advantage of by other people and personal power being exploited. Aggressive aspects can also show facing abuse, which can make these individuals pretty guarded when meeting others. You could feel the need to be in control and have a dominant role in your love life. However, self-destructive tendencies may spur from not getting what you want out of a partner and lead you sabotaging your connections. You can often pursue relationships you know are unhealthy for you. There’s a tendency to want people that bring out an unhinged version of yourself, becoming a whole different person with a partner. Shadow work needs to be done as to why you chase these toxic connections, which sometimes is rooted from the way you viewed the partnership of your parents.

Lilith in the 8th: In the house of death and loss, Lilith is put to face the extremes. Each time they are in a transitional phase in their lives, they get kicked out of their paradise. These individuals understand the darker sides of life and are somewhat good at navigating their shadow. Shadow side can often take things to the extreme when they are out of control. Really good at understanding the taboo and being okay with things that are scarier for other people. A necessary need to make peace with inner demons and resolving past psychological conflicts. While they are able to easily exude a seductive persona, sex can be a harsh topic for them to feel comfortable with. Losing their virginity might have been a monumental experience that shifted the way they act in their lives. There is a need to work on resolving issues with sex and not being afraid of it . Also, you might be into some fetishes that you feel the need to keep hidden from other people. Hiding is a big coping mechanism for them, whenever they feel like the world rejects them, they bury themselves down in shadows to not be seen. A distinct relationship with death, some hold huge guilt for being unphased by death, while others worry about their own deaths. If a family member had died, you might feel guilty for not being sad or crying at the funeral. These people can mourn their innocence a lot, thinking of a time they were untouched by the world around them. During transitional phases of your life, you could be vilified and demonized for acting differently. Might have had a dark aesthetic or emo phase during your teen years. Change can be a scary thing for you and you could harbor strong resistance towards new possibilities. This mainly comes from the scrutiny you’ve felt by other people. Learn to embrace the taboo and understand change will only allow you to reclaim your power.

Lilith in the 9th: These individuals hold a complex relationship with religion and belief systems. Growing up, they likely experienced a religious environment that instilled fear and submission to authority. It's possible they had overly religious parents who prioritized adherence to faith, rather than showing genuine love and understanding for their children. As you mature, there's a tendency to reject traditional systems of beliefs for more esoteric philosophies, helping you find empowerment through alternative spiritual paths. Although shifting your beliefs will allow you to have a sense of freedom, remnants of past religious trauma still linger in your mind. Guilt for what you believe in is a big focus for this placement. They often find themselves at odds with mainstream perspectives, feeling a sense of alienation and struggling to fit in. There's a tendency to doubt their intelligence and the information they know. This struggle extends to academic pursuits as well, where they may feel out of place and struggle to connect with their peers. Moving away from their area of upbringing can be liberating, allowing them to explore their shadow aspects and embrace their darker side through travel and adventure. In doing so, they may discover a newfound magnetism and allure, attracting others to their path towards self-discovery.

Lilith in the 10th: In the house of public career, Lilith exerts a strong influence on one's outward image and persona. When in public settings, you often see people being easily magnetized towards you. If Lilith is conjunct the Midheaven (MC), it can signify experiences of unwanted attention, including catcalling. There's a deep-seated fear of being seen, stemming from the difference between your public persona and true self-image. Overexposure to the public eye can lead to discomfort, particularly in career fields where others seem to dominate or overshadow you. There is a natural ability to exude sensuality that others find intriguing. They may develop a reputation for sensuality and allure, which can intimidate others, particularly men, due to the inherent power they radiate. Despite the fantasization, they may resent the objectification and sexualization. In professional settings their bosses may even attempt to take advantage of them. This placement can also indicate stage fright and social anxiety, causing them to prefer the sidelines rather than the spotlight. An unbalanced version of this placement would be sabotaging yourself when it comes to your career. Promoting bad behavior so that you can gain the upper advantage in situations. It's crucial for them to be vigilant against exploitation by authority figures and to properly navigate professional relationships and contracts. Despite potential misconceptions about their character, individuals with this placement must embrace their authenticity and prioritize their own career aspirations over societal expectations. Your that b*tch for real, and you cannot allow the public opinion of you to dictate who you are. Also, Lilith in the 10th house may signify a challenging relationship with their father, involving absence, mistreatment, or attempts at control. This further fuels aspirations to become a successful person, in order to prove their farther wrong. Embracing their power and authenticity is important for success and fulfillment in the professional world.

Lilith in the 11th: Friendships are never easy with Lilith in the 11th. Despite outward display of support, these individuals frequently encounter betrayal from those they consider close allies, discovering that supposed friends harbor secret animosity and ulterior motives towards them. Friends could make jokes about insecurities you have, while accusing you of being soft for finding offence. Your secrets are not the safest within your social networks, they are like blind items ready to spill all the tea about your personal life. This atmosphere of distrust can lead to a cautious approach to forming friendships, resulting in a preference for family and romantic relationships over the unpredictability of friendships. Despite these challenges, individuals with this placement often gravitate towards unconventional or marginalized groups of people. Finding companionship in the outcasts who defy societal norms. They may become strong advocates for the rights and liberation of marginalized groups, focusing on the need for women's rights and the empowerment of societal underdogs. So while friendships may be met with much difficulty, these individuals create meaningful connections with fellow non-conformists in society. Finding solidarity in their shared struggles, leading to finding community outside of Eden.

Lilith in the 12th: Individuals with Lilith in the 12th house tend to keep Lilith's energy to the depths of their subconscious mind. They are often unaware of its magnetic, rebellious, and sexually charged nature. May doubt their own sexuality and seductive capabilities, feeling overshadowed by others charm. However, when in solitude, Lilith emerges to confront them about their inner shadows and demons. This often leads to solitary battles with their deepest fears and insecurities. Sleep issues are common with this placement, as they may struggle to maintain a stable sleep routine. May prefer the quiet solitude of the night for introspection and self-discovery. In their dreams, they often confront scenarios designed to evoke feelings of inadequacy and shame, forcing them to confront their inner vulnerabilities. They can be drawn towards dream working, meditation, shifting and exploring unique ways to access their subconscious mind. By using the arts, they can transmute fears and underlying issues in their mind to a reservoir of creativity. You can often see their shadow portrayed boldly in their art. Also, these individuals are often empathetic and hold nonjudgmental view towards the shadows of other people. Overall, through uncovering their darkness, Lilith in the 12th house can lead to spiritual growth and artistic development when integrated unapologetically.

____

Remember to look at the aspects to Lilith in your chart. Since it is an astrological point & asteroid, it doesn't hold as much significance compared to the planets. So aspects allow you to know how much of this energy can be brought up to the surface. Also, this reading is for all versions of Lilith in the chart.

-your Star Darling

(Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci, by Piero Di Cosimo)

[sodaabaa]

shadows and spirits, part one

azriel x reader reader is azriel's mate but she hasn't accepted the bond yet due to her fear of azriel himself.

tw: slightly nsfw, brief mentions of illyrian misogyny, suggestions of edging and arousal

part two

Bells rang as the door to the bar opened, signaling the arrival of the day’s first customers – or so Y/N thought. She walked to the bar counter, leaving behind the half opened crates of newly shipped wines and spirits. She’d deal with those later. 

“Y/N! How’s my favorite bartender?” Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court walked in with his arms raised and a friendly, welcoming smile on his face. 

She fought the urge to smile at the sight of her friend, “I’m only your favorite because I give you discounts and secrets,” she whispered the last part as he approached.

Y/N ran one of the most popular bars in Velaris, being a favored spot for many because of its proximity to the Sidra River and the spectacular view it offered (and of course, the variety of top-shelf liquor favored by Rhysand himself). Y/N knew everyone and anyone that frequented her bar. She often provided a shoulder to cry on and a few shots of tequila to mend broken hearts. Because of this, she gathered vast amounts of information from the citizens of the beautiful city and when needed, she reported back to Rhys. 

Rhys smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter. She swatted at him with a towel, “I just cleaned that.” Rhys chuckled but didn’t remove himself from the dark wood counter.

She opened her mouth to ask Rhys why he was here when something pricked at the back of her neck. Her eyes darted to the man trailing behind Rhys like a shadow, and then back to the High Lord. She stood a little taller, back straightening as she steeled herself. 

“Here on business, I guess?” She asked him. His smile faded as he nodded. She poured herself and the High Lord a drink to avoid any more eye contact with the man who’d just entered. They clinked their glasses and downed their drinks. With a sigh, Rhys pulled something out of his back pocket.

“Have you seen these men?” He placed a few pictures on the counter and waited for Y/N to recognize them. 

“I may have seen them, they look familiar. I can ask the girls, maybe they’d have more luck identifying them,” she replied. 

Rhys nodded, “Alright, be on the lookout for these guys. They’ve been stirring up some trouble and I’m gonna need to put an end to that before it gets worse.” “Are they Illyrian?” “Unfortunately,” Rhys replied with a sigh.

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” she gave him a curt nod. 

“Take care, Y/N,” and with that, Rhys turned to leave. Azriel on the other hand, stayed behind. Y/N quickly busied herself with wiping down the counter and tidying up in hopes he’d get the signal and leave.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Y/N,” he finally broke the silence, his voice deep and flat – it rumbled through her, causing the hairs on her arms to raise. 

She threw the towel onto the counter, “Watch me,” she spat back. Big mistake. His hazel eyes darkened, shadows coming to life around him; twisting and flaring with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. He exhaled, silently making his way out the same door he arrived in. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You could at least try being less hostile towards him, the poor man is in a constant state of sulking these days,” Feyre said as she swirled the glass of ruby-colored wine in her hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at getting her to talk to Azriel. Feyre frequently visited the bar since it was closeby to her art studio. The two had hit it off quickly, becoming close friends and bonding over art, music, and men. Feyre had found out about Y/N’s mating bond issue and because she was biased (being friends with Azriel), she constantly pestered Y/N about it. 

“Feyre, I already told you. I don’t want anything to do with Illyrians – they’re possessive, violent, and they view women as breeding machines,” she looked at the High Lady, “and I mean this with all due respect to Rhys, I don’t want to be mated to an Illyrian.” 

“He’s really a big softie, I promise. Just get to know him, he has the same complaints about Illyrians as you do!” Of course she would defend him, they’d been close friends ever since Feyre first arrived at the Night Court. But she overlooked the innate instincts of the warrior species. 

Y/N sighed. She tried to repress the memories of her parents – her mother, like Y/N, was mated to an Illyrian. She knew the culture they were raised in, the way they looked down on women, the violence they were accustomed to. To top it all off, Azriel was the Spymaster of the Night Court – the rumors about his cruelty and power were enough to keep Y/N away from him in fear. Luckily, she knew he’d stay away until she accepted the bond.

“I somehow doubt a man who tortures people for a living could be a 'big softie',” she replied with a scoff. 

Feyre sighed, “He doesn’t hurt the innocent – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hurt a fly even,” she took Y/N hands in hers, “He’s a good man, Y/N. Give him a chance.” 

Y/N huffed, “I’ll think about it.” 

Feyre squealed, an uncharacteristic sound for a High Lady to make, and pulled Y/N in for a hug. 

“You won’t regret this!” 

I somehow doubt that, she thought to herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the sun began to set, the bar came alive with people ready to unwind after a long day of work. The air hummed with laughter and conversation, glasses clinking in the air while soft melodies floated about. Y/N looked around the bar for the men Rhys was looking for, taking in the lively atmosphere – a jolt of pride running through her as she surveyed the place she built up from the bottom.

Despite the bustling noise of the bar, she felt that damned prickle on the back of her neck, her eyes catching on the shadows in the corner. He did this every so often – lurked in the corners, watching her. She rolled her eyes, returning to the customers at the counter asking for drinks. 

“Hey sweetie, give us a smile!” One of her unfortunately regular customers called out. He leaned forward, trying to get in Y/N’s way.

“Find someone else to bother tonight, Devon,” she replied, topping his glass with more liquor avoiding eye contact with the sleazy man who constantly vyed for her attention. 

“Oh, but I wanna bother you,” his hand grabbed hers. 

“Devon, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, let go,” She said as she tried wriggling her wrist out of his grip. The nuisance of a customer pulled her closer but stopped in his tracks, abruptly letting her hand go and backing away from the bar. He all but scurried away and Y/N sighed. She knew there was only one man who could make people shit their pants in fear like that. 

“You could’ve at least let him pay before he left,” She said without even bothering to turn around as she picked up the abandoned glass of whiskey.

The man behind her dramatically placed a few coins on the counter. She braced herself for the brooding face and shadows as she turned around. She glared up at him, the height difference between them all the more prominent as he stood not even a foot away.

“Stop sending Feyre to do the dirty work of convincing me to accept the bond,” she tried to sound intimidating – or at least serious but she found it difficult when faced with his presence, it consumed all of her confidence and left her feeling small, defenseless against the Spymaster.

“I didn’t send her,” he replied rather monotonous but she could see the tinge of amusement on his face at the sight of her trying to put up a confident front.

“Well if you’re done playing savior, can I get back to work?” 

“Would it kill you to say 'thank you?'” He blocked her from passing by with his aggravatingly large obsidian wings. 

She put her hands on her hips and mustered up all the vitriol she could, “Yes, actually, it would. Now get out of my way before I kick you out.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, a laugh. Y/N, now fuming at the man before her, shoved him in the chest, knowing it wouldn’t amount to much but it helped relieve her annoyance.

This time, he chuckled, a sound that resonated through her, only serving to fuel the fire that was Y/N’s anger. She grabbed one of the soda guns under the counter and aimed it at the nuisance before her. His brows lifted in surprise and he lifted his hands in a mock surrender. Her eyes fell to his scarred hands and her stomach dropped as her hands gripped the soda gun tighter.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, “I’ll be around.” With that, he returned to the shadows and Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

At the end of the night, the final few customers stumbled their way out of the bar and Y/N took a seat at one of the tables, exhausted from the day’s work. She poured herself a drink, relishing in the quiet – though her relief was short lived when she sensed the shadows in the corners. She squinted, grabbing a towel from her apron and threw it at the corner. He caught it, revealing himself from the shadows. 

“If you wanna lurk here after hours, the least you could do is help me clean up.” Amusement once again danced over his dark features. No doubt thinking about all the ways he’d make her pay for her rude behavior. He didn’t say anything as he started wiping down the tables, eyes occasionally finding their way back to Y/N, shadows brushing her skin when she walked past him.

They cleaned in silence, Y/N taking a mop to the floors while Azriel put up the chairs and collected stray items off the tables. Something clicked in her then, she felt almost at ease with his presence. Almost. 

“Do you know what happens when accepting the mating bond is delayed?” He said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him from across the room as he put up the last few chairs.

“What happens?”

His eyes darkened, narrowing at her, “There are reports of males being unable to stop themselves from taking their mate, over and over," he paused, giving her a moment to process, "I like to think I have more restraint than my dimwitted brothers but even I cannot control nature,” his voice was dangerously low as he spoke. It made Y/N stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t contain. Her skin prickled as she took in his words. Her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm, suddenly realizing she was at a crossroads. 

She’d been putting off accepting the bond for years now. They had first met at the grand opening of the bar. Rhys had come to congratulate her and survey the bar and of course, he had brought the inner circle. They became her first customers. A feeling of dread welled in her stomach when she first laid eyes on Azriel and somehow she knew it was him, her mate. She cursed the Cauldron for pairing her with the deadliest Illyrian in Prythian. 

“You won’t be able to delay it forever, Y/N,” he stalked closer to her, massive wings dragging behind him, a predator approaching its prey.

She took a step back, stumbling into the table behind her and she flinched. He smirked at her clumsiness. 

“Eventually, you’ll feel it. The primal, unavoidable need. The raw desire,” he drawled. 

She swallowed, looking up at the man who now stood too close to her for comfort. She leaned back, her weight shifted to her hands gripping the table behind her to put as much distance between them as she could. He only looked down at her, his intense gaze raking over her body, sensing her fear. He leaned down, she could feel his breath tickle her ear as he said, “That’s not fear, Y/N. It’s arousal.” Her breath got caught in her throat at the show of his abilities. He straightened and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. 

“Good night, mate.” 

He disappeared into the night, leaving her dazed and flustered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N entered the bar, grumbling at Daisy, one of the bartenders, as she passed by the bubbly girl.

“Woah, what’s got you all crabby this morning?” She glared at Daisy, prompting her to find some task to tend to as Y/N slouched on the counter. She couldn’t get a wink of sleep the last few nights. Azriel’s words echoed in her mind, keeping her up.

It’s not fear, it’s arousal. 

After he left the bar that night, she found herself almost constantly in an aggravating state of arousal. Despite this, she couldn’t find any relief no matter what she did. She tried pleasing herself but when all she could think about was Azriel and his dominating presence, she decided to erase the memory of him through a string of one night stands. To her utter dismay, none of it worked. It nearly drove her mad. She hadn’t seen Azriel in the past few weeks since that night and she realized he was giving her space on purpose, to heighten her need to see him again. Asshole, she thought.

She poured herself a drink, hoping it’d dull the throbbing in her head (and in other places she deigned to acknowledge). 

“Day drinking? Is there something bothering you, Y/N?” 

Great. As if the day couldn’t get any better.

The velvety, deep voice rang through her, causing damned butterflies in her stomach. He stood before her, dressed in his fighting leathers, blue siphons pulsing with power. He gave her a knowing smirk.

“I can’t deal with this today,” she said as she walked off.

“You could give in, you know. It would provide you with the much needed relief you’re so desperately trying to seek,” he taunted.

“No thanks, there’s bound to be some half witted man that can satisfy me plenty,” she shot back.

The shadows around him flared, reaching out towards her but not quite touching her. Azriel’s eyes were dark. Maybe it was stupid of Y/N to taunt him, dangerous even, but she'd spent the last few days in sleepless agony because of him. He could suck it.

“Aw, is the big bad Spymaster jealous?” She teased.

“Don’t play games with me, Y/N.” She walked back over to him, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“Or what? We both know you won’t touch me until I accept the bond.” 

He smirked, “You will accept the bond. And when you do, you are going to be at my mercy. Begging for relief,” he gripped her chin with a hand, sending a chill down her spine, “And I’ll take that as an opportunity to remind you of your obstinance.” 

“I bet you’re just as pent up as I am. It gives me peace knowing you can only find relief with me. Maybe it’ll give me the strength I need to continue denying you.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, “I have centuries of experience on you, little girl.” 

Her stomach dropped at the degrading title. The reminder of his age dawned on her. He fought in the first war against Hybern, Y/N hadn’t even been born then. She was a mere century and half to his five centuries. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He taunted with a smile.

She shoved him off in a sudden movement. Grateful to be away from him. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some room to breathe. Cauldron knows you’ll be needing it.” 

He left as fast as he had appeared, once again leaving Y/N off-centered for the rest of the day. What have I gotten myself into?

[nickfowlerrr]

so inviting, i almost jump in.

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.

words: 4.5k

notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.

also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞

"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.

You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.

"Before you say anything-"

"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.

"Doll,"

"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.

"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."

Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.

"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"

You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.

"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"

"Mhm...maybe," you say.

"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.

"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.

You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.

You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.

But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...

A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.

Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.

That was an immediate 'no thank you'.

You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.

--

The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.

You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.

You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.

There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.

"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.

"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.

"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"

"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"

He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.

"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.

You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.

"You have to come over."

"No, I really don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You're staying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.

"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I lied."

"Huh? To me? About what?"

"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."

"Another lie?"

"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.

"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.

"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.

Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.

"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.

"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.

"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.

"You had only asked me to be your fake date."

"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."

"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.

--

More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.

And it's surprising how normal it all feels.

You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!

Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.

You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.

You were here.

With Bucky.

So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.

The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.

"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."

You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.

Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.

This is easy for him because it means nothing.

This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.

Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...

You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.

"Oo, countdown is going!"

The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.

You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.

You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.

As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

Two.

He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.

One.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.

His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…

You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.

You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.

You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.

The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.

"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.

You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.

There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.

Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.

The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...

He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?

Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror.

Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.

You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.

You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.

"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.

"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.

"I'm sorry. About kissing you."

"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.

His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.

He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.

You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.

He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.

You walk back out into the living room as he follows.

"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.

"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"

"... I guess not."

"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."

He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"

"What are friends for if not clean up?"

He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.

He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.

"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."

"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."

"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."

"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."

"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.

Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.

Other things, of course, being you.

When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.

He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...

Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.

"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.

"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.

But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?

"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.

It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.

Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...

You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.

You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.

You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.

"I guess I'll head out, then."

"Oh," he breathes.

"Oh?"

"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."

"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.

Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.

"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."

"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.

"What's your resolution?" he asks.

"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."

"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."

"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.

"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.

You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.

"And you?"

Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.

"I…would like to communicate better."

You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.

"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.

As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.

"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."

You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.

It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.

"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."

"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.

"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.

Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.

"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.

Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.

"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.

He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.

"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.

It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.

You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...

[kyra-cooneyx]

between us — a.putellas x reader x j.hermoso

summary: your friendship with jenni and alexia blossoms into something more

psa: this is not stealing. i am the original writer, this is a repost from my old blog!

you'd had a crush on alexia from the moment you'd laid eyes on her the day you signed your barcelona contract. she was pretty and kind. and unfortunately, taken.

the barcelona girls took you in as one of their own almost immediately and within a week, you felt like you'd known them forever. of course, your feelings for alexia grew and grew but your friendship with jenni had also blossomed so you decided that it was better to have alexia in your life as a friend then not at all. same with jenni. the last thing you wanted was for either of them to hate you.

since lucy and keira had pre-warned you about how affectionate the spanish could be, you never questioned how close you became with the couple as the months flew by. your teammates never said anything either so you assumed it was normal.

you never thought twice about being invited to dinners, or about the way jenni would pull you into her side during movie nights with the team. and you only lived a few doors down from alexia so her constant presence in your apartment was normal for you.

and that night was no different. music played softly in your bedroom as you held two pairs of earrings up, nudging alexia to get her attention. she quickly pointed to your go to statement earrings and you beamed, swiping your favourite necklace before heading into the en-suite. you figured it was easier to use the bathroom mirror instead of kicking alexia out of the way to use your vanity mirror.

you held your necklace out to jenni once she'd looked up from her phone, pushing herself off the sink and gently taking it from your hand. you turned around, feeling a shiver run down your spine as her fingers ran along the back of your neck, brushing your hair to the side.

jenni fastened the necklace and you thanked her softly, ignoring the way her hands slid down your arms. your eyes flickered towards your room as you put your earrings in, noticing alexia moving around.

she sat down on your bed and you swallowed thickly, eyes trained on her legs that looked even longer in the dress she was wearing.

"isn't she pretty?" jenni's question was a whisper in your ear and you felt yourself nodding.

"yes. ale is very pretty." you hummed in agreement but then froze, realising what you'd said and who you'd said it to.

hearing jenni's soft laughter didn't make you feel any better, neither did the kiss she pressed to your burning cheek. "you should tell her."

"what?" you laughed nervously, stepping forward and out of her grip. "why would i do that?"

she reached out for you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you back. a small huff left your lips as you hit her chest, the blush on your cheeks deepening. "i think ale should know what you think of her."

"i-i think you are very pretty too, jenni," you breathed, assuming jenni's actions were due to a sense of jealousy. "not just ale. you're both very pretty."

your flustered state only worsened when she turned you around, hands tight on your waist.

When her eyes flickered to your lips, you knew you were a goner. "puedo besarte?"

"yes. god, yes."

jenni's lips were on yours in an instant and you threw your arms around her neck, pulling her closer.

guilt hit you like a ton of bricks when you separated. you rubbed at your swollen lips, backing away from the spaniard silently.

you avoided alexia's gaze as you made your way over to your wardrobe, swinging it open to reach for your favourite pair of heels. your stomach twisted. were you really going to act normal and have dinner with alexia after kissing jenni mere feet away from her?

after slipping on the shoes, you turned around, ready to beg for alexia's forgiveness. but she was already stood there. you studied her face. she wasn't angry. maybe she didn't know.

"can i kiss you now?" she asked quietly and your legs felt like jelly as she reached out to rub her thumb along your bottom lip. "or does jenni get you all to herself?"

if it was any other day, you would've asked questions first. but jenni's kiss still had you reeling and you didn't know if you'd ever get the chance to kiss alexia again.

so you leaned in without a second thought.

the guilt you were feeling faded but was soon replaced with confusion. with hesitation, you gently pushed alexia back. her eyebrows furrowed and you placed your hand on her chest to keep her there. doing the same with jenni when she approached.

"what is happening? what is this? a one time thing?" you asked, looking between them quickly.

you regretted asking that last question almost immediately. you were not ready to hear the answer. your heart wouldn't be able to take a one time thing but you didn't know if you'd have the strength to reject them if they'd said yes.

"what do you want it to be?" alexia asked, voice soft and soothing. you swallowed thickly, the anxiety swirling in your stomach.

you had no idea what to say. you wanted them, in every way possible. but if they rejected you, where would that leave you? or the team? you didn't want to be the reason the whole thing fell apart.

"cariño?" alexia's voice pulled you out from your head and you inhaled sharply.

"what-what if i want something more then a one time thing? something serious?" your voice trembled slightly as did your hands.

jenni reached out and gently brushed her fingers along your cheek. "we want that too."

"really?"

"you sound surprised," alexia smiled and you realised that the mood had shifted. "we have been flirting with you for months, did you not notice?"

jenni grinned as your blush deepened. you rolled your eyes and swatted her hand away after she pinched at your cheek.

"you two are mean," you murmured, shouldering passed them both. alexia wrapped her arms around you and pulled you back, nuzzling your neck as you giggled quietly. "are we still going for food?"

"i am not sure hermosa," alexia said, resting her chin on your shoulder. "if jenni and i are so mean, why should we take you?"

you looked over at jenni but she just shrugged. you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. "is this how it's going to be? you two ganging up on me all the time?"

jenni moved to stand in front of you, gently cradling your face and rubbing her thumbs along your jaw. you noticed her glance at alexia.

"vamos, ale. i think we need to show our girl just how nice we can be."

-

a year into the relationship, jenni and alexia were very much used to hearing you rage at your international teammates over the phone. normally, you showed your girlfriends decency and tried to keep the noise down but when your competitiveness flared, it wasn't always doable.

"georgia, stop cheating!" you shouted, glaring at the tv screen in front of you.

"it's mario kart mate! how can i cheat?"

"¡ don't know but you are! oh my—tooney! fuck off!" you clenched your jaw as the cheers sounded over the phone, both georgia and ella managing to beat you, the self-proclaimed mario kart champion of the lioness camp. "you know what? i hate you all."

"what did i do?" leah asked and you could hear the frown in her voice.

"guilty by association." you told her.

"doesn't seem fair."

"not my problem. i demand a rematch!"

"no." georgia and ella said simultaneously.

"uh, yes."

"oh, please don't start this back and forth again." you heard niamh plead.

"not our fault she's a sore loser." georgia muttered and you gasped.

"i am not!" you protested, getting radio silence in response. with a scoff, you shut down the tv and the xbox before snatching your phone. "i am ignoring this phone the next time sarina calls, do you people hear me?"

"loud and clear!" ella chirped. "don't answer it!"

in that moment you decided that, for once, you'd be the bigger person. so you ignored the jeers of your friends and hung up, muttering angrily under your breath as you made your through your apartment.

you headed into the bedroom to see alexia leaning against the headboard, looking over at you with an amused smile. "they beat you?"

"they did not beat me, they cheated." you huffed.

"maybe you are not as good as you think you are." jenni's voice echoed from the en-suite and you turned around.

"if you cannot even pretend to support me, jennifer, what are we even doing here?"

jenni laughed and you huffed again, crawling next to alexia and nestling into her side. when the brunette finally joined you, you kicked at her, letting out a yelp when alexia gently pinched your thigh. "be nice, amor."

"be nice," you mocked her quietly under your breath. after a few seconds, you attempted to crawl out but was immediately pulled back by the blonde. "hey!"

"where are you going?" she asked, tightening her arms as you wriggled in her grip.

"¡ am owed a rematch." you told her, prying at her hands.

"no."

"no? uh, yes," you tried to leave again but alexia quickly flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you so you couldn't move. "aw, ale, get off!"

"no."

"stop saying no to me," you groaned, wrenching your arm free and reaching out for jenni. "help!"

"no!" alexia lifted her head and glared at you, grabbing your hand and pinning it to the bed. "it will not kill you to have an early night for once."

"it might." you muttered, earning yourself another pinch.

with how genuinely annoyed she sounded, you half expected alexia to shove you over to jenni but she didn't. instead, her arms snaked around your body and she nuzzled further into you.

you pouted over at jenni and she kissed it from your lips, leaning over and flicking off the lamp. you glared into the darkness, feeling jenni press another kiss to your head.

after what felt like forever and you were sure that both jenni and alexia were asleep, you wriggled from your space between them and swiped your phone, quietly slipping out of the room.

you jumped onto the sofa and opened the lioness groupchat, typing only two words with determination flowing through your veins.

REMATCH NOW

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[janmisali]

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

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The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

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Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[captainjonnitkessler]

While unsurprising, the rhetoric being spewed by Louisiana's lawmakers is fucking terrifying to me.

I feel so lucky that I was raised by a bunch of atheist because honestly I managed to go the majority of my childhood happy, without being shamed or acquiring a persecution complex...but now looking out at the current climate we live in...damn, they really hate us, don't they? I mean "godless" is one of the main insults getting thrown around on most campaign trails, which isn't new it just hurts.

I feel like I am a bad person because I only just found out about what's going on in Louisiana.

Sorry, just screaming into the void a bit. I hope you have a good day

For anyone who's not aware, Louisiana just passed a law requiring every single public classroom in the state, from kindergarten to college, to display the Ten Commandments.

Unfortunately, this is just the latest in the rapidly-escalating war between Christofascists and secularism. Multiple states have proposed this law, Louisiana is just the first to actually pass it. Oklahoma's Department of Education is claiming that they're going to force teachers to start teaching from the Bible. Seven states have passed laws requiring schools to display "In God We Trust" signs.

Here's the thing I think a lot of people on this site are too young to remember or weren't involved enough in religious politics to notice, and the reason the "edgy atheist who just hates religion" stereotype has gained so much traction on here: The New Atheist movement was very much a response to constant barrages of shit like this. Getting America to be even as secular as it is has been a constant struggle. Conservatives have been openly blaming atheists for school shootings, mass murders, and serial killers for decades. People who stand up and try to get religion taken out of schools and government immediately become targets for massive hate and harassment campaigns. People - conservatives and liberals alike - react with hatred and anger whenever someone stands up to get religion out of places where it doesn't belong. I think the past fifteen years or so have gotten a lot of people believing that separation of church and state is an obviously "safe" position that almost everyone is in favor of, but it very much is not and never has been.

I believe that conservatives are going to try to use the current Supreme Court to essentially abolish the separation of church and state, largely because many of them are openly stating their intent to do so. Louisiana is already being sued about this - if it makes its way to the Supreme Court, I think there's a decent chance of the current court ruling in favor of Louisiana, which is going to unleash the floodgates of Christian propaganda in public schools. It is frankly a dire situation, so I'm sorry if you were here looking for reassurance lol.

As always, the best action I can recommend is to get involved. You're definitely not a bad person for not knowing about this! But if you want to stay on top of religious news, I recommend the Friendly Atheist blog. The Freedom From Religion Foundation fights to get laws like this taken down. You can check your local city for secular humanist meetups. You don't want to burn out or enter a doom spiral by only ever dwelling on bad news, but I find that having people to talk to or action you can take is a good way to ward off despair.

And please, please, vote. Vote in federal and state elections, vote in your local city council elections, vote in your school board elections. A LOT of this is happening at local levels, and being involved in your local politics is possibly the most effective thing you can do!

[pascalssbabyy]

Missing You

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Joel’s been taking extra late night shifts patrolling and with you working in the mornings you barely see him. Joel comes back from patrol early one night and can’t miss the opportunity to show you how much he misses you.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, no use of Y/N, back story of how reader and Joel met, Ellie and Sarah are mentioned, age gap (not specified), soft!Joel (he’s so in love 🥲), also slight dom!Joel, soft!reader, somnophilia, wet hair Joel (don’t argue that’s a warning in itself), slight pain kink? (seriously blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, pet names, F!masturbation, M!maturbation, Joel’s hung (obvs), F!oral receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie.

Hi everyone! It’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted a story on here, unfortunately work life is taking up most of my time. But here we are! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Lots of love 🤍🫶

The past few weeks had been beyond exhausting, returning home from a long and draining days work had quickly become the worst part of your day. Having to spend hours finishing up all of your end of day tasks at the coffee shop to then walk back to your shared home with just the sound of your inner voice echoing through the empty halls and your heavy boots treading across the old wooden floor of your front room. The space that surrounded you the moment your tired body entered the house would constantly remind you that it was going to be another wasted evening spent on your own. You hated how isolated it made you feel when it was just yourself there, the familiar furniture and décor dispersed in front of you feeling somewhat unknown to you when the silence enveloped it, making that anxious knot to tighten inside your chest and a state of loneliness to cloud it’s way into your thoughts.

This should the time where you’d get back from a long and stressful shift at work with that well known feeling of security bubbling within yourself, knowing that Joel and Ellie would be at home patiently waiting for you. They were always there, ready to listen to everything that you needed to express, filling them both in with the gossip and nonsense that happened while you were on shift. They always knew just what to say and do to bring back that spark and rinse away those anxiety-ridden emotions that scattered your mind.

But instead, you were stuck in your own line of thoughts once again, neither of them to be seen as your gaze wonders over the structure of your front room, the silence that surrounds you becoming almost too much to bare, the space abruptly putting your life on a complete standstill.

Your home wasn’t much, but with all the effort you and Joel had put into it was all so worth it, you adored the way it had turned out; Ellie’s paintings that filled up the emptiness on the walls and Joel’s guitar sitting in the corner, you could still hear the sound of strumming as it lingered in the air, the vibrations being felt on your skin, causing your chest to tighten.

This repetitive routine had been the bane of your life for the past month; getting home from work feeling completely and utterly worn out and it getting even worse when you’d forget that you’d be on your own once you got there. You’d start doing a few chores around the house to make up time, again, still on your own, have a shower that you’d hope would wash away the constant stress off your skin, and ending the day by getting into bed, which was supposed to be shared with one other but at the moment, he was never there.

Ellie would show up from time to time, always coming by for a quick catch up to see how you and Joel were getting on. Ever since she’d met Dina you’d see less of her around the house. She was finally becoming more like her true herself again which was so incredible to see, adoring the way she had settled in. But that didn’t stop you from missing her dearly, her personality filling up so much of the space in the house.

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, sighing to yourself as you notice it’s just hit midnight, the days going by in the blink of an eye. You’d just had your shower, wrapping a soft towel around your chest, your bare calves hit the back of the wooden frame as you sit on the edge of the bed, finishing off with lightly moisturising your freshly cleaned skin.

You’d usually be asleep by now but you wanted to stay up in hopes of hearing those familiar footsteps walking up the stairs and into your bedroom, desperately needing to see that face that would instantly take that heavy weight off your shoulders. Hoping to see that particular smile that would always make you weak at the knees and that southern, deep drawl filling your ears. But right now, the sound of your never ending doubts were still lingering on but somehow even louder this time, awakening the memory that you were in fact, still alone.

Ever since Joel had made his way into your small world it had become the best thing that could’ve happened to you. This house may give you security and a roof over your head but it was Joel and Ellie who made it a home, them being apart of your life was completely unexpected but the greatest circumstance you’d ever come across. You were so grateful that Jackson had brought you together. Being the one on shift that day when Joel walked into the coffee shop for the first time was a blessing in disguise. The memory bringing a smile to your face.

3 months ago 🍃🍃🍃

When you arrived in Jackson you never expected it to be so hard for you to adjust to. Being there for almost a year and you’d still struggle to be around people, your anxiety always getting the best of you. You didn’t have many people in the town that you’d consider close friends and you knew that was your fault, knowing that you should be put yourself out there but still hadn’t developed the courage to. The memories of your life before Jackson was hard to go back too, the harsh thoughts of how you’d survived the outside world continuously haunting you, but yet you’d still battle with getting used to being around a community that supported one another as much as the people of Jackson did. The job at the coffee shop definitely gave you that extra boost of confidence that you needed, meeting so many new faces that walked through the doors and being able to talk and create friendships with all different types of people that you’d serve throughout the day. You started to feel like you were finally getting somewhere with life in Jackson, that heavy weight gradually lifting off your shoulders.

The moment Joel walked through the doors you’d never felt more sure of anything.

The sound of the entrance door opening turned your attention away from the task you were currently occupied with, ready to prepare yourself for your very first customer of the day. At first glance you couldn’t help the tightness coursing it’s way through your chest, your breath hitching in your throat from just his sheer presence in the room, his demeanour instantly making you flustered.

The initial thought that came to your mind was that you hadn’t seen him around before, at this point you knew almost everyone in Jackson so he could’ve possibly been a newcomer. You could tell by his stance that he felt uncomfortable in this sort of environment; his hands were shoved down his two front pockets and his attention was held on the ground below him, his hefty boots creaking across the floor. Your glance made its way to his frame first; he was extremely broad, his shoulders were wide and were enveloped in a thick brown coat, the attire definitely looked too tight for his vast frame. From what you could see his upper arms looked thick and muscular and he wore distressed blue jeans that hugged his thighs so deliciously. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wondering up his body and as the second you took in his facial features you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips.

He was attractive, probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen; he had a strong facial structure, his nose shaping the rest of his face so perfectly. His stubble and thick curly hair both held soft streaks of grey, showing you that he was definitely much older than yourself and someone you definitely shouldn’t be looking at in the way that you were. His features held a ruggedness to it, revealing that he’d unquestionably been through a rough life, dealing with the pain of the world he’d now been living in for the past few decades. He looked intimidating; his facial expressions showing nothing but disapproval, but yet he had the softest brown eyes, the contrast between the two was so striking to you. The moment his stare locked onto yours you couldn’t help but feel weak, him bringing an unknown feeling out of you. The reaction should make you nervous but instead it excited you massively.

“Mornin’, uh— just a black americano, no sugar please.”

He looked like a pure black americano type of guy, no milk added to it and no sugar to sweeten it, his order matching his look perfectly. You wished he ordered something more adventurous so you could see him for longer, stare at him for as long as he’d let you, with his broad frame and well structured face. He was captivating.

If it was just an americano he wanted, then you were going to make it the best fucking americano he’d ever have.

Even with his lack of vocabulary, the second his voice left his lips you were a goner, sounding so deep and husky with a slight southern twist to it. You tried to hide your disappointed when he didn’t share another word as he waited there awkwardly for you to make his coffee. His uneasy stance made you softly smirk, yeah you thought— he definitely wasn’t used be being around people. Your breath would get stuck in your throat when his touch would subtly graze yours, his warmth radiating back onto you as he retrieved the hot cup of coffee from your hands. You noticed his hands were much bigger than yours, with scars scattering the ridges of his knuckle, making the cup look so small and delicate in his grasp, causing your body to shiver. The anticipation of possibly seeing this mystery man walking into your work again was becoming the best part of you shift. Even if the interaction wasn’t long, you couldn’t help the butterflies to flutter deep down inside your stomach, his absence still lingering in the air.

You saw him everyday after that, victory coursing through your veins knowing that he liked your coffee that much that he needed it every morning from the second he took that very first sip. He’d waltz in at the same time each day, he’d order the same coffee and nothing more. But as each day went on you’d notice his shoulders weren’t as tight as they were the first time he walked in, that short vocabulary of his had now expanded and he’d now sit on one of the tables in the far corner instead of leaving straight away with his coffee in his hands. Seeing him sit there in his own little world and watching his face relax with each sip of his drink made pride fill your chest. Possibly knowing that you’d given him that little taste of a life full of content, a world where there wasn’t an apocalypse, no worries to cage his thoughts.

You were surprised that after a few weeks of serving him he finally found the confidence to tell you his name. “My names Joel, Joel Miller.” Fuck the name matched him so perfectly. It sounded strong when it flowed seamlessly off his lips, suiting his persona to a tee.

You imagined what he was like when he’d open himself up to the people he held closest to him, maybe under that harsh exterior held a man who deeply cared about the friends and family members in his life. What would he be like with you if he got to know you more? Would he let himself be vulnerable with you? Would he maybe be open in having some sort of relationship with someone in his new life? Was he even that type of guy?

Everyday you wished that he thought about you the way you constantly thought about him.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

“Just go there brother. She makes a great cup of coffee, the best in town I put my hand on my heart.” Tommy’s sat opposite Joel in the cafeteria, the both of them delving into their breakfast. “Come on, when was the last time y’had a decent cup of coffee?”

Joel groans at his younger brother. He hated to admit it but he fucking missed drinking a decent cup of coffee. Before the outbreak he’d never miss having one in the morning with his breakfast, the sharp taste instantly calming his grubby mood. Joel hated mornings, and even 20 years later it hadn’t changed, it always being the worst part of his day. Tommy knew deep down that Joel’s issue wasn’t giving the coffee a try but the fact that he’d have to interact with people other than Tommy and Ellie.

Joel definitely wasn’t a people person.

“Go there tomorrow morning, she’s usually quiet on wednesdays so you don’t have to worry about seein’ anyone. Need to get y’self out there Joel. She ain’t gonna bite y’head off.”

Tommy knew how to persuade his brother with almost anything. Joel was a stubborn guy, and was exactly the same when he was younger. Some things just simply never change. All he needed to do was pester him every second of the day until he couldn’t take it anymore, it pissed Joel off massively but knew it always worked.

Joel simply huffs, “fuck sake Tommy fine. I’ll go tomorrow but that’s it! One time only, probably ain’t as nice as y’say.”

Tommy smirks, “mmm we’ll see brother, we’ll see.”

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Of course Tommy was right, he was always fucking right. The second the coffee hit his tastebuds he knew he’d never go another day without it. The flavour was strong, sweet but had that earthy bitterness to it. Fuck it tasted so good, reminded him of being back home in Texas, waking up in the morning with Sarah sat by his side as she ate her pancakes. The memory should hurt but yet gave him a sense of warmth inside, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. But what Joel never expected was that the moment he walked into the coffee shop that morning is when he’d first get acquainted with you.

He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were; your skin looked so soft and radiant as the sun coming in from the windows rested on top of it. Your hair was tied up in a bun that framed your face to perfection. You had the most welcoming smile and you were so polite, even at the very beginning when he knew he could’ve been more kinder himself. Joel started to become nervous around you and at some points you even made him flustered, your overall attitude bringing something new out of him.

You were both complete opposites, initially that’s what Joel liked about it. Joel fed off your radiance, reminding him that this fucked up world was only fucked up if only he wanted it to be, maybe Jackson wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

The more Joel stopped by at the coffee shop he soon realised that the coffee wasn’t the main reason he went, but in fact he wanted to see you.

He needed to see you.

Joel had to be blind to not notice the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would linger longer than they should and cringe when you’d get caught by his stare, your reaction making him smirk softly to himself. Joel had his fair share of women coming up to him every once in a while and heard all the comments about him; ‘Have ya seen Tommy’s brother? Shit he’s good looking,’ or ‘wouldn’t mind if he took me home.’ Don’t get him wrong he secretly didn’t mind the attention but Joel simply never had the time or in fact had any sort of interest for it, kindly rejecting there offers. It wasn’t until you came into his life that Joel started to question himself and his own beliefs. He knew his feelings were reciprocated but just didn’t think he was brave enough to do something about it.

A couple weeks later Joel eventually made a final decision and thought, fuck it.

Finally getting the balls to ask you out and doing it in Joel’s complete out of practice way, he’d offer you to do something outside of work, with him. It had been too long since Joel had ever been put in this type of situation, knowing he was a little rusty in the dating department. Your reaction to his words may have been a look of surprise but he knew deep down that you’ve wanted him to say that for a while. A few outings with each other would then turn into daily meets up, trying to accompany each others time tables so you could spend as much time as you could together without work getting in the way.

Joel had thought he’d lost that romantic side of himself decades ago, believing an apocalypse wasn’t really the place to find or do something like that, his only goal being survival and simply not getting killed. But somehow knowing that you’d felt that way about him sparked that unknown desire back into him, needing you in a way he never needed anyone before.

Present Day 🍃🍃🍃

The memories of the past few months with Joel should bring content and happiness to you, but right now the thoughts are only making it harder to swallow the feeling of lose from your throat. The coldness from the night air silently flows through the gap of your opened window, the coolness bringing you back to reality, goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms that are holding the towel up close to your chest.

You know Joel couldn’t help it and you’d never place any blame of him. There had been some suspicious tracks leading to Jackson, so Tommy needed a few extra people to assist with patrol duty but didn’t have the amount of hands or participants to cope, leaving Joel to take up more shifts and even longer days than he’d usually do. You and Joel both knew he needed to calm down, knowing he wasn’t the young man he once was but you knew he felt a need to prove to Tommy that he was still capable, wanting to help out the people of the community as much as he could.

To keep you and Ellie safe.

The routine wasn’t going to be going on for much longer, just until the tension outside Jackson had calmed down and that they knew that it was safe to go back to normal. Then Joel could go back to his normal schedule, a schedule where he was spending every evening and night with you, it being his favourite way to end his long days and you being the last thing he sees before sleep takes over his limp body.

This thought is what makes you go on. Knowing that you’d soon get him back all to yourself. Once you’ve finished moisturising you grab some fresh pants from the top drawer of your bedside table and pick out one of Joel’s flannels to wear from the wardrobe. No matter how many times you’d wash it you could still smell his musky scent on the material, bringing the collar up to your nose and inhaling deeply as the smell of Joel envelopes your nostrils. You lie on top of the covers and close your eyes, picturing Joel’s body lying next to yours whilst he cages you in his big arms, his stubble scratching the side of your jaw. The image of him behind your eyelids and his scent surrounds your body completely, feeling the sudden wetness pool in between your legs, aching for his touch.

You miss him so much it hurts. It had been been a while since you’d both been intimate with one another and as each day goes by the feeling deep in your core intensifies, yearning for release.

Your one hand travels down your stomach and dips under your panties which have quickly become soaked with your arousal. You start gliding two of your digits through your soaked folds, covering them in your sweet release. Your breath hitches in your throat as your fingers gently travel up and swirl around your sensitive bundle of nerves, lightly moving them in small figure eights. You picture Joel above you, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you imagine it’s his calloused fingers instead of yours. His digits were much thicker and longer, reaching up inside you like no other and pulling orgasm upon orgasm from your aching cunt. You imagine the words he’d whisper to you; his warm mouth against your ear as he tells you how good you are for him and how well you’re taking what he gives you. The moment you slip two of your fingers in your dripping heat you know you’ll be close to coming, already feeling that tight knot in your lower stomach. Your mouths agape as small, breathless whimpers escape your lips, the tip of your fingers hitting your g-spot. As your one hand fucks your deprived cunt your other moves under yours— Joel’s flannel to caress your breasts, your skin feeling hot from the touch of your fingers travelling up your body. Your palms and fingers start massaging the skin of my breast, tweaking your nipples to add to the intense pleasure you’re giving yourself. Joel loved your breasts, you’d imagine him giving them as much attention as he could, swirling his tongue around each nipple, sucking on the skin and making sure he leaves marks on each part his lips touch.

He knew the small purple blemishes across your skin showed you who you really belonged to, and he knew you secretly loved it, being claimed by him.

Your breathing becomes frantic, “yes Joel right there—,” the image of Joel behind your eyelids and your hand in between your legs is so intensifying and without any warning you’re coming all over your fingers, feeling the inside of your walls pulsing around the soaked digits. Joel’s name leaves your lips as a state of euphoria completely takes over your body, your legs twitching from the immense pleasure. You continue to fuck yourself through your high, needing to feel as much pleasure as you can. You can hear Joel’s praises ringing in your ear like he’s there with you in the room.

You’re such a good girl f’me aren’t you.

Fuck I feel your pussy clenching my fingers baby.

She’s so desperate f’me isn’t she.

Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.

Even though your fingers would slowly fade that aching between your legs you knew it wouldn’t take long for it to creep it’s way back into your core, Joel being the only one to satisfy the craving completely.

Once you’ve come down from your high the quiet and darkness surrounds you once again. You wanted to wait up for Joel but you can’t stop the silence making it’s way back into your thoughts, needing the sleep to course your mind in hopes of getting a few hours peace from the weeks of stress you’ve unintentionally given yourself.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel should have been back home from patrol duty hours ago. For the past month, patrolling had been tough for everyone involved, and it had quickly become much more strict in its rules, making people more aware of the threats surrounding Jackson and the area outside the town. With the danger being so high risk, Joel knew what he had to do and what he needed to do to support the team. Jackson welcomed him and Ellie with open arms, so he knew he had to do as much as possible to give back to the community.

However, this came with its disadvantages; it felt like it had been forever and a day since he had been with you and spent a day with you. He knew this routine was excessive and too much to handle for a man his age, but his pride was too high, and Joel was a man who could never accept defeat. Being unable to be with you, let alone even see you, made his chest feel tight, restricting as the sensation would knock the air out of his lungs. He knew that being so distant from each other was breaking you even more than it was himself.

Joel quietly dropped his dirty boots at the entrance door of his and yours shared home, sighing in relief as he took in the familiarity of the four walls that have brought him so many fond memories over the past few months—all memories of you.

Slowly he tip toes his way through the front room and then up the stairs, the groans of the ancient wood under his feet echoing through the house with each step he took. It wasn’t hard for Joel to be noisy, his broad frame making it difficult to walk in the house when you lay sleeping upstairs, the sound of a pin drop ringing through the thin walls would easily be picked up let alone his large steps.

Before entering the bedroom Joel makes his way into the bathroom, his body caked in mud head to toe, suddenly craving the feel of hot water over his shoulders, untying those stiff knots in his muscles from the long day he’s endured. Knowing the heat from the water would instantly bring him relief and satisfaction.

Joel wants nothing more than to get into bed with you and wrap his arms around your small form as he falls into a deep slumber, feeling the dainty movements of your chest rising and falling against him, hearing you let out soft, content sighs while you lay sleeping.

But at the same time he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to wake you up, missing the sound of your voice, missing the way you’d look up at him with such love and affection whilst you’d caress his rough skin with the softness of your fingertips.

It had been too fucking long since he’d felt the warmth or your cunt perfectly wrapped around his cock, he missed the way you’d fall and crumble underneath his frame, the desperate pleads leaving your plump lips, begging him to make you come.

And by the way his cock instantly touches the middle of his abdomen with just the sheer thought of you imprinted on his mind, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

Joel’s woken up too many times with the other half of the bed completely empty, the dip in the mattress still visible from where your body rested just hours before. He’d immediately move his body over to your side, inhaling in your pillow as the smell of your shampoo would fill his senses, causing his cock to strain against the band of his tight boxers, his pre-come painting the material.

Joel never expected that you’d bring out that side of him that he believed was long gone, never requiring the release of another women’s touch to help his urges, his hand doing just what he needed for that ache in his cock to go away. However the more he saw of you and started spending most of his time with you he couldn’t help the attraction he felt for you, imagining your body underneath him as he filled you completely. He’d picture your pussy fluttering around his cock as you’d come around him, the desperate whimpers leaving your lips as he’d continue to thrust his hips into you, chasing his own release.

Soon Joel’s hand wasn’t enough, his own fist not itching that certain ache inside him that would once do the trick. He wanted more and simply couldn’t get you out of his mind, needing you to help take away that burning desire that he kept hidden from you.

Once Joel had his shower he’d finish freshening himself up; brushing his teeth, running his fingers through his wet hair, sleeking it back and putting on clean boxers, which have abruptly become tighter than usual from his erection that’s still very prominent. After that he’d make his way into your shared bedroom, gently pushing the door open and popping his head through. Your frame resting on the top of the sheets finally coming into his view, lying on the bed alone, the image making his chest ache.

He lightly moves his frame to his side of the bed and lies his body down beside you, the weight that’s suddenly been taken off his feet makes him sigh in content, the hours of standing in the same designated spot started to build up tension, the stinging in the bottom of his shins finally starting to ease away.

Joel looks over at your sleeping form, his sight adjusting to the darkness of the room as the light from outside creeps in through the gap of the curtains, a soft smile shaping across his features just from the look of you.

You were facing away from him; your top half covered in one of his flannels that just hanged above the very tops of you thighs, the smooth skin of your legs being on show making Joel’s cock harden even more under his boxers, his palm pushing down on his erection causing him to groan from the friction.

He tries his hardest not to wake you, bringing his fingers up to the ends of the flannel to gently move the material up so it lands in the middle of you spine, giving Joel a view of your back, your ass covered in the daintiest underwear.

Joel shifts his body so it rests above you, every move he takes becoming so delicate, hoping not to stir you as you still sleep underneath him, showing him no signs of being disrupted by his actions. Both of his hands dig into the mattress, caging your body so it’s in between him. He watches your expression intently, your features still holding that peaceful expression. Your breathing is still soft and in rhythm, giving Joel the heads up to carry on.

Joel’s eyes glance their way down to the middle of your back, ever so lightly brushing the back of his knuckles against the smooth skin, tracing over the dent of your spine and over the sides of your rib cage. His touch descends further down until his calloused fingers touch the top of your underwear, fiddling with the fabric as it sticks tightly to your skin.

This wasn’t going to be enough. If it was his decision Joel would’ve ripped the material off of you completely and stuffed you full of himself in the matter of seconds, his cock being too deprived of your touch for far too long. But somehow seeing you still deep in sleep, being completely oblivious to his actions made him want to take his time, knowing that any moment you were going to wake up to the surprise of him over you. He wanted you to see how much he deeply missed you, show you how much he cared.

Joel’s too far gone and know he can’t control his urges, softly gliding two of his digits across the curves of you cheeks until they meet there designated target. The material of your underwear is already damp against his fingers as he rubs the outside of you pussy, teasing your clit with the roughness of his fingertips.

He can’t help but softy express his inner thoughts to himself, “fuck y’so wet baby.” His one hand gently moves to your right leg, caressing the exposed skin and bending it up slightly so his eyes can see more of you, slowly moving his body down, peering his eyes at the place where he knows your body craves him the most.

The centre of your underwear is ruined, your arousal seeping through the thin material, turning them a much deeper colour. Joel holds in a deep breath from the sight, bringing his one hand down to the waistband of his boxers, freeing his now red, glistening head from its confines, the night air hitting his tip making him hiss from the sensitivity.

Before he carries on, Joel’s leaning his body over and turning on the beside lamp, the sudden light surrounding the room, showing more of you to him. He moves his face down towards you so his back is curved as he starts peppering your back with light kisses, bringing his lips across to every inch of you he can see, the softness of your skin against his stubble causes you to stir in your sleep, a silent moan leaving your throat as Joel continues to assault your back with his mouth.

Joel doesn’t give a shit that his touch has abruptly woken you up, his lips causing your body to jump from the intrusion. “J-Joel? S’that you? What are y’doing?”

Fuck he’s missed your voice, the faint sound just slightly above a whisper filling his ears as you try to adjust to what’s going on around you, Joel’s moans vibrate against your back from the words that have just glided off your tongue.

“Shh it’s just me baby, just lie real still- fuck I’ve missed you so much.”

Joel picks at more of his flannel so more of your skin is exposed to him. You lift up your chest to help him ease it off you so it rests just over your shoulder blades, already feeling that desire you felt just hours before rise back up within yourself, and knowing it’s Joel who’s going to ease it away causes more wetness to pool in your underwear.

His lips feel soft and warm on your back, gliding across your skin sure to leave marks wherever they touch as small but sharp gasps start leaving your mouth from the feel. Unintentionally you start bucking your hips up towards him, hoping to give him the heads up that even though you’ve just woken up, you already are so desperate to have any part of him inside you.

Even if the movements barely there, Joel never misses anything.

“She wants me to bad doesn’t she. Don’t worry baby I’ll give y’what y’need.”

He knows exactly what to say to have you withering under him, his husky southern drawl always bringing that immense pleasure out of you with just the simplest of words or touches, and right now he had you right where he wanted you.

“P-please Joel, missed you— need you.”

His lips curve up against your arched back, quivering as a deep chuckle rolls off his tongue. “I know darlin’ it’s been so long, wanna take my time with ya so be patient. Can y’do that? Be a good girl f’me.”

Even though you’re aching for his touch, you know you both want this to last as long as it can, wanting to show Joel how well behaved you’ll be for him and knowing that he loves this submissive side of you. He’ll never be able to process how easy it is for you to become a melting mess underneath him, boosting his confidence.

You slowly nod your head, “yes Joel I’ll be good f’you.”

He hums softly at your words, “I know y’will baby, always being so good f’me aren’t you.” Joel continues with his actions as he watches the side of your face that’s plushed against the soft material of your pillow. You look down at him with the upmost admiration, mouth agape while his name leaves your lips.

“Fuck Joel please— I.” The way he looks right now is a sight that you’ll never forget, it’s been so long since you’ve actually been able to take your time and admire him for all he’s worth; his wide shoulders hold a slight sheen to them, tanned and covered is small dispersed freckles, his hairs still wet from the shower which has been slicked back with his fingers giving you a full view of his strong facial features. His looks alone is enough to have you putting in his hands, needing to feel him on your skin, “please touch me.”

Joel was so fucking beautiful and he didn’t even have to do anything.

“I am touchin’ you baby, jus’ relax— lemme take my time, wanna look after you.” Slowly lifting up so he’s back on his knees Joel’s grabs the band of your underwear and pulls them down your legs, the material leaving goosebumps across you skin, the temptation of his touch quickly building up inside your core.

Once Joel removes your underwear off of you completely he wastes no time in touching your cunt finally without anything in the way, a deep guttural moan flying from his throat, “shit darlin’ fuckk— missed your pussy so much.” He’s panting above you, relishing in the warmth your skin gives off, the heat travelling all the way down to his cock as it pulses against his stomach. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Joel lightly moves his thick fingers across your lips and up to your clit, covering his digits with your release, preparing you, getting you ready for him.

Joel can feel himself crumbling, his body reacting so strongly to you, “fuck darlin” you’re so wet, I need a taste it’s been s’long.”

Joel doesn’t give you enough time to answer as he’s flipping you onto your side, one leg placed straight on the bed and the other he’s pushing up towards your chest, keeping it locked in place and manoeuvring his own body so he’s leaning on his shoulder while his heads placed straight under your pulsing core. His gaze is on your wet cunt, so close to his face as he looks at it with hunger in his eyes, ready to eat it up like it’s his last meal.

The moment his tongue flicks over your clit your whole body jerks up towards his mouth, your one hand reaching into his wet hair, pulling at the strands while he pleasures you with his mouth. He winces at the tight pull, his lips quivering against you which only spurs on the intensity of your upcoming orgasm.

“Shit baby—missed how fucking sweet you taste.”

Joel can feel his tip that’s still popping out of the material of his boxers leaking on the skin just under his belly button. Usually Joel is capable of holding his urges in while he gives you what you desperately need, pulling orgasms effortlessly from you with just his mouth and fingers and always being able to leave his throbbing cock alone as it aches for some sort of touch, easily suppressing the pain until he’s gifted with the wet feeling of your walls soaking him to the brim.

But it’s been too damn long, too long since he’s had you in his arms in such a close and intimate way, your sweetened release coating his tongue as he fucks you with the muscle. His other hand reaches down to pull his cock fully out of his boxers, wrapping his hand around his girth while he fucks his fist, his fingers wet from touching your greedy cunt just moments ago. He has to pause for a moment as he moves his mouth off of you, the touch of his hand stopping his rhythm for just a second, but quickly returning his attention straight back to you.

“Yes Joel fuck—right t-there don’t stop please don’t stop.” Your whimpers were like a harmony to Joel’s ears, high in pitch and so soft as you open yourself up completely to him. Joel’s groans and the wet sounds of yours and his arousal echos around the bedroom walls, beckoning him towards his own release, needing you to come all over his mouth first.

And you are going to— it’s right there, your orgasms right on the edge ready to consume you, you just need that feeling of fullness to fill your neglected walls. “Mmm fuck J-Joel, need your fingers please- need them so bad.”

Who would Joel be if he denied you of the action when you asked him so politely. He’d give you anything you wanted from him if he’d hear those perfect words asking him so nicely for permission.

“Always so polite f’me darlin.” His hand instantly pulls off his cock, abandoning his own pleasure and moving them up to your pulsating heat, filling you with two thick fingers so his knuckles touch the outside of your entrance, curling them inside you, hitting that spot that he knows will have you seeing euphoric stars in a matter of seconds.

Fuck you were so beautiful. Back arched and head thrown backwards as your hips continue to rub against Joel’s mouth, using him to chase that release that’s right there on the edge, his nose catching perfectly on your clit sending shockwaves all the way down towards your toes. His eyes gaze at every inch of skin that’s visible to him; your face, your waist and the way your chest rises and falls in quick pants, locking the image permanently into his memory.

While still using his fingers, Joel’s quickly takes his lips off of you, yourself whining from the loss of his tongue. “Take the flannel off baby, let me see those perfect tits n’ I’ll make you come.”

His mouths back on yours in an instant, watching you with sinful eyes as both of your shaky hands start to unbutton his flannel and begin rolling it off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your breasts to him and to the thick air, your nipples hardening from the cool temperature in the room.

Joel’s hand that holds a tight grasp on your bent leg moves to your chest, kneading your breast and pinching your nipples in between his fingers, feeling your walls clench around his hand from his touch. He knows if he carries on he’ll have you coming in no time.

He switches from licking up your juices to sucking forcefully on your swollen bundle of nerves, flicking the tip of his tongue over the hood as your thighs start to twitch uncontrollably, knowing exactly what motions he needs to do to have you coming all over his mouth.

You look down at him, droplets of sweat forming between the creases of your brow, “fuck Joel r-right there I’m gonna come, please-e.”

His eyes are glued on your face, “g’on baby that’s it you can come, come all over my fingers— lemme taste you.”

The orgasm that crashes over you has the air knocking out of your lungs, you whole body shaking vigorously as Joel’s holds you down into the mattress, relishing in the tightness of your cunt gushing more release onto his hand and catching as much of the honey nectar into his mouth, never missing a drop of it as he savours the taste that he’s been deprived of for too long.

Your legs squeeze around Joel’s head, caging him in, no where for him to escape as you use his mouth and fingers to prolong the pure ecstasy riding through your veins, your skin becoming hot to the touch. Your walls contract against his rough digits, Joel’s muffled moans being silenced by your thighs, looking up towards you as pleasure washes over your face.

“That’s it baby use my mouth, wanna taste all of it.” You can feel him everywhere; his stubble scratching the inside of your trembling thighs while he continues to lap and lick and slurp through your folds for as long as you’ll let him, until your prying him away from the sensitivity.

Joel’s rolls your limp frame so you’re back to lying on your stomach once again, bringing his body that was once under you back above you, quickly removing last remaining material off his legs leaving him completely naked, his cock hanging down so he’s touching the curve of your cheeks.

He gives his cock a few pumps with his first, his wetness covering him entirely. His heads quick to respond to his touch, droplets of come trickling down until it makes contact with the skin of you ass, the liquid reflecting in the light from the beside lamp. Joel moves his body so his chest makes contact with the curve of your back, his face so deep in your hair and his lips ghosting over your ear.

“God I’ve missed how you’ve tasted baby, been too damn long since I’ve had you. Y’gonna let me fuck you now? Fuck— I need to feel your pussy wrapped round me.”

You buck up your hips into him, Joel’s breathless moans singing in your ear, your action giving him the go ahead, wanting, needing to be filled by him, missing the way his thick cock would pulse inside you.

“Yes please Joel, w-want it so bad.”

Joel kisses your sweet spot, “want it so bad huh, been s’long since you’ve been stuffed full of my cock hasn’t it?” Joel’s weight is held up by his one arm, his palm digging into the mattress below whilst he rubs the head of his cock through your soaked folds and nudging the tip of your clit, the rubbing of his thickness resulting in breathless gasps to leave both of your lips. “Relax f’me baby, I’ll give it to ya.”

He loves to tease you. Knowing very well that you secretly love it too; the anticipation, the excitement, the unknown of what his next steps will be. Teasing meant he could take his sweet time with you, he could savour every part of you that he could get his hands on, your taste and touch lingering on his skin for days after.

He nudges his cock at your entrance ever so carefully. Just enjoying the feel of the outer part of your pussy while it soaks him everywhere, his thickness gilding so easily through your glistening folds.

“Can feel your pussy tryin’ to suck me in baby, wanna—fuck—need to take my time with ya’ sweetheart.”

He thrusts his hips forward so his groin comes into contact with the soft skin of your cheeks, continuing to stroke his cock in between your legs and tease your entrance, your thighs that are pushed so close together squeezing his cock even more.

The anticipation roaring through your whole body is too much to handle, longing to feel what you’ve been wanting the most from these agonising few weeks you’ve endured.

Lifting your hips at the perfect time with the pace that Joel has set with his teasing causes his entire cock to fill you to the hilt, surprised gasps leaving both of your mouths as you finally feel him deep inside you, your pussy trying to adjust to his length.

“F-fuck Joel—“ The amount of wetness between your legs makes it so easy for him to glide smoothly inside you, also helping with your walls that are trying to accompany his huge size.

Joel could’ve come right there in that moment from the sudden feeling of your walls tightly wrapped around him. “Oh my g— oh fuck baby. Christ you’re so tight, always so fuckin’ tight.”

Joel knew he was a lot bigger than the average man, and with you being much smaller than him he knew it would be difficult for you to adjust to his size. The moment his thick head would prod at your entrance he’d immediately crave the glimpse of slight discomfort in your appearance, mouth agape and your pussy struggling to take him all in, his cock stretching you out, he could come just from the look on your face.

He doesn’t move once he’s inside you, waiting a few moments to help you get used to him. His one hand moves to your side, caressing the skin on your arm, “no matter how many times I fuck this pretty pussy she always struggles to take me doesn’t she. Shit darlin’ you’re so perfect.”

He’s so deep inside you, the weight of him pushing you down into the bed as tears start to well in your eyes as he begins to set a slow but hard pace, your teeth biting down on the pillow to muffle your moans.

He moves the strands of hair that have obstructed his view of the emotions that scatter your face, needing to see ever look of pleasure that roles across your features while his thrusts pick up behind you.

“Don’t y’dare hide from me, wanna hear ya baby— tell me how good my cocks makin’ you feel.”

He grunts into your hair, inhaling in the scent of your skin, your fresh shampoo filling his senses while he sets a blistering pace behind you, his chest flushed again your back, fitting perfectly together as you spine curves into shape with his soft stomach.

“F-feels s’good Joel—fuck I’ve missed you inside me oh my god— you’re so big.”

A devilish chuckle escapes his lips, “I know baby but you can take it can’t ya, this pussy was fuckin’ made f’me.”

“Joel please—“ he feels fucking everywhere; his whole being filling all your senses, giving you everything as his tip continues to hit that spot deep inside you that only he knows how to reach, his thickness never failing to miss that point that has you gasping for air and your whole body curling from the depths of his thrust, he never misses:

Every. Single. Time.

“C’here baby.” Joel’s lifting himself onto his knees in an instant, bringing your flushed body with it, his cock never leaving your cunt as he maintains that secure motion. The ridges of your walls hug him so tightly as he brings you closer to your orgasm.

You arms fly into his hair as his wide arms cage you in, wrapping them around your upper body whilst he holds you up so closely to him, feeling the hot air leave his nostrils whilst he switches between sucking and kissing the crease of your neck, exposing more skin for him to continue his marking.

Once Joel’s finishes his assault on your neck he brings his lips up to yours, finally feeling the plumpness of your own against his, instantaneously moulding your tongues together. You can still taste yourself on his lips while he moans into your mouth, the act releasing more of your arousal around Joel’s cock. It’s messy and desperate, the both of you making up for lost time.

Your whole body is putty in his grasp, turning into jello as he holds you up against him, well aware that you’d fall face down if Joel didn’t hold you up like he is. The sound of skin slapping on skin consumes the thick air around your sweltering bodies, the heat leaving thick sheens of sweat against your skin, sticking your bodies together like glue.

“Go on darlin, need to feel ya come for me. Fucking show me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

You bring one of Joel’s hands that’s encased around you up to your mouth, pushing two of his digits past your lips so you can coat them nicely in your saliva, swirling your tongue around them. Joel can’t take his eyes off you as he watches you take his fingers to the back of your throat and back out of your mouth with a ‘pop’.

“Rub my c-clit Joel— need it s’bad.” His hand begins it’s travel across your hot skin, gliding down until it lands in between your legs, rubbing your puffy clit with his fingers, enticing you closer to your release.

Your head lands against the top of his shoulder, “fuck Joel yes— I’m so close—fuck Joel I’m gonna come, please let me come.”

His eyes screw shut, your filthy words effecting him more than he wanted them too, bringing that tight knot in his stomach straight up to the surface, ready to be relieved in a matter of seconds.

Joel’s voice sounds so desperate, breathless pants brushing the sides of your face, “you can come baby, fuck— come f’me.”

Your second orgasm hits and the intensity is unmatched to anything you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Your legs start to shake and toes curl and you can feel your insides throb and gush around Joel’s thickness. Joel’s humming in your ear is hard to pick up on as your release fills your whole body, the ringing in your ears and white sparks behind your eyelids sending you into another dimension.

“Fuckin’ good girl that’s it you’re doing so well f’me— shit darlin’ y’gonna make me come.”

Pleasure soon subsides into overstimulation as you come down from your high, your body been given that unbelievable pleasure and satisfaction. Joel’s hips soon start to stutter behind you, losing that rhythm he held onto so strongly, ready to fill you up with his release.

“Please Joel come inside me, wanna feel you fill me up—missed being full of you.”

He grabs your jaw, easily fitting it into his palm as he brings your lips back onto his, watching you as you come back down to reality. He eyes don’t leave yours as his cock jumps inside of you, lips trembling as your pussy pulls him in. “Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth, “fuck I’m coming,” you reattached your lips, his grunts being silenced by your mouth as he hits his peak and spurts of his hot come fill up into your velvety walls, milking him of everything he’s worth. He comes hard; the force of it knocking the air straight out of his lungs.

Joel’s hold on you tightens, his thrusts gradually fading down until he shields himself inside you, not ready to feel the loss of your pussy just yet, keeping you close and flushed up against him.

Once his lips leave yours Joel can take the moment to bring the air back into his chest, his gaze locking onto every feature that’s plastered across your face, reading your expressions as pure bliss continues to wash over you.

“You okay darlin’?” He hugs you even tighter, forever appreciating these tender moments with you. “Fuckin’ hell I’ve missed you.”

You nudge your nose against his, the biggest grin landing across your face. “I’m okay Joel— I’ve missed too— so much.”

Joel plants kisses all across your shoulder, pulling himself out of you slowly, wincing as the change in temperature hits him. He already misses the way your pussy wrapped it’s way around him, never feeling anything like it before. He makes his way over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a towel to clean you both up.

One you’ve both freshened up, Joel’s pulling you across the bed so you’re flushed against him, your body moulding into his so flawlessly as he lays on his side behind you.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long sweetheart I know it’s been hard f’you. It won’t be forever I promise y’that.”

Joel knows the right words to say to give you that sense of certainty, never being the one to break any promises he gives you, knowing that you’ll have him back all to yourself soon brings excitement to your chest.

“I know Joel I understand, just can’t wait to have you all to m’self again.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your cheek, he lays a quick kiss on your jaw. “Same here baby, I can’t wait either.”

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

The sunrise beaming through the gaps of the blinds awakens Joel out of his deep sleep, blinding him from his view. Your warm skin is still pushed up against his chest, the sound of soft, content signs leaving your lips as sleep still consumes you. Joel looks down at your body, forgetting what it was like to have you so close to him instead of constantly waking up in an empty bed.

Knowing he had you to wake up to made the mornings Joel’s favourite time of day. You finally brought him that feeling of solace and safety that he’s been searching for most of his life.

Joel knew if he had you by his side, he was home.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tysm for reading! Please let me know what you think!🤍🫶

[seraphont]

All jokes aside..what DOES Tessa see in J? She kinda..rude, mean, bossy, snarky, traitorous .. Tessa is the complete opposite!! #youdeservebettergurl /J

Sjdkl I see where you’re coming from anon, I wrote a couple of paragraphs below, please bear with my thought process, there’s a TLDR way at the bottom. This is how I interpret J’s character (if shes nuanced lol) with the little info we’re given:

in the series we see J at her worst, similar to how we see V, kinda sucking as well at the beginning of the series. The difference is V actually gets an emotional story arc and screen time LOL (and N- the person she cares for- is actually still alive and well).

We get glimpses of their past selves at the manor, and though Cyn states that their personalities were left unaltered, the trauma of their past certainly changed them. We see this drastic difference especially in V. we don’t get many moments w J (dead for over half of the series lol), but she also retained her memories, and I’d find it hard to believe she wasn’t effected similarly to V.

The only instances of ‘care’ we see in the series by J, is when Tessa rubs at her sore wrists from being manacled at the manor, when J was asking V to join her side Ep 8, and when she stated she got tricked by the solver - where it’s implied that J’s been killed many times by the solver, believing she has no other choice.

going back on another post I made, I think a tell for her character is the line “I didn’t need either of you anyway.” When V rejects her offer after J asked V to join her. This felt like an extreme cope and a tell on how she deals w things emotionally. I do think she wanted both N and V to be with her, but she’s got her walls up and is a stuck up asshole.

unfortunately LOL, much of this lays in assumptions based off of what little canon provided, we see J and Tessa were stuck at the hip at the manor, which to me at least implies they’re very good friends/close. the ripping royals talk, that J is a confidant/someone she could rely on and trust, even though she’s rather blunt. The swapping of weapons, no words needed -a tell that they know each others preferences well, another signal to closeness. the ‘stick in the mud’/cheerful friendship dynamic is also just kinda my favorite lol.

The way I interrupt J at the manor is a very toned down version of her angry self that we see on C9. Aloof, tactless, loyal (she turned on the “company” when breaking Tessa’s manacles), jealous lol, but inevitably there for her friend.

TLDR: it’s implied she was good friends with Tessa at the manor, and yes she’s an asshole lol, but never towards Tessa, the only character shes ever outwardly shown care towards. Tessa probably saw the J who didn’t have her walls up, a J, who though aloof- was her confidant, someone who took her weirdness in stride, and a constant that stuck by her side during her worst times at the manor. A great formula for a strong friendship, and I’m a sucker for friends to lovers lol.

At least that’s how I interpret it c:

[wileys-russo]

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

words:2889

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Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

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Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[yogurtkags]

congrats on 100 followers, you totally deserve it :D ˚✧₊⁎ if it’s still opened.. could i request osamu x reader as culinary school rivals??

❝ COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS ❞ — miya osamu

cw. gn!reader, culinary school!au, rivals to friends, fluff, language (reader has a bit of a potty mouth), onigiri miya is a family business, there’s just a slight tension between them, not beta read. word count. ~ 1.6k

getting locked out of your dorm isn’t the worst thing that can happen, until you have to call in a favour from miya osamu, your literal nightmare— or a blessing in disguise?

event masterlist

this is so stupid and would’ve been completely avoidable if you just slept even a little bit last night instead of staying up experimenting before heading for your morning class.

with a huff of annoyance and bleary bloodshot eyes from sleep deprivation and rubbing them in a desperate hope of waking yourself up from a half-asleep half-dead state, you rummage through your bag for the overloaded carabiner one more time for good measure, you’ll never know if it was just hidden in a pocket that you missed— nope never mind, it’s not there.

“fuck me.” slamming your palm on the door, you rest your forehead on the smooth hardwood doors of your dorm entrance and sigh, just my fucking luck.

you can picture it crystal clear, all the ingredients you’ve neatly laid out on the kitchen counter ready for you to prepare a quick lunch, and that damned mason jar of bottled gold. you spent the whole of last night and the ones before perfecting it and now it sits just outside of your reach, like the gods above playing a sick trick on you— except there’s no trick, just you being stupid and forgetting to bring your keys out that landed yourself in this predicament.

your frustration is immeasurable, you need that for a class later in the afternoon that weighs a hefty amount on your grade and you can’t afford missing out on it, you’ve spent so much time on it after all and refuse to give in. all this is making you want to run your hands through your hair and harshly tug, hoping that the sting would rouse you from this bad dream.

no one’s in the dorms right now, everyone’s either in class or the library, and the sweet old dorm lady’s out and about sourcing for ingredients in town; it’s restock wednesday.

you’re ransacking your brain, mentally going through a list of people you could possibly engage for help, mumbling under your breath so the pathetic silence doesn’t swallow you whole. it’s quiet aside from the birds overhead, their constant chirping grating to your ears, almost like they’re mocking you.

“i don’t have cash on hand to pay a locksmith.”

“i could ask noya to try picking the lock, but knowing him it’s more likely that he’ll break it.”

"could maybe try asking ukai? but that geezer will probably say no just to fuck with me."

there's no one else around or remotely in the area other than— oh hell no. his family restaurant is just off campus and wouldn't take too long for you to get there and back to class later but just the thought of needing help from that guy sickens you to the pits of your stomach. but beggars can't be choosers, and the you of today chooses the only option that will secure you your grade.

your last option is unfortunately, miya osamu — next in line to run onigiri miya, mister “i’m going to be the best in the academy”, always trying to one-up you, stupid grey-haired baseball cap wearing bane of your existence.

the trek there thankfully isn’t too long since your dorm is closer to the edge of campus, and the little diner just a stone’s throw away from the road leading to the academy gates. the small shopping district is pretty quiet at this time of the day, most middle and public high school kids still having classes and the salary men slaving their lives away at their desks in air-conditioned offices.

before long, you’re standing in front of onigiri miya, the warm lights from inside the store seeping out through the whites of the sliding door. taking a deep breath and bracing yourself to face him, you raise your fist and knock to announce your arrival and gently pull it open.

“i have to say, you’re the last person i expected to see walk through those doors willingly. this better be good.”

osamu stands with his arms crossed, clad in his usual black tee and matching hat, waist apron printed with the logo crest of onigiri miya. his eyebrows are raised in faux surprise, almost teasing as he gives your figure an up down with his trademark lazy patronising smile.

you scoff, walking past him and straight to the counter seats, placing your bag on the light wooden surface, “don’t flatter yourself miya, i’m not here to see you.”

shaking his head and turning around, he heads behind the counter and leans forward, resting on his forearms, “yeah? why else would you be here then?”

he’s close, a little too close and you take a step back, placing your hand atop his head and pushing him away, face warming up in embarrassment, “shut up.”

with a sigh, your reluctantly murmur the next four words, “i need your help.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t quite hear you there, come again?” you desperately want to slap that shit eating grin off his equally handsome and annoying face, he definitely heard you and is messing with you, but what did you expect really?

raising your voice, you snarl, but the impact’s dulled with your inability to meet his eyes, “i said, i need your help, you little bitch.”

osamu chuckles, you’re cute. you must’ve been at your wits end to even bother coming to him for help.

he claps and rubs his hands together, “okay then, how can i be of service?”

you explain the situation at the expense of a few jabs and lighthearted insults from him, how so very childish. the plan is to recreate the concoction of a sauce that you made last night, current sitting in all its glory in the dorm’s kitchen, the same dorm that you’ve conveniently locked yourself out of. he agrees that it’s the most logical solution, seeing that you already know the proportions and just don’t have access to the ingredients, which he can provide his disposal at the restaurant.

he’s surprisingly focused and helpful, even with his provoking comments once in a while, studying your recipe and even making a few samples on the side with additions that he thinks might complement or enhance the flavour palate that you’re going for with your dish. you notice little things that you didn’t before— his tongue pokes out of his mouth when he’s in the zone, he furrows his eyebrows when processing a taste and the way his nose scrunches if it tastes a little odd.

as much as osamu’s existence pisses you off, you can’t deny that he’s good at what he does and completely justified in aiming for the top seat. he’s not arrogant, just extremely sure of himself and his abilities, a quality you wish you had in this competitively and highly individualistic field. what’s the point of someone having your back if you can’t have your own? some days, a little self-assurance goes a long way.

with a few last minute tweaks to your original proportions (courtesy of him), a new bottle of liquid gold sits in the palm of your hand, an even better version of what you had, if it was even possible.

nudging your shoulder with his, he looks over at you with an annoying smirk, “everyone say thank you osamu!”

“tch, shut up.” you roll your eyes, nudging him back with more force, enough to cause him to stumble over his feet as you bite back a laugh.

you eye the clock, there’s still plenty of time before your class begins and as you think about the lunch that you supposed to cook for yourself back at the dorms, your stomach lets out a series of gurgles, your face simultaneously flushing with embarrassment.

wordlessly, osamu begins whipping up something in the kitchen, a fresh fragrance hitting your senses and filling the air. as much as you hate to deny it, your mouth waters in anticipation and you bashfully shuffle behind him to peek at what he’s doing.

he just glances at you over his shoulder and juts his chin out in the direction of the counter seats, “sit down, i’m making you something to eat.”

raising your nose in mock defiance, you scoff, “who said i was staying for lunch?”

he just shoos you away with the wave of his hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes, “just let me make you something that’ll make you say it’s delicious, trust me.”

it’s been a running thing between the two of you since you met in a class and demanded to try his food after his grand declaration of being the top. you’re both prodigies in your own right, and you just wanted to see if the man could deliver as he spoke. don’t get it wrong, his dish was absolutely divine and brought you back to memories of your childhood home and running around in the backyard with dirt covered sandals chasing dragonflies, but you refused to admit that there was someone up to par, barely choking out an unconvincing, “tastes like shit.” before shoving your dish in his face.

it’s no different this time, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the calm and humble atmosphere of onigiri miya, the domesticity of watching him cook in the comfort of his home kitchen, or just how hungry you are, but all it takes is one bite before you start unabashedly scarfing down his delicious creation.

if he’s smug about it he doesn’t show it, choosing to savour the rare peace and quiet of non-bickering, but silently knowing that perhaps he has won this time. wiping the sweat off his brow, he leans against the staff doorway and watches you eat with a soft smile, munching on his own onigiri.

“hey, wanna walk to campus together?”

notes. wyr !! always a pleasure seeing you in my notifs !! ALSO CAN I JUST SAY, THE WAY I INTERNALLY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW YOUR REQUEST !! my mind went straight to food wars and this is heavily inspired by that < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.