#then ill read s&b

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Aough. Rewatched Goodbye, Farwell, and Amen today...

#its fucked up. the goodbyes on the show hurt me more than my irl goodbyes will when i move in a week #tho when i said goodbye to my boss i was like this is the last time ill see u in person for some undetermined time after 4 years of working #together and she was like yep unless we're both at a conference. and i all i could think of was this scene lol #i think were more likely to end up at a conference together than these 2 tho lol #mash #m*a*s*h #bj hunnicutt #hawkeye pierce #benjamin franklin pierce #lol my shitty handwriting. tho at least its not bad enough to have my boss b like pls pls we need to b able to read the sampling bags #bc someone in my lab has handwriting that bad #tw blood #hunnihawk

[waterfallofspace]

53 and 55 for d/azai and ch/uuya (the sick one 👁👁) perhaps please if you would like… <3

Thank you so much for the ask/request!! These have been so fun hahaha~~ I did get just a touch angsty/fever heavy towards the end, so hopefully that's alright, I promise it's not super serious! I also did want to include a little french, and while I did take it in school, I remember less than nothing, soooo this is all thanks to google, therefore I apologize for anything inconsistent/incorrect! [ Putain de merde = Holy shit ] [ À tes souhaits = Bless you ] [ Merde = Shit ] [ Je dois = I've got to ] 2.1k words, prompts 53 and 55, story under the cut! ~Part Two/Continuation Post Here~ 53. "Bless you?" 55. "You sound awful." (References to mild violence, high fevers, and swearing just in case anyone doesn't like any of those!)

~~~~~~~

Dazai is nothing if not observant. There is hardly a single detail in any given encounter he hasn’t seen, or predicted. Which is why he finds it almost insulting that people always insist on ‘hiding things’ from him. Especially his former partner. 

‘Chuuya still seems to believe, incorrectly and against all odds, that I won’t notice if somethings wrong. Something such as the cough he was suppressing that was shaking his frail little form. Or the pink tint around his nose. The nose he couldn’t stop touching throughout our encounter.’

This is how Dazai came to be leaning against a wall outside a pharmacy. And if it just so happens to be the pharmacy a certain hat-adorned Mafioso frequents, wouldn’t that be a strange coincidence. ‘Any minute now, don’t keep me waiting- Ah. Here we go~.’

Chuuya steps out of the store, a gloved hand pinching his rapidly trembling nose. ‘He must have been trying not to sneeze the whole time he was in the store. Aw~! That’s just adorable. It’s practically famous within the Port Mafia that our dear Chibi can’t hold back to save his little, tiny, life. Well, time to announce myself!’ Dazai smirks, pushing off the wall and stepping into Chuuya’s line of sight. 

“Chuuuuuya~! What a surprise, running into you here!”

“heH’EK- fuck!”

“Uh, bless you?”

“Damn it you idiot, you scared it away.” 

Dazai lets his mouth twitch, a smile threatening to break through at the look of annoyance on Chuuya’s face, nose practically twitching with unreleased tickles. He snapped his hand away from his face the second he saw Dazai, but they both know he’s just itching to bring it back up, pun intended. ‘Oh this will be even more fun then I’d foreseen.’

“S- scared away the sneeze..? Is even Chuuya’s nose easily startled?”

“Eh?! I- You- oh whatever. What the fuck ar- hahEHhh… hePT-!huhh… Damn it- What are you doing here, Dazai?”

It’s practically a growl, and Dazai doesn’t miss the way Chuuya’s hand twitches as he presses it firmly into a fist against his side. ‘You wanna rub so badly, don’t you? I wonder how long you’ll be able to hold out. Judging by that glaze coating your eyes, I’d say not long, but hey, I out of anyone know how stubborn you can be. Shall we test your resolve, Chuuya~?’ 

“I was just passing through this part of town, and happened to notice the sky starting to look a tad cloudy, so I figured I’d duck under a nice dry roof! Just so happens to be of a pharmacy- say, what is Chuuya doing in a pharmacy anyways?”

“Nothing.”

“Wow, you bought a bag just for nothing? Seems a bit of a waste.”

Chuuya’s eyes roll, teeth clenching as he snarls, both of them knowing that any other time, he would have aimed a punch at Dazai for that. 'And we both know why you didn't. Little preoccupied there, Chuuya?' Dazai studies him carefully, noticing the way his mouth is starting to twitch right along with his nose, the itch seemingly spreading across his whole face.

“I bought some pain medication, alright? I get hurt a lot in this job, and I was running low.” 

“Doesn’t the Port Mafia supply the good stuff? Why settle for cheap store bought?”

“I- I jus- Why do you even care! Doesn’t the ‘great Dazai’ have better things to do?”

“Awe~ You think I’m great? Chuuya~ you flatter me!” 

Chuuya opens his mouth to retort, but what falls out instead of a cough that he quickly attempts to suppress, ducking into his hand and spinning on his heel, away from Dazai. ‘It’s a futile effort, I can still clearly see your body shaking. I think you know that.’

“Oh Chuuya, are you not feeling well?”

“Sh- huHh-! Really? Of all the times to come bahhHh- back… hePT’NNSHH’oo-! hAh’IZZSHHAA-! heHh… AhHH-! ahH’YZZSHH’iuh-!”

“Bless you.”

“Shut up, bandage factory. J- just leave me alone, I have things to do.” 

Dazai notices the roughness of Chuuya’s voice as he lowers it, adding a growl in an attempt to make it seem intentional. ‘You must be feeling worse than I thought, a couple sneezes and a cough shouldn’t be enough to wreck your throat. Unless, of course, you’ve been doing it non-stop for days.’

“Well my schedule is completely clear, so I think I’ll just hang out with Chuuya for awhile! Where are we going next?”

“There is absolutely not a ‘we’. I am going back to my apartment. Alone.”

“Aw- come on, don’t be like that!”

“Ge- hehHh… get lost… hH’KZZZSHH’iuh-! Fucking… Ehh’knGSHH’aa-!” 

“Double blessings for the double sneeze! Keep up the doubles and you’ll start sounding like me.”

“A fate worse than death, truly.”

Dazai clutches his chest, an arm draping across his face in mock hurt, making sure to keep one eye trained on the shorter man. ‘He’s practically trembling. It’s chilly out, but not enough for that reaction, especially not for someone like him. It’s most likely a fever, but it could just be exhaustion. I’ll need an excuse to get in close to check.’

“You wound me!”

“I’d certainly like to. hah’gNNShh’aa-! hh’ETZZSHH’iuh-!”

“Quite a threat, if only you could back it up. Alas, I fear this illness has reduced you to the level of a mere goon. Certainly not an executive in the elite Port Mafia.” 

The words work exactly how he’d planned, a closed fist hitting Dazai squarely in the chest as the shorter man lunges at him, giving Dazai every opportunity to let his hand brush against Chuuya’s forehead. ‘He’s burning up. With the clouds gathering faster than I’d foreseen, I’d better get him off the street and fast, otherwise we’re looking at an outcome I’d rather avoid.’ A grunt breaks free from Dazai’s throat as Chuuya finishes the attack with a kick right to his gut. 

“That feel like a sick man’s blow? Didn’t think so. D- damn it… hAhhHh-!” 

Dazai pauses, leaning back against the wall to watch the show unfold. Chuuya has a gloved hand gripping his nose once more, eyes starting to gloss over as they lose focus. His hand is trembling, eyes starting to water. ‘Tsk tsk. We both know you can’t hold this back, are you really going to break your nose in an attempt to? Sorry, I just can’t have that.’ 

“Even Akutagawa can punch harder than that, Chuuya.” 

“Eh?!” 

Chuuya’s eyes snap to him, his hand wavers, and just like that, Dazai knows he’s won. The loss in focus, even for a second, is enough to give Chuuya’s nose the upper hand, its twitching visible from between the cracks in his fingers. ‘Checkmate.’ 

“ih’KNXT’chh-!”

Dazai bites back a wince at the way the stifle seems to scrape at Chuuya’s throat, a hiss escaping through his clenched teeth as his breath catches once more. ‘Bad idea, Chuuya. You know that’s just gonna make you-’ 

“eH’KnGT’chhh-! inGT’chh-! GNT’chh-! heHh… dTnxxgt’chhh-! hH’KNgT’choo-! hEH’INGSHH’AA-!”

‘And there it is.’

“You gon-”

“AAISHHH’OO-! ATSHH’AA-! hH’INGSHH’AA-! heh’ASSHH’iuh-!”

“-gonna live, Chuuya?”

“hNGGSHH’OO-! Shut- nnMMGSHHH’AA-! Shut up- hH’INMSHHH’IUH-! S- slug… heAhh-!”

A deep chest soaked cough starts pouring out between the sneezes, rattling Chuuya to his bones, and sending chills down Dazai’s back. He nearly flinches as Chuuya falls against the wall, using it to study him as the wet coughs shake through his lungs. He manages to catch his breath, tears freely flowing down his cheeks, just to have it sucked out of him again as another round of sneezing starts up.

“hEH’NNGSHH’AA-! eh’KETSCHhh’iuh-! heP’TZZSHH’aa-! Putain de merde!”

“Doing french, are we? Well then, À tes souhaits, Chibi.” 

“Whatev-”

The hoarse quality of Chuuya’s voice, barely above a whisper causes them both to pause, a wince escaping across Dazai’s features before he can mask it. Chuuya’s eyes widen, the panic in them seeming to seep into Dazai’s very soul. They stand for a minute, eyes locked, before Chuuya straightens his into a glare once more.

“You sound awful.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just saying. You should really have taken some medicine for that.”

“That.. was the plan.. before you.. interrupted me..” 

Dazai can’t help but grimace at the harsh whisper, Chuuya attempting to lower his voice to a growl to make it sound intentional, but they both know no one’s buying it. ‘I really need to get him home and get him to take some medication. If he gets caught in the rain like this, it’ll be bad.’

Making sure to catch Chuuya’s eye, Dazai lets his hand slip into his pocket, pulling a dose of medication out, the kind you won’t find at any pharmacy. He smirks at the flash of desire that Chuuya doesn’t manage to hide.

“Whoops, guess that one’s my bad. In that case, this will just have to go to waste, I suppose. Since you have your own, and I was so rudely uninvited to your apartment.” 

“You.. can’t be uninvited.. to something you.. weren’t invited to.. in the first place.. hH’RSHH’AA-! oww…” 

They both flinch at the sneeze, Dazai letting his concentration slip for just a second. However, a second is all Chuuya needs, planting a roundhouse kick on Dazai’s arm as he snatches the vial, taking a swig before sticking it in his own pocket. Dazai raises an eyebrow at this, cheshire smile painted across his face, but a hint of something much more genuine in his eyes.

“What aggression Chuuya! You should really try some anger management classes to get that rage under control.” 

“I didn’t have.. anger issues.. until I had the misfortune.. of meeting you..” 

“Oh yes~. You were just a ray of sunshine when I first met you! Definitely no thinly repressed rage bubbling just below the surface that boiled over every time anything happened.”

“Oi.. are you trying.. to get punched again.. jackass..? eH’KtSHH’iuh-! Christ.. hASHHH’AA-!”

“Save your energy, you’ll need it. And besides, I’ve taken quite enough of a beating today.” 

Chuuya doesn’t respond, ‘Electing to save your voice too, are you? Smart, given how quickly it’s fading’ but he does give Dazai a nasty look, raising his hand to scrub at his nose once more. Dazai feels a swell of concern in his chest at how unashamed his former partner has grown about his rapidly increasing symptoms. ‘The medicine should kick in within the hour… but I doubt you’ll make it home on your own before then.’ 

“huh’KKSHH’AA-! hEIYYSHHH’iuh-! nNGT’chh-! eh’INGT’chhh-! M- merde… Je d- dois… ehH’hEZZSHH’aihh-!”

A hand is casually raised as Chuuya attempts to cover, aiming for his shoulder with a hazy look that isn’t like him. ‘Damn it, I was hoping to avoid this outcome-’ Dazai manages to think, getting cut off, just as he foresaw, as Chuuya collapses into himself. A strong grasp catches the smaller man, Dazai letting out a huff at the weight suddenly in his arms. 

“Easy there, still with me?”

A weak nod is his response, the glassy nature of Chuuya’s eyes suggesting the fever has grown worse. Touching his forehead, Dazai winces again at the heat, ‘Definitely gotten worse. The game is over, I’m taking you home now.’ Without a word, he lifts Chuuya into his arms, not missing the grunt he gets in response.

“You can fight me, and risk falling on your face, or you can just let me help you.”

Chuuya growls, but lets his eyes flutter shut, ducking away from Dazai and into his shoulder as another set of exhausted sneezes tears out of him. 

“heh’nNKjschh’uhh-! ah’mmKNschh’uhh-! hehHhh-! hEH’IZZSHH’iuhh-! Guhh..”

“Bless you. Can you stand, or shall I carry you?”

Dazai easily dodges the fist aimed his way, but doesn’t miss the way Chuuya shakes at the force of his own weight. Without a word, he moves Chuuya’s arm back over his shoulders, letting the man lean against him. There’s a certain level of unease when someone’s relying on you to walk, and yet, with the two of them, this is an all-too-familiar sensation.

“Let’s get you home, partner. The medication will kick in soon.”

“Not.. your partn-”

“Save your voice, it’s physically painful for me to listen to you. I can feel my own throat starting to ache.”

A dirty look is shot his way before Chuuya’s eyes flutter shut once more, not even bothering to turn his head away, instead aiming the sneezes towards the ground in front of them. Dazai grimaces, not from the possibility of germs, instead, entirely from the concern that washes through him at the lack of shame.

“heH’DTZSHH’AA-! AIISHH’oo-! ehh’gnSHHH’iuh-!”

“Bless you.”

“Save.. your breath.. stupid Dazai..”

“Hey, at least you still have that temper! I’d be really worried if that was gone.” 

“Just.. take me home..”

Dazai lets a smile wash over his face, a warmth replacing the panic in his chest as Chuuya leans into his touch as they start the journey. ‘I’ll keep you safe, partner. Leave it to me.’

Without a word spoken between them, he knows he was heard and understood, just as he understands the response. 

‘I trust you.’

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you for the requestttt this was so fun to write #hopefully its okay that its a bit angsty haha #i dont think its TOO bad but i was just in that mood when writing #also i might possibly do a follow up with what happens once they get there #if anyones interested!! or even just if IM interested haha #but if anyone bothers to read this and wants to see that let me know and ill do it~~ #snz #snzkink #b/sd #c/huuya #d/azai #s/oukoku #they are my beloveds so id be thrilled to write more for them

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

hiki and geki matching post

hiki and geki matching post

#utau #kazehiki utau #gekiyaku utau #(this isn't all of them but these are the ones i thought matched the most esp given the poses; these r the 偽薬; 点滴; and 顆粒 vbs respectively) #(also i hope this doesnt go against kuzutokaze's terms?? cause its just low quality screencaps and not the full high res art) #(but ill delete if i have to) #theyre sillyyyy i like them BOTH when u have vsynths that are meant to b counterparts do not separate them!!! #angst siblings angst siblings... (to me.) maybe im particularly based b/c reminds me of my own brother and i #but also ive just read interpretations/fantheories abt these two that have absolutely DESTROYEDDD me sad as fuck man wtf 😭😭 #i have a lot of thoughts abt a lot of vsynths. ughhhh curse me not having a lot of time to draw rn #i will admit i was a bit more hiki based at first lmao but ive warmed up to geki; yeah her voice tone def isnt for everyone #i totally get that. but she can roll her rs so good LMAOO... and also just in the way/s i interpret her she reminds me a lot of myself :( #[well ok i project heavilyyy on a lot of my vsynth interpretations but these two. i can do things. *hits them w/ my latine beam*] #[JOKINGG... /hj. in a way. shhhhhhhh dont even worry about it. i NEEED to test out more how they both sound in spanish tho i need] #please ignore these tags for the love of god 😭😭😭 its late and im going a little unhinged

[awanderingtortoise]

zoya, power, and vulnerability (analysis)

came across a post earlier talking about how Nikolai's realization of how he feels for zoya began when he admitted he was jealous of juris and it got me thinking a ton about zoya's amplifier story and her character in general so get ready for a long ass post on that scene and how it shows 1. zoyalai and mutual understanding, 2. zoya being scarily similar to, but ultimately totally different from the darkling, and 3. juris vs the darkling. spoiler warning for the entire grishaverse

1. Zoyalai and Understanding

One of my absolute favorite aspects of Zoyalai is how they learn to be vulnerable with each other after putting up walls and facades for everyone else, and I think Zoya sharing her amplifier's story is really a major development towards that. Even this early in their development you see how much Nikolai understands her. Just looking at the Darkling's response to Zoya freeing the cubs and contrasting it to Nikolai's:

Where he basically praises her only for wanting power (which actually wasnt even the reason she freed the cubs but alright) and ignores/shuns the innate selflessness that led to her gaining that power in the first place. Nikolai, on the other hand, has such an understanding of that compassion that drives her, actually the same compassion that fuels her fear of not being strong enough to protect everyone because of how much of it he also sees in himself. The whole reason she feels safe enough to share the story with him (well besides the fact that he could have died the next day) is because they echo each other so deeply; never truly being known by anyone to protect themselves from being hurt. (i go more into that here)

2. Zoya and the Darkling

The Darkling, who i am struggling not to refer to as a little shit after reading the second excerpt, was really just another man who saw Zoya through his own biased worldview. Its true they're pretty similar, and I'd say Zoya definitely had the potential to go down the path he did. But surprise surprise, she's actually just a better person than he is.

Both of them are powerful, ambitious Grisha, and I think its fair to say that in his early life, both he and Zoya were motivated by protecting people. The main difference in their driving force is that Aleksander later wanted not only protection for the Grishas but an elevation of status, believing them superior to normal people. Even from that you can already see the main reason that he was corrupted and Zoya wasn't: his motivations had a streak of selfishness. He wanted to be the savior of the Grisha, he wanted to be the most powerful, he wanted to rule.

Zoya, in contrast, is motivated almost out of pure selflessness. In her younger years you can definitely see her as being selfish but so much of that was because of the way the Darkling had conditioned her. He made her so desperate for his approval that it was all that she cared about. In the amplifier story you see that need for his validation ("his disapproval was more painful than any wound..") and the way he turns her away from her heart and towards pure ambition. Like what the hell would make you tell a girl that was nearly killed for trying to save tiger cubs from death that because of her, they were going to die anyway? He all but ensured she'd view her compassion as a weakness, leaving the amplifiers and power as the only valuable thing she'd gained that day.

Liliyana's death is what turns the tide for Zoya's character arc, bringing her back to that core selflessness, showing her the flaw in the Darkling's ideals, making her realize that power matters only when its working towards the greater good. Though she changes and moves to fight alongside Alina, her grief remains with her until KoS and we only see it processed through Juris' teachings, bringing me to the next point:

3. The darkness and the dragon: Juris in contrast to The Darkling

The way I see it (which is apparently not how the Netflix show sees it), Zoya has had 2 father/mentor figures in her life: Juris and The Darkling. Both strong figures, both powerful Grisha. Her actual father unfortunately did not do his job well enough, failing to protect her from being married off, and I believe thats one of the factors that causes her to latch so strongly onto the Darkling as an-- idol?

When Zoya came to the palace she was just a scared girl who'd just had the world ripped out from under her and her father figure fail her. The Darkling then appears, and he is everything her father was not: strong willed where her father was compliant, mysterious where he was familiar, cold where he was warm, and ultimately cruel where her father was kind. Given that the approach of the latter didnt work out, coupled with her natural desire for approval (dont have much evidence but the peach stealing for Sabina? she wanted her mother to love her for sure) it seems only natural that she grab so strongly onto the Darkling as a figure and embrace the ideals he promised, all things that would be comforting to anyone in her situation. She had been helpless, then shown herself to be a Squaller, that manifestation saving her from a life of suffering. He promised their power made them greater and stronger, that there would be a future where they would have nothing to fear from anyone ever again. What was there for her left to do but to hold onto that promise and the man who had given it?

Of course, as we mentioned above, Darkles has a lovely tendancy to devalue compassion. She still had other examples of the power of love: without Lillyanna's compassion and heart, Zoya might as well have been married off anyway. But were talking misconceptions here, and Darkles' favorite one would have to be power > everything. He's a taker of power, he uses it, he takes what he wants. So of course compassion is nothing when it inhibits the power to be gained, like how he saw empathy as the weakness that led Zoya to save the tiger cubs. But through Juris we see Zoya learn the opposite: its her compassion that gives her her greatest strength. In a very literal way. And this contradiction to the Darkling starts the moment he enters her life and breaks exactly the thing the Darkling gave her that she values so much: her power, as he breaks her amplifiers.

Juris doesn't come into Zoya's life with a promise of safety and strength. Juris swoops in and breaks her world. He shatters her amplifier, scoffs at her understanding of Grisha power, throws her into vulnerability and upheaval when she least wants it. Because its what she needs. He wants to change her relationship with power, and still this makes her more powerful. Juris sends Zoya the caterpillar into a state of pupal goop and soup to become Zoya the avatar butterfly. I regret that sentence but I'm leaving it there. anyway.

claiming a piece of the power of creation, without giving anything of ourselves: The clearest illustration of how Juris and the Darkling differ is seen here. Again the Darkling always takes and with amplifiers thats no different: whether its the way he used Alina or just looking at the Grisha tradition he upholds of killing an animal to take its power, its all superiority, taking, domination and selfishness. Juris works in the opposite direction: merging, giving, surviving the fall, opening the door. He saw the dragon as not something to be taken or conquered but as an equal and felt a kinship with it. This so strongly echoes the like calls to like that is at the core of the Small Science. He goes beyond the act of calling into the act of merging, becoming one with that power by giving up the self. Selflessness versus selfishness. I doubt the Darkling could be capable of that merging, even if he wanted to be.

but still, you wept for the tiger. Just like Nikolai, the very compassion the Darkling devalued is the only thing that Juris finds value in. The amplifiers the Darkling so coveted are exactly what Juris scorns. And yet Juris' way is the one of greater power, ultimately. Compassion is power, that is what he wants her to know. Her love never made her weak. That is why he brings her back to her past, to the memories of her aunt that she locks away because of the vulnerability they make her feel.

She blames herself for the deaths she could not prevent, for falling for the Darkling's lies. She locks that hurt away. But he knows the capacity to feel so strongly that pain is what makes her so strong.

After all that pain, Juris does not ask her to stand up, to toughen herself, to fight. To do anything that she believed made her strong. He asks her to forgive. To forgive herself, most of all. And when Juris is dying and Zoya becomes the dragon, he echoes the theme he began to teacher her when he brought her back to her past. Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart. Love is strength, not weakness. To let your wounds heal is what allows you to grow.

Don't leave me. Not you too. Zoya, who spent her life building herself up, working so that she would never feel weak again. At the moment where she becomes her most powerful, she is returned to her weakest and most vulnerable. But she isnt here to fight it and conquer it. To live is to grieve. You are strong enough to survive the fall. Sometimes to let go is the most powerful thing we can do.

in essence:

At the end of the day, the Grishaverse is about the power of love. Look at the first trilogy. Alina and Mal's love is what destroys the fold. Six of Crows is not as grand, but its all about individual love saving individual people. Kaz and Inej as they learn to heal. Nina and Matthias as they break boundaries and prejudice. Wylan and Jesper and the way they teach eachother that they are worthy of love, that its unconditional, flaws and all. Zoya's arc is no different. Juris breaks her from the Darkling's lies she didnt know she was still holding on to, and teaches this girl who wanted nothing more than to be strong and to be safe, that it was this thing she had so desperately tried to tuck away that made her the strongest of all. That's it, really; thats the message of the entire Grishaverse to me:

To love is the most powerful thing we can do.

thakns for coming to my ted talk lmao

#that was so chaotic im praying you guys can read that #i have so many thoughts #i could go on for ages longer but ill shut up to spare you all for now #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #zoya nazyalensky character analysis #king of scars #the darkling #sankt juris #s&b #tortoise analysis

[pastelsceneselfships23]

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#hey guys uh... its been a long af while but guess whos reading LOTR #and and i mightve made a s/ i of my LOTR hobbit oc but fbdhskjkgb dg #im back to also reblog shit for a bit ig #the reason i was gone is b c i was taking a break from tumblr for it was... sorta draining #but for now i hope ill stay #after all i am craving ig... interaction now? idk #you'll see ig

[colorful-horses]

I've only got 4 episodes left in season 4 of ML, and I'm feeling like this show is going through a bit of an identity crisis. It started as a simple monster-of-the-week superhero show with small hints at plot here and there, but now in season 4 it really feels like they're trying to focus a LOT more on the plot aspects and it's kind of collapsing in on itself lol

I understand it's not uncommon for modern cartoons to start with a simple premise and then start building up a plot later on, but with Ladybug, it feels like they want to have a big story but aren't willing to break away from the base formula of the show. Which is kind of an issue, because the base formula includes having a character press the "revert everything to the status quo" button; aka, if anything of consequence happens, it doesn't actually matter because it'll always be fixed/reversed by the end of the episode. There's essentially little to no plot development , because the forumla literally does not allow for it.

Ladybug doesnt need to have a huge overarching storyline (I honestly enjoyed it more when they weren't so focused on the plot), but it just feels kinda lame for them to dangle all of these different plot threads in front of the audience only to immediately say "just kidding!" and then pretend they never happened. It can come off as very fanfiction-y at times (Oblivio and Chat Blanc come to mind), and they've done the identity reveal fakeout so many times now that when it actually happens, I'm not sure I'm gonna have much of a reaction other than "finally lol". Their lack of dedication to letting anything change in the status quo is SUPER obvious with Chloe.

Chloe has a full redemption arc set up in seasons 2&3 (making her sympathetic, giving her a sad backstory that explains why she is the way she is, making her have moments of lucidation where she admits she's a bad person), only to have her turn evil in the season 3 finale because... she's the mean girl. I'm not even saying Chloe HAD to be redeemed; the idea of having an antagonist try to redeem themselves, only for them to fall even farther, is super enticing to me! The problem is, the show very clearly set up a normal redemption story, and then just changed its mind last second because "she's the Mean one". It's really jarring!

Its like the show has all of these ideas for dramatic storylines, but instead of picking one plotline and focusing on that, they just decided to do all of them and have none of them matter lol

#rabbit miraculous is bullshit btw. whats the point of the snake if the bunny is infinitely better #do not send spoilers about the end of season 4 pls btw. im finishing it later today #im hoping itll make me eat my words about the lack of anything happening in the plot #WHICH B T W. im not saying NOTHING has happened in the plot #when mari told alya that she was ladybug? s tier scene. when they did that at the END of the episode and i realized it was permanent #i was like #miraculous ladybug #sorry for the long post lol. season 4 has been very weird #im almost done mieaculous posting and then we can go back to our regularly scheduled pony programming uwu #not art #i just really need to clarify that im not expecting like. super deep dark storylines from this show #but the show is really suffering from its lack of dedication to ANY of its ideas and its really weird to watch #idk anything about supposed drama around the creator of the show or whatever. im just forming my opinions on the show itself #if youve read this far: i am gonna kiss you on the lips. mwah #didnt meant to post a full essay on this show for 9 year olds but here we are #despite everything ive said here i still really enjoy the show lol. its good junkfood #ill still give the show like a 6 or 7/10 lol i dont care. i enjoy it a lot #:0!!! #every dramtic episode of the show is pretty much always reversed via time travel. theyre just making their own aus lol

[istanbulite]

do you think Mei is also a cold emotionless bella swan MC? cause if you do, SAME, i've never liked Mei and i don't get the worship of her. she's very dull.

dont get me started on Mei im controversial as it is 💀i mean im not saying Mei is the dullest blandest mc written as this kinda racist stereotypical image of a flawless doll universally loved by all, selfless, without needs, emotions and passions of her own — unsurprisingly written by a man, stagnant in everything and her supposed romance with Kazu is as dry and forced as two pieces of wood attempting to make love

im not saying this.. But yeah

#asks #romance club #ill always b amazed there r her fangirls she s like '😐 neatly describes the situation in her brain as the most boring thing ever and even #in her thoughts there isnt a single personal touch #i read 3 seasons btw

[newtness532]

i dont intend to watch shadow and bone but i will be reblogging every six of crows related scene

#idk maybe after the second season comes out ill change my mind #maybe ill also have read the s&b books by then #shadow and bone #soc duology #jo says stuff

[coffeeflavoredcookies]

I finished s&s2 everyone wish me luck

#t&g is next im not ready #i think ill also read sidewinder this time around #so if im not wrong its gonna be #t&g then s&a then c&c then b&c then c&b AND FINALLY p&p #thats gonna be fun #by which i mean im gonna be in pain for the majority of it #cant wait 😭😭 #c&r #sidewinder #lily rambles

[taniushka12]

a youtube video convinced me to read batman: arkham asylum (a serious house on a serious earth) and, obviously there are a lot of stuff you can say about it but right now this scene in particular is making me lose it:

#for context they tried to make two face choose w/ a deck of cards instead of w/ his coin which was yknow. Bad #anyway idk........... small kindness..... #i like two face hes one of my fave batman rogues #tani's personal shit #ill b honest i only read it bc ive always got beef w/ the s*ndman comics for having such gorgeous covers and such BORING art style. #so learning that this guy made a batman comic was like OK ALRIGHT. FUCK YEAH #and it was good! harsh but good #gorgeous fucking art style too

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#hhhhh i just wanna lay in bed watching movies all day. i need some sort of wizard to turn me into a salamander so i dont have to do my job #it takes me all day to relax and for what? its Sunday and i have to grade at e #least 45 lab reports and make a presentation about photosynthesis so i can teach tomorrow so that i can barely tread water #im so behind on grading. and thats not to mention all the other bullshit i should b doing. ugh. i just wanna not do anything #i got covid vaccinated yesterday so im kinda exhausted on top of preexisting exhaustion. anf i would like my problems to stop existing #also i forgot how annoying it is to live in a place with mice. like stop scurrying around in my walls! stop trying to make mouse holes #dont make me murder u bc i will. ill buy mouse traps and thdn youll b sorry #but id rather not do that bc itll b annoying to check the traps and dispose of the bodies. bleh #i just wanna watch surreal movies abt self destruction and cosmic horror #so annihilation and maybe sunshine bc i havent watched it and oh god whats that polish movie uuuuuh #i can't remember. it starts with s i think but all i can think is susperia which is not correct. solaris? i cant remember if i watched #it or just read thr book. idk i like surreal slightly pretentious movies. under the skin is another i lov #god. i dont wanna get up. i still only got 7hrs sleep. i just wanna lay here and decompose #fuck. i have so much to write for Wednesday. and i think i have to share a paper Friday. fuck. #unrelated

[waterfallofspace]

One Is Not Better Than None

Soooo I was scrolling through my google docs and remembered this little AU that I started writing (with the help of @themiseryandcompany) a few months back when I first joined snzblr~

And well, the actual 6 part story where they meet isn't finished, and reading it back... the parts that ARE finished could use a lot of editing~ it was one of my first attempts at snzfics, but I did find this little drabble/side story from the same AU~

It's not good, definitely not up to my current standards, but I did a little editing to make it hopefully readable, aaaaand since I've been a bit slow with content, I'll throw it out there incase anyone wants it!

~For Context: In this AU B/akugo is a doctor, and S/hoto is his boyfriend/a barista~ Word Count: 1.3k of utter nonsense that I'm posting because why not~

All Characters Written As 18+ In This Story, (picture late 20's)

~~~~~~~

Katsuki’s days off are few and far between, so when he does get time to spend at home, he finds that he often has a shadow.

Shoto seems to require constant contact, as if he fears that should their bodies stop touching for even a second, Katsuki would be out the door again. It would be annoying beyond belief, if it was anyone else. But it’s not anyone else.

He smirks over the journal he’s reading as Shoto lets out a breath that borders on a whine. He’s been trying to beat that level for an hour, and it seems like he’s just had to restart once more. 

“It’s not funny,” Shoto starts, catching Katsuki’s eyes as he glares up from his perch on Katsuki’s lap. A half-hearted gaze at best. “I’ve been at this forever. I just wanna beat it but this one boss has a frankly offensive level of regen. I know the strategy but I keep messing up the timing.”

With another sigh of frustration, the glare is long forgotten, instead replaced by a look that leaves Katsuki fighting the urge to kiss him until all the breath is sucked out of their lungs.

“Why don’t you just take a break and come back to it later when you’re less frustrated?” Katsuki offers, running a hand through Shoto’s mismatched hair. “Isn’t that what you always tell me when a recipe I’m trying for the first time isn’t going the way I want it to?”

“Yeah, but…” 

“What, too proud to take your own advice, Icy-Hot?”

It’s a nickname that came into being the first time Katsuki stayed over. Shoto had been sick at the time, and it was one of the first nights of pure vulnerability they’d experienced. 

With a fever, his body gets incredibly hot, but at the same time, he’s always swearing it’s freezing, shivering to make his point. During the night Katsuki tried to get him to take some blankets off, lest he smother himself to death, and Shoto’s reply was “I’m an icy pop”.  (To this day he still blames the fever talk for that little nugget).

To which Katsuki responded with a lighthearted “Oh yeah? Then why is said ‘icy pop’ so hot he nearly burns to the touch? Icy pop, more like Icy-Hot” and it just stuck from there. He normally saves it for playful teasing, such as today, but occasionally it slips out with a touch of softness when Shoto falls asleep in his arms. 

“No, this is different. I’m not frustrated, I just wahh!-” He breaks off, and Katsuki glances at him to see his eyes glossing over, mouth hanging slightly open, right on the brink for a few seconds until-

“heH-! hH’KESHHiew!”

A beat passes, Shoto’s eyes still unfocused, Katsuki biting a blessing back on his tongue.

“Snff- Bless me.” And with that, Shoto’s back to the level, leaving Katsuki to stare at him with a mystified expression. 

After several minutes of silence, and Katsuki’s eyes never leaving his face, mouth still slightly ajar, Shoto finally breaks away from his level to glance up at his boyfriend. “Uhh… what’s wrong..?”

“Y-you… sneezed…”

Shoto lets out a small chuckle, letting his phone rest on the couch as he sits up to meet Katsuki’s gaze. “Yeah? And? I do that quite often, you should know that by now.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, as Shoto continues with a smirk. “And even if I didn’t, it’s a perfectly normal bodily function. You’re a doctor, I’m worried for your patients if hearing someone sneeze shocks you this much.”

“But… you… it was…. only one?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

There’s another pause, then Katsuki begins again, his words coming out uncharacteristically timid. “It’s… it’s never just one…”

The dumbfounded nature of Katsuki’s voice is enough to make Shoto burst into laughter. The joyous sounds finally snap his boyfriend out of the trance that the single sneeze had put him in, as he lightly punches Shoto’s arm. 

Shoto pulls away, still shaking with the joyous tune dancing from his chest, rocking the couch with each burst. For a minute, Katsuki feels his heart start beating through his throat, mind running wild. His full laughter is so rare… I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Finally coming to his senses, Katsuki fires back with, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! I’ve never heard you sneeze just once before, it’s always at least two, more often in the hundreds”

This earns him a very weak punch, laughter still dancing through Shoto’s eyes. “I’m not that bad!” Sniffling lightly to test the waters, Shoto shrugs. “But yeah, just the one, I don’t feel any more. I’m sorry, I’ll make up for it next time I’m sure.”

Shoto reaches forward, touching their lips in an apology for the harm that his lack of a fit had apparently caused. Katsuki leans into the kiss, but his eyes still seem a bit far away.

~~~~~~~ 

The rest of the day, it felt as if Shoto was under constant surveillance. Every time he looked over at Katsuki, his boyfriend was watching him, and would quickly avert his eyes, pretending to be doing something else.

Finally enough is enough. Shoto stands from the chair he was lounging in, and walks over to Katsuki who’s currently trying, and failing, to pull his eyes away long enough to read an article on his phone.

Wordlessly, Shoto leans down and rubs his nose against the cat-infested couch. Usually his meds are enough to starve off any really desperate attacks, but living in an apartment with your allergens is enough to set anyone off.

Add to that Shoto’s already sensitive nose, and it’s a sure thing that you’ll get at least a couple small fits per day. However, right now he needs that fit immediately, and his meds seem to be working a bit too well, so it’s time for drastic measures.

Rubbing his nose at all was a sure fire way to form a tickle, but add to that rubbing it against an allergen, and the reaction was certain to be quick and merciless.

“What are you doi-” Katsuki starts, but is cut off by Shoto’s breath catching, as he holds up a finger, attempting to explain himself before the fit can start.

“You... w- were... hehh- ihh... st- staring... at m... ESH’shiew-! Ishh’yu-! kishh’oo-! tishh’iew-!” 

Still trying to catch up, Katsuki can only blink, muttering to himself, “I was staring…” 

“huh- ishh-tishh-kESH’iew! Tishh’oo! Heh- hH’kschh!” 

“Bless you-”

“hep’kschh-kshh-nggxt’shiew! hehh… hH’ngnt! G’nxxt!uhh Hh’ ihhh… hDT-” 

Shoto pauses for a second, watery eyes pointed at the ceiling, seemingly stuck in a hitchy agony, caught between the overwhelming urge to sneeze, and the denial taunting him. 

With a shaky exhale, and a snff, he tries to finish the sentence he began earlier, “Staring ahahh at-”

-which the sneezes pick as the perfect time to release themselves. “ihh’keschh’oo-! hH’ISH’hieww-! Staring at me. Oh, bless me. It was starting to scare me a little."

Katsuki flushes at the accusation, admitting to himself, and only himself, that there may be a touch of truth in it. He sheepishly hands some tissues to Shoto, who takes them with a wink and a chuckle, cleaning himself up as Katsuki averts his eyes.

Once finished, he drapes himself onto the couch, lips hungrily capturing Katsuki in a deep kiss, only stopping once he needs to take a desperate breath and duck another “hh’kssh-! Ihh… heH! hahh’keTSH’iew-!” into his shoulder.

“Bless you… Ya know, you shouldn’t have done that, you’re gonna be sneezing for hours now ya dumbass.” The words may sound harsh, but there’s no fire behind them. 

Shoto lets his head rest on Katsuki’s chest, looking up at him, eyes alight with mischief. “Well worth it in my book. As much as I enjoy you watching me, I was starting to worry you’d forgotten how to blink.”

This earns him another light punch, but the laughter that comes with it makes his statement even more true. 

Anything is worth getting to hear that laughter. The true kind, the kind he doesn’t let other people hear. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Slowly he lets his eyes close, drifting off to the sound of Katsuki’s heartbeat, their breathing falling in sync, exactly how it was meant to be.  

La fin.

#waterfalldrabbles #because this is not a fic as much as a... #'tosses it at you and scurries away' type of drabble #it's not very good but hey! it doesn't need to be! #just a little bit of nonsense as a light apology for taking so long to fill requests or post anything worthwhile~ #i am currently in the middle of a specific collab with a beautifully talented person #and I'm INSANELY excited to share our baby <333 #buuuuut for now~ have this nonsense and please forgive me for it #(i will say tho~ reading it does make me a little happy because I can definitely see improvement now!) #(whiiiich does mean that it just looks even worse haha~) #okay okay ill stop stalling and hit post #b/akugou & s/hoto doctor AU #incase i ever finish/post the actual fic theres a tag for that now

[sorrowandpride]

Got accepted into my school's Nursing program, which is notoriously competitive, during the first round of offers 🥹

#And having taken the prereq classes with undiagnosed and untreated ADHD 🥹 #I worked my ass off to get here and I'm beyond proud #I'm still going to return to my BA and continue from there but I need a back up since it's going to be a long ride #and academia isn't what it used to be (read: Hell) #I'm hoping to do OR nursing and anthropology/forensic archaeology! #Nursing as a main career and anthro as a side #Given the state of academia and the direction it's going I don't want to put all of my eggs in an insecure basket #It's easier to work through part-time and temp contracts when you have a stable career to support you during/in between #My CASPer results were 4th quartile so I think that had a lot to do with it since my GPA is lower than I would like it to be due to illness #and a couple rough years #It's much higher than the minimum admission average but I still want to get it back to Dean's List level #Throwback to losing my scholarship because I got a few B+s and my GPA dipped 0.01 of a point below scholarship maintenance 🥴 #Mishka's Ramblings

[lovenona]

me to u

[CRYING AND SCREAMING] no U????

#my HEART.....WTF 😭 #i dont deserve it fr fr im just some guy #what if we kissed rn #no bc ill always remember reading s&b during the pandemic between online classes 😭 #gonna lie down and kick my legs like a giddy schoolgirl #letters to adele

[scealaiscoite]

poly fluff alphabet ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

a = affection; is anyone more overly affectionate than the others? when it comes to physical vs verbal, who prefers what?

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

c = comfort; when someone’s feeling down, how do the rest look after them?

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

e = events; who drags everyone else to their family/friends’ events?

f = fights; are arguments something that happen often? what are they over, and how are they resolved?

g = getting together; how did it all come about? were there any pre-existing relationships between them?

h = hobbies; does anyone share any hobbies/passions? how do they include the rest of their partners in them?

i = in sickness and in health - when someone falls ill, who’s the carer and who’s the germaphobe? is there anyone that resists being looked after?

j = joker; who’s got the best sense of humour? do they like to tease and banter with everyone else?

k = knowing; who can read their partners like a book? is there anyone who’s got their walls up, even around their partners?

l = lavish; is there anyone who really likes to treat their partners/show them off? how do the rest tend to react - who revels in it, and who’s made shy by it?

m = memories - is anyone more on the sentimental side?

n = nights; what’s the nighttime routine like when they’re all together?

o = open; how open is everyone with one another?

p = pda; what’s pda like with them? is there anyone who loves it, and anyone who’s less fond of it? what actions/words does it manifest as?

q = quiet; who prefers to spend their time with their partners out and about, and who likes to spend it at home?

r = romantic; is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners?

s = sharing; is there anyone who’s particularly territorial of their partners?

t = terms of endearment; nicknames! who’s crazy on them, and who do they make cringe? what’re the go-to’s?

u = urge; who’s the most impulsive? who do they loop into their plans, and who entertains their antics?

v = vacations; how do holidays go? are they big exotic trips, or the occasional staycation?

w = worthy; how are insecurities handled? is anyone more self-conscious than the others?

x = xoxo; who checks up on their partners a lot when they’re apart? do they call, or are texts enough to make them feel close?

y = yearn; who misses their partners the easiest (ie, calls them to hear their voices when all they’ve done is run to the grocery store)?

z = zealous; who was especially eager in their pursuit of the relationship? was anyone more reserved in their want for it?

#i made this like a year ago for my own fic blog and used it maybe twice but i rlly like it so. here ye go <3 #watch me reblog this nine million times on my main until i’ve sickened everyone of it lol #prompts #poly prompts #polyamorous prompts #poly fluff prompts #ot3 prompts #ot3 memes #poly rp meme #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #fluff prompts #rp meme #soft prompts #fluff writing prompts

[morallyinept]

ADORATION - A Joel Miller x Breast Cancer/Mastectomy F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: After some completely unexpected and devastating news, a long journey of loss and healing, Joel shows you how beautiful he still finds you.

Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Breast Cancer/Mastectomy F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, hair colour etc... However, Reader had breasts and hair before treatment. I've imagined Reader to be around a similar age as Joel, who is 56 when writing this, however Reader's age is not mentioned, so you can determine/imagine it's you, if you'd like to, bub.)

Word Count: 8.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶��🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions of breast cancer/double mastectomy/surgery/grief/loss/depression/body issues/illness & recovery/fear/mentions of death. Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/breast worship/Joel loves on you hard.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

You’re whining, keening softly as your nose dusts the crown of greying curls resting just below your chin.

They tickle gently on the inside of your nostrils each time you inhale, smiling into the beam of sunlight that strobes onto the pillow, blinding you into a warm, balmy bliss.

Causing your body to spasm and jerk beneath him; little bursts of electricity soar with static, crackling down your spine. You arch your back, pushing your nipple further into his warm, wet mouth.

The insatiable pull around your nipple draws hisses from behind your teeth, eyes rolling back into the furthest reaches of your skull.

Your fingers press into the back of his cranium, cradling him close; losing yourself to the never-ending swirl of his tongue around that fleshy, hard bud as he tongues it, sucks it, nips it...

Hips grinding in a languid cadence against his crotch, a hard bulge catches on your clit as you grind against his cock; stiff and leaking into his faded, worn-out boxers.

Joel’s a self-confessed breast man. He likes pawing at your ass too on the very regular occasion, but he spends most of his foreplay time - and any time, really - latching onto your breasts like a hungry infant.

He likes to suck your nipples out of the puffy swell of your areolas on warm mornings when you wake nestled around him. Coax that stubborn left one out of it's invert with a probing, flickering tongue.

He loves to pinch the stiff, hardened peaks through your top when you're chilly to make you giggle and squirm against him. Feels closest to you when you sit together watching a rubbish film on Sunday evenings in his lap, and he casually has his hand up your shirt holding onto your breast like he would your hand.

It’s a comfort you both enjoy; a big, reassuring warmth holding onto you. He likes feeling the weight of them as they fill his palms, watching the bounce of them, mesmerized, as you ride on his cock vigorously.

Joel’s all up in your marvellous chest at any chance he can get. Sucking the pebbled teats between his lips, swirling his tongue around and around as you fist through his wavy locks and groan when he brings you to orgasm just by lavishing your breasts with his mouth - he loves how sensitive they are.

Especially the right one, it's almost as sensitive as your clit.

Just a few licks over it on this lazy weekend morning, has you panting and almost tearing the roots from his scalp as he squeezes the left one inside his deft fingers; flicking the nipple with his rough index pad and groping a lavish handful.

He’s rutting into you, on the cusp of just pulling his cock out of his boxers - that have seen better days - and slipping into his beautiful wife writhing underneath him; he can feel you seeping through the thin cotton against him.

Joel squeezes your breast again as he sucks at the other, humming at your moans. You croak out his name; each vowel rolling off your tongue with abject need.

Opening and closing his fist around the mound, grunting in rapture, he brushes his thumb along the underside, when he stops. Shiny nipple popping out of his wet mouth, with that furrowed brow pulling his face into a tight knot.

“Darlin’,” he says, with a pursed mouth; his heavy eyes falling to your breast, and his stubby thumb running under the obvious hardness of a lump. “Ya feel that?” He questions, gently.

You look down at him realising his pause.

“Why are you stopping?” You gasp, your hips still moving, slit making a sticky mess against his cottoned length.

You stop grinding, sitting up as you take your breast from him and squeeze all around it, slightly irritated at the interruption, until you find it for yourself.

You feel an unwelcome visitor nestled within the soft curve under your breast, inviting itself bluntly into yours and Joel’s lovemaking.

“God,” you say, his concerned eyes meeting yours.

A lump, no larger than a pea, yet heavy with the weight of uncertainty, that suddenly makes your blood run icy. Your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your rib cage.

Fear, cold and unyielding, spreads poisoned rust through your veins as you trace its contours; your fingers lingering over the unfamiliar bobble of its terrain.

“It’s probably nothin’,” he reassures with a nod, with eyes so deep you could fall into them and never see light again.

"Yeah," you nod too, but your own eyes convey your trepidation.

And it’s enough to halt any chance of morning sex with your burly husband in its tracks, as you disappear quickly into the bathroom for a thorough inspection.

Disbelief, a fleeting hope that what your fingers trace is merely a figment of your imagination, or a cyst at best.

All weekend you fret and worry until you can call the doctor's office on Monday morning.

You can't count the number of times you touch it, prod at it. You tell yourself out loud that it’s probably nothing, like Joel suggests.

Yet, as reality sinks its claws into your rational thinking, fear takes root, gnawing away at the fragile threads of your composure.

Yeah. Probably a cyst.

Your breasts change all the time; lumpy and bumpy; they’re not as perky as they once were. Your monthly cycle sees them ache and weight heavy like granite blocks sometimes.

It’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about. You tell your weary reflection, but she has a hard time believing you as she stares back with unblinking eyes.

When Joel doesn't put his hand up your shirt as you nestle into him during your Sunday night film ritual, that's when the tears kick in.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you don’t cry in front of Joel, but he’s not so easy to convince that everything's fine, and it’s just allergies making your eyes red, when he knows it’s not allergy season. Or that you have any allergies.

“S’alright to be worried, darlin’. But ya gon’ be okay.” He tells you he’s coming to the doctor with you.

You argue that it’s fine, but he's insistent with his brooding frown and pursed lips like he’s constantly chewing on a wasp. He tells you he loves you no matter what, and you’ll be fine and that’s that, as he squeezes your hand.

He pulls you close as you watch the film together spread out on the sofa. Still no hand up your shirt. You see the colour moving on the screen, hear the dialogue and music, but none of it sinks in. You’re staring at the TV completely blank.

He excels at making you think clearly, challenges your fears and helps you confront them with simple questions and words to get you to think differently. It’s one of the main reasons you married him. He has a level head.

And you don’t realise how tense you are until Joel rubs your back and you melt fully into his chest.

With more soothing words and reassurances, eventually you believe him that you’re probably being irrational and panicking over nothing, because Joel has this knack of waving a magic wand and making everything okay.

But it isn’t okay, not this time.

Within two weeks you have a mammogram and a biopsy after the doctor murmurs hmms and huhs at you.

You’re told not to worry as there’s only a two per cent chance that it’ll be cancer, as you’re stripped bare before the prying eyes of medical professionals and the cold embrace of diagnostic tests.

The loss of control over your own physicality is so fast, leaving you feeling exposed and deprived of the autonomy you'd once taken for granted.

Unfamiliar hands groping and prodding on your breasts replace Joel’s warm, tender ones, and you try to hold it together inside the sterile walls.

You break the moment he has you in his arms outside in the long, lonely corridor of the hospital and asks you how it went.

Joel throws himself into work on the construction site, and you throw yourself into a sinking depression, clouded with worry and worst case scenarios.

You’re sent home with stitches and painkillers after the biopsy, and all you can do is wait.

The invasion of a hostile takeover of your once jaunty mood hovers thickly in the air between you both at home during that time.

You do the one thing you shouldn’t and Google fucking everything. Survival rates, post-op images, types of cancer and all the dread that your eyes can take in until you can take in no more.

You then switch tactics and try to stay occupied and distracted. You play Joel’s old country rock playlist full blast, deciding to turn the house upside down and clean and bleach the shit out of every nook and cranny of it, until Joel comes home, eyes stinging with the fumes, and asks if you’ve lost your damned mind.

You smell bleach on your fingers for days after and it reminds you bleakly of the smell in the hospital corridors.

You lay in bed side-by-side at night, awkwardly staring at the ceiling, recalling how most nights you can hardly get enough of one another. But Joel rolls over and mumbles an exhausted goodnight to you, and you try your hardest not to cry; but the tears slip silently out the creases of your eyes anyway.

You’re called to come in for your biopsy results almost a week later, and the car journey there is deathly silent as Joel and you stare out the windshield and don’t say anything the whole way there.

Joel glances at you and you feel the weight of his ginormous hand on your thigh, squeezing it, and you barely register the sensation at first, turning to him as he squints in the sunlight as he turns the wheel.

There’s no casual flirting, no animated discussions about supper; no singing along to Bennie And The Jets together on Rock FM.

You watch the town pass you by out the window like it’s a stranger, equal parts numb and terrified.

The specialist takes a seat opposite you both, their gaze never wavering as they speak in a soft voice laced delicate with empathy, and you immediately know from the look on their face.

“It’s gon’ be alright, darlin’.” He says.

Although you’re unsure if it’s for your benefit or his, as his eyes remain focused on the road and glaze over in their emptiness somehow.

"I wish there was an easier way to say this, but the results of your biopsy came back, and I'm afraid it's cancer..."

Your breath catches in your throat, your world dangerously spinning out of control as the weight of those words settle over you like a suffocating shroud.

"Cancer? Two per cent…" You whisper, your voice barely audible above the rush of blood in your ears.

The medical speak jumbles your brain. Triple-Negative. Faulty BRCA1. Aggressive…

The words fade out and so do you.

But when you come back, you're looking at Joel; at his profile as he speaks. Mouth moving at the specialist with questions fired behind stunned snarls.

You're not sure where you go, or for how long, it’s just all muffled and quiet. Like being underwater, it fills your ears completely as you sink. Peaceful in a way.

The first time in weeks you’ve had any peace inside the tornado of your mind. It all stills.

He’s so beautiful.

You think it’s odd how a man can be deemed beautiful, like it emasculates him somehow, but it's the right word, you think. Beautiful, with heavy features etched with concern, yet softened by an unwavering love that radiates from his soulful brown eyes.

In the opaque light filtering through the window, you notice the creases at the corners of his eyes, the remnants of countless laughter-filled moments you’ve shared; your mind reliving through all of them in a handmade scrapbook decorated with glitter glue.

You can hear that little breathy snuffle he makes as he chuckles at something you say, whether it’s genuinely funny or moronic. His eyes, once bright with hope and joy, now glisten with unshed tears filling round shiny scleras, reflecting the tumult of emotions churning within him.

He talks, asks all the right questions you can't even form into comprehensible words. And somewhere through the falling, the tumbling, you love him even more for it.

You spend a quiet moment tracing the prominent curve of his nose with your eyes down into the way his lips will quirk upwards in a playful, crooked grin that never fails to warm your heart.

Yet now, they’re drawn down into a thin pout of worry; a silent plea for reassurance amidst the uncertainty that looms over you both.

Joel's a practical man, hands on. He needs to know. He needs to have all the facts and weigh up all the options presented to him like a gloomy spread of cards on the desk before him.

You can’t help yourself, reaching your fingers out and tangling them in the soft tendrils of his hair as you brush them behind his ear.

But you're fixating on his hair, once a riot of chestnut curls that framed his face with youthful exuberance, now bear the distinguished marks of time - strands of silver threaded through the greying curls that fall in gentle waves around his temples.

It’s almost like they’re greying further in front of you as you watch him now.

When was the last time he got a haircut?

Your fingers brush against the fuzzy, silken stubble that adorns his jawline and top lip, a tactile reminder of the physicality of your love, recalling the way he rubs it against your face, your inner thighs...

His jaw clenches slightly, a reflexive response to the weight of your shared anguish, yet his grip on your hand remains steadfast.

Your eyes drop to the calloused knot of thick, squeezing tendons and bone crushing around your own.

The look in his coffee bean eyes as you advanced towards him, stacked chest puffed out; filled with love and pride that you were his. You remember his speech, how he choked around carefully thought out words relishing that he’ll get to spend every waking moment with his best friend.

The gleam of his wedding ring and the feel of the warm metal is no longer perfect in its circumference as you trace your finger over the tarnish of it. It’s flecked with tiny scratches from his work.

You remember how handsome he looked in his snug-fitting tux as he waited for you at the end of the aisle scattered with rose petals.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you picture him looking down into your coffin, wearing the same tux; red eyes and snot falling from his nose as he collapses, wailing your name in haunted howls, and it’s enough to have you fleeing from your chair, with a spine-chilling scrape against the floor, in search of the nearest bathroom as your stomach lurches.

You barely make it, spilling your insides into the toilet bowl uncontrollably.

No. No, no, no…

The harsh fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows against the cold, tiled wall with you pressed up against it; your breaths coming in ragged gasps that echo in the hollow confines of the tiny bathroom.

Tears stream down your cheeks, hot and relentless, as the weight of the diagnosis presses down upon you like a suffocating lead blanket, threatening to engulf you in its darkness.

Panic claws at your chest, its icy fingers tightening with each heartbeat, squeezing the air from your lungs until you feel as though you’ll suffocate beneath its crushing weight.

You can't breathe as you fumble at your buttons on your shirt trying to loosen them.

"I got ya, darlin'. I got ya." He soothes. "It's okay. I got ya. Sssh. Just breathe. I got ya..."

It doesn’t take Joel long to find you at all. All tiny and cowering in the cubicle; sobbing wildly as you reach for him, and he pulls you to him and lets you shatter against his broad shoulders.

His voice is your anchor, pulling you back slowly.

It's not fair. You can’t leave him.

You slur something about fucking it all, you’re going to die anyway, right? Might as well go down swinging, before he takes the bottle from you, muttering fucks of his own, as he prods you back up to bed and wraps band-aids around your bleeding toes.

You don’t remember him picking you up and taking you home, or holding you all night.

You don’t remember him finding you in the kitchen at around two AM, drinking yourself stupid with broken glass around your feet, and his concerned tone asking you what the hell you’re doing.

You eventually fall asleep encased inside of his arms and inhaling the spiced scent of his skin, breathing it in deeply so you don’t forget it.

He makes you breakfast in the morning that you don’t eat, irons clothes for you that you don’t wear.

Buys you brightly coloured flowers, that he knows you love, to cheer you up. But you simply let them wilt and die on the counter top, not bothering to get a vase out for them.

You just sit and watch them die; their velvety petals shrivelling and curling before your eyes over the course of days.

Cancer just doesn't affect you, it affects the people closest to you, too.

That’s what the website says that you’ve been directed to. You realise this when you notice Joel and you haven't had sex since the day he discovered the lump.

You haven’t kissed either, not passionately anyway. Your breasts have been unloved and untouched by him, for what feels like weeks, when the man usually can’t bear to not grope or pinch them playfully when he holds onto you. Or sneaks up behind you when you're washing up the dishes, making you splash bubbles in his face.

In a bout of feverish desperation, you climb into his lap whilst he’s watching a game and nursing a bottle of beer on his day off, kissing him with wanton bites on his neck making him frown, as you push your chest towards his face.

It only kills you further when he shakes his head and tells you not like this, darlin’ before he lifts you off of him.

It creates an argument. You accuse him of not finding you attractive anymore, and he growls at you that you’re being ridiculous, before you yell even louder.

You don’t even know why you’re yelling or how you even got to this point. Nothing makes sense anymore.

And yet now, for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking behind that knot of muscles pulling his face taught; what he’s feeling, and it fucking terrifies you as you plead for him to talk to you.

You and Joel never fight like this. You always talk about things that bother you both. You've never heard Joel raise his voice in the whole entire time you've known him.

Honesty and open communication has always driven your relationship and come naturally between you both.

But instead, he leaves to let you cool off. You don’t know that he doesn’t go far at all. He just drives his truck round the corner and sits there in it, sobbing helplessly into his thick palms until it gets dark and he goes to a bar in town to drown his sorrows further.

You don't know that it kills him not being able to touch you; he wants to. Fuck, he wants nothing more than to ravish you, but he’s terrified he’ll hurt you, or will do something dumb that only his own mounting panic convinces him he’ll do.

For the first time in his life, Joel feels completely helpless.

It’s not fair. He can’t lose you.

“Let me see,” you prompt, and he drops the ice-pack to reveal a nasty black eye in the early stages of birth.

You find him in the kitchen late when he eventually comes back home, and making no effort to hide the fact he’s had a heavy drink.

He looks up at you, holding an ice-pack to his face and waiting for the tirade from you.

Red grazes orbit around his fist too, knuckle skin missing, you note. His eye is almost sealed shut with the swelling that’s a mix between blue and purple, in stark contrast to his golden face. Broken blood vessels litter the area, and he sniffs deeply before he speaks again.

“Ya should see the other guy,” Joel assures with a tight mouth.

He has a large dimple on the left side of his face when he smiles; an almost perfect, crescent like the moon in its waxing phase. But it’s hard to coax a smile out of him for it to be fully revealed these days; his mouth constantly twitches into a downward arch most of the time.

As you look at him, there’s an old man somewhere inside of his face; a burdened man, exhausted and on the verge of giving up entirely.

Cancer just doesn't affect you, it affects the people closest to you, too.

“What happened?” You query, tentatively as you dab at his knuckles.

“I lost my shit.” He replies stoically, as you tend and fuss over him whilst sighing.

You look up at him and as much as you want to be mad with him, you can’t - he’s hurting too.

Comprehension is a difficult task to begin to tackle. You ask so many whys - why me? Why is this happening? But fail to find an answer to any them.

Everything has been spun one-eighty and you’re still dizzy from the shock of your diagnosis.

Hours and soon days disappear from your life, like sand falling in an hourglass, as you try to fully understand what’s happening around you.

You feel as though meandering through a blur, your body robotically doing the things you're supposed to, but your mind not being fully coherent. Get up, eat, work, go to bed and so on. It ticks continuously whilst your limbs belong to that of a zombie.

Questions, thoughts and images... all blinking through you trying to piece it all together whilst you move stagnantly. But eventually the anxiety begins to chip into your mentality and inserts thoughts that you daren’t venture down.

The exact truth is staring you in the face, but try as you might to refute it, it’s plainly obvious and it begins to terrify you in ways that are new.

You have cancer.

It invades your dreams and deprives you of sleep. Tears make themselves acknowledged, at the most inconvenient of times too, like shopping in the grocery store, or typing at your computer at your desk at work, and trying to hide them from the prying world is a task in itself.

And you don’t realise it at the time, but Joel’s going through the same. Questioning, worrying, just as paranoid and stressed as you are.

And you both need to talk about it, you know you do, but yet neither of you can quite summon the courage to do so.

“M’sorry,” he says into your hair, as he pulls you in for a crushing cuddle against him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, as quiet tears absorb into the plaid flannel pulled tight over his chest from your eyes.

But it's not okay. You have cancer.

Over the course of your discussions with the doctors, specialists and oncologists - and other medical professionals, whose names, faces and titles get lost in the swampy fog of your brain - the words ‘bilateral mastectomy’ are tossed around.

It’s clear the risks aren’t worth you keeping both of your breasts when they tell you you’re at high risk of it potentially coming back. To add another punch to the blow, they suggest removing your ovaries too, mumbling the words just in case.

Just in case…

You look at Joel, devastated. You’d both agreed that children were something you weren't both keen on having years ago, but it still feels like that choice of having an open dialogue about it is ripped from you.

When you agree it’s the best way forward, and he agrees too with a face that looks like he’s just had a lobotomy and doesn’t know where he is, a date is put in the diary for the surgeries and treatments, and it’s sooner than you think it will be.

There’s hardly any time to breathe and take it all in.

A day before the surgery and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with a face on as Joel comes in from work, sawdust caked in his hair and boots.

Your voice cracks as you explain that perhaps you should just call it time. Let him find someone else. You won’t be upset, you want him to be happy as you mutter incoherently about death and divorce, and death again, until he shakes his head defiantly and huffs loudly.

He reaches into the fridge for a cool beer and offers you one, but you don’t reply. He looks down at your face.

At the face that Joel affectionately calls butt face.

The beer fizzes over the top in a foamy eruption as he slams it down on the counter top.

“Ya really are an idiot, ain’t ya?” He says, slumping down heavily into the chair beside you.

“But,” you begin and he makes the butt face at you, with pushed out lips and squinted eyes. “You won’t want me anymore.” You whisper.

His face pulls serious as he drags your hand into his blistered ones. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.” He grits. “And neither are you.”

“But-”

“Quit with the butt face, darlin’. In sickness and in health. Ain’t that what we promised?”

“Yeah, but-”

He shakes his head again, his stubby fingers finding their home on your face, catching renegade tears in the whorls of his fingerprints.

“What, ya think m’gonna not love ya anymore because ya ain’t gonna have any breasts, is that it?”

That’s exactly it, hit the nail on the head, and although you don’t say it, he knows. Damn it, he knows.

“Ya really think m’that shallow?” He clicks his tongue around his teeth.

“No, of course I don’t,” you shake your head. “I’m just… I’m scared, Joel. I'm really fucking scared.” You gulp.

“I know.” He says, pulling you into his lap and wrapping those big, strong arms around you. “M’gonna be right there, when ya wake up, okay? M’gonna bring ya home and we’ll get through this, together. You n’ me. One day at a time. Okay, butt face?”

It’s the first time in weeks you smile and the first time in weeks you kiss; a soft, but tentative peck against your lips, that still holds back somewhat.

Pushing your foreheads together you sigh out, unable to think about anything else.

Two operations, four and a half months of chemotherapy and three weeks of radiotherapy, and it takes months for your hair to grow back.

You remember recoiling in horror as it fell out in clumps a few weeks after the chemo started, until you decided to just be done with it, and had Joel shave it off for you.

He offered to do his own in solidarity with you, until you snatched the clippers from him.

“Don’t you dare!” You almost shrieked as you ran your fingers through his tufty curls, smiling. “You’re never getting a haircut ever again.” And he smirked at that.

“Yes, ma’am.” He'd said as he put them away.

You had woken, groggy and aching, to Joel's face smiling at you and pushing a water beaker to your lips. You looked down to see your chest covered in bandages and drains under your hospital issue nightgown.

It was an odd feeling, you didn't feel much of a difference in those first few, post-op days; weighted down by the drains and dressings, and in and out with the pain meds.

They shifted you out of hospital the next day to recover at home, and Joel took up the role of carer, doctor and home cook as he fussed and got you comfy on the couch in a suffocating fort of pillows and blankets.

After the ovarian surgery, you started taking aromatase inhibitors, which were an added nightmare as these treatments bring on an almost immediate menopause with your ovaries now gone.

No gradual decline - a full push over the fucking cliff, face first. You can’t bear for Joel to touch you when you’re burning up and sweating; soaking the sheets through completely that you fear you’ve wet the bed.

When you’re sick from the radiotherapy, he feels useless hearing you heave behind a locked door. All you can do is lay in bed for days, struggling to keep food down and sleep it off.

You're too weak and exhausted to climb the stairs sometimes, so Joel carries you in his arms up them, even though it kills his knees and makes him groan silently when it pulls on his back. But he still does it anyway.

There are more discussions as the treatments carry on. More options, more pills, more chemicals. More time spent feeling like sludge.

Your bandages and dressings finally come off and you see yourself for the first time in front of a mirror, and there are a few moments when you can’t feel anything. Like there’s no water left in your body to cry anymore.

You just stare at your reflection with the nurse hovering by your side.

They warned you you’d be left with scarring. The scars from the mastectomy extend across the skin of your chest either side and into your armpits where you had lymph nodes removed too. They’ll fade over time, but will never completely disappear.

They warned you they’ll also feel permanently numb. And they’re right, as you touch your mutilated body with shaky fingers, you feel… nothing.

It’s another loss to mourn, the loss of your femininity, of yourself.

And that’s the worst feeling of all as you stare at the mess of your chest that was once curved and bouncy and shapely like a woman ought to be.

Now you’re flat as a board and there’s nothing remotely feminine about your body now, you think.

You can feel the sensation of touch to some degree, but it’s nothing like before. No sensitivity, no prickly feeling that creates goosebumps, just completely numbed out.

And over the course of some weeks, you can feel odd sensations arise, like you’ll touch your chest and you’ll feel it under your armpit. Your body feels all out of sorts as it slowly heals.

You have options; you can have more surgery to build you a pair of breasts if you'd like, but that comes with more pain and recovery and you decide you’re done with that.

You can wear a padded or filled out bra, you can have a tattoo which you briefly consider to cover the scarring.

But you settle on remaining as you are for now. Overwhelmed by the options out there, when you truly believed there was nothing that could make you feel even remotely feminine again.

Maybe something pretty, like flowers…

And Joel nods at all of them as you ask for his input, but ultimately he just wants what you want.

You cover the scars up with layers. You sleep with long sleeved tops and no longer undress in front of Joel. You can't bear him to see you like this, not yet.

Each day you think will be the day when you garner enough bravery to show him, but don't.

It feels weird, like some days they’re still there, akin to a phantom limb. You find yourself checking your chest as you feel the familiar bounce of them as you run down the stairs, or go to grope them with the suds to clean in the shower and the loss devastates you all over again.

He reassures you, telling you that you're beautiful with sincere eyes, and there's nothing that you need to worry about. But it still niggles away.

That lone, renegade thought that he might not be attracted to you anymore when he sees them, suddenly becomes the loudest of all.

They say time is a healer. Patience, understanding. And Joel has been all these things and more.

He’s carried you above the surface of the muddy water when all you’ve wanted to do is drown at times. He’s the one who nudges you awake each morning with a nose in your cheek and reminds you to take your pills.

He’s the one who brought you a beautiful coloured scarf to wear on your head when you lost your hair. A gorgeous floral print that you admired with a smile at the intricate pattern of petals as you ran your fingers over the silk of it.

He’s the one who, despite working all the hours God sends, still comes home and makes you something to eat because he knows you might not have any energy to cook.

He’s the one who still tells you he loves you, no matter what’s going on under your tops and sweaters that swamp you in their bagginess.

It isn’t time that does it at all, it’s him.

You wake one morning, months after, as the sun pools in the bedroom, and look at Joel on his back, asleep and snoring gently.

Joel’s seen you at your absolute worst; your most vulnerable, and he’s still here. Resilient, strong. A man who puts others to shame.

A man that you still desire, and you want him to desire you, even if you’re not whole anymore.

You reach out and touch him, hand brushing over the swell of his golden belly to convince yourself he’s real. Soft, downy hairs around his belly button tickle your palm gently.

He stirs at your stroking, sleepy eyes looking down at you as he blinks, adjusting to the light.

“Ya alright?” Joel asks, and you nod with a smile.

“I love you.” You say to him and he blushes, like he always does at that. Pink capillaries coming to life in his cheeks.

“I love you, darlin’.” He confirms, clutching your hand and kissing across the knuckles gently.

His hair is a tousled mess, the greys on his chest seem more plentiful and it stirs something within you; something the intense and gruelling treatments haven't fully killed off.

You straddle him and lean over, kissing him, much to his surprise. Your hands roam over his soft belly, squeezing gently as he smirks around your lips, and yelps a little when you pinch a ticklish spot. 

“Hey now,” he warns, as your tongue licks over his lips. 

He hums out as his hands sweep up your back, cupping the back of your head as he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

To taste him again is divine as your body instantly relaxes onto him. He nips gently on your lip and you groan out as you feel how hard he gets underneath you.

You can’t help but subtly grind on him as he groans into your mouth.

You break the kiss to sit upright, heart thrumming in your chest as he looks up at you with those dark, molten eyes.

"I'm ready to show you." You say and he straightens up.

"Okay," he nods, thumbs stroking over your thighs gently.

Without hesitation, you lift up your top revealing the flat, scarred wasteland that is your chest now, that you haven’t had the courage to let him fully see.

For a moment, his face is completely unreadable and you consider reaching for your top to cover up again.

You hold your breath as his eyes wander over the puckered welts; you feel his fingers twitch against your hips.

He sits up on his elbows, eyes locked onto yours, licking over his lips slowly as his peepers follow the lines back and forth.

His eyes dip further down to the two, little dimpled scars from where your ovaries were removed, either side of your tummy.

“Don’t ya dare,” he says, as if able to read your mind.

And you realise that he can, in his own way. He’s always been able to see you even though you try to hide sometimes. He just has the patience to wait until you're ready.

He never pushes, he just waits, because he knows that eventually, you’ll crawl out from whatever hole you need to hide in for a while to deal, to process - whatever it is you need to do. Then you’ll come back to him.

And he’ll always be there aith open arms when you do.

Joel takes you in his arms, twists you so you’re laying on your back and he kisses you there without hesitation. Kisses gently where your breasts once were in the same way that he used to.

Runs his mouth delicately over the numbed skin, dragging lips and leaving wet tracks with open mouthed kisses.

You gasp out as your eyes fill with water, your fingers finding their rightful place, raking through his curls as he glides his tongue over every creased line of your scars.

“Joel,” you whimper, cradling him as you feel his hardness press up against your centre.

You can feel a tingle of the warmth from his lips on your skin kissing gently as your eyes pool. He looks up to see you crying.

“Baby, baby. Does it hurt?” He asks, worried.

You shake your head. “No. No, I can feel you.” You gasp, shaking. “It’s weird, but I can.”

“Where?” He asks.

“There, kind of,” you say, as he brushes his lips over the spot where your right nipple used to be.

He kisses you there and runs his tongue gently over the area making you shudder, and you feel the tingles again, strangely in your armpit.

It makes you giggle at how your nerves have patched themselves up all wonky, and he smiles at you, chuckling as he licks and tests all places that might have an ebb of feeling, with little kisses and watching your reaction to each one.

All the tension leaves your body, muscles relaxing beneath his gentle ministrations; breath steadying as you surrender to the intimacy of this moment.

Reaching down, you cup his swollen cock over his boxers, with the fraying elastic tickling your wrist.

“We really need to get you some new underwear,” you titter at the state of them.

He simply shrugs with a smirk. “I could just simply take ‘em off.”

You nod eagerly and he pushes them down over his hips as you stroke him; your palm sticky with him as he leaks undeniably into it.

“Ya sure?” He queries gently as you swipe him against your folds.

"Mmm, Joel." You groan at the feel of him as you pump him. "God, I want you."

It feels so good to have him touching you, so close. The weight of his body pressed into yours, crushing you again. How warm he feels against your skin. 

“I fucking want you, Joel.” You plead, as you clutch his face in your other hand. His warm breath breathes life into your tired bones. “I don’t want you to be gentle either. I need you to fuck me, hard.”

“Ya so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he grunts as he pushes his thick cock head against your drenched hole.

You both groan out as he fills you, stretching you wide around him and pumping into you gently as you acclimatise to his girth - it's been a while.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he mouths at your neck; tongue trailing down to your chest and finding that spot again.

“Snug as a bug in a rug... damn.” Joel quips, his tongue running over his teeth and then shaking his hips from side-to-side, making you feel all those little movements as he furrows up so tightly in there.

He flexes his groin and begins moving back and forth inside of you, pressing on that sweetly, pinchy spot deep inside; slightly uncomfy and yet incredibly good at the same time.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you plead, gripping onto his arm skin, “fuck me hard, please…” You whine as he sets to ploughing you like you command and demand of him.

You’re so wet that the sounds coming out of your pussy are almost farcical, making you giggle and him grunt as they squeak and soak him. He slips out a few times trying to gain his momentum - it’s like a damn slip n’ slide.

Joel presses down on your knee, bearing his weight on it so you can’t shut your legs. Making you endure it - to ride that full gigantic wave smashing into your pussy and rising up through your body.

“Ya so fuckin’ wet, ya drenched.” He’s panting, beside himself with the state you're in. “Gushing for me already, huh, darlin’?”

Your eyes roll back into your head and he smirks as he fucks hard into you like you want.

“Like this? This how ya want it?” 

“Yeah, Joel. Don’t stop!” You wail. 

“Ain’t gon’ stop til’ ya come for me, baby.” 

He only slows to lean in and kiss you as he pistons in deeper, winding those hips of his into you further.

“Joel…” you drone. It feels so good as he grinds, so deep.

“Darlin’ ya feel too good. Fuck, m’not gon’ last like this…” he whines with a panting smirk.

“Slow it down,” you moan as he grips a hold of your thighs and brings you back onto him slower, deeper.

He licks over your mouth clumsily, tongue swiping across your nostrils, grunting out loud as your pussy clenches around him as you shudder underneath him.

He watches with a smile, lighting up the contours of his heavy set brow as you come around him.

And it’s like staring at the sun for too long; his smile brands itself into the back of your eyelids - a permanent scorch that you never want to forget.  

And you feel every inch of him like this. He fucks into you slowly; your breaths hitching and falling from your chest quicker as you both work to build you up again.

“Joel!”

He reaches forward, stroking his thick fingers over the marred scars; feeling the smoothness of healing skin juxtaposed with the slight roughness of the scar tissue.

He strokes up to your neck, pulling you upright gently as you cry out when his cock hits so deep. 

“Like that, darlin’...” he croons, as he winds further into you. “Mmm, fuck!”

You tremble and shake uncontrollably as he brings you to another orgasm.

“There ya are, baby. There ya are…” Joel smiles, kissing over your nose and cheeks. "So fuckin' beautiful, ain't ya?"

And he’s right there with you, head pressed into yours, watching; feeling as you squeeze and contract. Feeling you tremble and shake.

Watching as your eyes water and you gasp; your hands squeeze around his biceps, nails digging in. 

You claw at him. Pulling him closer as he whimpers. A ragged cry escapes from his throat as he drives his hips deeper and struggles to contain himself.

You feel his teeth on your shoulder, grazing and desperate to bite down through the flesh. Your nails rake through his scalp, twisting and pulling as you pant and groan.

He watches in awe at you shaking on the end of his thick cock, rattling about as he turns you out and finally has his way with his gorgeous wife again.

His eyes fall over your chest and he looks at you adoringly, tongue weaving across the scars again without hesitation. Planting kisses and mouthing over the scars.

“Oh God! Oh Fuck!” You holler.

Making you feel every thick, beastly inch of him, as he pounds up into your insides like a boxer taking his fury out on the bag.

Joel pulls you by the hips upright, as he rolls onto his back, so you’re now on top of him. Everything’s fluid, swift and in a blur.

He anchors you down by your waist, making you sit on him; making you unable to escape him.

“Holy shit, oh shit-shit! Joel!” You exclaim as you gasp and struggle to swallow as the frantic intakes of breath choke you. “Oh my God!”

“Ya can take it… ya can do it, that’s it. Ride it.” Joel encourages. “So fuckin’ beautiful when ya take my cock like this, darlin’. God damn."

He just keeps coming at you; powering and thundering through you, without any hesitation in letting up anytime soon. He’s a powerhouse of sweat and grunts, breathing like he’s dying; small, quick rasps and wheezes gurgle in the back of his throat.

You find your pace, pressing palms into his broad chest and letting your hips bounce, and it feels so damn good as the curve of his cock rubs in all the sweet spots deep inside.

You reach down and stroke your clit, groaning at the feel of it tingling wildly under your fingertips.

“Stroke that pretty clit for me,” Joel croons, hammering up into you.

You stroke and rub the sticky nub, and then bring your digits up towards your mouth, sucking and teasing your lips with your fingers, and he watches enthralled.

“Suck those fingers, darlin’.” Joel hisses. “Tell me how good ya taste.”

“So good,” you smirk. You push your fingers to his lips, and he sucks them too.

"Yeah, ya do. Taste so fuckin' good."

You feel his thumb circle over your clit bringing you closer and closer with each swish of his pad against it.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. YES!” You pant, as he grips around your waist tighter.

“Ya want me to fill ya up, hmm?”

“I want all of you, Joel.” You whine, desperate for him.

“That’s it, grind on my cock. Just like that.” He coos; his lip caught between his teeth as he cranks you around, holding onto your hips.

Your head flops onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto the other as your lower half powers through.

“Mmm, Joel... please!” You groan, feeling your body tighten and clench again.

“Ya close again, baby?” He wheezes in your ear. "Gonna come for me?"

“Mhm… so close.”

“Come all over my cock.” He encourages. “Soak it, I want it all.”

“Oh God!” You whine.

“So damn good, fuck,” he grunts as you move around and around, your back tensing. He rubs it fondly with his big hands. “Right there, that’s it. Oh fuck, that’s so sweet, darlin’.” He groans. “M’gonna come so deep inside of ya.”

You cry out; your body shuddering and trembling on top of him, and you feel him tense and grunt out on a long, satisfied sigh.

You come, your head expanding and your body floating; your cunt clenching around him as you milk him completely dry. Tingles flood your body, your back arches and you can see the sun burning behind your eyes again.

Unable to think or say anything, Joel kisses you; silencing you before you have the chance to ruin this moment by shrinking back or wrapping yourself back up and hiding your body away from him.

For one millisecond, he’s weak; just a sweaty mess of bewildered man meat beneath you. Joel loses himself inside the holistic spiral of your irises for a moment, unable to get out or find his way through the maze of them.

And part of him wants to stay lost in them forever.

He trembles as he rocks slowly, feeling himself empty and deflate with a final grunt of your name, and his shoulders sag in unison into the mattress.

You wrap your arms around him and finally collapse upon him and lay there for a few minutes, listening to nothing but his heartbeat thrumming in your ears, eventually slowing its pace back to its normal rhythm.

Joel looks down at you as you run your fingers across his scalp and it makes him shiver; goosebumps travelling down his spine at breakneck speeds.

You stop winding the curls, shifting and resting your head up against his as you catch your breath.

He holds you, kissing you gently over your eyelashes and cheeks.

“Ya more fuckin’ beautiful to me than you’ve ever been, ya know that?” He murmurs into your face.

"They made 'em neater than I thought they'd be." He says.

You feel his knuckles sweep over your chest gently, unafraid to touch you at all, and you feel like a weight as been lifted as he does it.

You watch as he traces the ridge of the scars delicately.

"Yeah." You nod. You lift your arm up so he can see them run into your pit.

"Do ya feel much pain still? I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

You smile and shake your head. "No. It's just mostly numb. Just feels different. I'm really happy that I could feel something when you kissed me. Even if it was in my armpit," you chuckle.

"Ya still fuckin' beautiful," he smiles, and kisses inside your armpit.

You smile bashfully, headbutting his chin gently as you try not to let the tears water your eyes.

“Look at me, darlin’.” His fingers tip your chin up to him. Thumbs smearing away any tears. “I mean it. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Fuckin’ balls on ya are bigger than mine.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say, reaching down to cup and stroke the soft swell of his between your fingers.

He groans, biting on his lip before his mouth finds yours again. "Ya tryin' to kill me?" He slips his tongue inside and tastes you all over again, his hands slipping down your back and groping your ass. “Ya so fuckin' sexy."

"You think so?" You smile.

"Oh, I know so. Ya always have been. Don't hide from me anymore, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe.

"Want ya sleepin' naked next to me again." He thinks for a moment. "Why don't I take ya out to dinner tonight? Anywhere ya want. If ya feelin' up for it?"

"You taking me out on a date, hmm?"

"Yeah. I am. Maybe put one of them nice dresses ya got on. I'll put on that shirt ya like. The green plaid one. Spruce myself up for ya."

"That's my favourite." You agree.

"Ya deserve to feel good, darlin'. Wanna take ya out. Show the world how fuckin' lucky I am."

You smile into his face. "What did I do to deserve you, Mr Miller?"

He kisses you again. Soft lips brushing against yours. "M’gonna keep loving ya. You n’ ya stupid butt face. Ya hear me, Mrs Miller?”

You nod, chuckling, safe in his arms; a place where you can feel safe and heal, and begin to feel like yourself again.

“I hear you.” You smile, as he pelts your face with swamping kisses in the warm sunlit bedroom. "I love you."

He smiles and he's never looked more beautiful.

“I love ya too, butt face.” Joel hums, as he crushes you to his chest and never lets you go.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Joel, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #tw breast cancer #tw cancer #tw illness #tw medical #bodies series #every body is beautiful #real bodies #real love #diversity #inclusivity #jett's writing