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almostheav4n · 4 months

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Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 2

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age) word count: 3,693 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man a/n: lots of fluff in this chapter before it gets real - Joel honestly doesn't seem like a guy who would rush anything so he gets a little push by the reader :p

“He looks like he works with his hands & smells like Marlboro reds…”

The morning light pierces through the flimsy motel curtain as you toss over on the mattress, stuffing your face into the pillows, as you blink away your grogginess.

The sudden pounding at your door is enough to jolt you awake as you realize suddenly it’s Joel, springing up to sit on the bed before checking the time.

“Bout ready to head out?” His voice bellows from outside the door, slower and thicker from his own sleep. You can see the outline of him through the window and it makes you hyper-aware you haven’t washed up in the slightest, quickly giving yourself a smell as you lift your arms.

It’s easy to tumble out of bed, tripping onto the floor, attempting to hurry as you stumble over the sheets, closer to the door, “Um, I um, just need a few minutes, maybe you can get breakfast or somethin’, I dunno, Ill be ready then…”

You huff and puff trying to find your discarded clothes from the night, cursing yourself for not washing them the night before, smelling them, and finding it honestly quite fine, thank god.

“No…” You can hear him thinking. “Ya need’ta eat, I’ll make myself busy, take your time,” He mumbles departing with two knuckle knocks on the door as you watch his figure disappear.

You find yourself surprised by his reaction, half expecting him to get annoyed, maybe rush you at least. You wonder deep down if it’s a trick and you’ll find his truck gone.

The truck remains there, however, spotting it in the lot after a good half hour of scrubbing your teeth clean and taking a hot shower to wipe away any grime left by sleep.

You knock on the only door next to you, finding that Joel isn’t it. Eventually taking it upon yourself to find him.

It’s not hard to spot him, dressed in fresh attire, forgetting he had planned on this trip & packed for it accordingly. His handheld luggage at his side while he talks to a woman, a young woman, probably around your age as they pass a cigarette between them. She laughs at something you can’t hear as she passes it back to him.

You are quite well aware he doesn’t owe you anything, he doesn’t owe you any sense of loyalty, in fact, you feel in debt to him. But the rock in your belly sits hard as you come to understand he is a solid man, a good man. Women will want him, he’ll inevitably attract him and it’s stupid of you to feel jealous as he leans over to talk to her, wishing it was you.

Bitterness is ugly, sits on your tongue quite heavily though, makes your fingers flex as you cough, loudly, a bit too loudly, gaining both their attention as Joel’s back straightens up before turning to you, breathing the bit of smoke left from his nostrils.

“Ready, darlin’?” He adjusts the luggage in his hand, walking over to take the bag in your hands, once used for the new shoes, now used for all your belongings that were shoved in your utility jacket pockets, feeling lighter for the first time in months.

You happily allow him to, nodding up to him in approval as he tosses the girl a farewell before turning back to lead you to the truck, allowing for you to cut your eyes back at her. Watching as she returns a similar annoyed expression.

He opens the door for you before getting in on his side and sliding the bags underneath the seats, starting up the truck with a quick motion.

“Who’s the chick?” You hum, attempting to seem as nonchalant as possible, hoping not to come across any other way.

“Not sure, wanted a smoke, only had one left,” He shrugs, pulling the vehicle out of the lot and onto the road with a few harsh bumps.

You nod, twiddling your thumbs in a circle as you bite your lip back, calculating your response.

“Jealous?”

You don't expect it, your head shooting up to find his eyes already on you, a hidden grin where his hand that’s not on the wheel, scratches at his beard as he raises one brow, teasingly.

“Joel, I’m not…..” You shake your head, unable to stop the tremble that knocks your words apart as you attempt to correct him, “I’m not jealous.” You lie.

“Just teasin is all, don’t waste your time worryin’ now…” He chuckles, Texan accent flowing over like honey, focusing his gaze back on the road, leaving you breathless as you feel you didn’t state your case as clearly as you could've. Feeling found out.

You remind yourself to quit the longing glances, that could've given you away.

You don’t even realize you’re still staring at him, lost in your own thoughts but you think you almost miss it, the quirk of the corner of his mouth, a small tinge of redness coming to his face then settling, a blush.

Eventually, he pulls into a lot of a diner. You’re seated quite quickly, in a booth towards the back, menus handed to you as Joel immediately orders a coffee, you stick with a hot chocolate watching Joel's brow raise at that.

“You like sweets huh?”

“I do…” You nod, gaze focused on the menu before looking up to him, “think it’s cause I’m quite sweet too…”

He smiles a bit then, the first actual smile from him, a quick flash of the teeth before disappearing under his thick beard.

“You are… sweet.” He agrees, calculating his words before focusing his attention on the menu, giving you little time to react to his comment.

“Need you to get real food in your system, understand?” His eyes latch onto yours as you nod, desiring the least to see him upset by your actions.

He sets his eyes back on the menu, “Good girl.”

Good girl.

It’s all you can focus on when the waitress returns to drop off drinks and take orders, the wheels in your head turning over the comment, good girl, good girl, good girl.

It isn’t until Joel says your name, alerting you to look up apologetically, ordering a nice stack of pancakes, something you haven’t had in months, allowing her to take the menus.

The hot chocolate presented stacks high with whipped cream, you scoop up a fluff of it in your index finger, bringing it to your mouth to suck gently, gaining the confidence to speak, “Joel?”

His gaze is stern as he looks out the window, focused on some altercation outside between two men over god knows what, “Yeah?”

“You can kiss me ‘f ya want.” You bring the mug to your lips watching as his eyes cut to you, quickly, watching a gulp go down his throat, maintaining his hard exterior nonetheless.

“That right?” His voice is softer than ever, as if he’s whispering a secret as you nod, taking a sip.

You wondered all night if him putting you in another room was an act of kindness or if he maybe was gay or if he didn’t even necessarily view you as anything but platonic. But you want to make yourself clear. You want him to know of your blossoming feelings.

You set the mug down, feeling the whipped cream along your upper lip, tracing your tongue over the spot to remove it, watching as he sucks in a quick breath.

He’s swift, moving from the booth. For a quick moment, you think you may have scared him off. Instead, he slides in next to you, your body pressed between him and the wall by the booth, his burly arm snaking around your waist to pull you close to his chest, as you release a soft quick gasp before his lips connect with yours, your hands holding to his chest to sturdy yourself as his warm mouth opens onto yours feeling his tongue slip into your mouth, velvety smooth.

You moan, too loudly for the small diner as it's absorbed into his mouth, your eyes closing, allowing him to take the lead as his mouth moves against yours roughly and eagerly as if he hasn’t kissed someone in decades, completely at his will.

It isn’t until the sound of plates scraping against the table gains both of your attention as he breaks away suddenly, leaving a whine to linger at your lips as he turns to the waitress who doesn’t seem to care one bit as Joel releases you.

“I’ll be back, gon’ get some fresh air…” He mumbles before sliding out of the booth, running his hands through his hair before setting his hat on, walking towards the door, and soon exiting.

It would worry you if you couldn’t see him, walking towards a payphone outside and making a call.

You wonder what the hurry was but busy yourself with your pancakes, sopping them up in a ridiculous amount of syrup, before digging in.

You eat slowly watching him argue with someone on the phone, his body language showing clear agitation as you sip your beverage.

Eventually, he comes back soon after, apologizing, “Sorry, forgot to make a call earlier…”

He sighs deeply, tearing into his eggs, the runny yolk bleeding onto the sausage on the plate.

“What was that about?” You hum happily, content, patting your full belly.

“Work.”

“Sure it wasn’t your wife?” You test the waters, never noticing a ring but just in case, to be safe.

“Ain’t got a wife,” he stuffs sausage into his mouth, “Think Im’a type of man to smooch on ya before headin’ home to my old lady?”

“You’re older, Joel. Usually, men like you are married…” You tease, rubbing your foot along his leg under the table

“I'm older huh?” He smirks a bit, raising his brow, bringing his coffee mug to his lips.

“Yeah, you’re an old man Joel…” you lean over, resting your elbows on the table as your hands cup your face in admiration, your foot still knocking against his leg.

“What do you do?” You question, desiring to know him fully.

“Construction… just need to make calls every now’n then to make sure dumbasses don’t fuck up while I’m gone.” He clicks his mouth once more, annoyed it seems by the whole interaction on the phone. You decide to leave it alone

He eats quickly, quite loudly too. It makes you want to laugh, all his Southern charm replaced by a grumbling food monster when eating.

He pays the check after finishing, mentioning the need to get you some clothes as the waitress brings by the change, he leaves a tip on the table.

“You don’t like my clothes?” You gasp, fake offended, understanding what he means.

To be fair you hadn’t shoplifted any clothes recently & the jeans that you wore now full of tears and rips matched the shirt that could give at any moment.

“Ya know I can’t pay you back right?” You remind him, following him out as he holds the door open for you.

“I am very well aware of that, sweetheart.” He chuckles lightly as if it’s the most obvious thing you’ve ever stated.

You’re quick to turn to him though, in the middle of the lot, standing on your tiptoes to get the best angle as you press your lips to his once more, quickly, a peck, a little test of the boundaries to see his reaction.

He returns it once you depart, his hand coming around the back of your neck, his mouth crashing onto yours, hot and hungry, before releasing, taking your hand in his warm and dry, leading you to the truck, following the same routine of scanning the lot, opening your door, before focusing on getting back on the road.

The trip before Joel seems to come crashing down on you, the need for rest, the knowing that Joel is there that reassures your safety.

Understanding you have true protection is enough to have you falling asleep in the seat until the jolt of the brakes has you blinking back the sun that has begun to slip below the horizon, realizing you slept through the day.

“C'mon, sleeping beauty…” Joel jokes lightly, as your passenger's side door opens.

You groan, too loudly and in an extremely un-lady like manner, stretching out your limbs as you smack open a yawn, clearing the sleep from your eyes.

“Did I really sleep that long?” you murmur as Joel wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you out with a surprised squeal as your feet connect with the pavement, a giggle spilling from your lips.

“Sure did…” He helps to straighten you out, pulling your shirt down where it exposes your stomach slightly.

You allow him, feeling pampered as he observes you to make sure you’re put together before giving you a hard nod, approving of his work.

He takes your hand as you finally gain full consciousness, leading you into the building labeled ‘WAL MART’

Passing cars in the lot, you’re able to read ‘New Mexico’ on the license plates as you become aware you’re in a new state. Once in the shopping center, a buggy is presented as Joel turns to you, looking down at you with a familiar hard gaze, and for some reason, you come to understand when he’s wearing this look, he’s serious and means business. His eyes narrowing in and focusing as you know he needs you to listen as you look back up at him, blinking up at him as if he is the only thing that matters in the world.

“You’re gonna go get some clothes and a bag to store 'em in, I need you to fill er up-” referencing the buggy, “I'll be ‘round, getting supplies alright?”

He adjusts his pants, fidgeting on his belt as he looks around and then back to you.

You nod, offering a little salute followed by a ‘yes sir’ and giggle before he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, sending you on your way.

You do indeed, fill’er up with an assortment of clothes, pajamas, bras, underwear, some shorts, skirts, jeans, and an arrangement of tops and you find a duffel bag that could surely hold it all. You also decide to shop for some feminine care items, sniffing at the different body & hair washes for far too long before finally making your way to find him.

After looking down far too many aisles, you find him in the firearm section, talking to the worker who shows him a certain gun. You keep planted where you are, not wishing to interrupt, studying him, admiring him as he purchases it at the counter.

You could've sworn he had one in the truck, saw it in passing. Maybe he just needs another you think, just in case.

“Starin ain’t too friendly baby doll...” He mutters taking control of the grocery cart before pushing it, sliding his basket on top filled with first aid and other basic necessities.

“Just too handsome, can’t help it,” you apologize with a teasing shrug, looping your arm into his as you walk.

He gives you a slight snort before you make it to the checkout stand. His hard hand pushes you back slightly out of the way so he can unload the cart.

You busy yourself as you pick up a nearby magazine off a rack, the corny headline gaining your attention as you flip through it, only for Joel to snatch it from you.

“Hey!” You whine, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he hands it to the cashier who scans it before he hands it back to you, nudging you out of the way a bit more as he throws the bagged items back into the cart.

A certain freedom is found as you skip back to the truck, no worries or cares as Joel hollers at you to slow down, the sun now gone, making it easy for a car to hit you, you realize.

You offer to help pack the bags into the back only for Joel to shoot you a disapproving look, that has you piling into the truck with a quickness.

Eventually, you both are able to make it to a nearby motel. He tells you that you can stay in the car as he pulls up to the lobby of the motel.

You decide against it, opening the door as the car barely rolls to a stop.

“Hey now…” Joel warns, still in the vehicle as he sighs, stressed. Kinda makes your heart beat, his worried reaction.

“You need to wait till I'm in park and I’ll open the door for you… you understand that?” He speaks seriously once he exits the vehicle, his eyes cutting down at you as his hands place on his hips, seemingly exhausted by your antics as you nod, moving closer to him as your feet scrape against the pavement.

Your body collides against his chest as you lean up against him to kiss the scar on his nose before reaching up to grab his hat, setting it on your head instead.

“I got it Joel, but how do I look?” You swiftly change the conversation as he folds his arms over his chest, veins prominent as he flexes lightly.

“You’re as pretty as a peach in June, ‘f I say so myself, now c’mon…” He offers a small smile before reaching his hand out.

You take it, sliding your own against it before taking your other hand to cover the other side of his, keeping a two-handed grip as he leads you into the lobby that plays 60’s music & holds an older dude at the front counter who reads a Playboy magazine.

It takes Joel about a second to place you behind him, before walking up to the counter to greet the guy who speaks in grunts.

“How many rooms yall need?”

“One!” You squeak out, poking out from behind his back before Joel pushes you back behind him.

“Alright, one room, two beds…” Joel mumbles, fishing into his pocket for his wallet as you pout.

“Joel…” you grumble, fingers tracing along his brawny back.

“You ain’t getting me into trouble tonight,” He whispers over his shoulder as you can’t help but break out into a smile. He’s old, probably too tired from the drive, you try to remember to tease him about just that.

“What’d you want to eat?” He asks once you settle into the room, unpacking the Walmart bags, folding your new clothes neatly into the duffel, using the various pockets for other items picked up.

“Not hungry…” You hum lightly, throwing some pajamas on the bed for post-shower wear.

“Darlin’…” You know this tone, his stern one, a warning.

“Joel…” You whine. “I’m used to eating corn nuts every two days, I gotta warm up to eating more food, but I promise I'll eat more.”

You are quick to hurry to press a kiss to his lips where he stands by the door with arms crossed over his chest, an attempt to shut him up before making your way to the bathroom to turn on the shower, avoiding his disappointment.

“Alright, I’ll be back real soon…” He hollers as you hear the door open and close.

Your shower is one of the best ones you can remember. The water hot and the tub not as grimey as others you have come across, but the fact you can wash your hair and scrub every inch of yourself is refreshing. You wish for Joel to know how grateful you are.

Eventually, you slink into your shorts and tank top made for sleeping, flicking on the television to some Western film, before painting your toenails with some red polish picked up earlier.

Joel returns eventually, scolding you for not locking the door behind him as you blow onto your drying nails, apologizing before seeing that he brought back some greasy takeout.

He kicks off his shoes aggressively, exhaustingly, placing some type of chicken nugget and fries on your bed as you roll your eyes slightly but no better than to challenge him, his hard stern telling you to “just eat”.

You do eat it, dipping fries into ketchup, not wanting to refuse him of anything. Laying on your tummy to eat in silence, watching the film that Joel says is one of his favorites as he finishes his food fast and soon finds himself in the shower after the film ends.

You try to stay awake to wish him goodnight, maybe get a goodnight kiss but sleep is heavy on you as you eventually wake up to pure darkness & the bedside clock glowing at 3:09 a.m.

You can’t see him in the room, but you hear his deep snores as you remove yourself from your bed, realizing he must’ve tucked you in as you tear off the sheets. Soft footsteps lead you over to his bed, lifting the covers to slide in.

You hope it won’t disturb him, you hope he’s comfortable with it as you wrap your arm around him, his back pressed to your chest as you kiss him there, once then twice.

He stirs, a light sleeper you discover, grunting as he turns towards you, feeling his beard scrape against your cheek as you squeak, his warm lips connecting to yours, softly, sweetly. You sigh openly into the kiss as your tongue pushes against his, a groan whispering in his throat as you desire more.

However, he’s quick to turn you over, pressing his chest to your back as your body curves to fit into his body, attempting not to pout at the loss of affection but grateful as you find yourself exhausted.

It isn’t difficult to miss the hardness pressed against your bottom as he holds you tightly to him, it makes you coo as you move closer to one another, his face fitting into the crook of your neck as his breath there gives you butterflies & tickles your skin, your thighs clenching as you rest your hand over his on your stomach.

“Night, Joel.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou #the last of us #joel miller fic #if you find a grammatical error... no you didn't #this is also all i got so far for the 2 people interested #thank u i love u

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withdenim · 6 months

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I think it’s time I introduce my doomed ancient yuri to the ninjago fandom. I’ll leave the story under the cut if anyone wants to read it 💜 it includes my Wojira backstory and why I draw Nyad as oni

Wojira is the younger, less powerful sister of firstbourne, I think. Wojira and Firstbourne we’re both chill with Oni, but Firstbourne was more Reserved about it . Like, she didn’t enforce weird rules or anything but she also . Didn’t stop her kids from being really awful.

Wojira spent more time with Oni than other Dragons. Even her kids (wind and water Dragons) were sort of weird about it. She didn’t really like the sort of power hoarding attitude of the other Dragons and decided to teach them a lesson about it.

When the first master was born she realized that Oni blood COULD bear elemental magic, and she took in two Oni kids (Nyad and her brother who I made up and haven’t named yet lmao) and gave them wind and water (separately) magic. And the other Dragons were VERY mad about this. They thought it was disgraceful.

They tried to get Firstbourne to banish her . Firstbourne refused and so her kids just all worked together to banish her instead. And sort of gave her a fucked up cursed eternal headache (in the amulets) Whoops . Nyad and her brother followed Wojira into the realm of Ninjago and tried to ease her pain for years but eventually it just sort of broke her mind and she started laying absolute waste to everything.

The FSM goes through his whole story (still figuring out details of it in my headcanons) and comes to Ninjago, desperate for a new home. And Nyad and her brother (I really need to name them DIFNDKFM) are scared of him at first. But he shows them his elemental magic and they realize he’s like them (Oni with elemental magic). And they bond over that and tell him about Wojira. The first master decides to help Nyad convince the Merlopians and Islanders to resist Wojira and hopefully bring peace to the realm.

Over several months they become good friends, and they often calm Nyad’s brother by making beautiful little worlds out of their elemental magic for him. And the FSM promises that one day Ninjago will be safe like these worlds, and they’ll all be able to live there.

And these very very lonely people have made a little family.

Of course, the Oni hunters are sent to track down the FSM, and Mystaké is the first to find them. She announces herself and demands the first master return with her. He begs to stay just long enough to make this world safe for the people there, and she reluctantly agrees when they show her the safe world they’re planning to build. It looks beautiful.

Mystaké joins their efforts, hoping to speed along the process of the first master’s return to the first realm, but she finds herself amazed by their magic and (worse) deeply fond of the little trio. She falls in love with Nyad, and starts letting herself indulge in their hopeful fantasies of a safe world where no one will find them. In this time, Nyad gives the FSM a name of his own to use when they have their safer world. Hajime.

When the preparations are as ready as they’ll ever be, the Battle of Nine Days begins. On the eighth day, Nyad’s little brother (who wasn’t even fighting) is struck near-fatally, and Nyad launches a risky attack to try and end the battle once and for all. It’s unsuccessful, but she realizes Wojira’s weak spot. Like in canon, she merges with the sea, desperate to give the others a chance at the world they’d all hoped for, and hoping that her brother could be saved if the battle ended and he could get proper help.

She knows she should kill Wojira, but she can’t bring herself to. And instead of killing her she decides to take the amulets, and send Wojira into a deep, painless sleep, hopefully eternal.

Hajime is devastated by Nyad’s death, and though Mystaké grieves her as well, she’s a lot more accustomed to death, and watches her go, surprised by the ache in her heart.

The brother lives, but passes on his element very soon after the events of the battle, sick of it’s consequence. Hajime builds the new world and appoints new masters, though he doesn’t know where the water and wind elements went (not his domain). Mystaké never even brings up the idea of taking Hajime back to the first realm again, and protects him from other hunters when she can. Hajime lives a long long time before choosing to pass on and find peace for himself. Mystake lives another thousand years, farming strange enchanted teas, occasionally a companion to Wu and Garmadon.

In Hunted, she confides in Lloyd that if or when she dies, she would like to be sunk into the sea where the battle took place (not that she tells him the story. Just the location), and Lloyd thinks it’s just some weird senile old lady talk. But when she does die at the hands of his father and the Sons of Garmadon in Hunted, Lloyd doesn’t get a chance to row her out until after March of the Oni.

She liked Lloyd. He was a lot like Hajime.

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takethelx3 · 2 days

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WIP ALERT! WIP ALERT!

#me and my growing pile of wips .... but what's the issue if I add another?#i have a lot of timkons and timberns and timberkons and the people are #making me want to add timlonnie to the mix #I'm so thirsty for this twink (robin) I just have to draw him kissing until I calm down :(#also tim is wearing a t-shirt that says 'band' bc he is a skaterboy I said c u l8r boy :'(#anyway #wip #art #sketch #digital art #fanart #watercolour #timkon #tim drake #tim drake wayne #kon #kon el #kon el kent #conner kent #i dread to think of the hyphenations if they got married #superboy #red robin #anyway I love tim every song I ever wrote is about tim now even if before it wasn't about him #me at my streams: i love damian wayne haha I'm going to do my damian impression now #me on my tumblr: if tim is not kissing someone on my dash today I WILL scream #also if you read this far in uhhhh hi do you want to see more wips #?

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cherrirui-official · 10 months

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Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 2/7)

PART 2 BAYBEE WAHOOO!! Three more gijinka designs comin right up!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there’s gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I’ll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) This also contains a small amount of blood on one of the images!!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that’s pretty much it, designs under the cut!

JOE:

The reason Joe dislikes most bird pokemon such as fletchling is because they're always stealing and pecking at the olives he... or well more specifically his company grows.

Speaking of which, they own a large plot of land which is used specifically to grow olive trees, which of course are used to make the olive oil he sells. What? Did you think that the olives come from Joe themselves? Of course not silly, welcome to capitalism.

That being said, Joe DOES know how to garden. When they first started their olive oil company they had to grow their own olive trees. Nowadays, in their spare time, they'll sometimes be found tending to the olive trees in their company's garden.

His crown is personally tailored for Joe and Joe ONLY. Crafted with the shiniest gold and the richest olives, all fit for a king! Somehow it never falls of his head. (Fun fact: the points are made to look like olive oil bottles)

Joe needs glasses but usually wears contacts when in public. Not that they look bad with glasses, it's just a personal choice.

Joe LOVES being involved in... well, anything! As long as it's not weird or sexual or illegal (that last one counts UNLESS it involves scamming others into buying his oil products), he is more than happy to invite himself into whatever is going on around him. What are you going to do? Stop him? Oh please!

HANNAH Ü:

At the start of her career, she would spend her days doing her own one-man (or.. well... woman) shows at subway stations, telling stories and entertaining other pokemon and people alike while they waited for the next train to arrive.

Her hat and cape are made entirely of salt! She is able to transform her cape and hat into different shapes and usually used this ability of hers to make stuff such as accessories, hats, and props that fit the role she's donning at the time.

Hannah LOVES collecting stickers and often wears them proudly on her body (in her poke form ofc ofc). However, she usually has to get someone else to stick them onto her bc of her lack of actual hands.

Some of her improv roles are inspired by the people she meets while others are inspired by pieces of media she's interested in at the moment.

Will ABSOLUTELY learn a new language if she needs to for a role. Duolingo speedrun world record

MYKYIE:

As stated previously, Mykyie used to be a circus performer before he quit to pursue his dreams. His most popular act involved him spinning plates on a stick while standing on a ball.

^^^ Because of this, he also has really, REALLY good balance.

Mykyie always keeps his Miku glowsticks on him, even when not attending any of her concerts.

"Anger Point" is basically an uncontrollable form of last resort whenever Mykyie is close to death but can still fight, it usually leads to him attacking whoever or whatever caused him great harm (In the instance of Lark, it was when he crit Mykyie and the ladder's health was extremely low.)

The Miku tattoo on Mykyie's arm was designed by Mykyie himself! However, it was drawn on him by an anonymous underground artist who went by many names to hide his true identity. The name that the artist went by at the time Mykyie got his tattoo was "Cl@ir33"

The cuffs and cape that he wears are... well, WERE, red. An unknown force seems to be slowly turning them into a shade of blue.

And that's all the HCs for now! Next Gijinka batch will consist of GrAce, Braidy, and Christene's

Also here's the posterless version of Joe's Gijinka bio before I go

#So far out of all the drawings I did for each Gijinka. Joe's has taken the most time #can u guess why?#It wasn't supposed to have the posters originally but I had that thought while working on Hannah and Mykyie's drawings #and I thought that would be hilarious if I went through with it so now we're here #Gee Joe! How come you get TWO versions of your gijinka bio?#Joe originally wasnt gonna have glasses but then the edited vids came out and his design in those vids has him w glasses #and so I wanted to see what my design looked like with glasses and oh... oh!! They look very handsome with them #My version of Joe gets glasses... as a treat!#it doesnt show their gijinka design with glasses here but maybe if someone asks ill draw him w glasses #Also Mykyie finally got a redesign LETS GOOOOOOOOO!!!#Personally I love how his hair turned out it reminds me of marble desserts and now im hungry :[#And Hannah has only rlly appeared in one discord doodle and the rlly epic funeral home drawing I made that I still think to this day slaps!#a knee ways TAGS!!!#friendlocke #friendlocke violet #violet gijinka au #saltydkdan #cherris canvas #cw light blood #tw light blood

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mokutone · 1 year

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your art makes me wanna start testosterone

i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!

i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.

i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)

It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!

It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.

it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.

having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).

i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.

how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)

when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)

it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"

I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.

(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)

(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)

#yamswers #anonymous #dysphoria discussion #q slur — only because i literally use it in the noun form most associated w/ dehumanization #i love that u asked this on a tuesday. thank u for asking this on a tuesday #happy testosterone tuesday to all who celebrate #i also got top surgery a while ago—which is responsible for about 50% of my average suicidal idealizations vanishing #because my chest was my second biggest site of dysphoria after my voice #it was far less painful than i dared imagine. and far more satisfying. i had an excellent and lucky recovery #my results aren't perfect but oh man. the joy of being able to press my hand (flat) to my chest (flat).#the way that a binder mimics the exact squeeze around my lungs that a panic attack stimulates—#not feeling that when i'm out in public? thank you modern medicine. thank you. oh my god. no more false flag panic attacks #i had to fight my insurance for two years and all the health providers i contacted told me the hoops i was being made to jump through #seemed utterly ridiculous. and it was still gobs of money but i got it. so grateful u cannot even imagine #a lot of people describe their feelings post op as “relief—finally i could see myself”#but i experience...more delight than relief. joy. is joy the absence of pain or the presence of happiness? can i tell the difference?#on my worst days i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on

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