#i literally cannot make myself any clearer. no. i said no. i have said no every single fucking time theyve contacted me.

[the-meme-monarch]

good morning. i cannot stress enough how fucking grating this has become

#words from the monarch #i literally cannot make myself any clearer. no. i said no. i have said no every single fucking time theyve contacted me. #why wont they leave me alone. why cant i block them by their ip and be Done with this already #its been like. nearly three whole entire months at this point

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Not the person I once knew

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: past lovers reunite after many years…and then what?

warnings: SMUT (vaginal fingering, oral-m!receiving, protected p in v -i know, shocker-, biting, choking, overstimulation al liiil’ possesive!Joel -just a smudge-), ANGST, mentions of death and shootings, thoughts and mentions of suicide, cursing, Joel and reader being two idiots that cannot express how they feel and…fluff because I can’t help myself

word count: 10k ( yeah the zero is supposed to be there)

A/N: I am too jumping on the Joel Miller train. This fic actually has plot and it’s not just a straight up porn which is shocking :D. Also I am actually crazy - I have a week off from school and that’s why I write that much. I can’t stop - literally.

Your feet were aching – you've had to walk at least 20 or so kilometers by now – and the cold was biting your skin most unpleasantly – finding a good winter coat or any kind of winter clothes was not easy in this fucking Outbreak. You started to feel thirsty and tired and all you wanted to do was lie down and fall asleep – maybe death by cold wasn't the worst fate you could've endured.

Your mind quickly flashing to your group – you've killed most of them, the snarling of them still ringing in your ears, the smell of gunpowder lingering in your nose. You've done what you had to do – one of your guys got infected and infected almost all of the other ones – the ones that survived either left to fend for themselves which you thought was the stupidest thing ever or killed themselves – fucking cowards. Their blood stuck to you like a second skin – the smell of iron making you uneasy when you started to think about it. Maybe you should've killed yourself too. What was the point in surviving now, anyways? You didn't have a group anymore and you had no supplies anymore. Sure, you could eat the snow for water intake and try to hunt something – but you felt too exhausted for that. Your knees buckling – you fall into the cold snow – you hear something then. Voices, the sound of horses neighing and a…dog? Were you starting to hallucinate? You weren't though – the sounds getting louder and clearer – you quickly scramble to your feet and grab your pistol but you pale when you see how many of them are there – all of them looking more sure of themselves on their horses and with their guns raised on you. The dog barks at you, snapping and growling and you've never thought that you might die getting robbed and then mauled by a dog – though they did not look like raiders. Their clothes look clean and kind of new – compared to your worn and torn-off jacket at least.

Someone says something but you don't hear them – your gaze focused on the dog, your pistol pointing at the handler. You've always been a dog lover – before the Outbreak at least – but this didn't look like he wanted to be friends with you.

“Hey, I said drop your fucking gun or I'll shoot your head clean off!” One of them says – repeating himself – and you gulp dryly doing what he says – you were a fighter but also you weren't stupid. There were too many of them and even if you had good aim you wouldn't be able to shoot your way out of this. The guy who addressed you squints his eyes when you lower the gun to your feet – he gestures for you to kick it further and you reluctantly do so.

“Listen here, cowboy,” you sass when you see the cowboy hat on his head, “I was just passing by – my group is dead, they got infected and-” at your words everyone grips their guns a little tighter – the person holding the dog loosening the leash a little in his hands. “Whoa, whoa, I am not infected, I swear.” You sound desperate and you are – you probably should have blown your fucking head of yourself when you still had the chance.

“We will see about that.” One of them gruffs – you guess it's the one closest to you, the one on your right – and you have the urge to break his nose. Yeah, if you were in their position you wouldn't trust someone either but you are not – and you feel pretty fucking terrified – even after years of survival. “Release Buckley!” The first one – the one with that stupid cowboy hat – says and then you see the big ball of fur running towards you. Closing your eyes you pray that he can't smell any jerky on you – you know so he could nibble on your fingers a little and get a taste of you. The pain of teeth digging into you as you expected doesn't come and so you open one of your eyes – you see that the dog's tail is wagging and a grin slowly makes its way on your face. You slowly bend one of your knees - you are not getting any younger and pain shoots through your leg – but you ignore it and start petting Buckley. He's not that bad when he doesn't look like he wants to eat you alive.

A high-pitched whistle cuts through the air and then he is gone – heeling opposite to the person who previously handled him. They don't say anything more and start to slowly turn their horses on their heels when an idea comes to your mind – they look well-fed and clean, and you feel hungry enough that you would eat practically anything. The exhaustion creeps back up at you after the adrenaline wears off and you shout a quick “hey” - their heads turning in question. You offer them a little smile, kicking your feet into the snow and putting your gun back.

“You guys have a place for one more hungry stomach? I just want something to eat – maybe a few hours of sleep and then I'll be out of your hair. Pinky promise.” you grin and show off your pinky finger – you've always had a way of trying to make the situation lighter than it really was and now that you know they don't pose any tŕeal threat – for now at least – you get your hopes up. All of them share a quick look before the one with that stupid cowboy hat – who wears something like that in the middle of the winter – nods and your grin spreads wider. You grab one of the hands that reach towards you to pull you on a horse – and when you are finally on its back, you stroke its muscular thigh lightly. Maybe this day was not so bad after all.

When you arrive at Jackson it is almost noon. You raise both brows when you see the wooden heavy gait in front of you– the people patrolling their stations curiously looking back at you. When you asked them if you could come with them you didn't expect a whole fucking community of people in a small town with electricity and other necessities – your eyes wandering to the various small buildings that look like shops more so than something where you could take shelter. When you asked them if you could come with them you expected a flimsy building without windows in which you would hardly make a fire. You aren't surprised anymore why they acted so tough – families lived here, old couples and people of various ages. A small flicker of hope goes straight to your heart – maybe you could stay here – you were tired of fighting to live another day. And this looked like a great fucking place.

The guy that was riding with you dismounts the horse – helping you do the same and you pet the animal – thanking it quietly. People don't really look at you – at least not so openly as the ones that were taking patrol – they are doing their own things – some of them just crossing the street, others helping to build a new building – you wonder what that is going to be for – a group of kids runs right in front of you squeaking. They play and your heart aches – it's the first time you've seen kids be so carefree since the outbreak happened – it looked like their childhood was not ripped from them. One of the kids – a young girl no older than 6 – looks almost like Sarah – curly wild hair, big eyes and the cutest dimples you've seen adorn her face – and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. Reaching for your necklace you squeeze the ring that is on it tightly in your palm – Joel and Sarah would love it here.

The man you've called cowboy asks you something and you turn to look at him – he's quite handsome but he is a lot younger than you for sure – he has this boyish innocence still written all over his face when you pin him with your stare. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I will accompany you to the canteen. Tommy is already waiting there, a few men that were with us already informed him about your arrival.” He sounds formal. Too formal – as if his words were learned. Like a little boy scout you think. Images of Tommy Miller through your mind and you grin fondly at the memory of him – you could never imagine him being a leader of a community like this.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” You don't miss the way that the boy's ears gain a darker shade of red and so do his cheeks.

When he leads you to the canteen – you can't believe that they have a real freakin canteen here – you look around because you can't take it all in at once. Jackson looks like an old town from some kind of cowboy movie – maybe that's why the boy wears the stupid hat. A few people on the way politely greet you and you greet them back. When you arrive at the canteen the bo points to the man that has his back turned back on you and before you can thank him – has gone. The lights adorning the room are a nice touch – it looks old school here – old wooden chairs, and tables with plaid cloth scattered across the room, and you can see an old Coca-Cola freezer from the corner of your eye. Your steps are much lighter – even though you are still hungry and tired you're at least not cold anymore, the temperature here is not as cold as outside. The man that cowboy pointed at talks to someone – an older lady with a high-pitched voice with pretty blue eyes – and you wait before they end their conversation, standing to the side. The lady whispers something to him – you can see her lips moving but don't hear anything – and then the man turns and looks at you. If you have something in your hands right now you would for sure drop it.

Tommy fucking Miller was standing a few steps away from you. He looked older – of course – and his hair was a lot longer than you'd last seen him, the mustache he was sporting suited him. You saw the way he scrunched his brows together – as if trying to categorize you to one of his people – and then you saw the realization cross his eyes. His hands drop to his sides and when you whisper a hushed “Tommy ?” he was right in front of you – hugging you close to his body. The hug was desperate and you felt the tears you held back falling from your eyes – the palms of his hands soothingly caressing your back. After a few minutes or was it seconds he pulls away from you and you have so many questions but none of it comes out of your mouth – the lump in your throat not allowing you to. If he was here – alive and breathing – did it mean Sarah and Joel were here too? Or…No, you couldn't think that way. You had buried the memories of Millers a long time ago – but now, seeing Tommy here? He gave you hope.

“Wow-uh, I’d thought I’d never see you again, Doc.” The small nickname of endearment falling from his lips makes you sob and he softly grabs your elbow so you two could sit at the nearest table – a young woman quickly rushes to your side when Tommy gestures with his hand for her to come and he whispers something in her ear – just now you can see the few people scattered around staring at you curiously.

“Tommy-I-is-is Joel here too? And Sarah.” You grab the ring on your necklace tighter – you've been dreaming of this moment for too long – and he looks at your hand noticing the shiny thing attached to the chain on your neck. The engagement ring Joel proposed with.

“I-uh- I'll tell you everything but you need to eat first, Doc, alright?” You don't feel hungry anymore but you nod – noticing the look in Tommy's eyes makes you uneasy – but he offers you a smile and you offer one right back reaching for his hand – squeezing his hand in yours.

You sit and listen to Tommy talk – you aren't sure if minutes pass or hours – but your eyes nurn from all the crying and you feel your stomach drop with your heart multiple times during Tommy's story telling how he – they – come up here. How Joel was desperate to contact you – you were in Houston on a quick trip with your friends at the time, to look for the wedding dress – seems stupid when you think about it right now. How they killed Sarah – your sweet little Sarah, you thought of her as your own, you've lived with her for almost three years and that girl adored you and you adored her right back – you cannot imagine the pain Joel felt when she was killed right in his arms. Tommy tells you about Joel's suicide attempt too – how he didn't see any purpose in life when both his daughter and fiance were not around anymore, he didn't know if you were still alive. He tells you about his wife, how he got here – how he joined Fireflies for a while and you have the urge to punch him when he says that – you have a distaste for that motherfuckers. He tells you about Ellie – not much though – but enough to figure out Joel cares about that girl a whole lot. And most importantly he announces to you that both of them are here and you almost jump out of your chair to go and find him – but Tommy quickly grabs your elbow and stops you. He tells you about how Joel changed a lot – but so have you. When you tell him that he just shakes his head – you don't understand.

“Doc, I don't know how he will react seeing you after 20 years. He is not the person you once knew. I think you should sleep on it first.”

You want to protest but the sound of the door opening and the rushed call of “Tommy!” stops you. You look at who interrupted you and it's a girl close to Sarah's age. She has short brown hair tightened up in a ponytail and a pair of brown eyes. She has a scar across her brow and when she stops next to Tommy and mutters a quick fuck – you know it's Ellie. Joel's Ellie.

“I heard there's someone new in town and I was super curious – Joel told me to wait for him but then he started playing on his stupid guitar and-” he still plays on a guitar. That pulls a little smile on your face. The girl seems like she didn't even notice you and Tommy wants to open his mouth when Ellie seems finally acknowledges your presence.”Fuck, it's you. You're the new person.” Tommy scolds Ellie when she curses but you just grin at her attitude and seemingly “I want to know and also do know everything ” mindset.

“It's okay, Tommy. God knows I curse a lot too. Hi, Ellie.” She seems confused about how you know her name and you've missed talking to kids – God you have missed your job so much, after all, that's how you and Joel met. Sarah broke her leg and when the nurse told him you could finally see them he was more nervous than a mouse being chased by a cat. He was so worried about Sarah that he didn't even notice you ogled him after you were all done with Sarah – but of course, she did. She was a sweet kind and when they left she muttered to her father he should definitely ask you on a date – he just shook his head and told her not to be silly – you were too pretty for him. Turned out you lived close by and from their visit you've started seeing both Sarah and Joel a lot more outside your work. It was you who finally got the courage to ask the hot single dad out – you will never forget how he gaped at you seemingly not trusting his own voice to answer so Sarah quickly jabbed him in the ribs and said that: “he would very much like that” - he was talking her ear off about you even unknowingly so.

“Okay, how the fuck do you know my name and who are you because it seems you and Tommy are big buddies here. Just so you know he has a wife.” She says matter of factly and you think you like this kid a lot – you can see why Joel does too.

Tommy clears his throat. “Ellie, this is Doc.” He says and he doesn't even notices the fact he called you your nickname – you see the way Ellie's brows scrunch up in confusion. “She's a long lost…family.”

“What, are you like their sister? If so you for sure received all the pretty genes – though Joel never said anything about ever having a sister.” She's a lot more talkative than you thought she would be and you think it might be because she finally has a place that she can call home and not worry about stranger danger – at least not that much.

You chuckle. “No I am…” you look at Tommy to see if you can say who you are – though you don't know if Joel still thinks of you as his fiánce – after all, it's been 20 years. He just nods. “ I am Joel's fiánce” You can hear her gasp and say “holy shit!?” - most of the people in the canteen turn their heads to throw her a nasty look. Well, that much at being discreet

“You are Joel's dead fiánce? You don't seem that dead to me.” She mutters that last sentence as she starts inspecting your face and scrunches her nose at you. “You smell.” She states matter of factly and Tommy scolds her once again but you just shrug your shoulders at him.

“It's true, Tommy. No harm in being honest.” If Ellie knows about you it meant she must know about Sarah too and it also must mean Joel talked about you to her. That fact makes your heart build a little faster. Maybe…maybe he still cares about you – logically you know he does, he was a very loyal man back in the days too – but still, it makes your cheeks heat up.

“Joel will lose his mind! You have to see him like right now!” she sounds enthusiastic and you are too – seeing Joel after 20 years? You've been dreaming of this moment for so long…Tommy interrupts your little fantasy – clapping his hands he throws a look at Ellie and smiles at you.

“I think it's for the best if you showered first, Doc As Ellie said you don't smell so fresh and maybe a reunion with your husband would be a lot happier if you don't make his whole house stink, eh?” You regularly nod and when Tommy says you can shower at his Ellie says she will come with you – she asks you a lot of questions about yourself – where you grew up, what did you do before Outbreak, where did the nickname Doc come from – she says you are super cool when you answer her you were pediatrician before everything went to shit. She asks how you and Joel met and you answer her truthfully – you've never liked lying. Tommy just walks next to you and listens – you look at him from the corner of your eyes and see he is thinking – he always has this look on his face – his brows are scrunched and his lips are set in a thin line. Joel has that look too when he thinks about something or concentrates – it was your favorite quirk of his.

The walk is quick and you meet Mariah – she's sweet – she offers you clean clothes and when she closes the door behind you so you can take a shower – you exhale loudly. Knowing that Joel is here and that you will see him made your stomach twist in anticipation. Ellie hangs back downstairs with Mariah and Tommy and you can hear their hushed voices – you are pretty sure that they are talking about you. You want to quickly hop in the shower but when you do it's like heaven on earth – the first spray of hot water hits your sore muscles and you feel yourself start to relax. You haven't had a hot shower since the beginning of the outbreak and you missed it so badly. You try to scrub all of the grime and blood from your skin and hair but it seems like mission impossible and you stay in the shower for far longer than the 10 minutes you said. When you step out of the shower you look at yourself in the mirror – at your face and the bags under your eyes, at your body scattered with scars and the thought of Joel not liking what he will see quickly flashes through your mind but you push it away just as quickly as it came – this was a different world. You wrap the fluffy towel around yourself and sigh in bliss. The clothes Mariah gave you fit you and maybe it's that much of your style – but they are clean and smell like they were just pulled fresh out of the washing machine. When you come down quickly the banter stops between the three of them and you can hear Ellie say that “great, you finally don't look like shit”. She grabs you by the arm and leaves the house – dragging you through the streets of Jackson. She walks quickly for someone so small and you try to keep up with her – the new winter coat you wear is flowing behind you with the speed you are walking.

When you arrive at the house Joel and Ellie live you try to catch your breath muttering that you are not as young as you used to be – Ellie just rolls her eyes and steps on the porch which creaks under her footsteps. You like the house – at least from the outside – you imagined something like that when you planned to move with Sarah and Joel after you two marry.

“So, we are here. Take off your boots when you come in – Joel hates cleaning up the snow I leave behind when I come in and walk in boots through the house.” You nod but then she is pushing you in and you throw her a scared look.

“You are not coming with me?” You hiss and she just shakes her head as if it was the stupidest thing she has ever heard.

“No. Enjoy your time together. I don't want to hear you two fucking.” And then she shuts the doors behind you with a force you didn't even know a little kid could possess. Right after she do you hear a gruffed “Ellie I told you to wait for me we talked about -” he stops mid-sentence and you feel like all of the air in your lungs leaves your body when comes into the view, He looks older – but somehow more handsome then you've last seen him. The grey in his hair suits him, and the patches in his beard are now more prominent than they were before. He looks good – more than good. You don't know what to do or say. The two of you just keep staring at each other – he looks you up and down and you see his breath becoming quicker. You're the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, Joel. Long time no see.” You laugh quietly and the tears in your eyes leave your vision blurred. You're the one who moves first too and you hug him tightly – he changed over the years, he's softer and he doesn't smell like he did back in the days – but there's something about his presence that feels entirely like Joel and you grab onto his plaid shirt – squeezing it in your fists. You don't want to pull away – you never want to leave him again but when you feel him not responding to the hug you slowly pull away and look into his eyes. He's scanning your face and now you see tears in his eyes as well. The weight of his calloused hands is more than welcome and you close your eyes when you feel his thumbs slowly stroke your cheeks. The small escapes your throat and you nod when he quietly – oh, so quietly murmurs - “you are alive.”. You stay like that for a while – both of you don't dare to move in case this was all just a dream. You want to hug him again – to feel him against you but when you try to pull him closer to you he unexpectedly quickly pulls you away. You look at him confused and he wipes his tears away – he doesn't know how to act around you. It's been too long. He buried the memories of you and never wanted them to resurface. The knowledge that you are alive and here right in front of him hits him like a fright train. It scares the fucking shit out of him.

He clears his throat and avoids your gaze when he asks you if you want to sit – you agree hastily - you didn't take off your boots like Ellie said and you contemplate for a flash of a second that maybe you should - when you see the change in his stance and attitude. He's trying to distance himself from you and you don't understand why – wasn't he glad you were here?

You look around the living room. It's spacey and you hate that small painting of deer above the fireplace. You quickly scan the bookshelf and figure most of the books are Ellies. When you sit on the worn-off couch you expect that Joel will sit next to you – but he moves across the room and keeps standing. You are confused and you don't understand – you never expected your reunion to go this way. It stays quiet and you break the silence once again – he never was much of a talker anyway- you and Sarah kept the house full of laughter and it was never quiet thanks to both of you – and he never thought he would miss it that much.

“I met Ellie. She actually dragged me here.” You chuckle but he doesn't respond – this was such a bad idea. He tears your heart apart with his stoic stance and silence and doesn't even know it. But he can't bring himself to speak or move – he worries if he does you will disappear.

“Okay, I guess I will go.” He wants to tell you to stay here with him. But alas nothing comes out of his mouth – though when he sees the ring on your neck he gasps and you throw him a questioning look.

“You-you kept it after all these years.” You are confused but when you see where his gaze is trained you look at your engagement ring and smile. “Yeah, I-uh, I've never stopped thinking about you or Sarah you know.” He sharply inhales, he wants to tell you so much. “And every time I look at it I hear her annoyed voice scolding you on how you proposed.” You snort and he grins softly remembering your light laughter and Sarah's huffing on how un-romantic he was.

“Babe just another five minutes, please.” You grumble and feel him smile against your skin – his patchy beard scratching your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and your breath hitches when you feel his tongue flatten against your pulse point. He hums against your skin and nips at your skin – you try to push him away but he just grins wider and hovers above you.

“You know you said that six times now come on, want to take you somewhere nice. Promise I will make it worth it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you giggle at his antics – he was the one who slept in most of the time – but on days like this – where you feel exhausted from the previous night's session of amazing sex – you feel like you could sleep till afternoon. You slowly kiss the bald spot on his beard and one of your hands sneaks to the band of boxers – he grabs your hand quickly and shakes his head at you.

“Na-ah, won't work on me this time, sweetheart. You can't seduce me.” You just hum and kiss the spot between his shoulder blade and neck – gently scraping your hand through his already tousled hair. His eyes flutter close for a moment and it's now your turn to grin against his skin. You know you won.

“Mmm, I don't know but you left your girlfriend pretty unsatisfied last night.” You try to push the smile off your face when he quickly opens his eyes at your words – you know he never backs down from a challenge.

“Oh?” You hum and finally cup his semi-hard cock in your hand. He grunts and you smile, biting your lip when he slowly puts his fingers inside your panties. “So wet for me already baby, was three orgasms last night not enough for you, mhm?” He asks when he pushes two fingers inside of you and you gasp – arching your back and he squeezes one of your breasts – his now hard cock strains against his boxers.

“How do you know I-oh fuck. Didn't fake it?” you grit out when his fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you – his thumb drawing circles on your clit leisurely. His eyes darken at your question and he hooks the two of his fingers inside of you – it feels too good and all you can do is just moan in pure bliss.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I know. This sweet pussy grips me like a vice when you cum. Guess I need to remind you.” The other hand that was squeezing your tit now goes higher and he strokes your jaw – you grant his access to your mouth and he growls when you bite on his lower lip and your go to the back of your head when he speeds his hand – his tongue sliding into your mouth and when he pulls away you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Guess you do.” he mumbles something alongside “such a smart mouth” before his hands grab you around your throat and put small pressure on it – you shudder and he just hums when he feels you close. “Gonna cum for me, won't you?” You just nod and when you finally do cum – you bite his shoulder, your nails scraping across his back. He pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in your mouth – you hum around them and push him so he is the one laying on his back.

“I have to return the favor.” You throw him a cheeky look and he just mutters an “oh god” when you pull him out of his boxers – the tip already red and sensitive, leaking precum out of it. "Guess I will have my breakfast early."

An hour later Sarah is already up and grins at you. You bid her a good morning – you try to look presentable – you've already brushed your teeth, changed and you smile at her when you see that she made pancakes.

“Sooo, do you like the ring?” she asks and you stop pouring coffee into Joel's mug. He throws Sarah a quick look of “don't say another word, please” but she ignores him. “You know, the one dad proposed with?” your go slack-jawed and look at Joel who quickly scrambles to his feet from the chair and pulls you to him.

“What is she talking about, Joel? You ask and he uncertainly smiles and bends one knee – you see the little black velvet box and when he opens it you gasp – the ring inside of it is beautiful – simple and elegant and tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh my god, dad. You said you would propose before the sunset.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and keeps his gaze trained on you.

“That was the plan but were… preoccupied.” He grins at the last word and Sarah mutters a quick “gross” but starts looking for that old stupid camera to make wvideo of the proposal– hoping you would say yes. She thought of you almost like a mother and when Joel told her he wanted to marry you she squealed in delight.

“So whad’ya say, sweetheart? Will you marry me? Even though I am proposing in our kitchen and with my pajamas on.” You nod and he lets out a breath of relief – when he stands up you kiss him passionately.

“You won't get rid of me now that easily, Texas.” You whisper against his lips as he wipes your tears away.

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.” You couldn't wait for the new chapter of your life with Joel and Sarah by your side

Joel stays quiet for a long time after your confession and he almost misses you leaving – but he registers the door shutting softly. He falls onto the floor – putting his hand on his heart which seems like it will fall out of his chest any moment- his breath is quick and he can't seem to calm himself down. His ears are ringing and he registers the flow of tears after they fall on his cheeks and into his mouth – the salty flavor of them sits heavy in his mouth – and he wishes he could be man enough and run after you. But he doesn't – he stays sitting up on his living room floor the face of you haunting his mind alongside with the old memories

Tommy was right. Your fiánce was not the person you once knew. Joel seems to be avoiding you because you've been in Jackson for a week now and didn't see him at all. Not that you minded after seeing his enthusiasm – or rather lack of – at seeing you. You try to not think about it that much and throughout the day you occupy yourself – at night you cry a lot – Mariah always comes to your room and shushes you to sleep or if you are talkative that night she lets you talk. It's like having a girls' night but more…depressing. The people in Jackson are nice and you try to help everywhere you can. Whether it be with kids or at the canteen. Helping with sheep or horses – you often go and visit Buckley – he soothes your ongoing nerves. Joel will have to come out of hiding one day. And you are not ready for that. On the other side Ellie seems to hang with you a lot – the day after your meeting with Joel she almost tackled you to the ground when she forcefully asked what did you do to Joel – you have to give it to her, that girl got spirit and an undying loyal heart like the man she is living with. After trying to explain it to her –it was very hard because she thinks Joel can do no wrong really – and you are not saying he did, she gave in pretty easily and started hanging out with you.

You are staying at Tommy for a while – at least before you decide if you will leave which is very unlikely or they will try to find you another accommodation. She comes there every afternoon and brings her science books – you found an anatomical book in the library one day and kept it with you – and you try and teach her the various Latin words or show her where is what on her body – three days ago you two drew a life-sized human and marked bones on it and such. You've met other people too and learned that the shy cowboy's name was Henry – he asked you out and you admired him for his braveness but you told him you are probably closer to his mother's age than to be his girlfriend.

Tommy went and tried talking to Joel too but you both know how stubborn he can be and when you asked him how did it go he just shook his head low and offered you a sad smile. Today you wanted to help an old lady, Mrs.Grempinks - or something like that – with knitting. Her hands were shaking the past few days and she felt sad – you offered her help and she accepted – she doesn't need to know you do not know how to knit at all. At least it will maybe make her feel better that she is not the only one in the room with poor knitting skills. On the way to her, you come across Ellie and she lets out a relieved sigh when she spots you.

“Here you are I've been looking everywhere for you.” she empathizes the word everywhere and starts dragging you with her – where you aren't sure.

“Hey, Ellie. Slow down. Ellie!” you shriek when you figure out where exactly she is dragging you – to her – Joel's- house and you burrow your heels into the snow-covered ground.

“Joel isn't home and I want to show you something really cool – I've been working on it for the past couple of days after you borrowed me your anatomy book.” You want to protest and you turn around in the direction of Mrs. Grempkin's house but you don't have the heart to tell Ellie that you don't have time and Joel is not home and you would leave soon enough anyways – she will just show you her little project and then it's gonna be as if you never even put your foot in the house again. When she pulls you inside she again quickly closes the door behind you and dread overcomes you – oh no she didn't – she shows you the two keys in her hand and you know the other one is Joels. She locked you out.

“I am sorry but both of you are miserable and you have to talk it out!” There is nothing to talk about with Joel – he doesn't need your presence near him, it's been clear and you mouth a quiet “please, Ellie, don't do this” while you jumble with the handle. It's no use and you sigh thumping your forehead against the door. You quietly take your boots off this time and start looking around the house – looking for Joel to tell him what just happened.

You find him in his workshop – it's nice and you stay in the doorway while looking around. You see the various little wooden figures and you find it cute that he found something he can get lost in. The various guitars on the wall peak your interest – you've always loved when he played and his back is still turned on you while he focuses on his woodwork – you enter the room slowly and when you touch one of his guitars a low “hi” echoes throughout the room. His back is turned still but his hands stopped moving and he is sitting still.

“Didn't know you could hear me.” You say and he chuckles lowly.

“I'd be dead by now if I didn't hear someone sneaking up on me.” He says and you hum acknowledgment – when he finally turns to look at you your breath hitched because he is so effortlessly handsome it hurts. You cross your arms around your chest.

“I wasn't sneaking up on you.”

“Sure you weren't.” He throws you a grin and it's different than the last time you talked – or didn't really – to him. He is more relaxed and he actually looks like he doesn't mind seeing you in his house. It's quiet for a while but not that uncomfortable silence that suffocates. You look at one another and you take him all in – his aquiline nose and his full lower lip, his brown eyes and you look at the dip of his neck – licking your lips. It's suddenly too hot in here with the way his gaze burns into you.

“I am sorry.” He offers and you don't understand what for – or you do – you just want him to expand that sentence because you felt like a fool the last time you were here. “I am sorry for the way I reacted but I never thought I'd see you again and when you just appeared in my house I was overwhelmed with emotions I didn't know I could still feel. After Sarah died I-” He chokes and you are in front of him in a blink of a second – cupping his cheeks and he closes his eyes bathing in your gentle touch which he doesn't deserve - or at least he thinks so

“You don't have to tell me anything. Tommy told me and I-I am sorry what happened to Sarah. And everything you've been through, Joel.” You say and he opens his eyes and shakes his head – none of what happened was your fault and you shouldn't be sorry. He was glad you weren't with him when all of it went to shit because you'd probably be here by now. It's easy to be this intimate with him and you bask in the way he lets you touch – you expect him to pull away like last time – but he doesn't. Instead, he brings his lips closer to yours and searches for your gaze which drops when he licks his lower lip.

“I want to kiss you, sweetheart,” he murmurs and your lips are almost – almost touching when he says so. His forehead is pressed up against yours and your hands that were previously holding his face now move behind his neck – your nails scratch the spot behind his ear gently and he closes his eyes – whether in pure bliss or to hold himself back you don't know – though if its the latter you don't want that. “Need to kiss you,” he adds. You just nod your head in agreement – you wanted nothing more than to kiss him the last time you saw him.

“What are you waiting on then, Texas?” You tease and you feel him smile into the kiss – it's just a gentle press of lips – as if he was testing the waters. One of his hands grabs your hip – squeezing it – and the other moves behind your head and pushes you closer – he needs you closer. The wet press of his lips is more urgent now and his tongue licks your lower lip. You grant him access into your mouth and then the kiss becomes more urgent, more passionate, more desperate – Joel was always a good kisser and you always enjoyed just making out with him late at night to some bad movie that was on the TV. The hand on your hip moves lower and he cups your ass – you moan into his mouth and he hums, the other hand now stroking the hinge of your jaw. Your hands scratch his scalp and he almost but purrs – pulling away from you he plants butterfly kisses across your face.

“Bedroom?” The question seems silly – you need him and if you'd be any younger you'd jump his bones right here on the floor. But you are not so you nod and he pecks your lips quickly before he grabs your hand – squeezing your fingers in his – and leads you to his bedroom. When you enter it he closes the door more forcefully than needed and before you have time to look around he is pushing you onto the bed – your back hits the mattress and he grins – he hasn't seen this sight in over 20 years and he is enjoying every second of it. You sit up and pull him by the collar of his shirt. He is quick with it – his mouth on yours again and his hands start exploring your body – they go from your thighs up to your tummy and then higher – he squeezes your tits – you moan and his hands move higher cupping your cheeks tenderly. He pulls away and moves your hair out of your face.

“Need you so badly.” He pants – and you feel just the same. You feel him start undressing you but you want to make this last as long as possible. You push him away and he seems confused before you are pushing him on his back – your sit on his lap and you feel how hard he is under his jeans – you test the waters and grind down on him – your hands on his chest and he really wants to keep his eyes open but the feel of you on him makes him feel like he's fuckin teenager again that will bust his load into his pants any second. “Fuck, gonna make me cum before the real fun even begins and I am not young as I used to be. If that happens I will have to eat you out at least three times.” You grin and bend down to kiss his neck – your tongue leaving hot trails in its wake. He sits up with you and his hands fly to your lower back to support you. He surges forward – his tongue exploring your mouth, mapping your teeth with it and when you feel his hands trying to take your shirt off – you tug him by the hair roughly – his hips bucking up to meet yours as he moans your name brokenly.

“Slow down, baby. Want to appreciate you.” You push his chest so he will be laying again – he wants to protest but you put one of your fingers to his lips. The look he gives you is downright sinful before he is sucking it into his mouth – his teeth nipping it and you can't look away from his advances. His tongue peaks out and you feel the way he swirls it around your digit just like used to when he ate you out. You moan brokenly and put another one there and he bites into them softly. The small butterfly kisses you leave on his scar from his suicide attempt makes him drop your fingers from his mouth as he groans loudly – he feels so fucking appreciated and loved at this moment that it makes his head dizzy. “Need to see you, baby. Sit up.” He does and you unbutton his shirt slowly one by one while he kisses your jaw and your neck – sucking at it once in a while his tongue flattens out against your pulse point where he leaves a mark.

“Fuck, want you to take your shirt off too.” You don't have time to comply before he is pulling it over your head and you are not wearing any bra – the one Mariah gave you did not fit you – and he immediately reaches for them. He pinches one of your nipples while he sucks on your other one and you throw your head back – it always felt this good with him. Sex with him was easy and he was a generous lover. The only man that had ever made you cum. When pulls away he frowns when he sees the deep red scar close to your heart.

“Someone stabbed me but as you can see I am alive and well. Don't worry about it, We all have our own scars.” Your thumb slides across the one next to his temple and he nods – he is angry at himself though. Maybe if he was with you it wouldn't happen. Maybe if he'd try to look for you harder. Maybe…”Hey, Joel. You still with me?” You stroke his bicep and he nods before you peck him gently. “Strip out of these, will you? Want to suck your dick.” You pat his jeans-clad thigh and his jaw rocks forward. You sit on the bed and he makes quick work of his jeans and his boxer – his cock is bobbing with need and you open your mouth awaiting.

The first lick sends him into overdrive and he grips your hair and tries telling you to take him deeper – just a little bit deeper. You drool and the spit starts to cover his balls – it's messy and the sounds he makes sound like straight up from porn. His head is thrown back and he gets lost in the feel of you – your mouth – and he can't believe you are here with him. He feels his balls pull up tighter and he pulls it out quickly before he is bending down to kiss you – he doesn't register the surprised sound you make when he pushes his tongue almost all the way back down your throat.

You taste like him because you are his, his, his and the growing need he has for you makes him almost rip your new pants before he is working his fingers inside of you – the familiar wetness and tightness make him feel like he is 30 again – and you cry out. He drills into you and snarls when your nails dig into his forearm, his nose bumps against yours and he wants to kiss you but he concentrates on making you cum because he wants to be inside of you. To mark you as his. His to kiss and hiss to make you cum and his to love and his, his, his. He searches for that spot and his other hand sneaks onto your inner thigh – when he finds it – he can hear it from the high-pitched moan that you let out. He smacks you onto your inner thigh and you jump forward and try to get away from him. It's too much – his fingers, his groans and talks and his tongue that find its way into your mouth. He's too much and he can feel you are almost there – almost. He grabs your throat and his eyes watch your Adam's apple bob – his thumb putting slight pressure on it. The squelching sounds of your pussy make him double his efforts and he can feel you getting closer and closer with every pass of his fingers through your walls – your pleas echoing through the room. He knows you need more and he grins menacingly when he sees how your pussy glistens with your juices and soak his hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart look at you. Soaking me. You want to cum?” He knows you do and he is downright cruel when he slows down and you sob because you want to cum – you nod and he is not happy with that – swatting you against your inner thigh once again before repeating that question.

“Yes, yes, Joel! I want to cum, please make me cum!” You feel on a verge of tears and he kisses you softly before he continues his previous efforts – his thumb now circling your clit and it's the additional stimulation you needed. He curses when he feels you squeeing him and he works you through it – your vision goes white and all you can think about is Joel and how good he is – before you come back down and he is still working his way inside of you and suddenly its too much – you try to push him away but the hand on your thigh just grips you harder – the blunt nails of his digging into your thigh.

“Please, Joel, Too much, it's too much!” You cry out but it's like he can't hear you and he bites your lower lip, his fingers never stopping and you can feel him pulling another orgasm out of you – you can feel him grin against your mouth and murmuring “that's it, such a good girl for me, sweetheart” before you are cuming again. Your legs shake and the moans you let out die down when he puts his coated fingers of your cum in your mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head – he is kissing you and then telling you to “share with him” and it's so fucking nasty – a string of saliva connecting you both before he is wiping his mouth. You are sedated and when he reaches for something in his bedside table you don't really care. The sound of foil tearing makes you open your eyes and you see how he pulls the condom on his dick before he is crawling to you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You gonna ride me.” He says and you don't feel like you have that much of a choice – he is pulling you on top of him and before you know it he notches the head of his dick between your folds. You grab the base of him and slowly sink down on him – you forgot how fucking thick and big he was and you need a moment before you start moving. Your muscles are sore and your throat is dried up from all the moaning and screaming but when you look down to see Joel's blissed-out expression – you start to move slowly. He lets you ride him at your own pace – you are the one in control now and he's here only for the right. He strokes his thumbs o your sides and then opens his eyes he feels like he will come right there and then. Your tits bounce with every pass of his cock against your walls and the way your head is thrown back and your throat on full display – his fingers twitch as he has the urge to bring you by your throat and kiss you.

The leisurely pace only lasts for a while before you can feel another orgasm build inside of you – the hair on the base of his cock scratch your clit deliciously. You dig your nails into his shoulders – one of your hands grabbing his jaw when you kiss him – he lets you and his hands move from your hips to your ass – squeezing the flash in his palms. You moan when you feel one of his hands sneak toward your clit but you push him away – breaking from the kiss.

“I am the one that is now in control, Texas.” The smirk you give him makes his cock twitch and he nods – his Adam's apple bobbing when he gulps and you til his chin up as you sink your teeth gently into it. He holds onto you tighter – your pace unfaltering and he wants to cum – needs to – but not before you. His heels dig into the mattress and you pull back to stop moving as your hips start to sway in a figure of eight. It does nothing for him and he whines – whines – in protest. You tell him to “shut up” because you are so so fucking close and that's when he grits his teeth together – his patience runs thin. His hands grab the chain with his ring on it – the only thing you are wearing – and he pulls you towards him by it. The look you throw him is absolutely wrecked and when you are close to his mouth – you need to kiss him, want to taste him – he pulls his head away from you to put the ring between his teeth. That alone almost makes you cum and you can't look away from him – even when he grabs you by the flash of your ass – and start sinking you down on him. You are completely mesmerized by the ring in his mouth and before you know it you are cuming – he slaps your ass when you do and you jolt forward – the ring falling from his mouth when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He fucks you through it and he sits up – his heels planting into the mattress so he can chase his own orgasm – he puts the ring into your mouth now and if he could he would take a picture of you like this – his ring between your teeth while he fucks you silly and your gorgeous body putty in his hands. His balls slap against the meat of your thighs and he puts his forehead on your chest – you can feel the small droplets of his sweat roll down his forehead. He pants and you know he is close – his pace now frantic as he kisses your chest. His lips make their way to your throat and every pass of his cock makes your walls twitch. You feel every vein of his and the head of him pushes against your g-spot. You start meeting his thrusts – pulling him closer to your neck as the only thing he can now do is groan and whine. He can feel your quick pulse and the way your fingers tangle in his locks as you tug him by it – you are overstimulated but he doesn't want this to stop. Never wants this to stop.

“Come on, baby. Want you to cum in me,” You whine and he shakes his head – he doesn’t want to, he doesn't, he doesn't…and then he is cumming as he empties his seed into the condom. He thrusts up at you a few times as he pushes himself through the afer shocks – you can feel him twitch in you before his body goes limp and you fall on him. He strokes your shoulder blades and you listen to his slowing heartbeat – your fingers drawing little hearts on his chest. He slowly pulls out of you and grips the condom by the base of it to tie it off and he throws it into the trash can next to his bed. He pulls you closer to him and you hum – slowly drifting off to sleep exhausted and worn out.

“Love you, Joel.” You say against his neck when you kiss him there and his heart swells up at your confession. He unclasps the chain from your neck and pulls the ring on your finger as he admires it.

“Love you too, baby.” You almost don't hear him when he whispers it against your lips – but you don't need him to say it – after all Joel is a man of actions and not words. And you are perfectly fine with that.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal ff #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Do you support proshippers, cause if so then 😬.

People generally do not take this as an answer but I do want to say it because some people do care.

But I don't. Because I do not support either side and assigning me to either side does not reflect my views.

I actively oppose the conversation and the way is formatted and I intentionally do not engage.

I am neither a ProShipper or an Antishipper. And describing me as either would be describing me wrong. Why?

Because it's not a cut and dry issue.

It's not like Pro-life and Pro-choice where the question is simply 'Should abortion be legal'?

The shipping argument is asking if a RANGE of topics ranging from abusive relationships or negative depictions of mental illness to literal CP are okay - all under one question.

Asking me this is like asking "Hey do you support people that age up Damien Wayne in fics *cough*(and also people who write horribly dangerous things like graphic sexual assault for their own dark amusement..those people too)*cough*"

Like...the question to begin with is flawed.

With a question formatted like that - there is absolutely no way to have a healthier clear conversation that makes sense or accurately displays anyone's views.

The conversation itself is to vague and too broad to offer any type of fruitful conversation whatsoever. And I stand on that.

Like, I'd say at least half of the takes I see from either side I think are wrong, ridiculous, or based on vague arguments that just don't make sense.

I'm Not a Pro-Shipper cause there is some weird shit out there I'm not attaching myself to. Because some people out there are deranged, and malicious, and this is the internet.

I'm NOT an Anti-Shipper because there are a LOT of fucked up things that do wind up in media that tell a specific story - and there's also shit in the conversation that just doesn't fucking matter.

If you're writing about a character who went through CSA and your goal is to show a story about someone who lives with that trauma? Great. I'm for that so long as you do your research and do it respectfully

If you're writing out the SCENES???? AT LENGTH?? Go somewhere. Preferably a jail cell but somewhere that's not here.

If you're aging up a character and headcanon-ing what they'd be like in the future for shipping purposes - or you're shipping characters with no in-universe confirmed age. I couldn't care less.

If I don't wanna read it, I won't support it. I won't give it kudos or views. It's got nothing to do with me.

If you're writing things that are openly racist or openly sexualizing a character you are clearly writing as a child - absolutely fucking not. Anime men I'm looking at you.

And if you write black characters involved in raceplay count your mfing days.

It's not a cut and dry issue, so to ask me to define myself in one word on a topic of dozens of different genres isn't going to give you a clear picture of my views.

You are more likely to get a more clearer answer if you ask me about that specific genre and topic.

I am vocally and clearly on neither side and opposed to a conversation that is narrow and often ends in miscommunication.

There's always going to be a Pro-Shipper or Anti-Shipper out there that I deeply disagree with.

I refuse to engage and support a conversation that lumps together very serious issues with very asinine things and then expects me to answer in one word at threat of harassment (not you in specific, but very realistically in general).

I am a person of complex opinions. You see my blog. You really expect me of all people to be able to describe myself in one word?

Maybe in the terms of "Pro-Life" vs Pro-Choice (I'm Pro-Choice obviously) But in this conversation I cannot do it. I am very firmly neither.

I hope that answer your question, and since I feel like this should be said - especially with the fandom we're in - I'm happy to answer your question.

Like I said, a lot of people just won't take this as an answer. And that's fine. But I said what I said.

If you engage in this conversation and you think I agree you, you're wrong. If you engage and you think I disagree with you, you're wrong. Cause I am simply sitting here in silence, writing my silly little analysis and looking pretty, and will continue to do so.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a photo of Hobie that I need to stare at.

Bye.

#I do not engage and I mean that #proship #antiship #somebody was bound to ask #but yeah thats why i dont talk about it cause that conversation is structured dumb as fuck from the ground up are kidding me #the question in itself is rigged for an argument regardless of what you say #so I say - Fuck that shit Im here being a hot girl fuck you gonna do stop me??

[qqueenofhades]

Sometimes I feel like we are all reliving the 1930s, hurtling uncontrollably toward the 1940s and to WWIII. I don't think I'm overreacting when I see what's happening in the US and Italy, to say nothing of Russian aggression in Ukraine. As a historian, can you give me any hope, any examples where events of that era could have taken a different turn and where current times could turn out differently? Sorry to dump my angst on you.

Welp. I've been thinking about this ask for a bit, and I'll try to see if I can say anything that makes sense and is both realistic and hopeful. So here goes.

First off, history is not "fixed." It's easy to look back and say "oh, it could only have ever gone that way," but that's not true. So yes, there are literally countless examples, even in the 1920s/30s period between the world wars, and in the wars themselves, where things could have gone differently. People could have made different choices or acted in different ways, things could have broken different ways, luck could have been bad instead of good, good instead of bad -- etc etc. It's just life, and it happened the way life does: messily, chaotically, accidentally, unpredictably, until it was over and eventually people started looking back at it and studying it to see what that was. But it wasn't predetermined to happen that way, and nothing is predetermined or utterly destined to happen now. Yes, there are a lot of unsettling historical parallels -- war, plague, economic unrest, social inequality, etc etc -- that really makes you wonder if all of human history is just repeating our same mistakes in 100-year cycles. I struggle with this feeling myself, especially since as a historian, I DO know so much about what has gone on and failed to work before, and it astonishes me, not in a good way, that it's still happening now.

That said: people are so used to thinking of the study of history as Finding Out What Happened In the Past, and believing that there is only one singular narrative of what "did" happen, which can be uncovered and confirmed by objective theory and universally agreed truth. This was a historiographic theory popularized by Leopold von Ranke, a 19th-century German historian, who was trying to make the writing of history more scientific and systematic and following the essential rules of natural sciences (as the Germans were doing with a lot of academic disciplines in the 19th century). This had its merits in making the practice of history more rigorous and well-researched, but it also completely discounts the fact that all of human experience, experienced by all humans everywhere, cannot POSSIBLY be objective, or agreed on a single perspective, or represented everywhere. History happened to everyone everywhere, in all times and places, even if it wasn't the things that a certain person felt like writing down for posterity. One of my favorite anecdotes is that of a monk keeping a regional chronicle of events -- I can't remember where, in France or possibly Germany in the early 11th century or thereabouts. Next to a famous date, where an emperor died or a pope was overthrown or something of the sort (apologies again that it's early and I can't remember that either), he wrote essentially, "Nothing much happened this year. My brother who was abbot died."

Anyway, that really just sums it up for me. This monk was living in the middle of major events that would interest later historians, but he didn't know that or see that at the time, and his interest in chronicling this year was to write that his brother, who was an abbot, died. He was experiencing history by living his life and commenting on the places he lived and the people who he knew. That is because history is the monk's brother dying, as much as the emperor being overthrown; it happened in these small personal moments, as well as these huge political things. We see things and patterns in hindsight that look much clearer and put together than they actually were, but it's just the collective sum of human experience, good and bad alike.

As I have always said, people are people, in all times and places, and that means there's always hope, and there's always love, and it's usually right. Let me leave you with an absolutely heart-shredding passage from John Clyn, a fourteenth-century Irish monk and chronicler who was writing in 1349, just as the Black Death was sweeping over his monastery and leaving him as the only survivor. Alone and probably already ill with plague himself, Clyn wrote:

"So that notable deeds should not perish with time, and be lost from the memory of future generations, I, seeing these many ills, and that the whole world encompassed by evil, waiting among the dead for death to come, have committed to writing what I have truly heard and examined; and so that the writing does not perish with the writer, or the work fail with the workman, I leave parchment for continuing the work, in case anyone should still be alive in the future and any son of Adam can escape this pestilence and continue the work thus begun."

And just. My God. Even as he is "waiting among the dead for death to come," Clyn the historian finishes his work. He has committed to writing down what happened for future generations, because he still believed that there would be one. He saw the whole world "encompassed by evil," but he left parchment for someone else to write more, because if anyone should be alive in the future and anyone escaped the plague, they would want to continue the work. Of living, and writing, and doing history, and trying again. And you know what? He was right. Sons of Adam (and daughters of Eve, and children of God) did escape the pestilence. Not everybody died. Society was changed and rebuilt and life went on. The work did not fail with the workman. The future came. And the future will come again, even in the darkest and most terrible of hours.

Hugs.

#anonymous #ask #history #medieval history #people have always been people

[coredrill]

as foretold, bang brave bang bravern was crazy good this week

it's just. gosh. for as much as i talk abt bravern being unhinged the fact of the matter is that it is actually SO restrained. ESPECIALLY for something in a medium that is already a little self-indulgent and referential. like for all of bravern himself's clear love for mecha there have been so few explicit references to other shows? and then this ep had so fucking many - ttgl (which - fucking hilarious to use it against a character KONISHI is voicing and then have that DD be fucking useless except for wanting to see some cool fights LSKDJFH) and flcl and symmetrical docking and rider kick and jeeg and gundam and the fuckin uhhhhhhhh exkaiser i think but i dont remember for sure its the same one that showed up in the earlier fight w superbia too. like w the other mecha on the roof framing. and probably about thirty more that i'm for sure missing or not recognizing or forgetting ON TOP OF all the obari posing and punching which have been sneaking into the visuals before this - but it was all for the purpose of having us watch this hype battle and get all excited to make the ending hit THAT much harder. and holding off the first gattai until episode NINE???? the thing we're all expecting to happen at any fucking moment, because there was no way that the souls of isami and bravern could've combined and actually resonated for a true gattai until that point????? like it's ALL in service of the story rather than wow cool robot even tho it IS a pretty damn cool robot. this show makes me feel like i did my homework and i'm acing the test AND I HAVENT EVEN WATCHED THAT MUCH MECHA TBH. LMFAO. all the "who is this show even FOR (eyeroll emoji)" comments back in like ep2 get funnier every week bc bravern knows its audience like the back of its hand and it gets clearer and clearer every week that its execution is fucking razor sharp. this show is SO SUCKING GOOD and I LOVE IT. that was supposed to say fucking good but sucking works too

the fucking NOISE superbia makes when bravern is like "don't u want to fight me when i'm EVEN STRONGER" took me the FUCK out

[gets beer sponsorship] [makes Consumption Of Food And Drink a tether point to Humanity] [out-cooks the cooking show] i'm gonna buy more kona beer (<- fucking hates beer)

fish jumpscare !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i honestly don't think i've seen any anime with a fucking ED DROP before. lmfao

lewis smith. you want so badly to be the protagonist. to be the rival. to be the one who dies to motivate the hero. to be the MECHA ITSELF. and yet you are the love interest!!! you are GOING to be saved whether you want it or not!!! you ARE rain mikamura. you ARE the heroine. Let Isami Save You. you've got a family of people who fuck with time in different and fun ways to save each other and its his turn now whether you like it or not!!!!!!!!

he rly did put that mask back on right before he died…………..subtext, cowards, so on and so forth

thanks bravern for inventing gay ppl. was surprised to get a literal love confession AND an almost-kiss here but tbh at this point i think isami could use a good old-fashioned hug more than anything else. like one of those that cracks his spine. poor baby rice cracker is goin thru it LMAO. also i keep calling isami baby rice cracker and i cannot stop myself anymore………..baby rice cracker…………

me after saying every week that this show has done something to my brain "guys i think this show has done something to my brain"

wow this post is allover the place moreso than usual. like i said earlier this ep was so fucking DENSE and GOOD that i'm gonna need some time to process All That. gosh. [bravern voice] BRAAAAAAVEEEERN!!!!!!!!!!!

#a: bravern #bravern spoilers #t.bbbb

[preciouslandmermaid]

so as u guys know i went through a breakup in june. which was a good thing. i wasn’t invested in the relationship, i was unhappy, the honeymoon had faded, there were flags that i simply couldn’t ignore (both in him and myself!) and i knew i needed to return to my happiest state - being single and annoying online.

today, on the first day back of work, this motherfucker asks to talk to me afterwards and im like “yeah sure.” thinking that like we’re just gonna chat real quick in the parking lot. no. hes like “where can we meet.” and im like “idk starbucks i guess.” 

i’ve been keeping my distance from him because that’s what was best for ME. we literally haven’t spoken in 2 weeks. so i gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought he was just trying to catch up, be friendly. i rationalized that since we were only together about 5 months, then it wouldn’t be completely weird to start being friends now that 2 months have passed since the separation. 

besties....he wanted to know if we could get back together. 😠 i was like ?????????? and he was like “well, we spent the summers working on ourselves” (bro ur still not in therapy so i disagree), and then he was like “i feel like we broke up because i was having such a hard time at work and was going through a hard time and it reflected on our relationship.” and i was like uhhh. and so i said a metaphor i was like “us getting back together would be like trying to complete a puzzle when you’ve lost pieces in the vacuum.” and he goes “OH WELL, relationships have their ups and downs! we could still find those pieces.”

i legit wish someone was recording my face. i was in shock. like when we broke up, i did tell him i hoped we could be friends, i told him i hoped we could be in each other’s lives and that maybe (and it’s a big maybe) we could reconnect in the far future. (but, i remember when i said this, i was only saying it to be nice. which was a mistake since it led me to this whole conversation). 

ANYWAYS. to make a long story short. i told him No. and he was like “why i dont understand. you said you loved me. how could you love me and then not love me anymore. this is really hurting my self-worth. i dont understand. what changed??”

and i just...didn’t engage really. i wasn’t gonna list all the reasons. i already did that when we broke up and he demanded answers. i told him that i didn’t feel the connection anymore. and i already know im hurting his feelings AGAIN. eventually i just said “i’m happier single.” and he was like “oh? so i won’t see you dating someone in six months?” and i was like “probably not?? but idk?” he also brought up an old interaciton we had waaay back in march and tried to gaslight me by saying i got defensive during it, but i literally wrote that interaction down beat by beat so i remember how it went because it made me feel so uncomfortable and was my first serious red flag. >:( you cannot trick me! 

we managed to end the conversation and i stayed firm within my boundaries even tho he looked sad/was tearing up and kept asking me for reasons (idk why being unhappy in the relationship isn’t a reason enough for him??) a few hours after i got home, he texted me and was like “Was everything you said earlier true? No lying to save my feelings?” and i texted him back and was like “Yeah, it was all true.” idk how i could’ve been any clearer. i think he just dislikes hearing things he doesn’t want to hear. (omg also he brought up bell hooks--someone i introduced him to!--and was like “are you just chasing the next high?” and i was like “??? idk ??” )

my friends keep telling me he was emotionally manipulative, but it’s hard for me to see it. maybe in time i will be able to. but again--im just proud of myself for not “cowering” and changing my mind because i’ve got a person in front of me who i do care about --and who is sad--who i could make happy by doing what he wants.

but that is no life worth living. i live for myself. for my own happiness. and i was not happy in the relationship. you don’t need any other reason to leave-- if you’re unhappy, you can just go. it’s fine. i think that’ll be the big lesson i takeaway from this whole debacle. 

#blue rambles #im TLDRing a lot of this interaciton #but im so proud of myself jsldfkjsdl

[shinymoonbird]

🔱  Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri ArunachalaRamanaya   🔱  

Photo  by Guy Gonyea

🕉️  

The Paramount Importance of Self Attention, by Sri Sadhu Om, As recorded by Michael James

Part Four - Mountain Path: January – March 2013 - Excerpt

Note of 2nd January 1978

🕉️  

Sadhu Om:  Once we have wholeheartedly taken Bhagavan to be our guru, we have no need to worry: we are like the child in its mother's lap. Of course, we cannot expect Bhagavan to choose us as his disciples, because in his view there are no others, so it is for us to decide that he is our only guru and protector.

Once we have wholeheartedly decided this, then we are truly having association or satsanga with him. This is really the satsanga that he refers to in the first five verses of Ulladu Nαrpadu Anubandham [Reality In Forty Verses - Supplement]. Once we enjoy this satsanga, he will be working from within and without. From outside he will shape our physical circumstances suitably, and from inside he will work deep within our cittam (mind, mental activities), where he will root out our vāsanās by burning, drying, churning out or dealing with them in whatever other way is most appropriate. We may not see any changes, of course, because the mind is not a suitable instrument for gauging its own development.

The influence of his silence is of course dependent upon [the receptivity of] us, the receiver set. As he says in the twelfth paragraph Nan Yar? - Who am I?, we must unfailingly follow the path shown by the guru. We must be sincere in our love for him. He says that he is self-shining in each one of us as 'I', so if we really love him, we will naturally and happily attend to this 'I'. When we are thus in his hands, he will make us do whatever is necessary. When we should attend to self, he will make us do so, and when we need some other experiences, he will provide them also.

If Bhagavan was truly a fit guru (our real self) when he was appearing as a body, then he must also be a fit guru now. But then he was with all his (Brahman's) five aspects, sat-cit-ānanda-nāma-rūpa [being-consciousness-bliss and name-and-form], whereas he is now without nāma-rūpa, his false aspects, and hence he shines unimpeded as pure sat-cit-ānanda. Therefore his power is now infinite. He always used to say that his body was veiling his true nature, and that those that took that body to be guru would be disappointed. Now his body has gone, he has left us with no outward form to cling to, so we have no alternative but to accept that 'I am' alone is the guru. I have found that many disciples who have come to him after the passing of his body are more sincere and have clearer understanding than most of those who came earlier [because they were fixated just on his physical form].

He now saves us from mistaking him to be the body, so what advantage would we gain from going to other bodies who are reputed to be great mahātmas? He has said that the greatest mahātma is within, so why not forget those other mahātmas and abide peacefully as this mahātma (our real self)?

Using the yardstick given to us by Bhagavan, we can now see that any would-be guru who conducts classes and flies around the world, thinking that he is guiding others, is not a real guru, because the guru does not see any ignorant jivas to guide. Bhagavan never attempted to guide anyone, but just kept quiet, and it was always a great wonder to him when people came to him saying, 'Bhagavan, I do not know myself, so please show the way to self'. What could he reply? He could only counter question: 'Who does not know whose self? Who is this I?'

Α mantra is a set of sacred syllables, and the word literally means 'that which protects when meditated on', coming from the same root as manas [mind] and manana [meditation or cogitation]'. Who is to be protected? The ego! A name of God will at least lead us to God, but a mantra will only protect us (our ego, mind or individuality) from God. There has been so much talk in India about mantras that nowadays people are not satisfied unless they are given a mantra. However, mantras are only for worldly things, so Bhagavan and Ramakrishna never initiated anyone with mantras.

Bhagavan's instruction concerning mantra-japa was that we should watch the source from which the sound of the mantra rises. What did he mean? Since the sound rises only from oneself, who repeats the mantra, he meant that we should ignore the mantra and instead cling fast to self-attention.

The mind must be made one-pointed so that it will cling to one thing alone, but for that it is not necessary to practise concentration on any second or third person, such as our breathing, a mantra or a form of God. We can just as well start our concentration practice by attending to the first person, 'I'. If we wish to learn to cycle in order to cycle to Tirukoilur, it is not necessary to practise in some open space here. Why not start our practice on the road to Tirukoilur? Likewise, since self is our goal, why not start by attending to self?

Some people may say that attending to 'I' is more difficult than attending to other things, but how can they prove their claim? In part one of The Path of Sri Ramana I have explained what is difficult and what is easy. Whatever you try to attend to, whenever your attention wanders, you must draw it back to its target, and this is easy to do whether that target is 'I' or some object. Attending to the first person is the direct means, and attending to anything else is in no way any easier. Indeed, practising concentration on any object will only increase the outgoing tendency of the mind, and will thus hinder us when we turn towards self.

In Nan Yar? - Who am I? [Paragraph 8], Bhagavan says, '... when the body dies, the mind seizes and takes the prāna away'. This simply means that when the mind subsides into its source, the tendency or habit of breathing also subsides. Then as soon as the mind rises again, projecting a new body, the function of breathing restarts automatically and immediately. Whenever there is body-consciousness, there is breathing. Breathing is an ingrained habit of the mind, and if we try to see how breathing starts, the mind subsides. This is another clue for self-attention [because what breathing starts from is only ourself].

Scientists talk of an involuntary nervous system, but there is no such thing. If they looked to see how these 'involuntary' functions start, they would understand that all physical functions are volition-driven actions of the mind, so they can be controlled if they are scrutinized by a sharp and refined mind.

Bhagavan used to say that dream is the activity of a halfconfused mind, and waking is the activity of a fully confused mind. In fact, the mind itself is confusion. We have so many confused beliefs — that we are born, that we have a past and a future, and so on — but if we really consider all such things, we will see that they are known only after we come into existence as this mind. If we carefully scrutinise the mind to see how and when all these thoughts arise, we will find that 'I am' alone is always shining. The past and future are only thoughts existing now, in the present moment.

Therefore I am a pukka atheist. I always say: don't believe what you don't know! The only thing we know directly and for certain is 'I am'. We know of our birth only by hearing about it from others, but we know these 'others' only after knowing ourself. Our present knowledge of the past is only ideas obtained from memory or external sources, which are second or third persons, but we know second and third persons only after knowing the first person. Our belief in the future also relies upon a second or third person, namely the inferring faculty of our intellect. Even our experiences of the present moment are known only indirectly through our mind and senses. Hence, all knowledge is merely a reflection of our original knowledge, 'I am'. It is all a flimsy reflection of our own self-awareness, and seems real and substantial only because of our mental confusion, which will disappear if we keenly scrutinise the first person or the present moment.

In Nan Yar? - Who am I?, [Paragraph 12], Bhagavan says that those who earn the gracious glance of the guru will surely be saved, but the guru's glance is not just the glance of his physical eyes. If we wish to know if someone is looking at us, we must look at them, and since self is the guru, we must turn selfward to see if self is looking at us. Indeed the guru is always looking at us, so in order to be saved we only have to attend to him, who shines as 'I'.

Many people say to me, 'This self-enquiry is difficult, so please tell us what self-surrender is', but in Nan Var? [Paragraph 13] Bhagavan says that self-attention alone is self-surrender:

Being completely absorbed in ātma-nishtha [self-abidance], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any thought other than ātma-cintana [self-contemplation], is giving ourself to God.

When people ask me what meditation Bhagavan taught, I reply that meditation means thinking, but Bhagavan instructed us not to think — to stop meditating. This is what he teaches us in the first mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu - Reality In Forty Verses:

... Since the existing reality exists without thought in the heart, who can [or how to] meditate on [that] existing reality, which is called 'heart'? Being as it is in the heart alone is 'meditating'. Experience [thus].

The aim of all yogas is to make the mind one-pointed, so that it has the strength to abide firmly in its source. This is why I always recommend people to stick to one guru and wholeheartedly follow his teaching. Even if the guru is a bogus one, so long as your guru-bhakti is sincere, your onepointedness of mind will soon give you the clarity to see that he is bogus. This is why Bhagavan criticised people going to many mahātmas. For example, in verse 121 of Guru Vacaka Kovai he says:

You who desire to see with wonder that mahātma and this mahātma! If you investigate and experience the nature of your own mahātma [great self] within you, [you will see that] every mahātma is only [that] one [your own self].

If you meet one real mahātma, he will teach you that the ātma in you is the same as the ātma in all mahātmas, and that it is therefore futile to go to any other mahātmas. Onepointed guru-bhakti is essential for the earnest practice of self-attention.

Another clue for self-attention is to try to see exactly when, how and from what thought arises. Such attention will automatically make the mind subside. Thought rises only when there is self-negligence (pramāda), attention to any thing other than self.

🔱 🔱 🔱 🔱 🔱 🔱

#Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi #the paramount importance of self-attention #Sadhu Om #Michael James #jnani #mahatma #sadhu #sage's eyes #eye of wisdom #eye of truth #satsang #sat-sanga #association with sages #sadguru #bhakti #devotion #love #association with the Self #oneness of Self #non-duality #UNAfirstfiveverses #NY §12 #EV v.4 #sat-cit-ananda-nama-rupa #NY §8 #NY §13 #UN v.Benedictory #gvk v.121 #self-attention #self-iinvestigation

[verdigrissoup]

15 Questions!

@macontheweb tagged me in this, and I thought I'd give it a go :)

1. Are you named after anyone? My real human name? No, I don't think so. My username? I wanted some sort of green-ish name and then I literally picked a random noun. It kinda took forever to find a username combo that wasn't taken on AO3! I love being called Soup now, and can't imagine being called anything else. I almost call myself that in my regular life all the time.

2. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. I cry a lot over how much I love the people I love. That time it was about my dad. The time before that was a few days earlier, because one of my friends said something very nice. I wear my heart on my sleeve.

3. Do you have kids? No, and I have no desire to. Massive kudos to the folks who decide to be caretakers for children, that's a really big job.

4. Do you use sarcasm? CONSTANTLY. A lot more in irl spaces than online because tone is easier. I try to be clearer when I'm sarcastic online.

5. What is the first thing you notice about people? Their smile, because I'm usually immediately trying to get them to laugh.

6. What is your eye color? Blue. My friends keep calling them my Daniel Craig orbs. They may not be as striking as the man himself, but they're pretty blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I for the life of me cannot do scary movies. I love a good romcom though, I don't care how sappy it is.

8. Any special talents? I know how to unicycle. I can also sew, which may not be all that special but I'm quite proud of it. I finished a quilt last year!!!

9. Where were you born? In a very cold place.

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, making obscure photoshop monstrosities. I also LOVE rock climbing documentaries, even if I'm not very good at the sport. I will talk about those all day long.

11. Do you have any pets? I have a dog, her name is Yuki and I love her to pieces :)

12. What sports do you play/have you played? I used to fence quite a lot when I was younger. I was briefly on a volleyball team, a ski team, and a track team but didn't last longer than a season. I also did a bit of archery. Right now I snowboard when I get the chance and I'm getting into rock climbing more regularly. I work out in the gym quite a bit too.

13. How tall are you? Average height

14. Favorite subject in school? English, for sure. I've been writing, reading, and telling stories from the minute people would listen to me.

15. Dream job? I would love to be a published author one day! That's the dream. I keep my current professional life pretty private, but I'm also currently working in an industry I really love too :)

I have no clue who's been tagged and who hasn't at this point, so you're welcome to join in if you want.

#thoughtsfromtheprimordialsoup #tag meme #thanks mac

[kangseluigi]

I almost fell back into a habit of talking to my mother like it's no biggie but today the resentment is rising

it's not even a big thing, just that

a) I'm in bed all day feeling like dying for multiple reasons, then she comes in being snarky and generally annoying b) I get up and force some food down and she goes "slept enough?" with a smirk you can hear and I'm already over it c) she gets pissy when I say she told me something, which like…tbf yes, maybe I misheard, but it's the instantly being angry and defensive for me that gets under my skin cause it happens every. single. time!! every time I say "but you said-" she gets sooooo mad, and every time she just says "NO!! I did NOT say that! There's no reason for me to say that!!!! You ALWAYS do this! YOUUUU never mishear anything it's always MEE and MY fault!!!"" when it would be so easy to say you don't think you'd say that literally any other way. And of course whenever it's the other way around I just say "??? No? I'm sure I didn't, cause I never even thought that" and just stand there confused but calm and wondering how that happened, and she just needs to rub it in my face all "SEE?? See how that is!? But I'm SURE You said that!!!" basically she cannnot be wrong and then accusesme of …not being able to accept being wrong, when I regularly admit to mishearing or not hearing things or maybe forgetting or misunderstanding, and KNOW our communication is fuckeddddd d) she then gets annoyed that I don't hurry to take the trash out before tomorrow morning like babe who give a fuck e) and when I am done with that, feeling physically and mentally miserable, she is laughing loudly and making random noises to demand attention, while I am having one of the worst days of my life.

The bottom line is, thank you, for reminding me just in time, you don't give a fuck about me. I'm tired of it, it doesn't even hurt anymore. I've accepted it tbh. Over the last month, I have completely detatched from her more than in the last few years, which already were putting it all to the test, but foolishly, I still tried to fix things with better and clearer communication. I tried sooo hard to work on it, and yeah, I definitely had moments where I just didn't know how to explain anymore that I cannot have her talk down to me like she does because it makes me SO miserable, which she considred emotional blackmail on my side, cause she just…NEEDS to help me and be clear about things, which is hilarious, cause there is a big thing of mould in the wall by the stairs, on the floor I'm on, which she doesn't pay much attention to and leaves for ages before tending to ONCE and then no more, but then gets mad when I have a couple too many dirty dishes cause ~it's unclean~ like babe, priorities.

Anyway. Today it's been 1 month since Beau died. Just 3 hours and 31 days ago. Which is why I am going through it a lot, among other things, and the whole month she just…didn't seem to care. Not about him, not about me, and yet she's mad that I don't help her with her cat, cause she helped with him, as if I'm not struggling to keep myself alive rn, or get out of bed at all, as if I'm not entirely fed up with her and wishng one of us would finally die so I don't have to deal with her shit anymore, on top of having a difficult relationship with her cat due to the love of my life-cat dying, but you know.

#I HATE that at 31 soon 32 I am still making the same posts I made for 20 years #I've been wanting nothing more but to get tf out of this house for 20 years #I am gonna scream #why must life be this way #everyone says 'just move out you're an adult omg' #cool I'm disabled and broke #so it's not that easy #not to mention the mental bullshit #but now I no longer have to consider Beau's wellbeing in me potentially leaving for a few days or lifetime #it's just I have no will to live lol #and honest it'd be so easy to go to the river right now at 4AM #she wouldn't even notice I'm gone for at least 24 hours I'm sure #it would all be so easy #suicide cw #abuse cw #??? #mother bullshit

[dumpdaily]

The problem with dissociative identity disorder is the fact that you seem to switch personalities entirely and people can't handle that. People want to be supportive and feel like they're doing the right thing so a lot of the time when you are friends with somebody and you tell them that you have a certain mental illness their first reaction will be like downplaying it and minimizing it because it seen as a bad thing or you're a good person so how could you have that thing. Or they will say they're accepting but then when the reality hits they demonize you call your bad person throw everything at you about how you're not the person that they thought you were or whatever. Some people will just leave silently never talking to you again you'll go to message them one day or give them a phone call only to find that they've blocked you and they never said anything as to why the last messages you had with them seem completely fine in your eyes.

People don't want to admit that maybe they just can't handle your mental illness so it's easier for them to blame a literally anything else to say that you don't really have it and call you every name under the sun or whatever it is they will do anything to avoid having to say that you are in fact too much to handle they cannot deal with you.

Look I get it mental illness is a lot and you don't have to be friends with people with mental illnesses if you don't want to, to be quite blunt. Thing is a lot of people want to be friends with us when things are going good because a lot of the time just like everybody else on the face of the planet we are fun interesting complicated people that other people want to spend time with.

The problem isn't being a fair weather friend. The problem is these people pretending like they are going to be your friend like an actual f****** friend but then bailing on you at the first sign of the waters rising. The problem is these people saying that they understand only to turn around and stab you in the back. The problem is when people think that they can be like that and lie to your face without consequence.

I will be there to my full capacity for people that I know will not be there for me however if it is told to me that somebody is going to be there for me and that they want to be my friend and then everything else that they do points to the contrary or it's all well and good until the going gets tough it is not unreasonable for me to be angry upset sad frustrated any number of things. I am not a manipulative person for expecting you to do what you said that you would do. I am not toxic because I let you know how your actions and words make me feel.

So sure I'm a monster a toxic I'm explosive I'm unreasonable I have unrealistically high standards I expect perfection 24/7 whatever else that people tend to say about me when they realize that trying to argue with me isn't going to change my f****** mind when they've gone out and done me wrong. Some people wait until they have well and truly lift my vicinity in order to air their grievances with me I can't do s*** about s*** if you're going to not tell it to my face how am I mean to know I'm not meant to be a mind reader. Social I am all of those things to many a person but I tell you what I'm a lot more than that.

I expect honesty. I expect people to do their best to try keep their word and that also applies to me. I try to be kind and expect the same from others. I expect everyone including myself to try understand one another not just on a surface level but also where that person is coming from. I expect discussions heated and not. I expect people to be able to agree to disagree in certain instances. I expect people to walk away and leave truly so that they can come back and reassess the situation with a calmer and clearer mind.

I don't just say these things I try my best to live them and I try my best to point out when other people are not living up to the standards that they have set for themselves or that they have said to me that are important to them. If all of the things that people call me are what I end up being called for being the way that I am so be it. If expecting everything to be more than just empty words makes me a monster then damn I'll be a f****** monster.

I might be a little mad right now because I've yet again been abandoned by somebody that I thought I was friends with and on perfectly good terms with. Feel a bit at a loss because I need people to be direct with me and everyone says that they can but then every single time people just slide out of my life without saying a goddamn word until it's too late. Like I can't do anything about that, all I can do is make my needs known.

#dumpdaily #vent #frienship #abandonment

[jalnandanz]

user fleurated.

hello, i am making this bc i truly have had enough of the shit they have done lol. don't go send hate asks to anyone though, it's not right, whatever they have done.

my main issue here is regarding the c slur that they and their sister have said. i myself am chinese, and i have talk to a few of my chinese moots as well and all of them have all been extremely offended by what bree has said and how she handled the situation. for privacy purposes, i will not be naming them.

first issue: c slur.

-

-

i seriously cannot even explain how much this affects the chinese community and i really have no words. if you genuinely don't know what the slur is, it's "chink".

i then sent in an anon ask about it and wow! she ignored it while she continued answering her mutuals' asks. then suddenly i couldn't send any asks to her! i and i could still send asks to my other mutuals so i can only assume that she had blocked me. typically way of handling a situation! hiding it from moots and blocking the person who called you out.

i then sent in a public ask to her about the same situation, to which she responded with "what". yes. just one word! at this point i really had enough and i sent in yet another ask. bree had privately answered this but i am so fucking appalled by her reply.

-

-

you have said a slur, so i really don't care if that was your older sister or friend. the second part is what really took me off. " i apologise if you do think its offensive or not" excuse me?? please fucking tell me you are joking lol... of course im offended by it ??

i dmed her and these were her replies.

-

(to be clearer, the first pic was her sister, enhyxkat, who was sending the message)

-

the anon or your past experiences do not fucking give you the right to use a slur you cannot reclaim. you could have answered without using the slur OR the dog eating part. you are asian, but are you chinese? i don't fucking think so!

the fact that you had to answer privately is really weird because i think you just didn't want your mutuals seeing your fuck-up. ofc, maybe it was genuinely because you didn't want to clog your dash. then why aren't you at least apologising?

they have apologised to me on private but its really not about the slur at this point. it's about how bree and her sister replied and how they handled the situation.

second issue: user moatrash

if you don't know, user moatrash had faked her race a few weeks ago, claiming to be korean when she was south asian. i am neither korean nor part of the south asian community but i really, really detest people who do shit like this. also, i don't know if i am the only one who thought her apology was literal ass but whatever lol this isnt the main issue. in bree's carrd, this is what she states in her "do not interact" section.

-

-

yet she is constantly interacting with user moatrash, or liz. she claims that liz had already apologized, but honestly i personally thought the apology was just her giving excuses for her actions. but again thats for another time. why are you friends with an east asian fisher when you seem to strongly object them? it doesn't sit right with me. its like you're picking and choosing just because shes your friend. so just bc you're mutuals, your dni doesn't apply to her? man tell me a better joke than that...

this really shows how she doesn’t care much about the people who's feelings have been hurt by this, and that she also doesn't care about everything that liz has caused to the ea community, as well as her own race.

that's all for now... i have a lot of other people to talk about but .. ☺️☺️ again, don't send hate asks please. she has apologized in dms but i have seriously had enough. that's why i made this post. also thank u to my moots who helped w this ^^

also P.S !!! she was the one who followed and unfollowed me 4 times in the hopes that i would fb but 🤣🤣🤣👍

#impt!!

[txciaz]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #help idk what im doing

[neon-junkie]

Hey everyone,

This will be my final post addressing the fandom conflict that has quite frankly gotten out of hand. Although it’s very likely this post will be picked apart, no matter how well intended it is, I will no longer be addressing, interacting, or responding to any further accusations made against me. Of course, if people have questions from a genuine place of interest, I will be happy to clarify anything for you, either via DM’s or non-anon asks. I will not be answering anonymous asks on this, as I do not want anything else posted on this topic. 

As a side note: For anyone tempted to wade into the debate, I sincerely ask you not to get involved. Do not make yourself a target, do not feel you need to ‘pick a side’, and please do not think you have an obligation to reason with either side. It seems to be well past the point of that, so please find people you get along with in this fandom and curate a space for yourself away from all this conflict.

Warning: This post will contain uncensored slurs, mentions of racism, paedophilia, transphobia, LGBTQ+ phobia, death threats, threats of violence, targeted harassment, and abusive language.

To start off, I want to apologise to everyone who has somehow gotten drawn into this mess by either defending me, following me, or interacting with my content. This whole situation with me began well over a year ago when I wrote a crack-smut fic featuring Javier/Micah, posted back in August 2019. A crack fic is defined as “a work of fan fiction that is absurd, surprising or ridiculous, often intentionally.” It was inspired by a camp interaction between Micah and Javier, and like many other fanfiction writers, I decided to write smut about it. The fic was titled ‘Dirty Fucking Greaser’, and if that shocks you, I’m sure you can imagine how shocked I was to be informed afterwards that ‘Greaser’ was in fact a very serious 19th century slur for a Mexican individual. My first encounter with this word as insult was via RDR2, where it was used like a very casual insult. My only prior knowledge of this term was in regards to the greasers youth subculture, so the severity was lost on me. This obviously does not excuse my ignorance, and I should have researched the term better, but this is just again to apologize for that oversight, the insensitivity, and to highlight that my use of this term was not meant maliciously. Following this being pointed out, I proceeded to make 3 separate apology posts [Unfortunately I can only find the third one: HERE], renamed the fic, and added slur warnings in both the tags and the fic description. When I continued to receive complaints and increasingly aggressive abuse (which included being told my apologies weren’t good enough and I should delete my account and even kill myself), I attempted to delete the fic and mistakenly abandoned it instead. I contacted AO3 to see if it could be removed, but they said there was nothing they could do. I contacted their DMCA takedown team, who also said they couldn't remove it. Please note that all this happened 7-8 months ago, and has been dragged on for almost a year. 

So, from this one unfortunate incident, I’ve been branded a racist, and someone who attacks POC, when all I have done is tried to defend myself and correct my past mistakes. I could have done this more gracefully in the past, but frankly when you’re suddenly the target of unrelenting callout posts and nasty anons, it’s very hard to be open to criticism of this sort, but this is what I’m trying to move past.

Over the course of the year, this one mistake has spiralled, and the crusade against me has somehow coincided with moral conflicts over certain characters and ships. This has devolved into dehumanizing abuse, witch hunts, death threats, doxxing, anon hate, and much more unpleasant behaviour.

I have been in fandom for a very long time, and at the heart of all fandom circles is the fear of censorship and subsequent purges, so the ‘ship and let ship’ mentality was more or less the pinnacle of fandom philosophy. And yes, this can be problematic in some contexts. People have their right to be uncomfortable with content, have a right to be offended by content, but that is not content meant for you. This argument has devolved into ‘what material is morally right to engage with’ and that is a mentality in which fandom will not survive, because for every person who is telling me I’m an awful person for writing about Micah, there are three other people telling me how much they appreciate me making that content. For every fic in which I characterize Javier and Flaco a certain way, some people are made uncomfortable by it and others tell me they enjoy it. And this isn’t just white people, but POC too, which makes it very difficult to know whether I am genuinely in the right or the wrong, especially when it comes to the concept of ‘fetishization’ which I have been made aware I need to educate myself on. I intend to do so, but I disagree with the common accusation that finding non-white men romantically and sexually attractive is inherently fetishistic and makes me racist. It’s pushing a catch-22; don’t find POC sexually attractive? Racist. Find POC sexually attractive? Racist.

I am always willing to be (politely) approached about anything my readers may be concerned about, but if it’s something I’ve specifically tagged for (such as themes, scenarios, etc.) I’m afraid you consented to reading it and with that I cannot help you. You are just as responsible for curating your space and what you see/read just as much as I am responsible for tagging it appropriately.  

On the topic of racism, I want to bring up my prior use of ‘white racism’ which has obviously been a point of contention among both white and people of colour. The (literal) black vs white concept of racism is incredibly American-centric, and as someone from Europe, which has a history of oppression against white cultures and those of people of colour, it feels inaccurate. However, this has recently been discussed with me and I came to the realization that while growing up, especially in the UK, ‘xenophobia’ and ‘racism’ were marketed as one and the same. So, with this little revelation in mind, I will no longer be using ‘white racism’ (Or ‘reverse racism’) to identify the abuse I have been receiving, but will instead call it by what it really is; dehumanizing, debasing, xenophobic, puritanical.   

Very briefly, I will also touch on the NewAustin situation, which has also been dredged into this. I did not ‘chase a POC from tumblr’. NA was a minor who for some reason was on my 18+ blog and took issue with me, likely from the ongoing discourse regarding my fic and initial mistake, as well as my interest in Micah. They were subsequently harassed into deleting their account by anonymous hate following various conflicts with other users for their support of me or their ships in general. I have never encouraged my followers to target anyone, and have always asked to be blocked and blacklisted by those who do not like me or my content. When NewAustin messaged me following the deletion of their blog, I was admittedly indifferent to the point of being unkind, and accused them of sending the hate themselves. This was based on the anon hate being racially-driven without there being any prior knowledge or publication that NA was a person of colour. This aside, I should have at the time, whether I believed it was my followers or not, condemned this behaviour. Regardless of the issues I’ve had with these people, it is never ever ok to send hate to anyone, no matter the motivation behind it, and that should have been stated at the time.

All I can do at this point is acknowledged and apologize for my past mistakes, and try to improve myself going forward.  

It is not my place to dictate the morals of the character/ship-aspect of this argument, and I am not interested in waging a war of opinion. This post is simply to clarify how I am involved in this, and why I am so viscerally targeted. You can draw your own conclusions, but I am no longer interested in this endless back and forth.

To my mutuals/followers, I stand by my request to not interact and to block and move on, as this is what I’ll be doing too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope it makes things from my perspective a little clearer.

-RAT <3

EDIT: Just after this post was made, the fic in question was finally removed. I had to go through a DMCA take down, which can take months, since I originally abandoned the fic, thinking that meant delete. I explain this in more detail above. Said fic is gone, and has been gone since this post has been around.

#the tea #apology #long post

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

“Let’s BTS” asks about “I like you the most” and Jin’s reaction

by Admin 2

First of all, I want to wish you all, far away in the world of Vmin and BTS, a healthy and peaceful Easter, if you celebrate it, and a nice weekend for those who don’t! Since Admin 1 is quite busy right now and currently also participating in Camp NaNoWriMo, I (Admin 2) will take over our blog for a little while though Admin 1 will still be lurking and checking comments etc. I want to emphasize right away (you will probably notice it anyway) that I have no literary talent compared to Admin 1. I'll try to worthily “replace” Admin 1 for the time being and talk to you about Vmin and more.

Unlike Admin 1, I am not so careful with shipping discussions (and I even like them) as long as everything is done respectfully and we’re all sticking to the truth about the BTS members. I don't like criticizing other shippers because I understand that other fans may love their favorite members and ships just as much as we love Vmin or Namjin, but sometimes it’s inevitable that I have to say something.

So, I invite you to a discussion. I am open to discussion.

We got two interesting questions about “Let’s BTS” and specifically Jin’s reaction to vmin and I want to discuss them.

From anon: Hi, just wanted to see what you made of Jin’s reaction to Tae’s message to Jimin on the Let’s BTS show. I’ve seen some people say he looks so done and even annoyed with it. I can understand him looking apprehensive at first because Tae is a bit of a loose canon, but everyone’s reaction after is to laugh and smile and shout but Jin is very stoic. I’m kinda new and wondering whether he isn’t a fan of Vmin’s brand of declaring their love on national TV. Although when I think of how he behaves with Joon - I’d struggle to wonder why he doesn’t like it. Any thoughts?

From anon: Hi, I cannot believe what I’m reading about Tae on some platforms. What is wrong with people? Anyways I wanted to ask you what you thought of Jin’s reaction to Tae’s message for Jimin? I’ve started seeing people saying that Jin hates the fact they’re close that’s why his reaction was weird. I’m a vmin shipper but Jin is my bias and I can’t get my head around the fact that Jin doesn’t love them both dearly. He did look “apprehensive” perhaps but I’d say with Tae being Tae; that isn’t surprising.

In order to answer these two questions and to form my opinion on the matter, I’ve looked at the situation with regard to Jin and other members several times.

I admit that I’m surprised myself that Taehyung went this far. Actually, it's not even about the content of his words, but about the whole circumstance and the atmosphere that he created around his "confession". I don't know who added the music, whether it was a Taehyung hint or simply something the editors and PD thought of, but the whole situation and phrase gained even more "meaning" and "seriousness" through it.

I seemed as though the background music was supposed to make the moment remind everyone almost of a scene from a K-Drama (or one of vmin’s playful roleplays), but it only added to the effect of this being a serious, sincere and weighty moment instead.

Taehyung joked around by turning the table and pretending the envelope was not intended for Jimin, but this just led to an increase in the tension displayed by the members and the moment itself, and yet still Jimin was immediately convinced that he was the one for whom the envelope would be. Everyone was acting (which makes it sound like they were faking it which isn’t what I mean) like they were curious, but you could clearly see everyone's tension and nervousness, especially when looking at Jimin. Taehyung added that the contents of the card within the envelope were for Jimin's eyes only, emphasizing the seriousness and intimacy of what he was about to say. As a result, Jimin’s reaction led to uncertainty, nervousness, and at the same time an awareness of the sincerity and seriousness of Taehyung's words.

The words "I like you the most" are (on a superficial surface level) nothing big when compared to "I love you", but they still had the biggest reaction. Jimin wrote "I love you" to Suga and absolutely no one reacted nervously, everyone joined in on the declaration, and the situation was relaxed and even funny. Why did Taehyung’s words cause such reactions then? Why?

My thought is this: When the envelope was revealed to be for Jimin, it was met with tension by both members and Jimin. We all know that Taehyung can be a bit of a loose cannon sometimes, even on national television, when it comes to Jimin.

Jungkook immediately commented that "it’s about friendship", Suga laughed nervously and loudly, as if he wanted to end the situation quickly, and Jin had a serious face that didn’t seem all too positive or eager about what would happen next.I'm not going to go into Jimin's reaction here, but rather Jin’s, since that’s what the anons were wondering about.

In my opinion, Jin doesn't like situations that slip into seemingly too private matters. He is definitely the kind of person who gives up the least private information. The situation with Vmin clearly didn't suit him. And not because Jin doesn't like Vmin (because that’s simply not true), but because he knew this program would be broadcast nationally and streamed worldwide, that it would be debated, that every word would be analyzed, and most importantly, because the team that recorded the show wasn’t their own but one that belonged to KBS. Jin doesn't want anyone to have access to BTS's private life, after all he even asked the You Quiz editors to cut what he saw as too sad/depressing about his answers so clearly he thinks about and considers many such things. I think Taehyung didn't care all that much, but Jin did care.

Perhaps I will go too far in my analysis and imagination here, but let's not forget that in the near future Jin is going to have to leave for his military enlistment in the highly conservative Korean army, which holds very homophobic views. Any shadow cast on any of the BTS members (even if some of them are already suspected to be queer) can endanger Jin or make it even more difficult for him to perform his service well and safely. The suspicion that two of the members might be in a relationship with each other would make Jin an accomplice, since they belong to the same group and would lead to him also being suspected of being queer, guilty by associating basically. This is my opinion at least.

Jin is the oldest and feels responsible for BTS, much the way Namjoon does as leader, for everyone including Taehyung, because Jin is aware of the wave of hatred that will be/is poured onto Taehyung across sns after such a public statement. According to Jin, in my humble opinion, this is neither the time nor the place to take such a step in such serious manner. As long as everything was done in form of jokes and witty answers, Jin was joining in and having fun, but when it was Tae's turn his face became serious, as if to warn Taehyung. Jin knew that "Taehyung's atmosphere" could/would fluster Jimin and the entire team, and could become the subject of rumors spread by the staff that isn’t their own.

So no, Jin’s reaction wasn’t because he hates vmin or anything like that, because that’s not true on any level, but because Taehyung’s words about liking Jimin the most were perhaps too sincere for the setting they were in, raising too many brows, and that’s potentially why he reacted the way he did. After all, if you watch the 5th Muster concerts, and especially the one in Seoul, when vmin stand at the very end together, Jin approaches them and throws water at them as though to pull them out of their bubble and back into reality. All in good fun and because he simply cares a lot about them.

Also, an alternative and even more simple answer could be that Jin’s face has no relation to anything I just said and doesn’t tell us anything about what he thought about Taehyung’s words. After all in some interviews he also just sits there quietly and watches/listens to the other members and that doesn’t mean anything at all, or at least nothing negative. But since you asked for my thoughts, here they are, though they don’t have to be right.

I actually have no idea what the reactions are to this show in Korea and among the general public, but I've seen the reactions to Tae’s words across various sns, which one of the anons also mentioned so I’d like to talk about those for a moment as well.

My hair stood on end when I read some of the responses/posts about Taehyung. I never thought that people who call themselves ARMY or fans of BTS would have such opinions about any of the members. A wave of hatred literally flooded Taehyung, like Admin 1 previously mentioned in their answer to an ask.

I just wanted to cry. It shocked me how far shipping can go (literally playing with actual, living people with no regard to their own words and thoughts) that it can cause such extreme emotions in "fans". It's hard to say which is more negative and alarming for some, Taehyung potentially really having (romantic and reciprocated) feelings for Jimin, Taehyung's feelings not being for the “right” person, or the mere fact that Taehyung's feelings are for a person of the same gender.

It’s also interesting to see how deceptive some are. I don’t even mean that “Taehyung and Jimin like each other most” is ignored, which it is, but rather that those mutual feelings were manipulated to twist them into a completely different direction and to another person, or turned into mere jokes or sarcasm. As if all of this simply never happened.

On the other hand, the fact that Jungkook unbuttoned his shirt before going on stage for “My Time”, as opposed to him not doing so during rehearsals, has become very important and an example of J*k*ok being in a relationship, how that’s now even clearer than ever before and is an indisputable fact, according to shippers. Apparently, J*k*ok were flirting with each other throughout the entire segment and show and only had eyes for each other. Somehow Jungkook imitating Jimin is the final piece of evidence to prove everything shippers ever claimed and thus, according to them, everyone must now see that they love each other romantically.

I've carefully watched this show three times, this particular segment and everything else too, and frankly I haven't seen anything that could be called anything even close to flirting when it comes to the two main ML ships. I'm mature and I think I know what flirting is and I can “read” the simplest human behavior, but I really couldn’t see any of it. In my opinion, Jungkook imitating Jimin is clear and open and not a secret. I fully understand Jungkook, I would also follow Jimin in his place :-) Jimin's dancing and looks, as well as his professional work ethic, are truly breathtaking, inspiring and worth imitating. However, this has absolutely nothing to do with romantic affection or a romantic relationship between them, in my opinion.

Hence, I fail to understand these behaviors which in turn lead to a wave of hatred against Taehyung and the, repeated, disregard, belittlement and erasure of Jimin’s and Taehyung’s friendship and relationship bond, and even some going as far as pretending anything vmin was simply not there at all just to make their ship seem more real, booo.

#BTS #vmin #Jimin #Taehyung #Seokjin #Let's BTS #answered ask #answered by admin 2

[kaepop-trash]

IM SHOOK? SHAKEN? CHANGED??:&:9 PUSH AND PULL IS SO GOOD??:&:@; AAAA. I LOVE YOUR WORK.. LITERALLY OBSESSED ... i was wondering if it had a part 2 BUT THE CLIFF HANGER .. GOD INSANITY.. UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER AAAAA

There was a time when I had considered writing another part for it, but truly there was just one scene I really wanted to write. When I saw this, I felt compelled to write it. Consider it an apology for the cliff hanger I left the fic on. Not that this is any better.

I was intrigued by this dynamic when I wrote this fic and I continue to be even now. So consider this more self-gratification than anything else. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.

Tw: unhealthy relationship dynamic, hints of obsession and violence if you squint.

_

This was strange. She was allowed to think that. The restaurant was a good one, she was dressed as well as she always was.

Kim Doyoung was in a white shirt and dark jeans. His eyes were focused on the menu in his hand, brows stitch together in concentration. The other hand ran through his hair, an honest effort to push it out of his face. But it was long and fell over his eyes just as soon as he let it go, the only difference being a few strands that stuck up.

She looked down at her fingers, nails now cleaned of the blood from his scalp. He had very soft hair too, she could remember the feel of it against her palm. She could remember the other parts too.

"Have you decided what you want?" His voice made her look up. He was watching her with careful calculation, the gaze of a panther assessing his prey. He was a fool to think she wasn't herself a predator.

"Sure." She slapped the menu close, the sound sudden and loud.

He just nodded, "Okay." His eyes coloured with amusement. She clenched her fist tight, impatient and irritated. "Are you usually this quiet?" He sat back in his seat.

"I speak when I want to, Mr. Kim." Her voice was curt.

He gave her a heinous smirk, "I had my tongue in your cunt, (Y/N). You can call me Doyoung." He reached for his glass of water.

His words made her shift in her chair. Her body reacting against her will was what made the last thread of courtesy snap.

"Other people have done more than that. Physical intimacy isn't grounds for familiarity, not with me." She settled back into her chair. When his jaw flexed, she smiled. At least now they were both annoyed.

"What is grounds for familiarity with you?" His voice was sharper, gaze narrower.

"Why do you care, Mr. Kim?" She snapped. "I'm not interested in being familiar with you."

"Why not?" He furrowed his brows.

"I'm not interested in being familiar with anyone." It was the first honest thing she'd spoken in a while.

"Scared?" He looked intrigued.

"Indifferent." Her frown twisted further.

He hummed, considering her words. "I could make a compelling case."

"It would be a wasted effort. I'm sure you'll find someone more suited to your demands elsewhere." She reached for her glass of water, confused and displeased by the way this was going.

Yet a part of her clawed with intrigue, wanting to know why he was seemingly undeterred. It stopped her from walking out the door, "Can we order?" She questioned. He gave her an unbothered smile, nodding in answer. She wanted to pry open his skull if it told her what he was thinking.

"I don't understand why you're being so persistent. I'm not trying to be coy, I'm not interested in anything beyond sex." She told him once the waiter left with their orders.

"We can have sex." He said it like it was a consolation prize, one he only considered in hindsight.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "What do you want, Doyoung?"

He licked his lips, eyes grazing the skin over the low neckline of her dress. "I started a painting the night I first met you. I haven't painted anything in three years." His eyes glazed over at that, clearly not present at the table anymore. "The second time I met you, the image became clearer, I could picture the colours of it." His eyes focused again, honing in on her. Her stomach flipped. "Last night I thought of a different painting I will paint after this." He gave her a look of conviction, "I must get to know you better." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not keen on being used." She brushed it off.

"Being somebody's muse is a privilege, (Y/N)." His tone flares with offense, "It's being immortalised in memory. I want to capture you in between my brushes and commit you to canvas. I want to make you art." He frowned at her, confused by the rejection.

"Privilege?" She laughed, the sound light and melodious. "It sounds to me like I'm the one doing you a favour. It's your privilege, Mr. Kim." She laughed a little more.

"I don't care what you think." His words didn't match the look on his face, "I haven't had inspiration in years. I'm losing my touch. If I don't create, I cease to be." Anger seeped into his eyes, burning bright red.

She sat back in her chair, "What do I get in return?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering it.

"What do you want, (Y/N)? Other than an artist's devotion."

She scoffed at his words, "Let me display your art. Anywhere, anytime. If you want to use me, I want to be the only person who gets to use your paintings." She saw the gears grinding in his head at her words.

While it would be a good deal to have, a part of her was sure he'd never agree to it. She knew his reputation. Kim Doyoung did not like sharing what was his.

"Fine." It was his lack of hesitation that caught her off-guard. “But I have a single condition instead. It’s not up for argument.”

She nodded, the possibility of having the exclusive right to display the art of one of the most coveted artists alive worth anything he could demand. He smiled like he was aware of that.

“I want you to myself. No other people.” His eyes bore into her, his gaze the most intense thing about his presence. She clenched her fist so tight that her nails dug into the skin, her palm stinging.

She wanted to slap him.

The demand was a clear sign of control over her. She knew artists, knew the extent of their obsessions. She also knew they tended to fade fast.

“Alright, Doyoung.” She bit her lip. “Have your way with me.” Despite herself, she felt her chest stir at her own words.

-

He flicked the light on, the large empty space illuminated with harsh white light. She looked around, the studio mostly empty save for a single canvas that rested against the wall. The smell of paint thinner in the air told her that he had been at it recently. Doyoung stood by the door as she walked towards the piece, the click of her heels echoing in the space.

The canvas was a messy blend of colours: red, orange and white. In the centre of ot sat the outline of a couch. “This is what you made?” She questioned, the perceptive eye of someone acquainted with art observing every detail.

“Don’t like it?” He spoke from across the room.

She focused on the blend of colours; despite the bold mix of red and orange, it was the white strokes that felt aggressive. “It’s confusing.” She shifted her weight between her feet.

She heard his footsteps approach her, “Have you ever felt rage, (Y/N)? Blinding rage that you cannot control? Only channel?” His words bounced off the walls.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve your rage.” Her voice was softer.

“You seduced me, (Y/N).” His footsteps stopped short of her heel. “You were using every dirty trick one could do it. And you were so blatant about it.” He groaned.

Her lips tugged, “I’m known to go after what I like in the moment.” She swallowed.

“You’re shameless.” He spat the word like an insult. She clenched her jaw, “And it makes me furious that I can’t stop thinking about you.” There was a crack in his calm voice, it made her breath falter for a second.

“You aren’t the first." She scoffed, "You don’t have to be hard on yourself, I know what I’m doing. Your reaction is to be expected.” She tried to keep her voice level, not giving him the priviledge of seeing her own rage. Rage was an admittance of effect and she would not let him see his effect on her.

She gasped when his finger brushed up her thigh. “You don’t know anything about me." He mumbled, still maintaining the last few inches of distance. "I don’t play games, I don’t collect conquests.”

She laughed, her head falling back. He took a step closer, pushing her head to the side to brush his lips over her neck. “I know people, Doyoung. I especially know men. You want to believe you’re complex,” He bit down on the smooth skin, she moaned. “But lust is never complicated. It’s deceptively simple. You’re currently playing a game with me, one you want to win. You just don’t know it, which is your loss because you don’t have a prize in mind.” He licked the skin he just ruined, purring into her throat. He bit down the same place again, harder. She whimpered.

“I know my prize.” His nose brushed up her jaw, his breath heating her skin.

“I’m not a trophy to be acquired.” She took a step back, pressing into his chest.

Doyoung sighed, hand reaching around and tugging on her waist, “Who said I was talking about you?”

She clenched her jaw. “What is it you hope to win then?” His hand brushed up and grabbed her jaw, tilting her head back further.

“Let me show you.” His lips brushed against her cheeks. He gathered her dress in his hands, hitching it higher. “Lift your arms.” He whispered. When she did, he pulled the material off.

His fingers made quick work of the rest of her garments. Once she was completely bare, he turned her around. His smile was deceptively gentle, “Do you enjoy being a whore, (Y/N)?” He took a step back, looking her over with detached scrutiny.

“Very much so.” She stepped out of her underwear. When he looked up with a sharp gaze, it was her turn to give him a sweet smile.

“Will you enjoy being my whore?” He brushed his index finger on his lips. Soft, pretty lips that she made a note to destroy.

“That is to be seen.” She breathed out.

He smiled wide, pointing behind him. “Sit on that sheet.”

She gave him a skeptical look. When he added no further explanation, she did what she was told. She walked up to the large white cloth that lay flat on the floor, ready for whatever he had planned. She bent over, deliberately slow, and took her heels off. Walking over to the centre of the sheet and sitting down, bringing her knees up to her chest. She sat patiently.

“Such a pretty picture you make.” He hummed, walking over to a table littered with paint and brushes. He picked up a few bottles, coming up to stand in front of her. Her heart beat so fast with anticipation that she was certain it was echoing against the walls.

He kneeled in front of her, “Give me your palms.” His eyes stayed on her face, his voice still dispassionate. She lifted her hands and laid them out for him. When he looked down at them, she glanced at his features. Without his dark gaze, his face looked almost delicate. She felt thick liquid on her palm, looking down to see him squeeze blue and green paint on each palm.

He looked up when he finished, “Lust isn’t simple. It’s like being on fire one second and being drowned the next. Put your hands behind you and lean back.” She took in an unsteady breath, sitting back.

The paint squished between her palm when she pressed them on the sheet, coming out from between her fingers. He sat back, unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time.

“Which one of us will drown?” She breathed out, words mixed with soft pants.

He unbuckled his belt, smirking when she squeezed her legs. “That is to be seen.” He repeated her own words back, grabbing her knees to open her legs again. He stood up, pushing his jeans off. Once he did, he squeezed the green paint onto his knees. Her breathing was ragged now, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with the admittance of her eagerness.

He walked around to her back, leaning down. “Sit up.” His voice was lower, and to her victorious realisation, afflicted. When she did, his knees pressed into the small of her back, paint rubbing against her skin. She couldn’t explain why, but the rudimentary action made her moan. He brushed her hair up, tying it up on her head with a tie she didn’t know he had. Everything felt meticulously planned.

He squeezed more paint onto her spine, rubbing it around with precise fingers. He remained unnervingly silent, getting up and coming back around to face her again. “You’re so beautiful.” He gasped.

The words made her smirk, chest heaving with quick breaths. “I know.”

He smirked back, “I’m going to make you divine.” He put his knees on the sheet, the blue and green rubbing together. She stared at the traces, for a moment mesmerised by the mark it left.

She yelped when he grabbed her ankle and tugged her, her wet palms slipping. Her back landed on the sheet, her head stinging a little from the sudden contact. He parted her legs with his knee, she looked up to see him squeeze white paint into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, before using them to hover over her. “You’re going to display the very manifestation of your lust in museums all over the world, (Y/N). We’re going to commodify your sin. That’s my prize.” His hands slid across the sheet and grabbed her waist.

She reached up and grabbed his throat, the smooth white skin tainted blue and green. “It’s going to be our sin, Doyoung.” She dragged her eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want familiarity.” His hands rubbed white paint up her sides, brushing under her breasts. Both their breathing matched in impatience.

She pulled him closer, resting her lips on his. “If you’re going to immortalise me, I will own you.” She promised. He smiled against her lips, kissing her.

_

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Push and Pull

#doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung scenarios #doyoung drabble #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct drabble #miscellaneous #push and pull #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 smut

[rockheadcd]

@reconductor​ said: i grab u like a squeaky toy and shake you around.

you are literally doing god's work out here with your muses!!! i am gonna go insane!!!!!!

roark. roark my sweet little sunshine my little guy my ambiguous disaster. you give him SO MUCH depth for someone that in game is basically just there to introduce you to the gym challenge? i always felt it was a shame how little the gym leaders get explored in canon for how important they actually are, and also roark somehow always stuck out to me as one of those few gym leaders i would keep thinking back to- honestly ngl i got excited when you first followed bc i saw him there in your blog and i went THATS THE BOY!!! i just love how much you have worked on him and how much you have fleshed him out, even in the silly little details like his metal shirts and his music likes- it all just comes together so well and i love to read everything you're doing. and thats not even mentioning whatever the fuck is going on between him and volkner :) thats free serotonin right there thank u for indulging me and this mess it's a delight to even just talk it all out in discord!! so yes roark 10/10 perfect rock boy i would let him have a hug with volkner that will confuse the straights again

NOW STEVEN. i will admit i dont remember much from gen3, im not even sure if i played it in full and i still need to get to oras and finish xy? but my god how i fucking love to see your other silly rock man, it's just so much fun all around to read anything you write with him and see him lose it at the credit card fraud :) hes just so full of character beyond the rock love and you are doing such a good job at making him clearly steven the weird cryptid fucking off to caves for rocks while still having so much more to him than that- and his much clearer relationship with wallace is also just so good all around?? love to see the guncles. please adopt more kids that need it we got plenty of trauma going all around. another 10/10 hope volkner's box won't kill him

LASTLY BUT NOT LEAST ADAMAN YOU FUNNY DUMB CLAN MAN I LOVE ADAMAN. honestly i have to keep reminding myself that hes not? a rock man too technically i guess?? but you just got him nailed so well i see him in here and he just fits with roark and steven even when they have no fucking interactions whatsoever. he's just so great all around i am so so glad to see how you write him and the chaos that things turn into its so much fun. 10/10 again i hope dialga will show him the rest of crush 40's sonic hits

(zoroark is also nice i GUESS. fuck you. fuck you for that (affectionate) )

AND YOU. YOU ARE SO GOOD. YOU'RE SUCH A NICE PERSON AND IT'S SO FUN TO TALK TO YOU AND HAVE YOU AROUND AND ALSO YOUR ART GIVES ME LIFE DON'T FUCKING STOP!!! i will kill god for you that is a threat and a promise. / portrayal vibe check. | accepting.

i’m gonna fuckin GET YOU, YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SEND ME AN ESSAY?! FAE..........I DON’T DESERVE YOU UEHUEHEUEE Q_Q.....

but you’re so right roark was made to get stomped on and be your tutorial buddy but like....i did not expect so many people to be like “no he’s a fave” and i be like WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS LIKE 10 PLAYING THIS. idk he’s been. a muse i’ve kinda wanted to write and it’s buddies like you that can give him the environment to thrive and fit into. i can fit so many useless tidbits of info in mildly obscure characters i cannot be stopped. thank YOU for indulging me in whatever the fuck they’re doing rn bc i’m loving it and you’re ruining my spoofy wrapped this year.

i’m so appreciative that you enjoy steven’s absolutely chaotic life bc i have way too much fun with it.. we need to write more muses together bc it’s very fun. and adaman is just the only sane bitch on this blog i’m pretty sure HE’S LITERALLY HERE TO VIBE AND BE SEXY. i hope he gets hooked on crush 40 so any of his descendants have absolute garbo taste in music. :)

( we don’t talk about zoroark. except that we do. a lot. i can’t wait for him to stab the depresstie. ♥ ) BUT FOR REAL THANK YOU.... i’m just a tired dad but i’ve enjoyed every moment chatting with you and completely destroying my sleep schedule in the process. 

#reconductor #🌙 ━ / asks. #🌙 ━ / ooc.