#they would HATE to do a structured activity.

[dragonomatopoeia]

< guy who had to stop being an english instructor because the cruelties of usamerican academia crushed them into paste and they weren't allowed to help or support students in any meaningful way. lest they be fired from their position that paid less than a living wage

[figofswords]

sorry for not posting art on my art account lately it’s just nothing has been Working

[jewish-sideblog]

There’s a simple reason, of course, why we’re seeing so many otherwise privileged Queer atheists and anti-theists engaging in ideological evangelical conservatism. It’s because they were only ever interested in shaking off the aspects of Christian hegemony and white supremacy that negatively impacted them.

Western society is rapidly becoming far more accepting of Queer people and atheists, and the only real pushback against that acceptance is coming from conservative Christian communities. So what do you do to maximize your social standing as an otherwise privileged Queer person? You cut ties with conservative Christianity, but only expel from your own worldview what is personally hateful to you. Cut out the homophobia, but continue to otherwise profit from a Christian society based on a Christian culture that perpetuates Christian moral structures, practices, and values.

The reason we see so many Queer culturally Christian atheists fail to deconstruct Christian world views is because they’re actively benefiting from the structures of Christian privilege. They’ve already exorcised the parts of the ideology that were harming them. Why would they want to destroy the social structures that nearly perfectly reward them?

Antisemitism, purity politics, moral superiority and righteousness all actively improve their standing in society. They aren’t going away any time soon, they just needed to be rebranded in order to incur maximum effectiveness for themselves.

[romancerepulsed]

aspec people and aphobes alike will often say something along the lines of "aspec people dont do anything." for the aphobe, this is followed by "so why the hell would you guys be oppressed?" for the aspec, "so why do people hate us so much?"

what both parties are missing here is that inaction is often radical. in the usa and similarly white supremecist countries, the culture requires you to carry out certain behaviors. when an individual doesnt perform these acts, it is seen as selfish, deviant, or uncivilized.

all bodies (with very few exceptions) grow hair. when a woman does not shave her body hair, she is not carrying out an action. she is inactive. still, she will be socially doomed for it. she will be deemed unsanitary, unladylike, and strange. the womans inaction resulted in social derision due to the capitalist patriarchal structure she lives under.

in an allonormative society, romantic/sexual inaction is social damnation as well. our society (usa and similar) is structured around the ideal of the nuclear family, around marriage, around pairing. married people enjoy benefits that single people do not. couples are much better equipped to have a roof over their heads. virgins and celibates are endlessly mocked. single people are always seen as being in a temporary state of singleness ("you'll find the right person one day!").

fascists don't demand inactivity. they demand activity that they approve of.

[marvelfanfics1]

I just fell. I know a random start but when I was playing outside I fell and hurt my knee and it bleeded 😥 maybe you can do the same with daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter (Tom Peter) where the reader fell and it bleeded so her dada Steve toke care of it and put a cute little unicorn plaster (I'm not sure how it calls bc English is not my native Language) and she is still crying when they got out of the bathroom and daddy Bucky but her in his lap and hug her and little petie comes to the reader and put a kiss on the hurting knee and says "that makes u feel bwtter"

🩹<---- I mean this thing

Kisses make it better

(GIFs not mine)

The Super Soldiers Little Angels au

Pairing: daddy!stucky x little!reader x little!Peter

Warnings: Age Regression, hurt knee, mentions of blood, fluff, comfort

A/n: Hey guys 🤗 I'm really sorry for the lack of fics, I had a writersblock and have been struggling with family drama (ya know the usual 🤙🏻) anyway, I hope I overcame it now and can spoil you with fics again 💜

                                   ⭒𖥸⭒

It was a beautiful day outside so Steve and Bucky decided to take you and Peter to the compound so you could play outside with other littles from the Avengers group.

At the compound were so many fun things to do and with how much space they have you can find activities literally everywhere.

Now you were running around a play structure with Kate while Peter was chasing you both. It was all fun and games until you tripped over your own foot and fell on the rubber ground that was around the structure.

It all happened so quickly that it took you a few seconds to now feel the pain that was coming from your knees, tears already blurring your vision before you could even take a look at it.

Peter was a second later beside you, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong when he saw your bruised knees and quickly jumped into action.

"I go get daddies!" he said and rushed off to where all the caregivers were sitting and talking.

Meanwhile, poor Kate was trying as hard as she could to comfort you, Peter would most definitely almost suffocate you in a hug, Kate only rubbed your back, assuring you that Peter will be back soon with your daddies and it did comfort you in a way.

Soon enough you saw Peter coming back with Steve jogging after him and he quickly knelt beside you.

"Shh, it's okay, Angel. Dada's here." he grimaced a little when he saw your bloody knees. Your little sobs broke his heart, he and Bucky hate seeing either of their littles in pain, and in a quick motion, he picked you up and carried you inside to the nearest bathroom.

"Dada hurts." you cried while Steve was looking for some bandaids and something to clean the wounds.

"I know, sweetheart." he kissed your forehead. "I promise it will be better soon."

You kept crying silently, wincing when he touches a sore spot with the alcohol pad. When all the blood was wiped off he grabbed a colorful unicorn bandaid and put one on each knee, hoping to cheer you up a little but you were still sobbing a little.

"Let's go see what daddy's doing." he offered you a smile and you nod, raising your arms for him to pick you up which he happily did.

Your crying ceased to little sobs and hiccups while Steve carried you to where he was before Peter came in running and frantically pointing outside. There you saw Peter who was leaning with his back against Bucky's shoulder and playing on his switch but he quickly turned it off when he saw you.

"Our poor doll." Bucky cooed and you started to make grabby hands for him.

Steve handed you over to him and you got comfortable on his lap with your back against his chest and him wrapping his arms around you to make you feel secure and safe.

Peter frowned a little, seeing how some tears kept falling from your eyes. He got up from his spot beside his daddy to kneel before you both. First, you were confused, tilting your head to the side. He then leaned forward to kiss each of your knees carefully.

"Dis will make you feel better!" he smiled and you wiped the remained tears away, smiling back at him.

"Fank you, Petie."

He got back on his spot and took one of your hands caressing the back of it with his thumb, making your daddies hearts almost explode from the cuteness.

                                   ⭒𖥸⭒

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

Stucky masterlist:

@almostcontentcreator @stuckysgirl27

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

[seat-safety-switch]

Rust is my most hated nemesis. I have stared more than once into the crumbling mess of red death that was, long ago, a pristine steel panel. Many evenings have been spent cutting out rust, only to find more rust, and cutting out that rust only to find yet more rust. Everything on my car is actively trying to return to the earth, but I won't let it.

Maybe you're lucky enough to only own new cars, or so absolutely fortunate that you live somewhere that cars don't rust even when they get scratched. If that's the case, you can pretend that the rest of this story is actually talking about croissants. Croissants are delicious, rich, and buttery, and I'd probably have learned how to make them myself if I didn't spend what my Daytimer® estimates is three-quarters of my waking life fixing body and structural rust on my harem of shitbox cars.

For years, car folks have been lured by a series of snake-oil paints, oils, dyes, dips, and other formulations that promise to help prevent rust. Virtually all of them are horseshit: elaborate scams produced by an industry that knows they have a desperate customer, just like parachute companies. The most effective rust prevention is to hose your car down with lanolin, which is a sort of wax you make by crushing up sheep. It works well, but the trick is doing it every year, forever, perfectly, until you miss a spot and your car disintegrates at highway speed, like a sand castle being hit by an errant volleyball.

If you talk to someone rich, they propose simply driving a bad car in the winter, and keeping your good cars cooped up. This is impossible for me: not only do I have exclusively what the rich would call "bad" cars, but I feel shrieking agony every time I am destroying any vehicle at all through my carelessness and malice. That is, of course, unless I am racing the car, in which case it is understood by all involved that dying in battle is the most noble way for the car to ascend to Valhalla. There is no honour in scrapping a car because the rear subframe prolapsed on your way to work, so I enter my most precarious vehicles in ice racing in order to give them a good end-of-life experience.

Unfortunately, it turns out that the gaping rust holes reducing the weight of the chassis, and my devil-may-care attitude bumping rivals off the lake in fact is the secret formula to produce winning race cars. Now, I'm not as rich as your Inoues or your Sennas, but the $50 gift certificates to the local tire place really add up. I hear they've got anti-rust underbody spray, which seems like a good thing to do to whatever chunks of cars I can frantically weld together this summer in the few weeks before the leaves turn again. The cycle of life.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

[drdemonprince]

I am feeling very conflicted because I want to do more activism but I live in a very isolated area, and the one organization that works here that I even remotely align with politically has had some issues with the people it's supposed to serve (immigrants in this case) complaining that it doesn't provide many services needed and some people in it are dicks. Also, the options they have to collaborate are very much not autistic friendly. At the same time, I hate the thought of sitting back and doing nothing -beyond what I already do, which is limited to people I know- because the option to do something is not perfect. What would you recommend?

It sounds as though the organization you are looking at is a nonprofit that provides social services. I would not consider working with such an organization to be activism, usually. They will present volunteering your time with them as "activism," but it's really just free labor, somewhere on the spectrum between being charitable with your time and labor exploitation.

There is very little that most nonprofits do to advance any kind of social or political change of any kind. For the most part, nonprofits function to maintain their own operations, with a side hustle of dispensing very limited resources to marginalized people who will remain just as marginalized afterward.

More on this:

If you'd like to be involved more in your community in a way that feels meaningful and that works with your disability, I would encourage you to think far more broadly than merely joining an existing easily-findable organization. That kind of search will tend to skew toward liberal, nonprofit-led, politically toothless efforts. Instead, think of what you can do to make greater contact with the people in your area who are marginalized and share struggles with you.

Can you give homeless people meals in the park and ask them how they're doing? Can you get involved in your local parks or nature reserves? (there if you're volunteering your time, at least it can be for something enriching and beneficial). Is there a local Food Not Bombs chapter? A local Muslim community center that could use safety marshalls? A local abortion clinic that could use the same? Do you have neighbors who are single parents and need childcare help? Dogsitting? Does the senior down the street need their lawn mowed?

Is there a local Facebook group where you can offer help to people in your community in need? Start saying hello to people. Asking them about their day. Asking about what's going on in the neighborhood. What needs done, who needs help, what problems are plaguing the area that nobody is doing anything about? Are there any local businesses that are discriminatory and need to be taken to account publicly? Are there forests you can help protect from deforestation with tree spiking? Is there a jail near you where you can provide jail support, handing out food and clothes and water and letting released prisoners make phone calls?

Some of this stuff might not seem like activism in the most obvious, in-your-face, picket-signs-and-banners-in-the-streets sense. But it's a lot more impactful than a lot of that is on its own. It's community building. I'd also recommend reading some stuff on the Anarchist Library website about building one's own affinity groups. You don't need a big formal organization to make a difference -- in fact, for many structural and economic reasons, it can be harder to make a difference within a large group that faces public exposure and the risk of legal censure. A few new homies in your town who care as much as you do can do a whole lot of good.

Some reading:

[lets-try-some-writing]

How would the first meeting between the Autobots and the humans have gone? With their more alien and most likely more imposing forms (due to their Cybertronian vehicle modes) I assume the government agents / military personnel sent to investigate were rightfully afraid. (Personally I think seeing 15-30 foot robots with optics that pierce through the presumably kicked up dust would be a little scary) Perhaps they would’ve spoken in a mix of Cybertronian and English? Would they have simply stared and watched, like in your Grim Dark Archives AU? I dunno it’s just something I thought would be interesting, but I already sent you a few requests, so feel free to delete this one. (To clarify this is a request for a longer writing post)

I have thought about this probably more than I should have. Writing The Grim Dark Archives gave me ideas for this ask, hence my IMPOSSIBLY slow response. Annnnnnyway, here you go!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Autobots had plenty of time to prepare for their inevitable interactions with humanity during their journey. At the time the team consisted of Ratchet, Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. As such, they were too few in number to go for any real intimidation tactic, not that they would have gone that route anyway. There was no choice but for them to learn to communicate.

But of course, due to the HIGHLY varying methods of human communication across Earth, it was decided that each of the team would specialize in different methods of communication to ensure that at least someone could talk. Ratchet went the technological way and learned how to communicate in human morse code, the various computer coding languages, and digital texting. He hated every single moment of having to figure it all out, but at least he wasn't Bulkhead. Poor Bulkhead was tasked with learning the more physical methods of communication just in case things went south. He spent hours upon hours watching traditional dances and physical activities from around the world meant to express certain intentions. Let it be said that he is not a good dancer.

Bumblebee of course went down the route of non verbal communication for obvious reasons. He learned all the various sign languages available, practiced miming, learned various whistles, and familiarized himself with music in order to create ambiance as needed. Some species worked differently after all. Optimus for his part actually learned the spoken languages of Earth. Being a former archivist made the process far easier than it otherwise would have been, but he still spent a ridiculous amount of time practicing to get it right. With all of this having been done, when the team finally arrived on Earth, they felt they were ready.

They were incredibly wrong in their assumption.

They spent a handful of weeks undercover, but a few too many security cameras ended up getting them caught. Soon enough they were confronted with quite a few armed vehicles surrounding them and what had to be around a hundred soldiers with weapons raised. The team had learned what surrender looked like and so raised their servos up to show they passivity. That action seemed to give the gathered soldiers pause, and not too long later, a speaker was sent before them.

"I am Agent Fowler from the Department of Defense. What are you and what are you doing here?"

"We are Autobots. We come from the stars."

"You are aliens?"

"Affirmative. We arrived in a spaceship."

"A spaceship?"

"Affirmative. We came to find our bullies."

"Your... *wheeze* bullies?"

"Is that the incorrect term? We seek our... brothers?"

"Right, you came here to find someone. What do you plan on doing here while you hunt them down? Are you planning on blowing anything up?"

"Negative. Combustion of native structures and lifeforms is not on our wishlist."

"Wishlist?"

"Affirmative? Is that not how the term is used? I apologize."

"No no its fine. Let's talk this out."

Optimus did his very best to get the point across, but due to the many similar words in the English language, his ability to use words in context was rather limited. It also did not help that he spoke as though every single word was coming from a script, which unknown to Agent Fowler, he absolutely was reading from his translation program. He was disturbing and hilarious to speak to and Agent Fowler had to step aside and laugh more than once before going back over to the bots to continue talking in a secure facility. But this was noticed rather quickly, and so eventually the team swapped tactics. Optimus stood quietly and stared to try and figure out how to adjust his speech patterns while the rest of the team worked in tandem to communicate differently.

Fowler was not pleased when he had to fetch a technician to try and translate what Ratchet was typing up, which largely amounted to very very complex code going into the extreme details of their situation. Ratchet almost flipped a table when the technician gave up two lines of code in. The medic was not at all happy to have to think about learning the native language. At least with code he could fudge it a bit. But if the squishies couldn't even read the most "basic" of code strings, he was doomed. Bulkhead didn't fare much better in his attempts to dance in various American styles to show how the Autobots were trying to be friendly. His moonwalk was the only thing he was able to do right and all it did was leave the entire collection of human personnel laughing themselves half to death. Humiliated, Bulkhead made way for Bumblebee who managed to convey more vital information through sign language. He got across about as much as Optimus did, but finally there was some sort of answer for the humans present.

Then of course, there was the mess that way asking for names.

"The military will decide what we are going to do with you, but for now you all can stay here. Do you have any names to do with your files?"

"Affirmative. Our names are not pronounceable in your language, but they can be translated."

"Well lay it on me."

"This is Bumbling Bee. Or perhaps Honey Bee? Striped insect? I am afraid I do not have a proper translation."

"Bumblebee it is. What's next? Cargo lift?"

"Negative. This is Dividing Wall."

"Dividing... wall."

"I believe that is the most direct translation. A close synonym would be Bulkhead."

"Right... who is the red one then?"

"My companion is named after a tool on our homeworld. I do not believe you have the exact same tool here. The closest object I could find was the tool you call a ratchet."

"So his name is Ratchet?"

"It is close enough. Is "he" the correct referral for us on your world?"

"You look more masculine, so unless you want to be a she-"

"No, your masculine referral is sufficient."

"What is your name then big guy?"

"I am... Best First? I believe that is the most direct translation of my designation."

"Best First? You must have quite the ego."

"I did not choose my designation, it was given upon my rise to my station. However as my designation seems to be offensive, I will attempt an another translation."

"Wait-"

"Optimus Prime is sufficient. That is the designation by which I believe I can be referred to."

"Alright then. This is going to be a headache."

The Autobots were kept in a facility until the military questioned them more and understood their intentions. But there were more than a few miscommunications and both Ratchet and Bulkhead lamented the many hours spent learning what they now knew to be a useless form of communication.

[charliemwrites]

That period comfort ghost ask made me think........... Dacryphiliac!Simon.............

Obviously won't get sexual if you're actually anguished (breaks his heart to hear you're genuinely sad) but after so long without any type of sexual activities (I hc you actually don't even masturbate for a long time cause there's cameras EVERYWHERE and you obviously don't want your kidnapper seeing you do that???) you get so easily overstimulated. First time you take his dick tears spring to your eyes immediately from the stretch, knee-jerk involuntary reaction, and he obviously pauses to make sure you're a-ok and nothing's happening against your will. When you sniff, hiccup, and demand he stops fuckin around and fucks you already??? Your face all puffy and your undereyes all wet and shiny and your voice a little warbly???? He's so hard he's a little lightheaded, all of his blood in the wrong head

THIS THIS THIS.

You crying all the time when he first got you, begging and pleading and curled into a ball? He hates it, would bring you the moon to make you feel better.

But you, sniffling and whimpering as he makes you come AGAIN on his fingers, prepping you for his cock? That nearly makes him cum in his pants like a teenager. He adores seeing your pretty face covered in tears, sobbing a bit when he hits that spot inside you. Likes that he’s making you feel so good that your brain is just overloaded.

It becomes a Thing in short order. A sad part in a movie? Trouble with some sort of craft? Bad book ending? If you’re getting teary, he’s testing the structural integrity of his underwear.

[centrally-unplanned]

Though in the effort of balance, I too hate the "STEM uber alles" educational drumbeat not because STEMcels lack the effette wisdom of the liberal arts (obvious bullshit, most liberal arts majors also lack said wisdom and STEM people read books too, education doesn't work that way). I hate it because its just bad advice - low performing STEM majors do worse on the job market than average liberal arts majors, and most "STEM" programs actively weed out students via early feeder courses because many students aren't going to cut it and are better off in different majors. With a few very tiny exceptions college is a great choice regardless of major, if you graduate the large, large majority will do fine. (Not graduating is a serious issue in the US, dramatically so - but I promise you pushing more students into STEM is not going to reduce your fail rates).

To add two caveats, I am down for marginal changes, wanna boost engineers by 5% yeah probably a win, whatever. I don't think that is what most people are saying though - to be specific, the reason you would want 5% more engineers is because they tend to have more spillover effects that aren't captured in their salaries, they don't personally benefit and business majors do pretty much just as well as them, but society might. But that is a bit of an opposite claim than the default one imo.

The second one is that there are big picture "structural" issues that can change these dynamics. Lets take my favorite punching bag of US medicine - in the US education system the "weeding" courses for being a doctor have no connection to the practice of doctoring. The traditional one is organic chemistry, an intensely difficult course involving primarily memorization but also extensive logic applications that burns out huge percentages of the class, and also is a skillset unused by 95%+ of doctors. It virtually never comes up in anything but the most trivial ways, it is only an arbitrary IQ test. The reality of course is that being the median doctor is not that hard (tail end doctoring and certain specialties can get different) the way say programming is. Many more people could be doctors. We just don't let them be doctors in order to ensure doctors can artificially boost their wages via cartelization. So if you changed the laws/practices then suddenly oh yeah we should be pushing more people in the other M of STEM, but until the reforms it makes no sense to do that.

[learnthebreakdown]

I made this post about how moved I am yr addressed racism with Felice/Simon. It prompted me ponder issues about this fandom (starting how the nonwhite characters are treated in this fandom, and if people would sympathize with Wille as much if he was black instead of white, for example. But then it spiraled into other things as well) I've never had the courage to post about before, but yr gave me courage lmao (putting a disclaimer that I don't hate any of the characters as people...actually I adore most of them...except August). This season showed how ingrained racism is, it exists in so many "invisible" ways, where people can act as if it's not real since it makes them uncomfortable to deal with their own hidden biases, or worse, because they think their biases are actually justified. I've seen some mentions about how the audience of this show reflects the exact prejudices the show claims to criticize.

There's a notable pattern where even minor rich kid characters receive disproportionate sympathy/recognition and others face unwarranted criticism, reflecting societal biases and how we are conditioned. While tumblr has been better this season especially with time, tumblr (and esp other social media) sites often have much more sympathy for Wille over Simon, for example. Simon across sites gets a lot of undue downright vile comments from the fandom, or is just disregarded more. Part of this could be because Wille is the main character, and Simon's perspective was not shown super well in season 2, but Simon/Omar often get a lot of comments that aren't unsimilar to the racist and vile comments we saw Simon get in the show. It made me wonder- if Wille had not been white, if he had been black, would people still have found as much sympathy for him during his angry outbursts? How strange that many people seem to find sympathy for Wille and even August, but not for Simon, even though if we are being realistic...Simon is an equally complex character that has not done many bad things? How interesting that people barely discuss Felice's storyline, but there are people that gag over the rich white kids, stederika and henry/walter (especially after Felice's storyline this season, and when we have Rosh as a canon sapphic lower class girl). How wild that the girls' storylines- Felice and Sara's- are disregarded? People often act like Wille and Simon have gotten the same amount of hate, but if you've been in this fandom long enough and seen the overall situation, I think people know that Wille is favored over Simon overall, and the hate/disregard they get is not equivalent, especially considering Simon is the second lead.

I'm not saying all of this is due to prejudice, or that everyone who has ever done these things is an awful person, it's more just an observation that if we are honest with ourselves, hidden biases certainly play a role in ALL of our thoughts/behaviors. Even for those who may not actively engage in it, do we enable it? And with a show like Young Royals that is attempting to (not always succeeding, but an attempt was made this season) to critique these social structures of racism and classism, wouldn't it be nice if, as we go into this final episode, we look inwards and see what biases we may carry that affect our perception of this show, and more importantly, real life? Life imitates art, after all.

[waokevale]

Looks at you with my eyes sitting in front of you like I'm interrogating you (but it's actually a really nice cozy room). I have heard tale of this WXwood ship. Tell me what you find compelling about the ship I'm considering joining you in WXwood land. Literally just say words at me I'm listening

Alright, very well then, so I shall! 🫡

At first, it was kind of an ironic ship for me, because they seemed like the classic "opposites attract"

But once I got digging, I found they're not actually that opposite, they share plenty of things in common and neither is actually a black or white character. Inevitably I became enthralled with this ship and now it's one of my top 3 or so OTPs.

Here's my reasoning and what I found:

1. WX-78 is actually a bit of a softie if you dig through their quotes enough. They act tough and logical to presumably hide whatever ounce of empathy they have left, that didn't escape them completely. (But they're not doing too good of a job)

Etc. They either use this uncharacteristically soft tone or hide a kind gesture or well-intentioned thought behind robotically constructed sentences and insults.

And of course, I don't have to show the quotes for machines or metallic structures, since WX openly sees them as their family and acts basically the same as Wormwood does with plants.

Meanwhile, Wormwood isn't always an empathetic creature. He can sometimes be callous, apathetic and even have favorites amongst plants (and people too), though he doesn't directly state that. He also isn't as dumb as he portrays himself to be, he definitely knows something, but either has too limited English speaking skills or is actively choosing not to say much.

He often sobs or cries when a creature dies, but there are times he reacts with either "whoops", "oh" or "too bad" like it's a small inconvenience at best.

And those are only some of the examples (I can't show them all since I'm answering this on my phone and therefore there's an image limit)

2. Here's a reason why, despite being vastly different at first, they'd ultimately become friends:

WX-78 actually likes plenty of things that correspond to Wormwood, it's likely for them to eventually settle, once they know enough about him.

And what are those things they like, you might ask?

Bees (going back to their previous quote) since WX is frankly enamored by bees, and since Wormwood blooms, there's countless of them surrounding him. if they were to hang around him, they'd hang around bees too. 👌

Their quote for green gem is: "PRESSURE AND IMPURITIES HAVE PRODUCED PLEASING PERFECTION" which is. well. Something.

They're very fond of pumpkins, describing them as: "IT HAS A PLEASANT SHAPE" while their seed as "IT IS A SOURCE CODE FOR PLEASING PLANTS" And guess who just happens to have a pumpkin skin ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

The lunar affinity. WX practically WORSHIPS the moon, it wouldn't be surprising that, if they found about this aspect about him, they'd get very excited and embrace it, because c'mon, it's the moon. They have dozens of quotes describing how THE MOON IS SUPERIOR, I wouldn't be able to fit all of them into this post, just trust me on that.

WX-78 doesn't hate all organic life, besides they're just playing out a role. But they do certainly appreciate some plants, such as potatoes and lureplants. The former because they can relate to them (potato battery) and the latter because "AWW, IT'S JUST AS EVIL AS I AM". Would it be too farfetched if with his influence they'd grow to appreciate organic life more?

3. Wormwood's quote for W.A.R.B.I.S armor suggests that he admires WX and would like to mimic them. (Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery after all)

4. The survivors farming animation is quite charming, I certainly loved their small interaction there. They're also shown in the official Return Of Them vignette, farming on the side.

5. I like the fact that one of them is afraid of water and the other of fire. Adds an interesting dynamic.

6. They just work. Despite wanting to "DOMINATE ALL ORGANIC LIFE" WX-78 appreciates people who can stand up for themselves. I'd guess Wormwood would be a huge pushover at first, no doubt, but with their influence, he would certainly have to grow a spine (metaphorically speaking)

Likewise, WX-78 struggles to show kindness to non-robotic creatures, because they fear they might come off as WEAK and SENTIMENTAL. Things they loathe to expose about themself. Wormwood could help them show that it's okay to love organic friends and be nice to others! (sometimes at least.)

I'd say they balance out each other perfectly and that is quite rare to see in modern pairings. While they'd definitely struggle to get along at first, they'd surely grow fond of the other one day :)

I hope this convinced you. if not, I'll try and dig up some more stuff. Then again, keep in mind that there aren't many canon character interactions besides whatever crumbs we've got from their quotes and official animations.

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 2)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 2 (5k) You follow Tess to a colonial style house one block away from the main town square. It’s not as tall as the church on the other side of the park, but its three stories still tower over the smaller structures around it. You realize it's close enough that you could see the house from the clinic, and think about all of the still-hot meals Joel has been bringing you three times a day.

The house has an open yard on one side and a porch wrapping around one half front to back. Tess leads you inside and gives you a brief tour. The first floor has a large dining room at the front and a kitchen in the back; a large sitting room located on the opposite side of the home with Joel’s office behind a closed door beyond. Tess shows you your small room upstairs, right next to the bathroom, crowded even with only two furnishings; a single bed and a nightstand. 

Three shirts hang from the single window’s curtain rod and she tells you that the room and the clothes are yours and to let her know if you need anything else. When you make your way back downstairs with her she begins to introduce you to the other women who live there. You’re not sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t to find Joel living in a house full of women. 

You hate the way it makes you feel. It’s a cold hand grasping at your insides, clutching them hot and tight yet freezing them solid at the same time. It makes you sick. You feel a stinging at your eyes and blink rapidly, fighting the urge you have to cry at every new introduction. There are two women in the kitchen preparing dinner, one in the living room mending a broken bowstring, and one working in the back garden. And Tess.

Tess is the only name you can remember. Your head is swirling, your heartbeat is in your ears, and you’re struggling against the sick feeling in your stomach. You’re not even sure you heard all of their names. As if you could even remember them, there were too many to even remember. Had he ever mentioned he lived with five fucking women before? You’re pretty sure you would have remembered that.

Tess had spent the morning moving her housemates around to clear the room at the top of the stairs that Joel said you could have. She knew Bianca wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a bed, so she moved her up to the attic, switching one of the occupants there to share a double bed in the room across from her own. They all moved around expeditiously and with no complaint. The women she shared her home with were easy going, but she still didn’t appreciate Joel dropping this work in her lap last minute.

Tess excuses herself and leaves you with the two women in the kitchen, the one from the garden – whose name, ironically, is Rosie – joining you later. You work beside them, eager to lose yourself in activity and stop your mind from racing. You’ve definitely lost your ability to small-talk, but the women are friendly and seem happy to meet you. The one Rosie calls Bianca is timid and silent, but the other two, Rosie and the other one doing most of the cooking, talk boisterously and animatedly to each other as you work.They excitedly tell you about the community. This is your first time hearing details about where you’ve been living for the past two weeks and you’re shocked to hear that the leader of the whole place is Joel. 

Joel – who has been walking over three hot meals a day. Joel – who has been reading stories to you morning, noon, and night. Joel – who has been following you around the park asking you inane questions. Joel – who asked you to move in with him. That Joel.

He definitely didn’t mention that he was the leader of the whole fuckin’ community. You would have remembered that too. They tell you that he brings people into the community if they need shelter and they can follow the rules. The rules seem simple; develop a strong and cohesive community, guard and keep your territory, and work collectively to gather and store resources.

You like the way the women talk about the community they call The Valley. They seem cared for and safe, and that’s also how you’ve felt since you’ve been here. Even though your plan has been to leave when you’ve fully healed, you’ve somehow allowed yourself to get pretty comfortable here. You’ve been distracted by Joel’s daily visits, you’ve been getting lost in the stories he reads to you, letting your mind wander from the harsh realities of this world.

The reality is that society collapsed and all people want to do now is survive, by any means necessary. People have only ever used other people, they take. They did that before the outbreak, but now it’s even worse. You’ve been used. You’ve been taken from. But even though it seems like Joel failed to tell you some things, he’s never taken anything from you. In fact, Joel has been very giving.

He and his patrol killed the clicker about to attack you, saving your life. He brought you into his town and had the doctor give you medical care, even after you threatened them with scissors. He’s been bringing you food, keeping you company, reading those books to you, and helping you gain some of your strength back. Apparently he even gave you his blood after you spilled most of yours down the mountain.

He told you that you were free to leave when you got better. And maybe you will. Maybe once you’re at full-strength you’ll feel like moving on. But maybe you should stay here a little longer. You have a room of your own, a warm place to lie your head, you’ve not been this well-fed in years. Maybe this could be a safe place for you, when no place has ever really felt safe before. Maybe Joel could give you that too.

– 

You’re still processing the revelations about Joel when he comes out of his office for dinner. You keep your head down, busy helping the women set the dinner table, carrying in the prepared food and drinks. Joel grabs your hand as you walk back into the kitchen, pulling you close to him. You don’t recoil from his touch anymore, as you’ve been making physical contact with him more often.

You’ve touched his arm or shoulder to point out an animal on your walk, he’s taken your hands to help you up and down steps. Unlike he usually does, this time he doesn’t drop your hand immediately, he continues holding it. He asks if you’ve ‘gotten comfortable’. You’re not sure how to tell him that you’re actually a little uncomfortable, given all the new information, without insulting his hospitality.

“Who are these people?” you ask him, looking down at your joined hands, unable to meet his eye.

“They didn’t introduce themselves to you?” he says gruffly, looking over your head. You look up to meet his eyes and he looks genuinely confused. 

“Of course they did…”, you let your unfinished sentence linger in the air, hoping he won’t make your pathetic mouth finish it. You feel absolutely ridiculous. You feel one foot tall again. Here you are, at the end of the world, jealous over a man you barely fucking know. Jealous. You. As if you have any right. He squeezes your hand, making your eyes crunch tight in defeat. You have to complete your thought. Out loud. How embarrassing. “Who are they to you? Are you… seeing any of them? Not that it’s my b– business or anything, I just didn’t–”

“Oh, PJ.” 

He cups your face in both his hands and the move has you flinching in surprise. He brings his mouth to yours slowly, so slowly that you’re sure you could have stopped it ten times if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You don’t move a muscle, you’re pretty sure you don’t even breathe. And then his lips are on your lips. Time freezes. The whole world stops turning and it’s just him and you; his mouth on yours and his large warm hands surrounding your face and his nose pressing into your cheek. 

After a moment the world starts turning again. You hear the other women continue to move in and out of the kitchen behind you, paying no mind to Joel’s lips on yours, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His hands slip to your shoulders and he places more gentle kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your nose. Joel takes your hand and leads you into the dining room, guiding you to sit in the seat next to his at the head of the table.

The meal is hot and delicious, cheerful conversations drift over the tabletop as everyone eats. Joel sees your wide eyes staring at him the entire time, picking at your food, unable to process the kisses he’d bombarded you with. He’s not sure why he did that, a voice inside him was screaming not to, worried he’d scare you off and you’d be out the door miles away by now.

He kept himself in his office all afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to distract his thoughts from you. When he finally came out and saw you in the kitchen, his kitchen, his home… he couldn’t help himself. You were in his home. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close but he sensed you were upset. Were you jealous?

Sure, he probably should have told you about the other women in his house, but you were just beginning to trust him. He didn’t think he could spin this in a way that you would be comfortable with. He didn’t think he would be able to get you here if he told you the truth. So he didn’t. And when given another opportunity to tell you the truth in the kitchen, he kissed you instead.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. Whatever relationship he had with these other women doesn’t matter as long as you’re here, and you’re here now. You’re in his home. You’re his. He’s going to make you his. It’s all he wants now. You’re all he wants now.

–

You sleep warm in your bed the first night in your new home, but stay up late listening to the gentle creaking of the house. The occupants prove to be sound sleepers, and you find out why when you’re woken up before the sun the next morning. The four women who aren’t Tess rouse you from your sleep and give you a choice of inside or outside chores. You choose outside, hoping the crisp dawn air will help wake you up. It doesn’t. 

You spend the day tired but busy doing chores with a woman named Sasha. She was only a teenager when the outbreak started but she has some really great survival skills. Before lunch she takes you to the basement where she teaches you how to assemble shotgun shells. After lunch she walks with you to the nearby creek to do some fishing. Well, she fishes, you keep thinking you have something ‘big on the line’ when actually your hook is just caught on rocks. Joel and Tess spend all day out of the house and when you finally see him again, sitting next to him at dinner, you can barely keep your eyes open.

The following day is easier for you, since you slept early and solid through the night like everyone else. On this day after lunch Joel has been in his office, meeting with a long line of people one or two at a time. Each one shakes his hand as they leave, thanking him for his time. You wonder how many meetings like this he missed while he sat in your room reading to you for the last two weeks. You’re sitting in the adjoining room, doing a terrible job of mending holes in socks - you think they might be Joel’s – when the last person leaves his office.

He looks around the otherwise empty room and then his eyes meet yours. He smiles at you and holds his hand out in an invitation. You can’t help but hesitate. You spent hours every day with him for two weeks and now it’s been days since you’ve been alone with him for even one minute. The nerves bubble up in your stomach and you’re not sure if you want to run towards him or run away from him. You opt for the former, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you into his office.

The door closes behind you and suddenly you’re very aware of how alone with him you are. You’ve been alone with him every day in the clinic, with the door wide open, voices drifting down the hall from the other rooms. This feels different. The air feels charged. You’re suddenly terrified, an ice cold fear washes over your entire body as he bears down on you. He comes toe-to-toe with you as you press your back against the door and look in his eyes.

You look like you’ve been dropped into the lion’s den. He notices your panting breaths. The last time you looked this scared you were pointing a pair of scissors at him. Hey, he coos, careful not to touch you. What’s wrong, he hums, fighting the urge to pull you tight to his chest. You shake your head and stammer, unable to form a sentence. He slowly reaches behind you and twists the doorknob.

Joel pushes the door back open a couple inches, whispering we can leave that open, as he walks to the other side of the small room. He sits down at one end of a large leather couch and points to a stack of books on the table, drawing your attention to it. The books. You’d forgotten about the books. You’d dropped them on a table when you arrived and so much was going on they’d slipped your mind. Your hammering pulse begins to calm as you join him on the couch and inspect the books he’s picked. 

You hand him White Fang. It’s shorter than some of the other books in the stack but it was one of your favorites as a child. Not your favorite – you still haven’t seen that one presented to you yet. He takes the small paperback and begins to read you the opening paragraph as you settle your mind and relax your body, curved into the opposite end of the big brown couch.

This is how the following weeks go. Your mornings and early afternoons are filled with chores, working side-by-side with the other women in the house. Your evenings are dominated by sleep, heavy and healing after days filled with hard work. Three times a week you take your turn in the town’s impromptu bath-house, bathing in one of their tubs – previously a horse trough – full of hot water. Twice a week you gather with the rest of the Valley in a communal meeting at the church followed by a large meal, and every Friday entertainment events go on around the town square ranging from sporting events to dances.

But every day, without fail, you get time alone with Joel. He pulls you into his office before, after, or between meetings and reads to you. Sometimes it goes on for hours and sometimes he can only give you twenty minutes. But he gives you that time every day. You don’t see him giving that time to anyone else in the house, not even Tess, and so your initial feelings of jealousy fade away.

The only thing you fight now is your own mind. You’ve been with men before, you’ve been in relationships before. You’re not a virgin and you’re not a prude. But you’ve also been hurt by men before. Too many men and more times than you care to recall. You don’t think Joel would hurt you like that. You don’t think Joel would hurt you at all. But then again, you don’t remember thinking most of the other men would hurt you either, until they did. You’ve learned not to trust.

–

The second time Joel kissed you was days after the first, when he finished White Fang. Just a gentle kiss on your lips as you left his office. The next day he repeated the motion and then it became an everyday occurrence. Shortly after, it became a habit to kiss him as you entered his office. You would casually peck his lips as you passed by him at the doorway. He would close the door, save for the last few inches, and join you on the couch.

What started as a sprinkle quickly turned into a storm. You’re still too scared to ask him to close the door all the way behind you but you can’t get enough of him when you’re alone in that room together. What began on opposite sides of the couch quickly changes to you practically sitting in his lap as he reads to you. His hands find yours, or rest on your knees, or wrap around you and pull you to his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. You start to feel safe.

You don’t even pick the books anymore, he just grabs a paperback off the shelves behind him – the selection lately has been John Grisham. They’re taking a lot longer to get through too, since he’s constantly stopping to talk to you and flirt with you and ask you questions. He sneaks a lot of kisses in between chapters too, but he’s pretty sure you like it.

He thinks you also like the way he finds your hand underneath the dinner table each night, always meeting his eyes with a smile. In the mornings, he meets you in the hallway outside the bathroom and he kisses your cheek, smelling your sleep-mussed hair, but avoiding pressing his ever-present morning erection into you. He knows you’re still skittish and he doesn’t want to push you. He knows you just barely trust him and he won’t do anything to endanger that. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to pull away from him.

Joel’s reading A Time to Kill, trying to push through a particularly difficult description of the attack and assault on Carl Lee Hailey’s young daughter, when he sees you getting antsy beside him. He stops to look over at you and sees a familiar look in your eye.You look like you’re uncomfortable, your eyes glazing over and your body becoming twitchy and restless.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks quietly, his hand softly stroking the leg you have in his lap.

“When was your birthday?” you ask, in an attempt to change the subject.

“M– My birthday?” You’re not making eye contact, you look distracted, miles away.

“Yeah. When you told me how old you were, you said you just turned it. When was your birthday?” 

“Yeah I just had my birthday in September.” 

You finally look at him, your brows stitching together. “Isn’t it October now?”

“Yes,” he waits for this line of questioning to make sense. Then he realizes maybe it won’t make sense. Maybe you’re just craving a distraction.

“Did I know you when it was your birthday?”

“Yes,” he rubs your leg more, “You were at the clinic.”

“When?” 

“Do you remember a night when I brought you an apple dessert?”

“You–”, your eyes move around the room, “Yes, I remember. That was your birthday?” He nods. You’re not looking at him, but he knows you can see him nodding in your peripheral vision. “I wasn’t very nice to you that day,” you say, suddenly sounding sad. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Why did you spend all that time with me when I wasn’t nice to you and it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t wanna be anywhere else, PJ.” You close your eyes tight, letting the silence hang between you.

“Do you think Jake gets Carl Lee off for the murders?” You change the subject again, asking him to spoil the ending of the book for you.

“Yeah, I think he does,” he answers, and you take a deep breath.

“That’s good,” you say, as you reach forward and slip the book gently out of his fingers, returning it to the shelf behind him. 

You lay your head in his lap and spend the rest of your time together that afternoon with his fingers carding through your short hair, comforting you. He hopes you know he meant what he said. He knew it then as he knows it now. There isn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than with you, birthday or not.

–

As the end of October arrives, it signals that you’ve been living in Joel’s house for a month. The past month, in addition to the two weeks previous to that at the clinic, have your side completely healed. All the physical work you do around the homestead has helped you gain your strength back and then some. You’re most definitely at ‘a hundred percent’. You would be physically okay to leave at any time, and yet, leaving is the furthest thing from your mind.

Joel is on your mind. All the time. The way he holds your hands, the way he pushes his nose to yours and makes you laugh, the way he kisses your lips, your hands,, your forehead, and your neck. The way he looks at you. The way he looks at you. It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. And the way he makes you feel is the same. You want him so badly. You don’t know if you can trust him. You don’t even know if you can trust yourself. 

You long for that office door to click shut, to be completely alone with him. You want to feel his arms wrap around you, you want to feel his hands roam along your body, you want to feel his lips on your skin. You want to feel him everywhere. The thought of it sends jolts of electricity through you. The thought of him makes you wet. You’re sure that if that door latched you would be all over him like a rabid animal.

But the thought of that kind of intimacy is deliriously intimidating. You think of the first man who touched you like that. Too young, you were too young to be touched there. It frightened you. You lied still like a scared rabbit, hoping he would think you were asleep and stop. But he didn’t stop. You think about the last man who touched you like that. It wasn’t even that long ago, with dirty rough hands and a burning touch. He told you in your ear that you liked it, but all you remember is feeling pain.

That’s the fear that grips you out of nowhere, that keeps you frozen still and awkward when Joel’s hands roam too far over your body, that keeps you from fulfilling any one of your fantasies of having him naked on top of you. You still have trouble trusting him completely. What if he uses you and then discards you like the others did? What if he hurts you, causes you pain in your body and your heart and your soul? 

One night he pulls you out onto the front porch and kisses you against the house, the chill of night giving visible life to your hot breaths, nothing but the din of crickets in the background. You hear him say so beautiful as he drags his cheek against yours, lightly scratching you with his facial hair. Your body reacts before you can reason with yourself, you push him away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Don’t call you what?” His arms are still holding your hips, the crease between his eyes deep as he looks across your face.

“Beautiful,” you say quietly, the cover of darkness not giving you any courage. “D- Don’t call me that.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Yeah, cause I’m not.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I might be a lot of things but I’m not beautiful, so when you say it to me, it feels like I’m hearing a lie. And I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He wraps his arms around you tight, pulling you back together, his chest warm against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and his hot breath fans across your neck. He places gentle kisses there while he whispers I won’t lie to you into your skin repeatedly. He thinks of the half-truths he’s already told you and decides that they don’t count. The things he’s done in the past don’t count. All that counts is the man he is going forward, the man he is with you. 

–

The next night you’re on cleaning duty with Bianca and you’re both in the kitchen after dinner washing up from the meal. You think you like her the best out of everyone here. Not just because she’s sweet, which she is, but because she’s very quiet. She barely says five words all day and when you’re in her company you can just relax. You can let your mind wander. You can get lost in your thoughts of Joel.

Tonight she doesn’t feel good and you’re not sure how to help her. You tried saying something to Tess earlier but she told you that Bianca could come to her if she needed to talk. Well Bianca doesn’t really talk, so you’re not sure what to do. Joel walks in the kitchen and smiles at you, immediately noticing your look of concern. He takes a quick look at Bianca and sends her to bed, telling her that he’ll help you finish your chores.

You know he’s a kind person but you feel like part of the reason why he sent her upstairs was so he could put his hands on you and kiss you, which he does nearly every moment you’re alone. But not this time. This time he stands by your side as Bianca was, taking his task seriously, helping you to scrub and dry the day’s dishes. 

You break the silence and tell him that you always hated having to do the dishes as a kid, how it kept you from the other things you wanted to do after dinner. He asks if you still hate it and you tell him no. You tell him that since there’s no TV shows to watch, no mall to go to, and no friends to call, you’re pretty content with washing some dishes. He chuckles and says his daughter used to hate washing dishes too. 

Daughter?

“You had a daughter?” 

His hands still their movement. He didn’t mean to let that slip. Shit. Fuck. Sarah flashed into his mind and his guard is so low around you, it just came out. Yeah, he nods, resuming his scrubbing. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t want these memories to come rushing in like a tsunami and drown him. 

“Her name was Sarah. She uh….” he begins, dreading this conversation.

He feels your soapy hand cover his under the water. You grab his fingers, causing him to let go of the dish he was clutching. You squeeze his hand and when he looks up and meets your eyes he’s hit like a fucking wrecking ball. Wetness rims your waterline. You’re staring straight through him, right into his soul. You see him. You see him. And he’s never going to be the same.

“I know,” you hum. The whole universe is in your eyes. “You don’t have to–”

“Died,” he finishes his sentence.

You nod. You know. Everyone lost everything when the world ended. You most likely lost loved ones too. You’re all just broken shells of people walking around now, although some are worse off than others. Your lip trembles and your eyes are wet like you’re going to cry tears for his lost Sarah too. You open your mouth and begin to speak with a shaky breath.

“One time when I was a pre-teen, I put off washing the dishes until it was very late, almost bedtime. When I was done my dad wouldn’t let me get ready for bed. He called me to come sit with him in the living room while he watched the ten o’clock news. A segment came on about teen pregnancy and the whole time I just sat there embarrassed, not understanding what we were watching, or why. When that story was over he clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘okay then, goodnight,’ and sent me to bed. It wasn’t until years later I realized that was his version of the sex talk,” you finish with a chuckle.

Joel huffs out a laugh with you, finding your dad’s awkward solution somewhat relatable. 

“I just gave her a book,” he recalls, “Don’t even remember who I got it from, I think one of her friend’s mom’s? I don’t remember but… it didn’t go over well. There was a lot of eye rolling.”

Your eyes pinch together as you both laugh, causing the tears that had welled up to spill from the sides.  You finish drying the last dish and head upstairs to bed, but before you can turn towards your room he gently grabs your wrist and places your hand in one of his. His face is calm and peaceful. He looks content. He reaches his other hand up and cups your face. You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he just says thank you. He holds your face a moment longer before squeezing your hand and heading into his room. 

🖤

NEXT

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx@lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

[attex]

I love your UI design. Any thoughts on them like their interaction with others?

that innocence is pretty paralleled if we are being honest...

My interpretation of UI is based on the idea of them just being attention and stimulation addicted... They were made like this on purpose, by the same group of engineers (not exactly the same persons though) as NSH, due to the seeming work efficiency in a more active and stimulation seeking personality. This is also why they are named ironically too, along with having a fake mouth! However, such a personality tends to give diminishing returns, especially when there isn't things to focus on constantly. Which is why UI leaned towards gossiping and messing around.

They don't do things out of malice, (the ordeal with 5P was not malicious lol) it's all just another little thing to pass the time. But they do feel guilty and awkward if pushed around a bit. They're more honest than they seem, they won't lie about their mean thoughts or opinions. They will lie if it causes more attention to be given to them or they dislike the way they're treated from their honesty; but this is all hard to achieve as they can get VERY stubborn. They're naturally curious in a gawking at things and not shutting up kinda way. If they see something weird, they will point it out and keep bringing it up to talk about it.

I interpret them to be the youngest, being built a short while after 5P. This is why they look the way they do, but they still have discerning traits due to the engineers that built them. Their design for the puppet should be obvious in the ways it's similar to how NSH's puppet is designed, at least I hope I managed to show that... I also imagine their structures have much bigger bio-engineering lab sections, not for actual production of purposed organisms but rather for experimenting with them and the like. Those two would be occupied with that often, along with their other duties. The small cloak, a lot of parts that light up to indicate status, fake mouth, more angular parts, focus on strip patterns, sturdier legs... Their cloak has patterns resembling rod cells in eyes, also!

As for their relationships with others in their group...

LttM gets along well with them, which usually surprises outsiders. She knows they just need things to do but does get disappointed at their more reckless behavior. UI likes LttM for being a bit too lenient regarding things they do that they probably shouldn't, but besides that they do see her as a trustable friend albeit not taking her senior status too solidly.

5P definitely doesn't enjoy having to interact with them at all after getting humiliated by them. He doesn't hate them or anything, he never did. While he wasn't surprised about them doing what they did, it still soured his view of them by a lot and feeling that many heavy emotions in one moment didn't help. Otherwise, he can't be bothered with them in general. UI sees 5P as an extremely difficult peer to mess with in any way, he is impatient and easily annoyed but his tendency to just cut things off makes anything silly near impossible. While they do find his issues interesting in a shallow way, a part of them secretly wishes to know more of him on a personal level... Most likely because he is the only one they've never gotten to engage with closely, their nosy interest in him got more blatant as time went on too.

SRS actually enjoys talking to them a decent amount, though they can't help but feel like there is always a barrier of sorts in fully understanding and connecting with UI. UI finds SRS very amusing. Definitely their "favorite" in the group due to SRS' extrovertedness combined with that iconic tinge of obliviousness. UI has always enjoyed snooping in on SRS, especially when they talk to outsiders. SRS isn't fully aware of the extent of UI observing them like a weird animal, though...

NSH is neutral, yet wary regarding UI. They both know how either one can behave pretty well. He still sees them as a friend though. He's the second person that tells UI to "behave" the most- but it isn't like UI can't snap back at him for being overly playful as well. UI is nearly the same way towards him. Both of them know of each other's mischievous attitude and that makes it difficult for them to mess with one another. They can get a bit too caught up in being silly if he eggs them on and vice versa… even if they don't fully notice NSH views them as acting more childish by a lot. CGW… I haven't thought of and characterized CGW well enough to say anything regarding them honestly… But the things I'm certain of are UI seeing CGW as being way too "put together" and unfun, because they act very proper in comparison to everyone else. That's more incentive to mess with them, though. CGW doesn't dislike UI or anything, but they see being closer friends with them as not entirely possible.