#I just don’t particularly care most of the time about who the subject is because that isn’t how I came to learn about the music

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

I was thinking earlier about how most sinners in Viv’s Hell, particularly in the main cast, are in Hell because they were killers in life, because obviously, murder isn’t the only thing that gets you sent to Hell, and I doubt it’s the most common. Hell is full of terrible people of all kinds, not just killers. Homophobes, misogynists, abusers, racists, rapists, fascists. The worst of the worst.

But she can’t actually show any of these people being humanized, bettering themselves, and getting redeemed, because people would accuse her of saying those things are forgivable, and down playing the issue.

Look at how people reacted to Killjoy saying something homophobic. They immediately claimed that it made the show itself homophobic, even though Killjoy is an antagonist who’s homophobia is directly implied to be one of the reasons she’s in Hell.

Murder is a, “safe,” sin for the show to give the characters, because no one watching the show has been murdered, and probably very few of them personally know anybody who’s been murdered, so they don’t feel the need to treat the subject with any respect. Murder is a truly horrific tragedy that destroys innocent lives, but in fiction it’s just sorta hand waved most of the time, because it’s so far outside of the realm of reality for most people that we’re sorta just comfortable with it.

So she sorta has to have most of them be murderers, because what else can she make them?

Like, the only member of the main cast of sinners that doesn’t seem to be a murderer is Husk, who so far has been implied to be in Hell because of his alcoholism and gambling addiction, and that’s something you have to be careful about because those are both real complicated disorders that real people struggle with, and you run the risk of demonizing them if you aren’t careful.

Even though we’re largely desensitized to murder in media, no one’s worried about demonizing murderers, or generalizing them as being evil.

So again, it’s just easy to slap em with the murderer label and call it a day.

#does this make sense to anybody??? #adhd kicked my ass while trying to organize these thoughts into actual words and sentences #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #??? #not really critical but also kinda

[mobbu-min]

☆ erm, let's not do that ☆

requested by anon! Hi there! So i would like to request The overblot gang with a S/O who likes to pick on their fingers whenever they are stressed and considering what Yuu have to go through, they would have a bloody hand if it werent for the fact they use gloves when they are really stressed out. (They dont wear gloves often because it will look weird when it doesnt fit the outfit but will wear it if necessary). So what are the overblot gang (seperate) reactions when he learns why his S/O pick on their fingers and wear gloves? P.s. you are an amazing writer and i love your work, keep up the good work! Hope you have a lovely day/night!

a/n so it's been awhile... how have you guys been? i've been okay, been dealing with post graduation fatigue and depression. been wondering what the hell am i doing with my world and wondering if things are really worth it. i miss bts, i miss jin and hobi and most of all yoongi. i miss the person i used to be. i miss the person that was my rock for a good few years. i wish this whole life thing wasn;t so hard, but! twst makes my brain go brrrr, so that's good i guess lolol. i'm working on stuff dw! and i'll try to post more, so thank you all so much to those who have been waiting! i love you all!!! <333

characters mentioned: overblot boys!

!tw! blood, would this be considered self harm? (an actual question btw)

Riddle Rosehearts <3

⋆ He’s so concerned. Honestly, when he saw the state of your hands, he gasped like some Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

⋆ He’s not the type to beat around the bush, but he’s gentle about it. He’s quick to voice his concern for your health and if there’s any way for him to help you. 

⋆ Knowing that he is part of the cause of your pain, sorta sends him spiraling somewhat. It really makes Riddle want to become a better person after seeing the after effects of his tyranny.

⋆ Whenever Riddle sees you picking at your hands, he kinda swats at your hands like an angry cat. A disappointed pout on his soft features. He really tries okay. 

⋆ Riddle will patch your hand up. He’s so gentle about it too. Holding your hands as if they were blessed by the Queen of Hearts (honestly there’s probably a rule about it)

⋆ He’s taken to holding your hand when you're together. He stutters out a quick ‘I-it’s to help you!’ before dragging you away to study. When you're alone, Riddle has the habit of kissing your hands, mumbling sweet words. 

⋆ Overall, Riddle is concerned but willing to do anything to help you.

“If you ever find the urge to harm yourself, no matter how small, I ask you to seek me out. I will always spare you a moment. Afterall, I care about you, please don’t forget that.”

Leona Kingscholar <3

⋆ He noticed the state of your hands the moment he met you, but didn’t mention it until you grew closer. Like Riddle, he doesn’t beat around the bush. But unlike Riddle, Leona is so incredibly blunt.

⋆ After you tell him it’s a habit you’ve picked up after certain events, Leona drops the subject. The both of you are too awkward to keep it going. Afterall, you both knew what events could have led you here. Guilt was quick to snag Leona’s heart.

⋆ He’s not upfront about his emotions. Leona’s quite bad with vocalizing his worries, but he’s always been a firm believer in actions over words anyways.

⋆ Expensive gloves, creams and ointments from his land, heck even fidget toys he’s seen Cheka play with, shows up at your door. Anything he believes that could help you, he’s getting.

⋆ If you’re together and your hands get particularly bad, he’s dragging you to the infirmary to patch you up (he ends up snagging/buying bandages to keep on him just in case after) He doesn’t really talk much, but the sentiment is there.

⋆ Like Riddle, Leona will hold your hands to stop you from picking at your skin. His grip is tight, but not in a way that seems like he’s scolding you or mad, but tight in a way that's comforting. As if saying ‘I’m here.’

‘Oi, stop that… Yeah, I’m aware, but I’m here now. Let’s find other ways to deal with your stress, yeah? (whispering) I think I’ve got a few ideas, if you’re up to it, herbivore~’

Azul Ashengrotto <3

⋆ He beats around the bush. Azul is weirddddd about it.

⋆ On one hand, he’s worried about you. On the other hand, his capitalist side wants to find some way to profit off it. Somehow he manages to quell both sides. (he ends up making hand cream/ointment using like floyd’s mucus thing, rip floyd)

⋆ Azul, despite his incessant need to bottle up his emotions for others, finds it hard to ignore the state of your hands, and likewise state of your health, any longer. He doesn’t know how to approach the topic. Does he ask right away? Should he ease you into it? He, for the first time since his overblot, is lost for words.

⋆ He does eventually get the guts to ask and oh boy, he never knew guilt felt this bad.

⋆ Azul kinda sucks at helping you, he won’t hold your hand (only in private) and he’s kinda frivolous with money (so no expensive gifts) but he’s good with his words. And when he sees you starting to pick at your hands, he immediately starts running his mouth. And he can talk for hours. And he’s entertaining too. Leaving you so enraptured by his words that you forget about the need to pick at your skin.

⋆ He’s always good at always keeping you busy. And no this isn’t some way to get free labor out of you. Typically you help him with paper work, just you and him in his little office.

⋆ Azul may always be boasting about how kind he is outloud, but you both know his true kindness is always quiet.

‘Ah, that’s enough paperwork for today. How about we go to the lounge for a few drinks? There’s plenty more I wish to share with you about the stock market.’

Jamil Viper <3

⋆ He doesn’t notice until you’re hissing in pain from something spicy touching your tender skin (listen i know this does make sense, but trust me, it hurts) He’s confused and worried at first and confused and worried after.

⋆ Jamil scolds you for working without some sort of protection while he tenderly washes your hands.

⋆ I feel like Jamil also has some bad coping habits, so he’s quick to put two and two together. He doesn’t ask, but there is a noticeable shift in his behavior. Jamil is a lot more gentle, not in a demeaning way, but in an awkward ‘I want to help you, but idk how, just please appreciate my efforts’ sorta way.

⋆ Since he still has his duties as Vice Housewarden and Kalim’s aid, he’s pretty tight on time, but he tries his best to spare you a few minutes. And if he can’t, you’ll always find a lunch box sitting on your desk.

⋆ Jamil is always willing to bandage your hands if they get particularly bad. He’ll use healing ointment that smells like home and is as gentle as his voice.

⋆ And while he can’t give you extraordinary gifts or talk for hours on end, Jamil is always ready to lend you a hand to heal your own destruction like how you healed him.

‘Stop squirming so much, I’ll mess up your banadages. -sigh- You really have to start wearing some sort of gloves… Mh? What was that?… You like it when I bandage your hand? E-eh- ahem, well if you like it so much, I might as well start charging you. …Ahaha, I never said thuarmarks, did I?”

Vil Schoenheit <3

⋆ He takes one look at your hand and instantly brings out a 12 step hand routine.

⋆ Listen, he doesn't care if you do it out of stress, he’s going to fix your hands while helping you find better ways to handle it.

⋆ He rubs like this gel liquid thing that tastes bad to prevent you from biting away the skin near your nail (it’s an actual thing don’t worry) He’s pulling all the stops to prevent you from injuring your hands even more than they already are.

⋆ Vil often walks the fine line of being really gentle or really strict about it. And it doesn’t stem from his perfection issues, he is just kinda bad at expressing his emotions in a way that is both productive and compassionate. He does care, you’ll just have to look for hidden meanings in his long lectures.

⋆ No doubt, Vil is getting both of you matching gloves with your signature colors as accents.

⋆ The whole 12 step hand routine actually does become routine for the both of you. Typically taking place at Pomefiore, you’ll both talk about your day. Vil sees this as a way to check off all three boxes.

⋆ He gets to do his nightly hand routine.

⋆ You're improving day by day from talking about your emotions with him.

⋆ And he gets to spend one on one time with you!

⋆ It's a win-win situation! And your hands have never been softer!

‘And Epel just had to prove his point, which ended up with him casting a Zip Tight Spell on him. Despite not even being able to move his mouth, I could tell there was so much anger running though his little body. Goodness, how ridicu-hm? Did my little spudling fall asleep? How rude~ -sigh- Sweet dreams, darling~’

Idia Shroud <3

⋆ It’s Ortho that brings up your problem. Worry evident in his voice as he showed pictures of your hands to his big brother.

⋆ Despite being gaming buddies, Idia really never paid attention to your outer appearance. Too preoccupied in his desire to beat you at every game you both play.

⋆ And poor Idia, guilt grabs him by his long ass hair and flings his lanky body across the room multiple times (not really, but in Idia’s head that what's happening)

⋆ Unlike all of the others mentioned, Idia’s way of help is rather unconventional. He’s not good at talking nor is he good at physical touch, but you know what he is good at? Yeah, making things.

⋆ After a long night, Idia shows up at Ramshackle holding a small box. What is in the box? Well your own personal health robocat! This cat is kinda like Ortho just to a lesser degree (think of the robocat seven made mc!)

⋆ Listen, he knows he’s severely lacking in multiple departments of this whole dating, heck even friend, thing, but he is trying! And RoboCat is the ultimate form of his love! It’s quite romantic really.

⋆ Is Grim happy about the new intruder? No! But your health is more important than his feelings!

⋆ Idia swears he died of pure happiness at your expression. His two favorite things together!? Eek! It’s too much!

‘A-and next time you find yourself in trouble, just c-call for Robocat and she’ll come flying!… A laser beam like Ortho? Good idea! I’ll make sure to add it in her name update!’

Malleus Draconia <3

⋆ His heart aches to see the pain you put yourself through. If it was up to him, he’d simply whisk you away to a place where no stress could muddle your beautiful mind. If he could, he would kill stress itself.

⋆ But alas, he can’t kill something that doesn’t have a physical form, how sad~ (lilia had to convince him not to go after Crowley)

⋆ Malleus is doing everything he can to help you. Just name it and he’s doing it.

⋆ Multiple gloves made of the finest materials? Got it!

⋆ Healing ointment from the farthest land made from an extinct organism? Done!

⋆ The heads of your enemies? Why didn’t you say so sooner!

⋆ He’s so silly ahahaha.

⋆ But seriously, Malleus sorta never feels stressed (he does, just thinks stress is a human emotion that only humans can feel) but he’s always willing to listen to you. Afterall, you’re always willing to lend your ears to him, it’s the bare minimum.

⋆ Advice? It’s so-so, sometimes he comes off vague but that really just because of his faeness. But he tries and is actively trying to be better, trying to be more intune with your emotions and his. (lilia has been great help, and surprisingly enough, watching silver and sebek on a more friendly level has also helped him be more in tune with emotions)

⋆ You shouldn't have to suffer in silence and he’ll make sure you never will for as long as the universe will let him.

‘You’ve been such a good companion, my dearest child of man, so please let me return the favor. Allow me to see the deepest parts of your soul, of your mind and heart. If you fear that I will cast judgment, do not. I could never judge the soul that has welcomed me with an open heart.’

#riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #mari writes!!! #tw self harm

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader

Chapter I: Introduction

Summary:

Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.

During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism

April 4th, 1932

Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?

Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.

I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.

I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.

I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.

I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.

We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.

I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…

I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.

She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.

Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.

She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.

I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.

Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..

“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”

“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”

“Pa will, no doubt.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”

“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”

“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”

“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”

“Is that so?”

The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.

He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.

Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.

Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.

I gave him a curious look back.

“Back from business, old man?” I tease.

He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.

“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….

He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”

Janice was their daughter.

“Lovely.”

He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,

“Al is out late again?”

“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”

“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”

“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”

I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!

Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.

“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”

I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.

I knocked on the door, firmly.

“El?” I addressed him by nickname.

“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.

I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”

Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?

“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.

“Yes.” He said, curt.

I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.

“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.

“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.

Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.

When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.

When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.

“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”

“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.

I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”

I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.

“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.

It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.

“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.

When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.

I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.

“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.

Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.

Everything was alright until dinner time.

The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.

Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.

“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”

All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.

I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….

After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….

Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.

Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.

He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.

“How was work?” I asked with a smile.

“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.

I was deep in thought.

“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”

Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.

“You can never have too much of your father!”

Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.

I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.

I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.

With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.

Y/N

——————

Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.

Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,

“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”

St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.

“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”

Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….

#hazbin hotel #1930s #alastor #platonic alastor x reader #alastor x reader #child reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel emily #implied murder

[sneepseverus]

Snape as a Student Headcanons

We all know Snape is highly intelligent and incredibly well-spoken. I think he excelled in all subjects when he was a student and that most came very easily to him. Before Hogwarts, I imagine he was a math whiz and science geek, the dictionary definition of a nerd. You could find his nose in a book when he had free time or if the subject being taught was boring/something he already knew. I think history would have been his least favorite subject.

Outside of the classroom, you could find him at the library reading all sorts of genres. I think he enjoyed fiction the most, though. As a young kid, he was highly imaginative and creative.

Severus absolutely despised working with others and never cared to raise his hand, even when he knew the answer. He consistently received comments like, “Severus is an independent, self-motivated student. He easily grasps new concepts and generates neat and careful work. However, he often has trouble paying attention and working in small groups. He could benefit from participating more and learning to work with others.” Despite these comments, he wouldn’t have changed his behaviors. School is about learning, not impressing teachers and classmates.

Severus never recognized that he was significantly smarter than average, though. If someone couldn’t grasp a concept that came easily to him, he wouldn’t understand their lack of understanding. “Just read the textbook! All the information is there!” he would think. His teachers would probably force him to tutor other students, leading him to resent them even more (or maybe he’d fall in love with them. Who knows?)

I don’t know if art ever came naturally to him, though. I think writing would have been one of his strong suits, but what about drawing, painting, or music? I can see those areas being the few things that he was horrible at, but I can understand if some people think otherwise. I also imagine he would have be good at learning languages, but I don’t know if he would have taken the time to learning a second language, most likely because he couldn’t imagine himself ever leaving the UK.

I do wonder how the bullying and his home life would have affected his academics. On one hand, I could see him using school as a distraction, so he would continue to succeed, and his teachers would have no reason to worry. On the other hand, the trauma may have affected him in all aspects of his life, causing him to lose motivation. If he started to slip, I doubt his teachers would have stepped in, though. I don’t think he would have had a strong relationship with any of them, and they might have just attributed his poor marks to being influenced by the wrong crowd or becoming lazy.

Despite being smart, I don’t know if Severus would have cared that much about his marks and exam results. We know that as a professor, he only allowed students who received an O to take his NEWT-level potions class, but that could have just been because he wanted to teach as few students as possible. As a student himself, I think he would have received high results without really trying too hard, so he hardly ever stressed out.

I’m curious to know what you all think, too (especially if you’re from the UK/know more about the school system and culture there, particularly during Snape’s time).

#snape #snape headcanons #snape love #snape fandom #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #severus snape headcanons #pro severus snape

[mouschiwrites]

Hi!! I wanted to ask a reader with abusive parents and the main 4 reacting to this

Sure thing!

National child abuse hotline: [phone] / National domestic violence hotline: [phone]

TW for (implied) abuse!!

South Park - Main Four With a Partner Who Has Abusive Parents

Stan

He understands the struggle

Honestly he’d be the best out of the four to vent to about this, he can absolutely empathize

And you can empathize with him when he needs to vent

You also share tricks that you use to avoid the abuse

Whenever it gets to be too much, you both sneak out and meet at Stark Pond

You don’t always talk when this happens, because sometimes you just need some silence and a hand to hold

Oftentimes you’ll vouch for each other in public when you try to hide it

And you’ll help change the subject

“Oh, that bruise? I just fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, I was there. Okay, new subject—”

But deep down you both know the truth

If/when you finally decide to tell someone about what’s going on at home, you have a pact to do it together

Kyle

He invites you over a lot just to get you away from home

And when he walks you home he goes veerrry slow

He’s constantly reminding you that you can always come to his place whenever you need

When you vent to him, he SEETHES

He HATES your parents

He has refused to meet them on multiple occasions

“Wanna come inside for a snack?”

“Are your parents home?”

“I think so.”

“Then no.”

Will absolutely indulge you in making “hypothetical” plots to violently murder them

He wants you to get help, but won’t push you

He has offered to help you speak up about it though

In the meantime he just wants to always be there for you and offer a safe space

Kenny

He also empathizes with what you’re going through

He knows his house isn’t that much better, but he’ll still invite you over when you need to get away

Goofing off with him and Karen usually cheers you up

If that doesn’t do the trick, Kenny loves to cuddle you while you vent

It does make him sad, but he just holds you tighter and reiterates how much he cares for you

“I’m so sorry baby. You don’t deserve that. You deserve the world.”

The few times he’s been around your parents, you’ve noticed him glaring at them with clenched fists

He really wants to punch them

He won’t though, he knows that’ll just make it worse for you

Whenever you tell him something particularly shocking, he tries to convince you to get help

Gets a little frustrated when you decline, but knows that you’ll do it when you’re ready

He just doesn’t like seeing you suffer :(

Cartman

Out of the main four, he empathizes the least with your situation

Genuinely doesn’t understand why you “let” it continue

“Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“It’s not that simple, Eric.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“…Do what?”

“Kill them. Torture them. Whatever. I dunno.”

“Pfff—”

Unfortunately, he’s more bark than bite; if you agree to let him “help,” he’ll most likely chicken out when he actually meets your parents

When he bosses his mom around, he’ll tell you to take some notes

This both baffles and amuses you

He’ll only ask you to get professional help once; he’ll drop it if you decline

He’ll listen to you vent, but the most he can do in terms of comfort is say “that’s stupid/messed up” and give you snacks

He does use your situation as an excuse to have you over like. All the time

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, stay safe guys <33

National child abuse hotline: [phone] / National domestic violence hotline: [phone]

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park headcanons #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader #kenny mcormick #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #tw abuse #abuse tw

[copperbadge]

Hi! I suspect this question may sound sarcastic or asshole-ish, but I promise it's sincere. And I realize that you're not a doctor, so feel free to ignore or tell me to DMOR, but you seem to have looked into this pretty extensively, so I thought you might have some thoughts. If you take ADHD meds and they work (that is, you don't feel any different but you can actually Do Things, which maybe gives you really positive feelings, which is not how you usually feel about yourself), how do you know that it's actually ADHD and not that normally you're just lazy, but now you took meth and you're hyper and euphoric or whatever it is that it does to non-ADHD people? Asking for a friend.

I...hm, layers to this one. First, thank you for offering a tone note because on the one hand, without it I definitely would have felt a bit hostile, but on the other hand it's very difficult to ask a question like this without sounding like you're trying to get a rise, when you really are just trying to get information. I'd struggle with that too. So thank you! I believe you are in earnest :)

I'm going to try to dig through this by levels rather than go through the question chronologically, that might cause the least amount of confusion and crosstalk. This is going to get long and quite rough and I’m going to address a lot of tender subjects including drug use, addiction, and self-esteem issues, so please read with care for yourselves. 

(I’ve tried to add in bolded topic headers so if you have ADHD and get bored of reading about one thing you can skip to the next!) 

So to start with -- and this isn’t particularly satisfying as an answer, but well...I know I have ADHD because I’ve been evaluated for it, twice now, and the doctors said I did. 

I fit a lot of the classic symptoms on the usual checklists, and while I’m smart enough to game those checklists, I tried to answer as honestly as I could. I wasn’t especially interested in getting Adderall for its intoxicant properties, since I’ve got plenty of access to other, arguably much easier to obtain intoxicants. I also, because I know myself to be someone who enjoys gaming tests for the game’s sake, made sure that at least one of the evaluations had cognitive tests that were harder to fuck with, like tangrams and memory tests and such. On the very top level, I know I’m medicating my ADHD because the tests say I have ADHD. 

But say we don’t trust the tests, or say I’m not as honest as I claim. On the next level down, but still quite near the surface, let's talk about "how do you know you're medicated and not high?" 

I've been in several kinds of altered state -- concussed, runner's high, stoned on weed or opiates, drunk -- and very occasionally I’ve been around people on coke or meth, though I’ve never done those myself. It's usually not difficult to tell that you are not functional on a normal level. It's difficult to describe how to someone who hasn’t experienced it, but for me being in an altered state like that is very evident. The first time I got a runner's high I was absolutely terrified because I knew something was wrong with me cognitively, but not why it had happened. When I woke up concussed, I knew immediately that something was wrong, but it was all I could do to get dressed and go across the street to a clinic, I was so fucked up. If you’re in an altered state and suddenly need to do something complicated, you're aware you would very much like not to be in that state anymore.

I've described Adderall as being like the most functional high you've ever had, but there are differences. If I've had, say, a weed edible, I feel calmer and happier and I'm also aware I'm stupid. I'm impaired and I can tell that. If I've taken an Adderall, I feel calmer and happier but not nearly to the same level, and there's no impairment to my intellect. Part of the calm is that if I think of something I need to do, I can immediately get up and do it, competently -- or I can decide not to. I control my impulses and actions. With street meth -- which I should note is much, much more potent than a low-dose Adderall -- compulsive behavior and lack of control are much more evident. Even if you are getting a lot done while on meth, you’re not necessarily in control of what, or how many times you have to do it to get it right. I'm told this is also often how people who don't have ADHD react to Adderall -- they’re not efficient as much as they are manic, particularly at stronger doses, which is why a) a good test of “do I have ADHD” is “How do I react to Adderall” and b) they start you on a super low dose.

When my psychiatrist and I meet to discuss how the medication is going, he asks me stuff like, do you feel you're in control of yourself? Are you having hallucinations? Do you find yourself craving a dose even when you know it would be detrimental? Do you feel your performance at work has improved, remained the same, or fallen? Do you find yourself able to focus but not able to control what you focus on?

On Adderall I do feel like I'm in control of myself, I do better work, and while I'm still learning to aim that focus, I am capable of doing so. I don't take it after 1pm because I know that'll fuck up my sleep schedule, and truthfully I don't want to. The one time I’ve taken Adderall after 3pm was because I was going to an art museum and I wanted to see how that would alter my experience, being able to focus more fully on the art and the person I was going with. And while I did have a great time, I wouldn’t make a habit of either taking the drug late in the day or taking it purely so I could have An Experience while on it. It’s fine, it’s fun, but it’s not so much fun I’m willing to mess with my sleep over it. 

I also have zero desire to drink (for the best, given alcohol and stimulants are a no-no) and a much decreased desire to get high. I don't need to self-medicate because I am actually medicated. I wasn't doing a shitload of self-medication before, but I was undoubtedly doing some, and more during the pandemic, and I can see how it would have become unhealthy had I continued. Do I still occasionally take an edible in the evening to unwind? Yes. Do I do it at the level I was doing it earlier this year? Fuck no. And I take half the amount I used to when I do, making sure I’m doing it well after any Adderall has worn off.

The question of "medicated or high" can still be a little difficult. What I said above is also what a lot of addicts say. They believe they are in control, they are better when they're on their intoxicant of choice, etc etc. "I can stop anytime I want" is like, the number one way to quietly tell someone that you, in fact, can't. Addiction's simplest definition is "loss of control over behavior" and addicts will do a lot to convince you that they haven't lost control over their behavior. (For more on this, Caustic Soda has a great episode about addiction in which Dr. Rob discusses how addiction and physical dependence differ.) All I can really say in response to this is that Adderall improves my quality of life in ways external to my emotional state -- yes, it helps emotionally, but that’s small potatoes compared to say, weed or opioids (opioids -- now there’s a drug I could get into trouble over) and weed’s way easier to get these days than Adderall. Weed does not, however, help me cook healthful meals and clean the bathroom. Adderall does.

So let's talk about the deepest part of this -- "How do you know you're not just lazy?"

Increasingly we are coming to an understanding of human behavior that informs us that laziness doesn't exist. What we think of as laziness can be caused by a number of factors: failure of executive function, fear of failure, exhaustion, avoidance of the unpleasant. Humans want to experience pleasure, it's a fairly strong primal drive, and we do not experience pleasure purely through inaction. If you should be doing something but aren't, that's not pleasurable, it’s stressful and boring. Lots of people will tell you “I fucking love to sleep, sleep is the best thing” and I’m sure they truly feel that way, but it’s not because they’re lazy, it’s because they have a sleep debt they’re banking against or paying back. There’s a lot of debate about laziness right now, but even as I refer to myself as one of the laziest people on the planet, I know laziness doesn’t exist in the way we conceive of it. When I call myself lazy, I’m using it as shorthand to say “I will find the most low-energy way to achieve something.” Because I am tired, because I have ADHD. (And also because I’m not twenty anymore.)

With exquisite timing, @thebibliosphere has very recently written an essay on this situation called “But You’re So Successful Without It”. Joy can’t take any of the medications available for ADHD, and the essay talks about what it feels like to have ADHD and to burn out because of it, which is where I was about to hit earlier this year. There is no way to call Joy lazy and absolutely no way to hear what she has to say and think that she would choose to go through what she has if she had an alternative. Nobody with any compassion would force her to. 

And here’s how I know I am not actually lazy: like Joy, I want to be doing the thing. If I need to do dishes and laundry so I’m not eating with my hands and wearing smelly clothing, but I’m not doing them, that’s not laziness. I know that my life is less pleasurable, indeed very unpleasant, if I don’t do those things. If I’m still incapable of doing them, it’s not because I Don’t Wanna. It’s because I am too tired, because I don’t feel like I can deal with unpleasant sensations on top of forcing myself to do something, or because my executive function isn’t functioning. If you aren’t doing something you should be doing, there’s usually a reason beyond “I’m just lazy” and it’s helpful, in breaking out of the mindset of “I’m a lazy (and therefore bad) person”, to ask yourself why. 

If there’s a reason you’re not doing it, even if that reason is simply “I’m so tired”, then you’re not lazy. You’re tired. If it’s because it’s unpleasant, then you’re not lazy, you’re avoiding pain. If you want to and just simply can’t, you’re dealing with a loss of executive function. 

Sometimes there are nonmedical workarounds. I wear gloves to do the dishes, I bought a cordless stick vac so my back wouldn’t hurt because I was constantly holding the vacuum cord in one hand, I blast podcasts when I’m doing something boring so my mind is elsewhere. I used to run at 3am because at any other time I was too fucking tired and I hate being out in public around strangers.

But, well, the best workaround for wonky executive function for me is Adderall. It’s not for everyone, it’s not an option for some, but for me it is one more tool -- admittedly a pretty spectacular one -- to manage a difficult life. 

All that said, the idea of being a Bad Person for Not Doing A Thing is a knot that it takes a long time to unpick. It is very freeing, and certainly less stressful, to both acknowledge that some things are beyond us, and receive help that brings them back into the realm of our ability to do. But it’s a process, and nobody can hustle anyone down that path faster than they are capable of going. So, all I can do is offer my personal experience. 

Even if this shit does kill me eventually, I’d rather have thirty more years where I am the person I’ve been in the last two months, than have fifty more years where I am the person I was in 2021. And even if I eventually have to go off it, what I’ve learned will help me not to hurt myself for something beyond my control. 

#sam has adhd #adderall #drug use #addiction #self-esteem

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 12

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, tension??, angstangstangst

₊˚✩⊹

Four was worried. It’s been almost 5 days since the brawl at the Yiga clan hideout and you’ve barely spoken to anyone. At first, he brushed it off as being an aftershock, after all you were unconscious for the first 24-hours after the incident. But almost a week of not being your usual self? He was getting very worried.

You barely ate, picking at your food most of the time. Wild’s attempts at making your favorites didn’t help much either. You tossed and turned most nights, ending up sitting on your bedroll from the latest hours of the night, into the first rays of a new day. Your eyes were so so dull, you looked like a husk of yourself, as if someone tried to make a replica of you. As if someone could ever compare or replace you.

Four watched as you made your way over to him, sitting between him and Wind.

“If one of you asks me if I’m alright I’m going to kick your kneecaps in.”

“Got it.” Wind replies.

Four sighs, focusing back onto sharpening his blade. It was a small knife, the blade itself shorter than his forearm. It was his go-to when it came to small daggers, so he sharpened it every few days or so to keep it in pristine capability.

“Had enough of Cap and the Old man, huh?” Four mumbles, trying to look preoccupied. 

“Just tired of the contant looming over my shoulder and treating me like a damn vase.”

He nods. 

Wind groans lightly, “Ugh, tell me about it. They can’t see past me being a 12-year old, regardless if I fuckin’ killed Ganon or not.” He pulls out a small flask from his bag, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Since when do you drink?”

“Since when do you care?”

You back off, clearly it's a touchy subject.

“Sorry, Y/n.”

“All good.”

The night continues, Wind eventually setting up his bedroll to go to sleep. He shuffles up to Sky, who was out about half an hour ago, already somehow in deep sleep. The group relocated to a stable on the outskirts of Hyrule Field, the plan of going to the Arbiter’s Grounds being delayed, yet again.

You sigh, “I don’t know what to do anymore, Four. I’m just so… lost.”

He puts his dagger down, sheathing it. He looks at you, your face illuminated by the low light produced by the embers.

“Is this about your journey?”

You nodded. You could feel the tears already starting to leak from your eyes.

“Is it ok if I touch you, Y/n?”

You nod again, hiccuping lightly.

He scoots right next to you, putting your arm around your form and rubbing your arm slowly. Placing his chin on your head, he lets you cuddle up to him, crying softly into his chest. He combed his fingers through your hair, placing a light kiss on your head.

“I’m right here, Y/n. I’m here. Shhh.” he cradles you, holding you slightly tighter whenever a particularly louder wave of cries comes out of you. Legend was still awake, as it was his turn for watch, a solemn look on his face while he looked at you.

“E-Everything’s changing and I-I’m being left in the dark-” you hiccup, sobbing harder into Four’s chest. Four’s hold tightens on you again.

“What do you mean, Y/n?”

You gasp, “I could’ve-”

You breathe in again, “Everyone is acting different towards me and I know its all m-my fault because I don’t know what I fucking want.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what they want, baby.”

“I thought I did. I wanted to go home but after some stuff that’s happened recently… I don’t know. Is that selfish of me?”

Four shakes his head, “Of course not. Changing your mind in the process is natural.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m splitting myself into two versions of myself? One that’s in Hyrule and one that’s in my era.”

Four sighs dejectedly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know, Y/n. I don’t know.”

~

A new dawn breaks over the horizon, shining onto the dew settled over Hyrule Field, the light fog dissipating. You fluttered your eyes open, your body scrunched up between Twilight and Hyrule, who were still in deep sleep. Feeling antsy, you climb over them and make your way to Wild, who was already awake, prepping breakfast.

He looked tired. You both were.

“Hey.” you rasped, your voice still hoarse from the crying of the evening before.

He looks at you, and gives you a small, tightlipped smile. He was swiping through his slate, gathering ingredients for breakfast. You placed your hand over his, causing him to halt in his actions. You both don’t move for a minute.

He slumps forward, face in his hands. Shakily, he says, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. If I didn’t leave you alone this could’ve all been prevented.”

You shake your head, “None of us knew, Wild. Riju didn’t know, Time didn’t. It’s not your fault, it was an accident.”

You bring him to lean against you, the slate being long forgotten about on the ground.

“I shouldn’t have wandered off, you literally told me not too. I’m partially at fault too.”

You chuckle, “And look where my stubborn self got me.” That seemed to make Wild crack a smile, making the tinge in your heart diminish. 

“You do have a hard time listening.” he said, you just give him a playful nudge.

“Har har, speak for yourself blondie.”

You both sit in comfortable silence, Wild going back to picking out ingredients on his slate. A thought pops into your head, “Wild, can I take a look at the mirror shard again? I wanna compare some of the hieroglyphics to the book Shad gave me.”

He tenses up slightly, but it quickly goes away, pulling out the shard from the slate. He carefully places the shard on your legs, making sure the sharp edge doesn’t cut your leg. Pulling out the Encyclopedia, you turn to the chapter about the Twili tribe.

You run your fingers along the markings on the mirror, lightly engraved into the mirror. Unsurprisingly, there were no visual differences from the shard in your lap and the mirror on the page, meaning this wasn’t just a replica but the real thing. Before you could continue reading, Twilight walks up behind you two, making you close the book and put the mirror away. You could read at a later time.

“Hey pup, Y/n.” Twilight mutters, voice raspy with sleep. Curse his bedroom voice making you weak.

You just waved, not trusting your voice at the moment. He sits next to you, you now sitting between him and Wild. You can feel his eyes on you, you glance at him asking “What?”

He still gazes at you, flickering his eyesight to Wild, then back to you.

“Oh, nothin’. You two just seem cozy.”

Wild snaps his head at his mentor, “Shut up, Twi. Don’t think I don’t notice you making goo-goo eyes over there.”

“Right. Speak for ya self, pup.” he remarked, snorting at Wild’s fumbling. You smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

A moment of silence passes, just the sound of the breeze blowing past your ears, causing stray hairs to stream over your face. The clouds seemed gray today, but not like an imposing storm was about to break, no, more peaceful. Serene.

“What are you guys going to do once this is all done and over with?” you ask, not really knowing where the question came from.

“Jeez I don’t know, probably go home and help around Hateno and the princess. I know she’s building a school for the village.” Wild says, looking out onto the terrain.

Twilight ponders for a moment. He didn’t really think about what he was going to do once this was over and once… you left. He never really thought you’d leave, especially now that it feels so soon and abrupt, he’s dreading his future.

“Don’t know, to be honest. Go back to Ordon, help Rusl and with the farm. Make sure the kingdom ain’t in shambles.” he lied. That was the last thing he wanted to do after all of this. He didn’t want to return after knowing what it's like not being alone anymore. He was left behind once, he didn’t want it again.

“You’re a terrible liar, Twi.”

“What? No I’m not-”

“Your ears twitch when you lie.”

“It’s true.” Wild muttered, resulting in a slap up the back of his head from Twi.

Twilight sighed. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to you “Truth is… I didn’t think this would end. Don’t get me wrong, I love home and bein’ with everyone it’s just… after I’ve found people who know what it’s like to carry this burden, I don’t think I want anything else.”

You hated this feeling of guilt you were starting to feel about going home. You didn’t belong here, you weren’t meant to be here, unlike them. You needed to go home, forget everything, or at least regard it as a really good dream. 

But it’s not that simple, is it?

“I don’t want to leave you guys. I really don’t. I’ve become so attached to this life and all of you and I feel… heartbroken.” you sighed, laying on your back, blades of grass digging slightly into your exposed skin. 

“I mean… you don’t have to. I may be wrong saying that, but Hylia isn’t necessarily pulling you into a portal to go home.” Wild offers, choosing his words carefully.

You groan in frustration, “I know, I know. But its so much more difficult. Like, yeah I won’t have to deal with stupid shit like college classes or working my entire life for a mediocre job, but… my brother and my aunt are home and they need help. I have a few friends that are probably wondering where I’ve been and if I’m ok. I don’t want them to worry for me and my life, knowing that makes me feel so much worse, y’know?”

Both men nodded, relating to your thoughts on some level. Their adventures weren’t by choice and pulled them away from their friends and family without a warning. A burden that can’t be undone or altered.

“Either way, you didn’t have much of a choice. You were sucked in the portal as well, a quest destined for you, as well.” Hyrule spoke, quietly padding up to you three.

You snort, “Have you been listening this entrie time, Rulie?” 

“Eh, bits n’ pieces. The others are waking up anyways.”

You sit back up and decided to be productive for another 20-30 minutes, as Wild was just barely starting to cook breakfast. From what you could tell, it looked to be a sweeter meal this morning.

You looked back at the book, reading through the script. You were sitting against Twilight, a nice support for your back. You tried to not pay attention to his warm breath on your neck or the feeling of his eyes on you, but that was easier said than done. 

You zoned out everyone’s chatter, finally focusing on the task at hand. You took the mirror back out again and tore a spare piece of paper from an old journal a merchant gave you, using an old piece of charcoal to transfer the engravings of the mirror onto the paper so you could compare with less physical effort and so Wild could keep the shard in his Slate whenever you needed to reference the imagery again. The hieroglyphics transferred seamlessly, the paper seemingly identical to the mirror.

Looking back to the book, you filled in the missing shards and any images/lettering that faded or was carved off for reasons unknown. You then pulled away, looking at your work. Not too shabby.

But you noticed something peculiar. The mirror in the book had straight lines that overlapped the ornate designs, almost as if someone carved them in years after its initial creation. It wasn’t messy by any means, though it seemed that it wasn’t the initial design of the mirror. 

What if…?

“Four, I need a small blade really quick.” you said, not taking your eyes off of your drawing.

He was about to say something, but Legend beat him to it, handing you a small blade just slightly longer than your palm. Muttering a ‘thanks’, you start cutting the paper along the lines that you copied, making sure to keep your hand steady. Once you finished, you handed the blade back to Legend, then focused back onto the scraps of paper in front of you.

You started rearranging the pieces, aligning each piece with the associated shape or side. The pieces started forming a familiar shape, but something was different. Something you should’ve seen before. Something everyone should’ve seen.

“What is it, Y/n?”

You look up at Twilight.

“It’s not a triforce, Link. It’s a tetraforce.”

₊˚✩⊹

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #final promise au

[appleinyoureye]

JJBA p.1 │ The Tongue of My Love Takes Many Forms

Summary: love language headcanons! what they have to offer and how to make their knees weak!

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Characters: Leone Abbacchio, Bruno Bucciarati, Pannacotta Fugo

Word Count: 629

Type: headcanons

part two

Abbacchio

Giving: acts of service, gift giving

He’s a man who isn’t very affectionate on the inside, but wants to do everything and more for the one he loves. Will make you breakfast before he has to go out on a mission and leave it on your nightstand without a note. It’s too embarrassing for him (even though he has written it, but it lays on the bottom of his pocket) to show that much affection. He will also give you random gifts he’s collected on a business trip.

Receiving: words of affirmation, physical touch

Because he’s so insecure about his soft side you have to bring it out in him! Compliment Abba on every single occasion you notice, and more! Create them! Make him flustered! Trail his scars while staring in his eyes and murmuring how beautiful they are! (but be careful with PDA, cause there’s a really thin line between ahh, they’re too adorable, why are they complimenting me so much and they’re ruining my image in front of the colleagues!) 

Bruno

Giving: words of affirmation, physical touch

Bruno will make sure that you know how much you mean to him and how much he loves you. Compliments, reassuring sentences you haven’t even known you need, and soft smooches on every part of your body you’re insecure about (and if you don’t feel okay with a part of your personality/anything going on inside your brain, he’ll kiss your forehead!) 

Receiving: quality time, acts of service

Even though he has a really tight schedule, he loves it when you find time to waste with him. Because he’s so busy, Bruno adores moments when the two of you can be alone with each other; glances and words, glasses of wine (or any other drink you like!) and quiet music in the background. And if so it happens that you have prepared food for him – cooked Bucci’s favorite meal ‘cause you’ve remembered when he told you that no one can make it taste that delicious – he may think about a proposal.

Fugo

Giving: acts of service

Similar to Abba, Fugo isn’t very effusive with his feelings, but he knows how to treat you right. If you’re in a university and you have problems with a subject, he doesn’t even try to tutor you. Fugo knows how strong his anger can be when someone does something stupid, and (even though he works on it) he doesn’t want to accidentally shout at you. Instead of it Fugo creates notes for you. If you like everything color coded – he does that. If you prefer it all to be clean – the only colors you see are black and white. And if you’re learning the best from mind maps – you’ve guessed it. And if you’ve stopped your education, he does the same with the things you’ve decided to learn. Crocheting? He buys you a book, tries to learn it himself first and then writes you notes on how to do it better. Cooking? Same thing. New language? Dictionary and notes. You name it, he does it.

Receiving: quality time, acts of service

Fugo wants you to initiate spending time with him. It’s not like he can’t do it himself, it’s just… way nicer when you ask him to go out, you know?… Fugo particularly likes going on walks around the town. There’s just so much you can do! You’re hungry? There are plenty of good restaurants nearby! Thirsty? He insists on buying you coffee (or a tea). Craving ice-creams? He doesn’t like when you buy yourself the weirdest of flavors and then steal from him the most common ones, but what can he do? He’s in love. And he understands it even more when after tiring days you prepare a bath for him, and wait under covers, ready to warm him to sleep!

a/n: a few days ago i've received my first request. it's exciting! the fact that i'm sure that you like what i write and want more! i may write second part to these headcanons with the rest of bucci squad and post it tomorrow/in a few hours, cause screw sleep

#apple!writes #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #leone abbachio #leone abbachio x reader #abbachio x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati #pannacotta fugo #fugo x reader #jjba fugo #jojo's bizarre adventure

[freyyzu]

your first and last texts of the day always comes from belphie, who makes sure to remember the time schedules of the devildom in relations to the human realm. “good morning, have a good day today.” and "goodnight, sleep well."

sometimes he sends it a bit too early, because he’s afraid of missing when you’ll wake up. other times, it’s too late because his sleepiness catches up to him. those days he sends an apology along with his good morning texts. you’ll tell him that you don’t mind, that receiving them at all makes you happy even if it’s a bit delayed, but he still says it every time. 

your next text usually comes from beel, who gets reminded whenever he sees belphie tapping away on his phone. his texts are of the same subject matter every time, “have you eaten yet?” but they’re a good reminder.

you tend to lose weight whenever you go back to the human realm, and it’s obvious for everyone to see so he’s doing everyone a favor by making sure you’re getting enough energy. beel doesn’t remember your schedule has easily as belphie does, so whenever the house of lamentation eats together that’s when he makes sure to remind you.

if you send him a picture of whatever you’re eating it’ll make him ten times happier. it feels as if you’re dining together.

it’s usually around lunch time when you get your first text from satan. while he doesn’t extensively remember your schedule like belphie does, he knows roughly what time you’re working and what time you’re free. his messages always come after a particularly busy hour along with a pep talk.

“working hard? make sure you’re taking proper breaks.” it’s always an energy refresher to read his messages after a particularly hard workload. sometimes he sends you images of stray cats he’s found instead, and you couldn’t be more grateful for his concern and an additional cute kitty as a bonus.

mammon is forbidden to use his phone until after classes at RAD are over, otherwise he would be blowing up your phone with notifications. as soon as the bell rings the first thing he does is whip out his D.D.D. to text you about how boring the lectures were and how he wishes you were here to make everything more fun.

“—and then i got called out for trying to use my D.D.D.! belphie sleeps in his class all the time and he never gets scolded!” your chats with mammon are all over the place, but that’s just exactly how you like them to be. no matter what you’re talking about, no matter how bad the day has been,  it never fails to bring a smile to your face.

no matter what time of the day, you're always chatting and keeping up with asmo. other than just getting a notification about his new devilgram posts, he's also always checking in with you every moment he's free.

other than satan, asmo sends you the most amount of pictures. "look! i got my nails done today, the color reminded me of you." most of them are about himself (of course), but he also uses it as an excuse so that you'll send pictures of yourself as well. in addition to beel making sure you're eating and satan making sure you get enough rest, asmo is reminding you practically every day to take care of yourself. he knows you work hard so remember to pamper yourself once in a while!

levi’s usually the last to contact you as the day’s about over. “there’s a special event in mononoke land today, make sure you log on! there’s a special prize for people who clear it in parties of two or more.” his texts are usually always something related to gaming since he’ll get to talk to you in game through voice chat right afterwards.

he’s also the most consistent person that hangs with you during your time in the human realm and the other brothers are pretty jealous about that since your hobbies align.

in contrast to levi, the person who contacts you the least is lucifer. with him being flooded with work for RAD and diavolo while also making sure his brothers don’t cause the devildom to go up in flames when you’re not around—he’s pretty tired.

if you’re lucky you’ll get a good morning text from him once in a while. when lucifer does have the time, however, he makes sure to use up every second of his spare time and more. his first texts always consists of “are you free to call?” followed by “i miss hearing your voice.” and who are you to decline him, really? you miss hearing his voice just as much.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x mc #obey me satan #obey me satan x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmodeus x mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub x mc #obey me belphegor #obey me belphegor x mc #obey me headcanons #just some word vomit b/c i always wonder what it's like when the mc goes back home #edit: added asmo because i was a clown and forgot #i'm sorry queen

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @textless​​

Hi! My name is Amadee, and I am a librarian who lives in Arizona. I also love taking photos in my spare time.

Check out our interview with Amadee below!

What got you started in photography?

Both of my parents were very interested in photography. I’d always loved looking at their work, and in high school, I got a 35mm camera as a gift, so I could start taking photos myself. Back then (in the actual 80s), HS students in the Minneapolis area could take classes at area colleges for dual credit. I started taking photo classes at the University of Minnesota and had access to a darkroom and nearly unlimited film and processing supplies without realizing just how amazing that was. I took many photos of friends, acquaintances, and strangers, and I loved looking at work by Nan Goldin and Bill Owens. After college, without access to a darkroom, I stopped taking pictures almost entirely.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Bluntly, technology allowed me to start taking photos again. The first digital cameras I tried in the early 2000s were terrible: slow, clunky, and with next to no storage capacity. Even so, they seemed like the first step in an interesting direction. By 2008 or so, I had a point-and-shoot digital camera and rediscovered what I loved about photography… except that I no longer wanted to take pictures of people. Soon I started taking photos of tiny things, especially insects, and my little camera wasn’t up to the task. I got a DSLR with a macro lens in 2010 and haven’t stopped taking photos since.

I know many photographers who are nostalgic for film, whether or not they were around in the analog era. More power to anyone who wants to spend the time and money, but I don’t miss film even a little. For the kind of photography I enjoy, which is almost entirely documentary, the ability to take an unlimited number of photos, and see what did or didn’t work right away, makes all the difference.

You've also written books in the past—what was the most challenging, yet rewarding part of the process?

I was a children’s librarian for many years and just love books. So, when I started writing, I hoped to create books that would connect with kids and spark their imagination. Cortez the Gnome was a book I would have liked to see as a kid, and the art project elements were fun and frustrating. Gentle Hands filled what felt like a gap in my storytimes and gave me a chance to work with a publisher I like very much. Alas, my biggest challenge is that I haven’t had an idea in years! I write occasional blog posts for Free Spirit on topics related to serving youth, but working with kids was the spark for new ideas, and these days my work is mostly admin. I enjoy it more than I would have guessed years ago, but as a wellspring of inspiration, it is not.

How do you create healthy boundaries in balancing your day job and personal aspirations?

Work comes first every time. That might sound like a drag, but I truly like my job and think library service is critically important. In some of the tiny communities we serve, the library is the only gathering place open to everyone, and the only place to access fast internet, enrichment activities for kids, books, movies, and all kinds of other good stuff. I love taking photos, but I would hate to make a job of it.

What is the hardest part of your process?

The process itself is just fun, and I’d stop if it weren’t. I used to stress about editing and posting photos soon after taking them because I wanted to create a sort of nature journal in real-ish time. That wasn’t sustainable, partly because the subjects that interest me are so seasonal. I might take 2,000 photos in August (peak macro season here), but only 100 in February. Now I just try to indicate when photos were taken and know that I’m the only person who particularly cares about that. For years I posted six new photos each day. Now I generally post two and skip days or longer whenever it suits me.

Right now, the biggest challenges are external. First, my vision is less and less sharp. It’s nothing severe, just a function of age, but it makes me think I’d better develop an interest in non-tiny subjects at some point. Second, some small but annoying health problems have kept me from getting out much over the last year. I used to take a hike or long walk at least once or twice a week, and more in peak bug season. Since last September, I’ve taken two longish walks and mostly stuck to the yard. On the plus side, it’s an excellent yard with an ever-growing assortment of interesting plants and insects.

While this is frustrating in some ways, it’s also a distillation of something I have always liked. Even when I was hiking all the time, I enjoyed going back to the same places, again and again, getting to know them in detail and watching the seasons roll through. Staying so close to home this year has been an extreme version of that, and some aspects of that have been very satisfying.

I should also say, for the record, that I am not technical at all. I’m not interested in new gear as long for its own sake, and I don’t like messing with camera settings or anything fiddly. My favorite piece of photo advice ever was “f/8 and be there,” which I took to mean finding a basic setup you like and focusing on the subject at hand. I like finding strange or beautiful things that other people might not notice and trying to make them interesting to a wider audience. (Wider than just me, that is.)

What is something you would love to photograph but haven't had the chance to yet? Why?

This is oddly specific, but I desperately want to find an Arizona Unicorn Mantis (Pseudovates arizonae; check out the photos here). Several have been spotted within two miles of my house, but I have never found one yet. They are otherworldly and just fascinating. Insect goals!

Are there similarities or differences in your workflow when it comes to photography and writing?

Mostly difference in that photography is relaxing, and writing is nearly impossible, at least right now.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

There are several excellent photographers who live in my corner of Arizona, and I love their work because it shows different aspects of a place I care about. Also, their photos are just gorgeous.

@fatchance​ is practically a neighbor and an all-around lovely person. He takes beautiful pictures of birds and desert flora, and unlike me, he takes the time to learn about and share good information about his subjects.

@thelostcanyon​ is another south-eastern AZ photographer I admire, and he is also a very good painter.

@inlandwest​ is actually my partner. We’ve lived all over the west together, and I like that his wide-open-spaces aesthetic is so different from my focus on the little things.

A little farther afield, I love @macroramblings​, and Celeste, of @celestialmacros​, @celestialphotography​, and @occasionallybirds​, for their beautiful macro work.  @mostlythemarsh​ is another long-time favorite. He’s not a macro photographer, for the most part, but I like seeing familiar places through the seasons, and I like the stark difference between his environment (east coast/Canada) and my own.

Thanks for such wonderful answers, Amadee. Check out her beautiful photography work over at her Tumblr, @textless​!

#creator spotlight #photographers on tumblr #writers on tumblr #macro photography #textless #insects #bugblr

[possibilistfanfiction]

conservationist au already!? you write so fast dang (what are your secrets) (also it's okay if you want to keep them secret) (mostly i am excite for frog)

here she is! frog au! lol [ao3]

//

to see us blossom (while the green spreads like wings)

//

only our feet have been here, that i'm aware of. it's wild and remote and beautiful as can be. i just want to be quiet and love it. let it sink in. i'll be leaving the planet, sometime. and i'll miss it.

— dr. bruce means

//

'dr. silva,' diego bursts into your office, his hair fluffed and messy, 'i found someone for the expedition!'

'did you... run here?'

'yeah, from the lab.' he gulps a breath. 'i got excited.'

it's fucking awesome that diego, your favorite grad student, is coming on this expedition, but it's becoming a huge pain in the ass to plan — you try your hardest not to feel guilty about why, but it is mostly because of you — and is starting to feel more and more impossible by the day. you don't want to get your hopes up: you don't have that much funding, and it's starting to seem a little bit impossible logistically, even with dr. superion's help. but you'll humor him: 'so who are we taking with us?'

he waits a breath, practically bursting at the seams. 'beatrice zhang.'

'the photographer?'

'she's an experienced climber! you follow her on instagram, right?'

you have gratuitously followed beatrice zhang on instagram for the last four years — for her photography, because it is some of the most beautiful and thoughtful you've ever seen, regardless of the subject matter, but also for the occasional photo of herself, surfing or climbing or behind the camera, particularly delightful if it features her arms in a tank — but diego doesn't need to know that part. 'yes, her work is wonderful for lots of conservationist efforts.' diplomatic, you think, mentally patting yourself on the back.

'and she's hot.'

'i didn't say that.'

diego rolls his eyes.

'anyway, how would we even get her to come with us?'

diego grins. 'i emailed her.'

'what?'

he takes out his phone and shows you her instagram, which, indeed, does have an ‘email’ button, which, obviously, you've never paid attention to before. 'she hasn't responded yet, or her team or whatever, i guess, but i only sent it ten minutes ago. and it went to a legit address and hasn't bounced back, so, i just figured, why not?'

even though, last year, you had had a successful time in guyana, finding and recording a few new species, there are a lot of why not's, really: your GA probably shouldn’t be making these choices without consulting you first, but you don’t really care about that so much as your mobility is more limited than ever lately. the weather probably won't hold so who the fuck knows if it'll even be possible to reach to spot at all. and, plus, it's for a frog. one tiny frog, that may or may not exist — (you're sure it does) — in the middle of a jungle on the top of a tepui that's never been climbed. it's... a little crazy, when you think through it now, way crazier than it had seemed when you wrote the grant for funding last year. most people, even world renowned war-turned-wildlife photographers with insane biceps — especially them, probably — aren't interested in a project like this.

'well, the least that will happen is she doesn't respond,' you figure; you don't believe in any religion and life had dealt you quite the shitty hand for a long time, so if there's any balancing it out, maybe this will be a strike in the good column for you. so, 'yeah, you're right. why not?'

/

it's two days later when your phone vibrates about seven times; you roll over in... some girl's bed? okay, solid night, then, and when you look over at her, she's beautiful and fast asleep. you remember your fifth shot of tequila and vaguely how great riding her dick had been; you find your phone graciously plugged into a charger on the nightstand on your side of the bed, and when you go to the bathroom you see condoms in the small trash can — so, all in all, a success. your back is sore but not terrible and you groan when you see it's only six am, but there's texts from diego and you have a policy not to ignore those, no matter how stupid they occasionally can be.

these are unequivocally not stupid, though, because they start with dr. silva! and then ava!!!!! ava! and devolve into some emojis and then omg oh my god and finally check your email, which is really the only helpful part of that — but they're not stupid because when you do check your email, you see a forwarded message from diego first. it's a cordial reply to the email he had sent to beatrice zhang, from her, it seems, asking politely to be put in touch with the lead biologist on the expedition if possible. which, you remember with the tiniest bit of a happy jolt, is you. you open the newest email, which is, in fact, connecting you and beatrice. she’s already responded, and it’s kind of wild because, from the three short sentences asking if you could set up a video chat to talk more about the expedition or, if she happened to be close to where you were in the world, even meet near your office or lab for coffee, she sounds, well, at least interested. you don't think someone like her — someone who has photographed war, and famine, and wildfires, and, miraculously last year, a snow leopard and her cub — would even respond to something she didn't care at all about.

holy shit, you text diego. you need a cup of coffee, or, like, maybe three cups of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich before you can respond to that email, so you decide to get a move on. plus, it feels unhinged to respond to it from your phone, so you need to go home anyway. you should also maybe definitely shower, you think, as you look at yourself in the mirror: your makeup is a little smudged and your hair is an unrepentant mess. still hot though, you think when you quietly find your clothes and put your bra on, a deep teal that makes your boobs look awesome. thankfully, you were just in high-waisted, loose jeans and a cropped sweater last night, so after you wash your face and get dressed, it's not really giving walk of shame — walk of pride, thank you very much.

you google maps where you are and, thankfully, it's a nice enough morning and a short enough distance that you can walk to your favorite cafe and then to your apartment without having to call an uber. you grab your cane from where you'd left it propped up by the wall near the bed, and then, because you're definitely not an asshole, gently shake your, well, one night stand's shoulder. her eyes are green, and you do remember that much.

'i gotta go do some work, sorry.'

she nods. 'right. doctor.'

well, maybe you're a little bit of an asshole, but it's not your fault that people think you're a very important neurosurgeon or something. you are very important in cataloguing biodiversity, so you just roll with it. 'thanks for a great time.'

she nods with a soft smile, and it's nice to kiss her, gently, goodbye.

/

'wait, you're meeting with her? here?'

'yes,' you say, mostly annoyed at camila's vaguely unhinged energy. 'she's close by train, so it's better to meet in person.'

'oh my god,' camila says. she's one of your best friends and probably the smartest, most tech-savvy person you know. when you figured out how helpful it would be to have someone operate drones for you on this expedition, you hadn't even bothered to ask anyone else.

'don't you know her?'

'well, sure,' camila confirms. 'i did some drone work for her a few months ago in the bahamas when she was photographing sharks. but, like, she's amazing, ava.'

'well, hopefully she'll say yes.'

'you'll have to charm her.'

'i'm very good at charming hot women.'

camila rolls her eyes.

'i'm also very good at charming people to go find frogs with me.'

she waits for a beat and then relents. 'well, i suppose that's true.'

'come on,' you say, 'help me make a slide deck. i feel like she'd think that's sexy or something.'

'you're ridiculous.'

'it'll work, i'm telling you.'

/

beatrice zhang in soft wool pants and closed-toed birkenstocks and a crewneck sweater sitting ramrod straight at the decent cafe just off campus near your office is, quite honestly, not a sight you'd ever expected to see, but it is kind of a miracle. or, at least that's what it had felt like, when she had emailed that she was, actually, a few hours away by train and wouldn't mind a day trip to meet in person. you're glad that you wore your best professor outfit today, flared navy slacks that make your ass look divine, and a crisp white button up that you tucked in tight and rolled up at the sleeves, a camel peacoat and expensive loafers that dr. salvius had gotten you when you passed your dissertation two years ago. you usually wear... well, not this — you reserve this for conferences and presentations — but, if looking professional helps beatrice sign onto this project, so be it.

and, well, maybe it's not strictly professional to undo another button as you had walked to the cafe, and, like, you don't actually know if beatrice is gay or not, but you spot her and smile and wave and her eyes get big for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ve got it all wrong: you’re small and young and pretty and, sometimes, people think that disqualifies you from being smart. but then her eyes rake over you and linger, for just a moment, on your chest, so you're probably right. if this helps too, so be it.

you wave and she stands very formally; she clearly recognizes you, which makes you feel a small thrill of satisfaction. 'hey, glad you found it okay.'

'i've had much more difficult locations to navigate before, although the freshman can be a bit scary.'

it's deadpan, so it takes you a split second, but then you laugh and offer your hand. 'i'm dr. silva.' you want to roll your eyes at your title, which you normally feel quite proud of, all of a sudden. 'ava, any pronouns.'

'dr. silva,' she says anyway, and shakes your hand firmly. 'it's a pleasure. i'm beatrice, she/her.'

only after do you sit, a little sprawled, and prop your cane up on the table, does she sit too, and then looks down at the menu. 'do you recommend anything? i haven't had lunch yet.'

'well, if you're like, uh... —' falling prey to diet culture, you think, but you don't know beatrice at all, so — 'wanting a vegetable forward option, their salads and quinoa bowls are okay.'

she wrinkles her nose. you hide a smile in the collar of your coat.

'but their kimchi fried chicken sandwich is my favorite.'

'and the slaw?'

'well, i'm a fries girl.'

she smiles over the top of her menu, just slightly.

'but my friend likes the slaw, and i trust her.'

she nods and sets her menu down, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her hands clasped. a practical smart watch, no wedding band. her full attention is on you and it makes you feel a little breathless.

you're saved from saying something incredibly dumb — you're very, very smart, and you're actually very good at flirting, but beatrice zhang is hot as hell and a certified badass and you also really want her to be, like, your colleague — when your server comes to your table. you both order, and you get the fried chicken sandwich too, even though you already ate lunch an hour ago — diego's always happy to eat your leftovers out of the fridge in the lab anyway.

you're not saved from saying something marginally dumb, though, because beatrice kindly thanks your server and hands over her menu and then looks at you again, fully focused.

'i like your hair,’ you say, instead of, well, anything else. you want to groan and slam your head down into the table, or something, because beatrice's brows knit together and she brings one hand to run through her floppy middle part, short in the back and on the sides, pushing it out of her eyes.

'oh,' she says, softly and definitely confused. 'thank you.'

you're sure you're blushing. 'sorry, i just, like, the last time you posted — you had long hair.'

it's mortifying, the moment you say it, because you can mentally calculate the last time beatrice posted a picture of herself on her instagram, and it was definitely over a year ago.

she also seems to realize this, because her confusion turns to a smug little smile that could probably eat you alive. you'd definitely let it.

'i read about the last species of frog you discovered, when the article came out.'

that was also over a year ago, and you laugh, tension releasing from your shoulders. 'so that’s how you knew what i looked like.’

‘sure.’

to be fair, the article did include a picture of you, muddy and sweaty and overjoyed, holding a tiny frog in the palm of your hand, but, ‘did you google me?’

‘i only take on projects, at this point, that i find interesting.’

‘so you think i’m interesting.’

she raises a brow, a scar that also wasn’t there over a year ago running an inch above it and then straight through, cleanly healed but not faded yet, stopping right on the top of her cheek — thankfully your brain didn't comment on that, even though it's kind of hot too. ‘i think that fact that you've already identified six new species of frog two years into an assistant professorship is interesting.’

'so that's a yes.' you grin. ‘want me to tell you about the project, then?'

she thanks your server when he brings her water and your lemonade of the day, and a coffee, and then leans forward in her seat. ‘yes,' she says. 'i do.’

you tell her about it as coherently as you can: you're sure there's a brand new species of frog — maybe more than one, if you're lucky — on the top of a land mass deep in the forest in guyana. you've secured enough funding to make it happen; bare bones, but still. you have diego and yasmine, your grad students, and michael, another assistant professor in your apartment who's helped you on expeditions before, mostly by carrying a bunch of shit. you've gotten camila — who beatrice is also very excited to work with again — to sign on to do tech work for you. dr. superion and dr. salvius are helping from here.

'so, anyway, i need you to climb the tepui.'

beatrice sits back when you're done, flicks through a few slides on your laptop that you'd handed to her with pictures of the jungle, the cliff face, the budget outlines and logistics and equipment you anticipate you'll need.

'do you know a lot about climbing?'

it's kind — to not assume that you don't; to not expect you to either. you shake your head no.

'i'm an alpinist, for the most part,' she says, 'which means that i climb, well —' she pauses.

'no need to be modest for me.'

she offers a small smile. 'i've climbed eight of the ten tallest mountains in the world.'

hot, you think, but you take a deep breath instead and say, 'that's impressive.' nailed it.

'yes, well.' she blushes. 'thank you. but this kind of climbing is traditional climbing — big wall climbing.'

'oh.' you frown. 'so, you can't do it?'

'i can,' she says, 'and i'd like to. i think i know enough of biology to be marginally helpful, and i can certainly photograph the expedition.'

your heart soars, warming your whole body, and you take a bite of your lukewarm sandwich to hide your smile.

'but i'll need a team. i'm confident that i'll be able to get up the wall, but i'm not experienced enough at this kind of climbing to lead on all of these passes.'

'we might not have the funds to pay much, if you bring on more people.'

she shakes her head. 'i have access to plenty of discretionary funds, so that shouldn't be a problem.'

'that's hot.' well, you tried.

she laughs, thank god. 'i just wanted to make sure that you and your team are okay with me bringing other people on.'

'as long as they aren't, like, shitty, you know. racist, homophobic, ableist. all that stuff.'

she nods, very seriously. 'i can assure you that, while one of my climbing partners is inclined to be an asshole, it's always done with respect toward important identities. she's more annoying than anything. and my other partner is the best person i know.'

'well, other than me, now.'

you can tell beatrice is torn between smiling and rolling her eyes; she does a bit of both. 'and, as far as logistics go, i could easily provide a helicopter to get us in as far as possible. less of a hike.'

it's impossible that beatrice didn't see your cane. 'i have adaptive equipment for myself. i can do the hike.'

but her brows knit together. 'yes, i assumed so: you're leading the expedition. i just meant, for my team at least, the fewer miles we have to bring photography and climbing gear in a jungle, the better. it's heavy, and then we have to do a major climb.'

'oh.' you bite your bottom lip. 'that makes sense. sorry, people suck sometimes.'

'i imagine so.' she looks at you very sincerely. 'i'm sorry.'

you wave her off. 'thanks. it is what it is, though.'

beatrice doesn't try to argue, although you can tell that maybe she wants to. 'anyway, whatever you think will help your team, and whatever will help mine, that falls outside of your grant funds, i can cover.'

'that's — are you sure?'

she nods. 'quite.'

'where did you get these discretionary funds?' you can't help asking.

'a bad man,' she says, leaning forward and whispering dramatically. it makes you laugh.

'ooh, did you kill him? warlord?'

'alas, no. my father, and he's already dead.'

'ah.' you snap your fingers. 'well, if another opportunity comes up, you just let me know. i have tons of lethal neurotoxins in my lab. i'm always down to... you know — murder —' you whisper — 'a billionaire. long haul ethics, you know?'

she nods very solemnly, fighting a smile. 'i'll keep that under advisement.'

you fight the urge to ask her for a drink, and you definitely stare at her mouth a little too long, but then you get it together and offer your hand. 'well, partners?'

she shakes it, hers strong and rough with callouses. the thought sends a little shiver up your spine, but you valiantly ignore it. 'partners.'

/

beatrice invites you, after a few days of emailing back and forth to create an updated budget and logistics plan, to meet at a climbing gym. it's to meet her other two team members first. before you all get together with your main crew for dinner afterward. she'd given you their names, headshots, and very formal bios, which you had kind of loved: lilith, who, according to beatrice's bio, will be the lead climber. when you google her, you find out that she's, like, a world champion big wall climber, so that bodes well. and then mary, another photographer and world class marksman — I know this isn't particularly relevant, beatrice had included as a footnote, but it is quite impressive — and avid climber too.

you're hopeful about it all, and you're hopeful that tonight maybe she just wants to see you alone, and to have you watch her climb. there's, like, a two percent chance you'll physically be able to climb, really, but that's fine. she'd texted you about it, far less formal than her perfectly punctuated emails, so that's a good sign. and she'd posted a recent picture someone took of her — a candid, petting the trunk of an elephant peacefully — on her instagram too. maybe that was scheduled — beatrice seems like the kind of person who would schedule instagram posts — but a girl can hope, you know? you liked it one hour and fourteen minutes after she posted, from the lab's social media account and not your personal one, so you figure you've handled this all perfectly. you're great, beatrice is a colleague, and you've got this.

you're stressed about what to wear to a climbing gym and then to get dinner afterward, although there's probably a locker room or something, but it's fine. you're hot in anything. (or nothing. not that the night is going to go there.) you settle on tight leggings you wear to the gym and a sports bra, a cropped jacket on over. it's, like, cute and femme, but also practical. you brush on some mascara and put part of your hair into a little bun so it won't fall into your eyes, and you pack a spare change of clothes in a canvas tote — slacks and a nice bra and a t-shirt that hugs your body perfectly along with a pair of platform converse and an army-green overshirt — in case everyone else changes before going to dinner.

you grab your cane and head out the door.

/

if you fall to your death, it's definitely not going to be because of your back or legs. it's going to be because beatrice is in loose pants that seem comfortable for climbing and a tight racerback tank, and when you walk in, she's hanging by one arm on a short wall, just chilling out there, before she seems to decide what she wants to do. she brings her legs up to find footholds and then she's almost upside down, holding onto the wall with both hands calmly and moving so fluidly — a leg stretching out, her chalked fingers grasping onto a tiny hold. there's a delicate tattoo along her right forearm, all linework, and there are scars all over her left shoulder, running down to her elbow from what you can see: some are jagged and some are clean, neat, like surgical incisions. they don't seem to be limiting her progress at all, because she moves over the outhanging ledge easily and then to the top before just letting go and calmly rolling to her feet after she lands without a sound.

the — very hot — woman, lilith, you know from the headshot, sitting on the floor next to the wall, legs outstretched, leaning back on her palms set flat on the ground behind, and looking impossibly graceful while doing it, groans.

'getting stuck that long on a soft V8? come on, beatrice.'

beatrice, to her credit, just shrugs.

'shoulder?' the other woman asks.

'it's fine,' beatrice says. 'just getting back into the groove of your tiny walls.'

'oh, ha ha.'

'8091 meters will really change your perspective. you should try it sometime.'

'no thanks, i'll stick to my world records, thank you very much.'

they seem like they might physically fight, but then they both start laughing. weird, but you fuck with it.

beatrice turns, her hands on her hips, and, like, whew, god fucking bless, and then waves with a smile when she sees you. she walks over. 'hello ava.'

'hey,' you say, suddenly feeling a little awkward: you have not a single idea what you're doing. 'that was pretty impressive.'

'it was not,' the lilith says.

beatrice heads toward her anyway, and you follow. 'you can ignore her most of the time,' she says. 'dr. silva, this is lilith. lilith, dr. silva.'

'just ava.' you look at beatrice with a raised brow. 'please.'

lilith lazily salutes. 'ava, then. our illustrious leader, i hear. beatrice is making me lead a 1000 foot first ascent for a frog?'

'i'm not making you do anything,' beatrice says, and lilith grumbles like a teenager. it's funny, and you decide that you like her then and there, even if she scares you a little. she scares you a little more when she gracefully gets to her feet. she's tall and imposing, with a sharp face and long hair braided back, more wiry than beatrice's bigger muscles, but — you're sure — just as strong.

she offers her hand, which you shake. 'in my defense,' you say, 'it is a very cool frog. we can even name it after you, if you want.'

this seems to amuse her, because there's a hint of a smile on her face.  'i do like first ascents anyway.'

'see,' you say, 'that's the spirit.'

'ava,' beatrice says, 'no pressure, but i thought you might find it fun to try climbing. only if you'd like.'

'i'm, uh —' you gesture a little clumsily with your cane, the tips of your ears turning red. 'not sure that i can?'

'mary is an adaptive climbing instructor,' beatrice says, gesturing over to the taller wall with ropes connected through pulleys at the top, where a strong Black woman with perfectly neat braids and a dark outfit on is sorting through a few harnesses on the ground. 'but if you'd rather not climb, lilith and i are just finishing up. we can show you a few things we've been practicing in anticipation for the route, and then change and go to dinner.'

beatrice doesn't say either choice with any more or less merit, or worth, or importance: they're choices, and they're yours, and they won't affect how much she trusts you or believes in the expedition. lilith is checking her phone, uninterested at this point, and you decide, as you always have, to try.

'yeah, sure. i have no idea what adaptive climbing is, though.'

beatrice smiles and lilith stays on her phone, texting. 'that's fine. i have no idea about ninety percent of what you study.'

'i find that hard to believe. you're a wildlife photographer.'

she hums, softly touching your elbow and then walking toward mary. 'conservationist photography, sure. but i'm not a biologist.'

you make a note that beatrice doesn't really like wildlife photographer as a job title, although she was polite enough to not outright tell you so. 'well, i'm not a climber, so, quid pro quo?'

'ah, but you will be after tonight,' mary says, standing with a smile and offering her hand. 'dr. silva, right?'

'just ava,' you tell her, endeared by the fact that beatrice had probably been very formally saying dr. silva to her team this entire time. you shake mary's hand as firmly as you can and feel immediately a little more relaxed with the confident, easy way she holds her shoulders, her kind smile, her bright eyes.

'beatrice and i go way back,' she says. 'this project of yours sounds amazing. i was excited when she asked if i wanted in.'

'of course i'd ask,' beatrice says, bumping mary in the shoulder, who rolls her eyes fondly.

'well, beatrice said you were promised an adaptive climbing lesson.'

'if you're still in,' beatrice says, 'mary can show you the ropes.' she laughs at herself. 'literally.'

mary groans, but you're delighted. 'well, don't leave me hanging.'

'no. not another bad pun aficionado. please.'

beatrice grins and you sling an arm over her slightly sweaty and delightfully strong shoulders. she stiffens a little, and mary looks to her for a moment, and you're worried you've overstepped, and fast. but then beatrice relaxes.

you step back and gesture between the two of you happily. 'is this our thing now?'

'if trading terrible puns is wrong, then i don't want to be right.'

mary groans. 'not sure why i agreed to this trip after all.'

'we can name a frog after you, if you want,' you offer.

mary perks up. 'really?'

'yeah,' you say, 'sure. i've already named one after myself and given five others the dumbest, gayest names i could think of.'

'i'm back in, then.'

you laugh. 'well, let's rock and try not to roll.'

mary sighs, but beatrice's muffled laugh into your shoulder is way worth it.

/

Hi Ava, I'll be in town today to get some equipment squared away. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner if you're free. No shop talk, unless you want

you read and reread the text. you'd gone over shitty — expected, but still shitty — test results from an mri at your neurologist's earlier today, and, even though your team seemed to gel the other night, and all of your logistics are much less daunting now that beatrice has covered some of them financially, you had planned to stay home in your favorite boxers and most comfortable hoodie and wallow with a mediocre bottle of wine and good pizza and great reality tv.

but — hey, that sounds sweet. any places in mind?

beatrice texts back almost immediately. I don't know the area too well. You can pick, if you'd like

like, you're colleagues. you're about to be in one of the most remote parts of the world together in five days, with just a handful of other people, for weeks, maybe longer. you're the leader of the expedition but beatrice is, in important ways, a leader too. she's smart and beautiful and handsome and focused. if it's a date, incredible; if it's not, you still want to know her, you still want to spend time in her gentle warmth.

any food allergies/hatred?

she responds, No, I'm pretty adventurous

still, no clarity, but you set a place and time — one of your favorite tapas restaurants with a great little bar and, if it gets late enough, a good dance floor — and then set about getting ready. you eat a banana and take ibuprofen, which hopefully will help you be able to dance without much pain, and then get as pretty as you deem not desperate for a normal dinner with a colleague to be. which, it's you, so you're still very, very pretty, including one of your very best cleavage tanks. you finish your eyeliner perfectly and blow yourself a little kiss in the mirror. for good luck, or whatever. it's science.

/

'i got tired of it,' beatrice says. 'war photography is...' she pauses, and shakes her head, like she doesn't quite know what to tell you. you're totally sure she's not telling the truth, not really, but you know not to push, to spook her away. 'i could leave,' she settles on. 'as much as i hate the west, as much as i hate american and european, especially british, foreign policy, and its destruction of the world — i got to take pictures, and leave. at first, i thought it was something important i could do, to record the truth. political inherently, anti-imperialist, without being in politics. but, i was in occupied palestine, and, then, after —' she clears her throat, brings her fingers up to ghost over the scar through her brow — 'after. i couldn't do it. they're wars because of my history — our collective history — but they weren't my wars. they aren’t my wars. i can’t photograph them, at least right now. because i got to leave.'

you're horrified that she might start to cry — which isn't horrifying, not at all, you cry all the time, but you're supposed to be having a nice meal with your colleague and you had asked what you thought was an innocuous question about how she got into her more recent conservationist work, but clearly, not innocuous. you're starting to think, with a kind of clarity you very rarely have about anyone, that nothing about beatrice herself is innocuous. even her collarless button down and loose pants cuffed at the ankles — and the way all of her clothes, ever practical, drape with a tailored casualness on her small, strong frame — her easy hair that’s always actually perfectly trimmed and styled, the pattern of callouses on her hands: everything about her is intentioned. she means what she says. she means what she does. she means who she is.

'i started studying frogs with my mom,' you offer. it's true, and you mean who you are too.

she takes a sip of her water and nods in what you can tell is a quiet relief.

'my family is from manaus. my mom wasn't a scientist or anything, she was a bank teller, but when i was little, we'd go out often. she loved the rainforest, so, you know, i loved the rainforest.'

beatrice smiles gently. 'that sounds beautiful.'

you stare down at a croqueta and tear a small piece of it off, let the old ache fill your chest. 'she died, when i was seven.'

'oh,' beatrice says, 'i —'

'— it was a long time ago,' you say.

'sometimes that doesn't make it hurt any less.'

it's permission, to feel how you need to. most people accept when you tell them that and move on in relief, unwilling or unable to give you the space. but beatrice sits steadily. 'i broke my back, during the car accident we were in; we were visiting spain and, well. i had to relearn to walk. it took a really long time, and the orphanage i grew up in wasn't big on good physical therapy or really any care, so i taught myself what i could outside of school, got into university, got good medical care for the first time, like, ever. and i started studying biology. i went back to the rainforest as soon as i could, as a research assistant, and guyana was ... it's mind-blowing, bea.'

she weighs it all in contemplative silence for a moment, trying to decide what you need; what relief she can give. ‘i can't wait to see. i've always wanted to go.'

it is relief, what you feel, to be so immediately seen and understood. 'well, it's not just anyone i'd want to bring to the rainforest. my mom's favorites were always frogs, so —' you shrug, suddenly a little at a loss.

'so here we are, about to go find another.'

you pop the croqueta into your mouth, feel the dull pain in your chest dissipate when you realize you're close enough to beatrice's face to see her freckles. 'i have spinal stenosis, from the accident. it's progressing pretty fast, even with the best medical team, tech, surgeries, all that.'

she nods, like she understands what you mean without making you have to say it. it's a gift, bigger than she probably knows.

'i really want to find that fucking frog.'

'well,' she says, and lifts her glass, 'to finding our frog.'

'you know, it's bad luck to toast with water.'

she frowns. 'i don't usually drink.'

'you're very... controlled.'

she waits a beat and then grins. 'okay, one beer.'

'fuck yeah!'

'one, ava.'

'mhm. whatever you say, bea.'

/

'i have to take the train back,' beatrice argues — or, at least, tries to argue, because her eyes drift down to your boobs when you take your sweater off. success.

'you can just stay at my place. i have a mediocre ikea couch.'

'i can't let you sleep on your own couch.'

you laugh. 'oh, you definitely get the couch. i need all the good mattress support i can get before i sleep in a tent for a month.'

she smiles, gently and a little sad, but then the moment passes, a kind of grace. 'fine.'

'really?'

the set of her shoulders is looser but still sure, still so, so certain. 'yes.'

'hell yeah!' she laughs. 'shots?'

beatrice pulls a face but you order lemon drops anyway, mostly because vodka seems neutral and they're a good shot for people who don't drink often, sweet and tangy and fun. beatrice sniffs hers first — bold move, big mistake most of the time — but then nods in approval.

'to our frog,' you say, and she clinks her glass with yours. you touch it to the bartop and she follows suit, and then take it as smoothly as you can. it's an easy drink, so you don't have any problems, and she swallows without too much of a grimace. 'okay?'

'it's not bad,' she says, and your whole body hums, probably because of the two margaritas you had with dinner and this shot now, but also because there are freckles stretching across her cheeks and gold flecks in her brown eyes and if you let yourself look closely a tiny split on her lip, probably from the dry, cool air recently.

you shake yourself out of... whatever that was, and you order two more shots; she takes hers without hesitation this time, laughing when you spill a little down your cheek. she reaches a hand and wipes with her strong hand, tender, over the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then clears her throat, takes her hand back quickly, although you want to ask for her to stay. but instead, 'come on, bea,' you say, 'let's dance!'

she only groans in a show of protest for posterity, you're sure, because she's very strong and you're very small and when you tug on her wrists she follows you easily.

you love to dance; you have always loved to dance: what little you remember of your mom is full of green, the rainforest and the wall of your living room. she would push back all the furniture to the edges, just the two of you in a small apartment, where you slept in the same bed and ate fruit from the trees outside. she would put on britney spears and jump around with you; she would put on stevie nicks and hold you in her arms, swaying around. she was full of light, from what you remember, always ready to read to you, in portugese and in english; to help you with your math and your handwriting. she cut your food for you and bought you new shoes when yours wore through the soles. she had been a good mom in the way good moms are: happy to hold your hand, to rub her nose against yours, to let you eat the batter off the spoon. you don't remember much, not before the accident, but it had been easy, and beautiful — the mist and orchids and green, all around.

beatrice is a little stiff until you start jumping around, fully out of time with the music, just to make her laugh. and she does, a smile lighting up her whole face. her body is graceful like this too, like it's always somehow known exactly how to move. you wonder, fleetingly between songs, what she was like as a child, if she was as sure and smart and kind as she is now. someone crowds into her space from behind and then you're not thinking of anything other than the tickle of her hair against your cheek as she presses into you, the lilt of her laugh into your ear, the hard muscles of her shoulders and the soft, small swell of her hips when you bring your palms to rest there. you're drunk and she's beautiful, and you've kissed lots of beautiful people when you've been drunk. but she closes her eyes and sways to the beat and it's like the rest of the world falls away. it's like there's only you and beatrice and the cloud forest, above anything else that has harmed and will harm again. there's her gold skin and scars and tattoos hidden under her shirt, the healed slices down your spine, the air between your bodies: sweaty, sticky with spilled drinks, thumping bass, everyone else in this bar. there's only the two of you, and it's a little like you've been punched in the gut: you're falling in love with her. it's easy, right now, to put a name to it all, when you can look at her jaw without reproach.

she opens her eyes and looks at you, a smile on her face, and leans in your direction. it's easy, to bring your hand to touch where you had been staring, to say, 'bea,' as she laughs into your neck, says, 'this is so fun, thank you.' it's hard to not kiss her, but she's ... extraordinary, and you don't want your first kiss to be in the middle of a mid-at-best dance floor after a few shots. you want it to be somewhere beautiful. somewhere you already know; somewhere you're certain she'll love.

'let's go home,' you say, because you had done another round somewhere between songs and she's slightly unsteady on her feet. she nods into your neck and you take her hand.

/

you walk back to your apartment with her, one arm looped through hers — 'very gallant,' you'd said when she'd offered, and even in the dim light from the moon and streetlamps you had seen her blush — and your other hand using your cane. she had found it for you, tucked behind where you had been sitting at the bar; she hadn't asked anything about why you didn't use it when you were dancing, or why you need it now. you know so many good people and you organize a lot with some of your other friends who work with the disability center at the university, but there is some kind of a revelation about being seen so wholly.

but maybe you're also just a little drunk, because she sways a bit as you walk and her accent is lilting, tender, her hair messy in her eyes. it's probably as soft as it looks; you had lost your hair tie somewhere between shots two and three and you tuck yours behind your ear. you have so many questions you want to ask her but you hold them in because she looks up at the moon and the stars and it's enough, to be here with her. to know her laugh, now, and the way she has hurt too.

it's enough to just walk.

/

it hadn't actually taken too much convincing — after you unlocked the door and gave her some choices in pajamas, soft sleep shorts and a big cotton crew her eventual choices, and gotten her a glass of water and a few cheddar crackers — to get her to agree to sleep in your bed with you. perhaps it had been because your couch is ... an unknown number of years old — 'listen, bea, phd students make, like, no money, and it was twenty bucks on craigslist three years go' — or maybe, maybe, it's because she just wants to.

you settle in first, listen to her brush her teeth with a spare toothbrush you'd given her, and wash her face with your facewash — that she had frowned at, accidentally rude but pretty funny and, like, fair, you got it from the drug store on the corner and you're sure she has a whole understated fancy little routine when she's not out in the field — and then wash her hands after going to the bathroom. you love sex, so you sleep with people often. you've had a boyfriend before, that you cared about deeply, so there's some parts of intimacy that are familiar to you, of course. but this, beatrice carefully climbing into bed next to you, with her freckles and her eyelashes and the pink of her lips, is different: you're not going to kiss her, not right now. you're not going to reach out and put your palm on her jaw like you want to, or feel the warm skin of her ribs, the goosebumps that would inevitably rise there if you raked your nails across the ridges. you're not going to because, you know, somewhere elemental in you, that you want to know her, and love her, for a long time. you want to take her to the rainforest.

'where's your favorite place in the world?' you ask instead, whisper it into the dark, the soft outline of her face.

she's turned toward you, her hands tucked carefully under her chin; it makes her look younger. 'tibet. the himalayas.'

'makes sense. you and your big mountains.'

'what's the last mountain you... summited?'

'annapurna. it's the tenth tallest in the world.' she pauses, considering. 'are we playing twenty questions?'

her eyelids are drooping. 'i don't think you're going to be awake for twenty questions.'

she laughs softly. 'i want to ask you one, though.'

'hmm. sure. two to four questions, then.'

'do you... uh, well, okay. do you like women?'

it's so awkward, so out of place for someone so sure, that you have to fight the urge to burst out in laughter. but it's also soft, and nervous, her eyes wide. it makes you feel sixteen again, full of possibility. 'yeah, bea. i'm bi. i love women.'

she nods, tucks her hands even tighter under her chin, lets a big relieved breath out. 'cool.'

'yeah?'

'mhm. i'm a lesbian, if you didn't know.'

you want to say you're the gayest looking person i've ever met but you refrain. for the romance of it all. 'good to know.'

she tries hard to wink and fails miserably. you let yourself, just once, just for a moment, reach out and run your hand through her hair. she leans into your touch, relaxes under it, before you fold yourself back onto your side of the bed. 'you have one more question.'

'so do you.'

'okay. hmm. favorite ice cream flavor?'

she laughs. 'that's what you want to know.'

you nod. 'it's very important information.'

'okay.' she thinks hard about it, genuinely. 'mint chocolate chip?'

'that's so boring, jeez.'

'oh, i'm sorry. simple combinations of dynamic tastes is probably too sophisticated for you to understand.'

'okay, ratatouille.'

she tries, a valiant effort, to not crack a smile, but she eventually does. 'okay, my turn. favorite color?'

you let your eyes fall closed and imagine it all, the sharp thorns and the torrential rain and the chirp of the neon blue frog you'd found last time. you think about taking her there. 'green, of course,' you tell her, a promise, a future in the clouds. 'green.'

#conservationist au #conservationist au 🐸 #ft butch bea but we gotta have different tags lol but she's here #just ch1 but ch2 is the expedition! #avatrice #avatrice fic #wn #wn fic #frog au #i guess bc y’all love that lol

[iheartgracie]

jude duarte soft quotes

“So, in short, Valerian tried to kill me,” I say, finishing my story. “And I stabbed him… So I might be in some trouble.”

“He grabs hold of my wrist. I am shocked by the sensation of his skin warm against mine. “Take care,” he says, and then smiles. “It would be very dull to have to sit here for an entire day just because you went and got yourself killed.”

“My last thoughts would be of your boredom,”

“You were just going,” I tell Locke.

He grins. “I find I am very comfortable here,” Locke says. “Surely there’s nothing you have to say to the king that is so very personal or private.”

“It’s a shame you’ll never find out. Go. Now.”

“Stop you?” I echo. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“If you joke about this, I am going to—”

“Kill me?” he asks, raising both black brows.

I think I might hate him after all.”

i cant believe the land chose me

i, jude duarte, high queen of elfhame, in exile, spend most of my mornings dozing in front of daytime television watching cooking competitions and cartoons

“i don’t take commands from mortals” he says with his customary cruel smile. “so your gonna say something nice?” i don’t think so faeries cant lie.

“have i told you how hideous you look tonight?” “no tell me”

“i cant”

i can be charming, i charmed you didnt i?

you never break.

i know when we come to a door because i walk straight into it, much to the roaches amusement. “you really cant see” he says. i rubbed my forehead “i told you i couldn’t” “yes but you’re the liar, i’m not supposed to believe anything you say” “why would i lie about something like that?”

i am no longer a child and i don’t need comfort.

“you betraying toad”

“I’m a jerk. I’m an idiot,” I say. “I admit it. You don’t have to lecture me.”

“I thought you were going to give me a hard time about the glamour,” she says. “You know, the one you resisted.”

“You shouldn’t magic your sisters.”

“And you shouldn’t try to chop yours in half.”

“Maybe he regrets it. After all, I could be scolding him right now, instead of you.”

That makes me smile.”

“You won’t believe what we found in the treasury,” Vivi says.

“I thought treasuries were just full of gems and gold and stuff.”

“We found armor. Glorious armor. For you.”

“For a queen, Which, you may recall, there hasn’t been in a little while.”

“It may well have belonged to Mab herself,”

“You’re really building this up,”

“Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,” says Tatterfell, “the rest of you will still look good.”

“That’s the spirit,” I tell her.”

“Nothing can be seen until the event is concluded.”

“No pressure, then,” I mutter.”

“Do you remember the fairy tale with the snake who has the helicopter parents and marries the princess?”

“Helicopter?”

“You’re the one who’s late. But as the hero of the hour, that’s all to the good. I am going to make you into a vision.”

“Sounds like a lot of work on your part,”

“Will you dance?” he asks, presenting his hand.

“You may remember that I am not particularly accomplished at it,”

“I don’t know what to apologize for first,” I say. “Cutting off your head or hesitating so long to do it. ”

“I grin irrepressibly at Cardan. He smiles back, with a little surprise. It’s possible I don’t smile like that very often.”

“Vivi blows a noisemaker. “Here,” she says, passing out paper crowns for us to wear.

“This is ridiculous,” I complain, but put mine on.”

“A black horse was nibbling the grass of the lawn when they went outside. Its eyes were big and soft. Jude wanted to throw her arms around its neck and press her wet face into its silky mane.”

“In Faerie, there are no fish sticks, no ketchup, no television”

“There are two ways for mortals to become permanent subjects of the Court: marrying into it or honing some great skill—in metallurgy or lute playing or whatever. Not interested in the first, I have to hope I can be talented enough for the second.”

“She hops onto the bed beside me, disarranging my small pile of threadbare stuffed animals—a koala, a snake, a black cat—all beloved of my seven-year-old self. I cannot bear to throw out any of my relics.”

“We’re going to have fun tonight.”

“Fun?”

“I can see why humans succumb to the beautiful nightmare of the Court, why they willingly drown in it.

I know I shouldn’t love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same.”

“They talk about honor, but what they really care about is power. I am good enough with a blade, knowledgeable in strategy. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”

“Someone who, along with Princess Rhyia, doesn’t appear to be attending tonight. But—oh no. I do see him.

Prince Cardan, sixth-born to the High King Eldred, yet still the absolute worst, strides across the floor toward us.”

“Vivi said she wishes she had one.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t,” I say firmly, which is stupid. I have nothing against tails.”

“I stand in front of my window and imagine myself a fearless knight, imagine myself a witch who hid her heart in her finger and then chopped her finger off.”

“Are you going to quit the tournament?”

“You mean because of Cardan and his Court of Jerks?”

“You’re littering in a magical lake,” she tells me.

“It’ll rot,” I say. “And so will we”

“Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth”

“There is always a moment when it begins to move that I can’t help grinning. There is something about the sheer impossibility of it, the magnificence of the woods streaking by and the way the ragwort hooves kick up gravel as they leap up into the air, that gives me an electric rush of pure adrenaline.”

“You want to sit down or something?” Heather says, nodding toward the food court.

“Somebody owes me coffee,” I say pointedly to Vivi.”

#badass quotes jude duarte #judeduartequotes #badass jude duarte #jude duarte soft #jude duarte badass #judecardan quotes #jude duarte quotes #judecardan #judeduarte #jude duarte #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #the folk of the air quotes #the folk of the air

[nerdieforpedro]

The Long Road to Together

Tommy Miller x Original plus size female character (Velora)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, drug addiction mention, pain management, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of death, possible dub con (maybe), body worship, Tommy Miller's dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), P in V (practice safe sex everyone), pregnancy kink, domestic fluff, cheesy jokes

Summary: Velora has been apart of the Miller brothers' lives decades. She's particularly close to Tommy. They've shared countless memories with each other over the years and in a single night everything changes. If only they'd get out of their own way.

Notes: So, I put many subjects and themes I've wanted to write about in here. It should make sense, I had the wonderful @musings-of-a-rose beta it for me and as a fellow Tommy fan, I trust her. I did also add a subplot with Joel because, why not try one out? I really enjoyed this and for Tommy's character. I have a different take on him.

Word count: just under 16K (because Tommy's worth it!)

“You got anything for a bad back?” 

“Nothing that will actually take care of the pain. Best I can promise you is to dull it. You need to go see a specialist, Joel.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna take time I don’t have. You know I gotta…”

“Yeah, I know. Just let me know what appointments they have and I’ll see what my shifts are like old man. You can’t be folding over when Sarah’s just getting into high school. There will be boys there!” 

A slap was heard to Joel’s shoulder and he winced, letting out a curse as he hunched over further at his desk. The stress of running the business by himself was getting to him. Tommy had taken a sabbatical as he called it, the timing had been pretty poor. Thankfully, he had a woman who he considered a little sister to help him out. Her father had been friends with theirs and they always hung out together as children. In middle school, the family moved away for a time, but returned while the Miller brothers were in the middle of high school. Velora had just started high school and looked similar to how she did now, telling dumbass jokes, finding a reason to smack Joel and always being supportive. 

He organized the files that he would need for tomorrow and in particular, permits needed for a job the company would be starting on a ranch outside of Austin. Rebuilding a stable wasn’t too out of their depth, Joel just needed to research more on the permits required which he did, but damn if all the reading was making his head hurt even with his glasses on, add his back pain to that and he was miserable. He missed riding horses, but not so much he was willing to risk not being able to move for a few days. Velora had taken over administrative tasks that Tommy normally did as he was better at it and knew how to navigate the different offices they normally had to deal with the state and city, he was also much better at schmoozing suits and the like than his grumpy self. Velora helped out on her days off in between her shifts at the hospital. She sent Joel off for the evening and put away files that the elder Miller brother had taken out for review. 

“He’s got to learn to put this stuff back. Otherwise he’s never going to find anything.” Velora griped, she wore gray capri leggings because they were easy to move in and matched her white t-shirt. Usually she would dress a bit better for the office in case Joel brought any clients by, but he had been out most of the day, leaving her to get phone calls, further organize items and files. She was also trying to understand Tommy’s organization system which even though he had explained it over the phone twice, she still didn’t understand. “He’s been gone three weeks, like I get it but also I still don’t get what I’m looking at. It’s not even organized by color, number or alphabet, what the fuck is this?” Her brain hurt trying to work out the system. She thought Tommy had mentioned to her that it was by the date they took the client on, but there was no distinction between finished jobs and complete ones as those were mixed in and with different dates. “I feel like he could tell me five more times and I wouldn’t get it.” Shaking her head, she put the files where she thought they went near the front of the file cabinet and locked up the office, heading out to her car and driving home. Once in front of her small two bedroom, one and a half bath house, she sighed, happy to be home. She had a shift again tomorrow, but hopefully Joel would actually look for an appointment. Icy hot, tiger balm and heat packs could only do so much. Velora understood why Joel didn’t want to go to a pain clinic, he’d have to tell them about his past addiction issues with alcohol and it may affect his treatment plan, hell with some doctors, they just keep recommending tylenol and ibuprofen when that clearly hasn’t been working for him. He needed good pain management.

Kicking off her shoes, Velora flopped back on the couch and started at the ceiling. It was 8:30 at night. Too early to go to bed and too late to start any shows or movies.

“Where are you Tommy Miller?”

Elsewhere in the world…

The grass was crisp under his feet, the sun had just set not too long ago as he walked back down to the rock outcrop overlooking the rolls of green grass he had seen earlier that day. He couldn’t sleep again. The younger Miller brother had been worried about his brother Joel. He knew he didn’t deal too well with people even with Velora helping him. But he would text Joel later and maybe give Velora a call. There was more he needed to discuss with her than anyone else.

It had been seven years. They seemed to have passed by in a blink of an eye. Tommy recalled first joining the US Army, doing his patriotic duty and a way to use up the excess aggression he had from not really knowing where he was going next in life. At first it was fine, basic training then he was assigned to a platoon where he got to know other soldiers. It was when he was assigned to the 1st Armored Division that his optimism started to wear thin. His core group consisted of himself and five other members; they actually made it through Operation desert storm. What he saw there, the things he did, he never spoke about them except with the group and one person removed from the war. But the bodies, the smells, the tastes,, the sounds all of it overloaded everyone. Each man had their own way of dealing with it. One of the group was dishonorably discharged for using heroin he found overseas, but the Army never said what they did with the rest of it after removing it from belongings. He wasn’t the only one they confiscated it from, anyone who had it was dishonorably discharged but it was never made public what happened with the drugs. It was also never mentioned in great detail what they did to the country of Iraq. No one ever mentioned completely decimating and crippling a country, nearly burning it down to its foundation only for the same people who supplied the Army’s weapons and gear to switch profit off of a land that they aided in destroying. 

Tommy left the army after seven years of service, thankfully his brother allowed him in the construction company to work so he wouldn’t go completely insane. But his ‘Ironsides’ members weren’t so lucky. One died from an opioid overdose, another from drunk driving and two from suicide by gunshot. None of the funerals were covered fully by the VA, each family only received $1500 toward burial costs, but had full honors with all the pomp and circumstance. The two cousins in their group asked to have their ashes spread to their home which was Ireland, the only reason the veteran came to this place. It was beautiful though he had to admit. He may want to bring Joel and Sarah here, his brother would complain the entire time but he may get a grin out of it and Sarah would enjoy exploring the land. The younger Miller wondered if he should ask Velora to come too, she wasn’t one for the cold, but may like the greenery too. Watching his oldest friend muddle around the hilly terrain would be fun, he could steady her, show her the lakes and watch the sunset with her. Tommy felt he may not have cried as much if his Sweet Pea was here, she could crack a joke or just let him hold her, rock him  slowly as his head was on her shoulder. 

With two urns, one under each arm, Tommy carefully set one down and opened one, pouring the ashes out to scatter across the cool breeze that was blowing. He did the same with the second urn, waiting until another wind could carry the ashes away. Tommy had taken more time then he told Joel and Velora he would be gone, he didn’t mean to stay longer. It was just easier, he could work though his emotions more and not risk breaking down in front of them, though that had failed with Velora the night he told her he was going to spread that ashes per his brothers-in-arms wishes. 

Four weeks ago…

He had mentioned it like he was going to the store. She had asked him to explain and he didn’t. Tommy wasn’t going to until she pulled him into a hug. He didn’t realize it at the time, but tears had been running down his face. He remembered the warmth of her embrace and settled into the couch with her, almost laying on top of her to cuddle. She just ran her fingers through his hair, they didn’t say anything to each other, he tried to make as little noise as possible while sobbing. Her red shirt she had been wearing was soaked with his tears. Velora never mentioned his crying when he followed her to the bedroom and demanded to sleep next to her, promising to only hold her hand. She had smiled and told him it was fine if he needed more from her, to take what he needed. No matter if it had been money, time, food or those three DVDs he never returned, his old friend never complained. Velora would just smile and tell him it was okay. Even when Joel would get pissed with Tommy about the direction the company was going in to missing a game or two of Sarah’s (he really tried not to but sometimes the suits at the city were really long winded and insisted on drinks),  Velora would be there in his stead for his niece and tell him play by play as much as she could of the game when she would stop by in the evening. The veteran recalled that the night had been humid, despite the fan running, moisture stuck to their skin. Velora was in her simple thin nightgown and Tommy just wore his boxer-briefs to bed. 

Tommy may have took that a few steps too far. 

The night began with him holding her hand, that was fine for a time but, then he took her into his arms from behind, drawn to her soft curves that accommodated his taut muscles. The delicate oche tone of her skin glowed within the moonlight. It was when he kissed the back of her neck and his hand went to her breasts that she pulled away from his touch slightly,

“Tommy…don’t play around and go to sleep.” He heard her say, he couldn’t make out the inflection of her voice. His friend’s hips wiggled toward him, his free hand grabbed her hip, pulling it toward him.

“I’m not Sweet Pea. I need to touch you more, just let me, just for tonight.” A growl emerged from his chest, his teeth grazed her shoulder before nipping her lightly. Her gasps encouraged him further, she never said it, but a small smile always came to her lips when Tommy called her that. 

“Alright, but just…ah..” Velora wasn’t given a chance to finish her sentence. Her breast was plopped out of her nightgown as his hips grinded into hers. Tommy kept calling her his sweet pea in her ear and she reached a hand back to try and reach his cock, to feel it. “J-Just put a condom on and stick it in…” An order that Tommy wasn’t willing to follow right now, instead he pulled away from her, quickly slipped his boxers off and turned Vel on her back. “W-What are you doing? Why didn’t you just-” The nightgown she had on was over her head, the veteran hovered over her, he knew she would be angry but he would not fuck her the first time. Maybe the second time but not the first. Tommy had already planned other times he may bend her over. He wanted to make love to her in this moment, subsequent encounters could be messy and quick but the younger Miller brother wanted to savor her body as Velora was now, only for him..

“You told me to take what I needed.” His mouth took her erect nipple and large chocolate areola into his mouth, hearing her scream the first time convinced him that this was right. Her hands ran through his then medium length raven hair, tugging on it, his chest pressed into her stomach, sinking in it. The sensation had him grunt onto her nipple, rolling it with his tongue, his legs wrapped around her calf, his length dragging against her leg. Her body continued to writhe under his, his face soon in between her breasts nuzzling the sensitive skin between. Velora was looking down at him, panting, surprise on her face. She hadn’t expected him to fully undress her nor to try to explore her. “Velora,” Tommy paused and peered up at her, “I need all of you, so I’m going to take it all. Are you alright with that Sweet Pea?” He asked, moving upward and settling himself between her wide thighs. He wasn’t going to enter her yet. However, though she did spread her legs for him, Tommy closed her thighs around his waist so he could feel their soft embrace. 

“Yes, I told you to take what you need. I didn’t quite expect this way though.” Her digits danced along his bellybutton, then his stomach, not as firm as his military days, but still tight enough to display an ab or two. The pads of her fingers circle his nipples, small but at attention, all for her right now. “You don’t have to be gentle either Tommy. I’m here with you, for you. Just let go.”

“Sweet Pea, I want to be careful with you. You deserve that, always you hear?” Descending, he felt her heartbeat against her chest with his, glad to know he wasn’t the only one feeling like it might burst. “Give me your love Vel.” Lips crashed together, he bit her bottom lip, drawing a sliver of blood. He just said he’d be gentle but it was overwhelming, one of his hands took the back of her head and forced it forward, deepening the kiss, Vel mewled into his mouth and pressed her feet into the mattress to help move her hips forward, she felt the throbbing of Tommy’s cock just above her folds, a hand came between her and the velvet skin. Two fingers parted her lower lips and a squeal was heard when he released her head and it fell on the pillow. “Not yet Vel, gonna eat that dripping pussy.” He meant to use sweet words with her, that’s what she should be hearing, his Sweet Pea. Sliding back down, Tommy hoisted her thighs on his shoulders, giving each a small peck and pulling them so she could only see his hair for a small part of his forehead. When he spoke directly into her mound, he heard her say it,

“Fuck Tommy, make me cum. Sop my pussy up with your mouth!”

The younger Miller brother smacked his lips. “I’m going to have to see how dirty I can get you to talk Sweet Pea.” His nose ran up her slit, taking in her strong scent, he caressed her opening with his plush lips before slipping his tongue inside, rotating his the tip of his oral muscle was causing her cunt to quelch already, he then inserted it centimeter by centimeter , reveling in her screaming his name. His length continued to throb but his goal was to have her climax before entering her. The waves of contractions inside of her canal was constricting his tongue, he longed to have his cock inside of her, to have her continue to cry out his name while he could watch her face unravel. The pressure on the sides of his head increased as her large thighs pressed together in an effort to keep him right where he was, not that Tommy had plans to be anywhere else. His nose tickled her clit and provided a particularly strong clamp down from her. So he set his elbows against the mattress and forced his face against her mound, holding his breath as he used his nose and mouth to make her climax. With alternating curses, calling on the Lord and Tommy’s name, Velora reached her peak, the soldier was able to at least draw his face back a little before suckling on her clit, overloading her body, making it jerk. Tommy managed to inhale deeply, satisfied that his face was soaked with her scent and nectar. He ran two fingers through her cunt and brought them to her mouth. “Suck on them with that loud filthy mouth on yours. Turns out I needed this side of you love.” 

Her warm tongue quietly took her own juices from Tommy’s fingers, after they were clean, he got up from the bed and rummaged through his jacket and found a condom. He looked up at Velora who was turned on her side toward him, the easy shine of their affection for one another draped her body. Her curves and stretch marks on full display, ‘she’s mine’ he decided. ‘No one else’s, I’ll make damn sure of it.’ He crouched down next to the bed, meeting her at eye level, “Velora, you’re sure you’re alright with this next part?” He needed to know. They were friends first and foremost and he respected her boundaries, except tonight of course, but he wanted to make sure she was really okay with it. The woman nodded and took his hand in hers. 

“Tommy Miller, get in this bed and make love to me. You said you wanted my love. I’m giving it to you. Come to me.” She got up on her knees and held onto the headboard to keep herself from tipping over back onto the bed. “I told you to let go. Just have me. Please.” It was the look she gave him, so permissive and delicate. His arms wrapped around her once more as he kissed her, not deeply just to touch his lips against hers. Their foreheads touched and he met his nose with hers. 

“Velora, you’re a hellova woman.” Tommy smirked and laid her back, moving her toward the middle of the bed. He was in between her thighs once again as she opened herself before him. As he rolled the condom on his length, he marveled at her body; wide, tender, subdued and hushed for him, she bit down on her lip to quiet herself, presumably because he had mentioned volume and word choice. Tommy didn’t want her to quiet down now. He wanted her to go hoarse from calling his name, from what he did to her. Leaning forward, he pressed his tip into her folds, releasing himself and using both hands to cup her face, his thick fingers massaging her the top of her jaw, just under her ears, “Look at me Sweet Pea. Open your mouth, I want you to use those lungs.” A short nod from her was all it took, his hips eased forward and back easily for the first few pumps, only going in half way, keeping his eyes locked on hers as she cried out, 

“Oh…oh..fuck Tommy, you’re…spreading…me…” Velora whimpered, her thighs began to close again and his hands had to move to keep them open. His rhythm picked up as his elbows made contact with her knees pulling her legs back toward her chest and curling her body for a deeper angle, the pace picked up as he was now diving his cock fully into her flush with her mound and pulling back until only the head of length was inside of her. It was difficult, he could barely speak because her cunt kept sucking back in deeper, the slapping of their skin filled the room. Tommy raised one of her legs and turned his head to bite her calf, then licking it after, tracing his tongue over his teeth marks.

“This pussy is mine Sweet Pea, you won’t fit anyone else Vel. Goddamn you tight as a vice woman…” He murmured into her leg, pounding into her, he felt the pulse of his hardness growing closer to completion. Velora reached for Tommy, her arms stretched outward toward him, he dropped her legs and grabbed her love handles, continuing to roll his hips into hers. His forearms were scratched by her nails, leaving red marks on his olive skin. “Velora, you hear me? This cunt is mine only mine. Say it Sweet Pea.” A command with her pet name. It pushed her over the edge, 

“Shit yes, yes yes yes Tommy, my pussy’s just for you. Tommy Ahh!” Her neck flicked back as her walls closed around his heat, he was able to push into her six or seven more times before he released inside of her. The veteran didn’t pull out yet, dropping himself slowly on top of her plush form and ran his nose over her lips that were slightly parted, there was droop at the corner of her mouth, her eyes had tears dotting them, his large hand cupped her cheek against and tipped her face forward so her neck was no longer bent. “T-Tommy…T-Tommy that was…I…” Her quiet words expressed what he couldn’t. 

What has he done with his best friend? They’ve crossed a major line. He was worried that when they came out of this, she wouldn’t speak of it, like other insecurities and issues that he had told her about over the years. She never shied away from listening to his thoughts, however intrusive and depressive. But he didn’t want to be this vulnerable with anyone else. Even with other women he dated, there was always a barrier that he put up as far as feelings. They always told him he hid behind his humor and sarcasm. Tommy knew he did, but the one person he was always comfortable with was Velora, was he the same for her? He realized he had never asked, not that she didn’t share her own issues with him, but she didn’t talk about men she dated with him so much. Not that he encouraged it, he never wanted to hear about her dating life, no one would be good enough for his Sweet Pea, was he even good enough for her?

“Valora, rest. I’ll be right back.” A peck from his lips to hers before he slid out of her and got out of the bed. He went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Looking in the trash can, he scoffed at the loss, ‘should be inside of..’ before he could finish the thought, he cursed himself. Tommy knew he needed to stop, they hadn’t even had a conversation about what they just did, he was thinking about putting his seed inside of her?! “Fuck, I’m insane…” Shaking his head, he grabbed a washcloth out of her bathroom and returned to the bed, Vel had rolled on her side and was attempting to sit at the side of the bed, “Let me clean you up first, take it easy.” he brushed the back of his hand on the copper toned flesh of her hip. He tapped the washcloth on her thigh as she raised her leg and he held it for her, wiping front to back before tossing it on the dresser, knocking over a lotion bottle or two.

“Tommy, why would you throw it?” She asked, chuckling, ‘thank God, she still laughs. That’s good.’ His eyes went from her face to her slit, despite wiping it down it was still glistening, he licked his lips before setting her leg back down and letting her pull on his shoulder to sit up next to him at the bedside. Velora looked forward for a few minutes before speaking again. 

“Did you take all you needed lucky beetle?” She kept turned away from him. “Thanks for cleaning me up Tommy. We should head to…” his hand ran up her spine.

“We’re not doing anything until we talk about this. Vel, I…I want to..” She kissed his cheek and told him words that devastated him.

“This should be between us like always. I won’t ask you for anymore. We’re just- just friends. I hope I was able to help you some. We don’t have to talk about it.” The younger Miller brother remained silent as she wobbled to the bathroom to relieve herself, she closed the door. In his disappointment, he quickly threw his clothes on and dressed, leaving her home and hopping into his truck. A deep wail came from Tommy before he started the engine and drove home, he laid awake and slept through his alarm the following day. Within the week he was off to Ireland to distribute the ashes, he said he would be gone for a week, week and a half tops. He was gone for about three weeks.

Velora’s tears streaked her face in her bathroom. She should have told him that yes, she wanted her cunt to be just his. For him to only be with her and no one else, but she couldn’t. She knew how Tommy gets when he’s sad or frustrated by something he can’t control. That’s when he’d normally find a woman to fuck. She’d used it to her advantage, granted she didn’t think it would happen, it never had before. The woman wore the same nightgown she had before, bland panties, they cuddled like they normally did. He liked to be the big spoon. She knew she shouldn’t have given in, but it was Tommy, her Tommy. She’s known him for more than half her life, tried to date other men but they flat out don’t compare or worse, they actually suck. She couldn’t tell him that it was the first time she had sex fully naked and the lights on, that he asked to see her face and took the time to prep her before entering her. God he used the mouth that she dreamed about on her, just thinking about it now…She should have let him finish. But she was afraid he’d say it first…that it should be another thing between friends. The way she heard him hastily dress and run out of her house told her, she had done to him what men had done to her in the past: dismissed his feelings.

In the time he was gone Sweet Pea tried to go on dates, but she couldn’t stand the touch of another man, even from a side hug she flinched. Whoever said the best way to get over a man is by getting under a new one was wrong. She can’t even be near a new one.

Two days before arriving home…

Joel had spoken to Tommy two days before the latter’s flight home, asking what the hell he did to make V go on so many dates. Tommy was curious how his brother knew the information given that he didn’t think they spoke about subjects like that. Joel said that he heard it from Tess, Joel’s off and on again, whatever she was. That was an entire bag of worms he wasn’t getting into. At least his relationship with Velora wasn’t like that…but it could be. They started out as friends and now those two assholes can’t be in the same room without eye-fucking each other or cursing up a storm. Tommy explained that they had a miscommunication when he last spoke to her and that’s why they were unusually curt with each other on the phone. Joel gave it some thought, sure he was closer to forty-five than forty, but nah, Tommy wouldn’t have right? Not with…

“Tommy you didn’t sleep with V did you? Tell me you didn’t.” Tommy could hear Joel’s head droop. Damn him and using the same disappointing voice he uses when Sarah talks a bit too much trash at soccer and makes one of the girls on the other teams cry. 

“We sleep over each other’s homes fairly often after we hang out. I told you, it’s just..”

“Goddammit Tommy! You can’t do that shit, especially not to her. You know you can’t cut her out of your life like you do other women. I told you this shit would come back to bite you in your ass like a snake in a hole.” His older brother's condemnation of his actions past and present made Tommy suck his teeth.

“This from the guy who keeps holding on to a woman who only uses him for a few good times and disappears for months at a time. Fuck, she’s one who told me we’re not going to talk about it. Still be friends. What the hell else was I supposed to do? I took some extra time, what’s wrong with that?”

“The difference is I know what my relationship with Tess is, you asshole. You slept with a woman who’s been there for you through all your shit. I know you made it about you. It wasn’t about her at all, was it?”

Silence…his brother had him there. At the time, it hadn’t been about her, he even used the fact that she said he could use her however he wanted to do exactly that. Tommy exhaled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do now? I’ve already blown everything to shit. She’s doing the same thing I would, getting out there and meeting some guys. Why’d you have to tell me you asshole? I fuckin’ hate it…she’s out with some bastard who won’t even….”

“Eh, I don’t need details of what ya’ll did. And it’s not really going that well. She told Tess that she freaks out when the guys try to touch her, even holding her hand. It’s all for show, guess trying to prove something to herself. Both of ya are a damn pair.” Joel chuckled on the line, the first time during their conversation. Tommy followed suit and a low rumble of laughter. 

“We’re two people who make shitty ass decisions. Just, see if Tess can get her to hold off ‘till I come home. I know her, it’s only making things worse and she’s going to be in head about it. All of it.”

“Yeah, on that same token little brother, get your head out of your ass and talk to the woman. Velora deserves that much at least. You’ll have to get her to listen tho’. I don’t think she’ll be keen on ya right now.”

“Shut up and just pick me up at the airport in a few days. Bring Sarah, I miss my cute niece.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up and then mention my daughter. I shouldn’t bring her just to spite ya. But she wants to ses you too. Loves your stupid ass. I guess you’re a’right at times Tommy. Take care, I gotta go to bed.”

“Lucky you. You can sleep. I’m just awake for no damn reason. You aren’t the worst big brother. See you in a few days.” 

The brothers smiled as they ended their calls. Joel trotted upstairs and kissed Sarah goodnight as she was already in bed. She stirred slightly and a smile formed on her face at her father’s warmth. One of the few times Joel didn’t look like he was completely over everything was whenever he gazed upon his daughter, his only light. 

It was 3:15 am where Tommy was packing up most of clothes, he had brought a backpack and a duffle bag that was significantly lighter now that the two urns weren’t in it, plus he wouldn’t need to check his bags this time so he might get through their airport quicker and get home. He went out into the cold night air with his coat on, hands in his pockets and hair tied back. The puffs of hot hair leaving his nose made him chuckle, he thought of her again, hoping that she hadn’t had too many dates in his absence but some to make her feel better. He didn’t want them to have gone well of course, but if she has the dates that’s fine. Joel wasn’t wrong, he did need to speak to her when he got back, he just had no clue what to say. 

Sorry for fucking you? Sorry for telling you that I don’t want anyone else to see you like this? That I’m especially sorry for not doing this years ago when I first realized that my feelings for you went deeper than that of a friend and maybe sabotaged some of your dates, sent messages from your phone and comforted you when the guys of course stopped communicating with you. Thankfully I only did that a few times before you caught me and told me to just tell you if I thought a guy was trash. I brushed you off because I would tell you they were all trash, but I knew I was garbage too because I was still fucking around, so i couldn’t tell you that. I didn’t have the right. Actually, that might be why you said what you did that night, you knew I didn’t have the right to you. I used you once again and why should I feel like I’m entitled to more? Just because of how you said my name, how you seemed surprised when I wanted to see you and hold you, how good you felt in my arms, how happy I am when I’m in yours…I’ve really screwed the pooch on this one. 

The short walk and the cold air gave Tommy pause as he found himself at the same rocky outcrop that he had spread the ashes over. “Had I asked, you would have come with me. I should have just asked…I have to tell you sorry in person, Sweet Pea.” The stars were hanging in the sky, twinkling at the haunted man. He began slowly back to his cabin and was finally able to sleep, there was no one to hold him when he shed his tears that night.

Velora had tears of a different nature, she was able to finally kiss one of her dates, it was a fair kiss, definitely not like her one with Tommy. She compared him with everyone now that she had a taste of him. Her date suggested that they go back to his place to which she declined, there was no spark, no longing, no anticipation. The man was good looking, could put sentences together, paid for dinner, seemed nice, no real reason to not try him out except he wasn’t Tommy Miller. He didn’t have his dark hair, deep brown eyes, that goofy looking mustache that tickled her tummy, his cinnamon skin or velvet voice. This man was none of those things and it wasn’t his fault. It was hers for agreeing to this date. Vel’s friends were proud of her for getting out there and exploring her options, but she was going through the motions, no matter if it was work, helping out Joel and Sarah or just moping at home, it was all hollow. The man walked her to her car, to which she thanked him for the date and drove home. 

Once home, she hopped in the shower and wash the date away, scrubbing her inner thighs especially as he had tried to finger under the table, but seemed to have difficulty navigating her large thighs, she couldn’t tell if he just hadn’t been with a larger woman or was out of practice in general. Velora got out of the shower, dried off and brushed her teeth, using extra mouthwash, she didn’t want to taste that man at all. 

Sitting on the bed, she looked at herself in the mirror, wrapped in her towel. This was the room she was taken by Tommy or more apt, she offered herself to him. Happily. The circles under her eyes were darker and she chuckled, it’s not the first time she had cried over Tommy Miller, but it was usually because he had done something stupid and not the other way around. It was enough to keep that man in a place that would freeze a witch’s tit an extra week and a half. 

He may have told me that he wanted to be friends with benefits or maybe that he actually had feelings for me, but I didn’t let him talk. These men aren’t Tommy and it’s not their fault. I should have told him years ago but I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. Tommy, Joel and Sarah are family and I just couldn't…I still may lose them anyway. I shouldn’t have told Tess why I was crying and dating. She likely told Joel and…would he know? Is that why Tommy hasn’t come back yet? My head hurts. I feel like shit. Tommy’s the only one that looked at me like that, he touched me from head to toe and told me that I was only his. It was likely just dirty talk but still, it was nice to hear. Pfft, just nice? It was what I’ve always wanted to hear. I just didn’t want to be second anymore…Second to his grief, to his anger, pain and second to whoever the flavor of the month was. I’m tired of being second, I want to be first.

Vel laid across her bed and started at the ceiling, her tears were steady and she gave up trying to wipe them away. She woke up the next morning with a stuffy nose from not covering herself properly before sleeping. 

“Fuck, even my nose is tired of my shit…”

The day Tommy gets home…

Tommy arrived at the airport around seven in the evening, he was almost home. He had called Joel to pick him up, the uncle was excited to see his little niece as his brother said he would bring her. Normally he would call Vel but he couldn’t see her yet. Sarah and Joel greeted him warmly in the drop off area and helped him lay his bags in the truck. The brother chatted about how business had been and Sarah chimed in about soccer and school. The bright young teen did have something important to share.

“So Dad, we’re going to have pizza tonight right? Since Uncle Tommy’s back.”

“Yeah pumpkin I told you we would.” Joel sounded puzzled, unsure why his daughter was confirming plans they had already discussed. Tommy did not like the sound of this, it’s never good if Joel is surprised. He knew his brother stayed prepared. 

“I invited Aunt V to eat pizza with us, you got three pizzas right?” Tommy glared at Joel who kept his eyes on the road. His daughter may be in cahoots with Tess, which surprised him because he didn’t think Sarah liked the woman. He foresaw major issues going forward. 

“I ordered three because I thought it was going to be the four of us. You didn’t mention Vel.” The older Miller brother said slowly, he needed Tommy to know this was not his idea, and frankly he didn’t want the clusterfuck this was going to be, to be in his house.

“Well, Aunt V has been kinda down lately, hasn’t she Uncle Tommy?” Sarah leaned forward in her seat and patted Tommy's shoulder. He couldn’t lie to his only niece, but he also was not going to speak about his love life to a fourteen year old.

“I’ve been away Peanut so I wouldn’t know. Has she now? We should cheer her up.” Tommy bit his lips, and rocked forward, Joel knew those motions were, he was self-soothing. He was so pissed, but couldn’t say anything because he would sooner die then show Sarah anything other than her sweet uncle. Joel knew this was going to be a problem when they were alone. 

“Baby girl, you are so loved.” is all Joel managed to say before cutting on the radio.

Tess was at Joel’s house paying the pizza man and Velora was sitting on the couch. Tess was humming, this woman they all maybe saw three months total out of the year. It was weird, but Joel loved it so Vel figured she would just keep her trap shut. She shouldn’t speak about anyone’s relationship since she had mucked hers up with Tommy. Though a part of her wanted to look nice for him, so she ended up pinning her hair up, exposing her neck and wearing an olive green three-fourth sleeve shirt dress, she also may have left the top button open so she had a bit of cleavage showing but not too much. Sarah was going to be there after all. Vel also made sure to put on her favorite lotion from Bath & Body Works, ‘into the night.’ Maybe she was hoping for something to happen, at the very least, she wanted to be able to talk to him, likely not about the last time they saw each other but at least be civil.

The door opened and Sarah burst in, hugging Vel and snuggling into her, commenting on how good she smelled, Joel carried a bag of Tommy’s and hugged Tess, giving her a kiss on the cheek. That’s when Vel lost her breath, Tommy Miller strode through the doorway and set his backpack on the floor, nodding toward Tess. His eyes met Vel’s and he went to speak as she did , but nothing came from either of them. It looked like Sarah was going to say something but Joel suggested that they eat before the pizza gets cold. Everyone ate and listened to Tommy’s trip and embellished stories, Vel soaked up his laughter and smile, wondering how she would feel if he were to tell her he didn’t want to speak to her again, as he did other women. She was going through the motions again as Joel carted Sarah off to bed before long, she had fallen asleep across Velora’s lap. A place Tommy wanted to be. She looked beautiful, the earth tone dress looked gorgeous on her. It was then that he was surprised, Tess offered Vel a ride home. Apparently, a car ran a stop sign and rear ended her. She hadn’t been injured but her car was in the shop for repairs. Joel and Tess had been giving her rides from home to work. Tommy saw an opportunity. He had left his truck at Joel’s so he could drive home once he made it to their house after the airport. 

“I can drive you home Sweet Pea.” He stated quietly, setting a hand on her shoulder, he stepped in between Tess and where Vel was sitting. Tess was about to interject but Joel shook his head, signaling to let them be. Velora nodded. 

“Sure, thanks Tommy.” With that, she stood and thanked Tess for the offer giving her and Joel hugs before slipping her flip flops on and heading out with Tommy. He opened the truck door for her and she climbed in, he took special care to take a gander at her legs which the moonlight was reflecting off their well moisturized sheen. Tommy then got in the truck and started driving. 

“Tommy…I-I’m sor…”

“Leave it for when we get to your place. We need to sit and talk face to face.” The grave tone he used worried her, was this really happening? Was she going to lose her best friend over the best sex she had?

Once at her home, she opened the door and Tommy locked it after they got in, Velora set to opening a bottle of whiskey and pouring them both glasses with one cube of ice each. She sat next to Tommy on the couch and slowly sipped on her drink, clicking her nails on the glass. Tommy took a large swig and set his on the coffee table, taking hers and placing that on the table as well.

“Velora, I need you to listen to me. Don’t say anything yet.” 

“T-Tommy, just you’re not going to leave right? Just forget it. Just don’t tell me to go away.” His eyes widened, that wasn’t what he expected. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed to try and calm her, but that only made her jump. “I know I shouldn’t have, honestly you’d never taken me up on it before. I wanted to see how far you were going to go, I didn’t expect…not that i didn’t enjoy it, but if it means we can’t be friends then, I’ll forget about it.” Her speech was pressured and rapid, eyes wild and darting around, when she did focus on Tommy’s face, he saw that she was frightened. 

“Sweet Pea…Just give me a…” Tommy tried to cut her off to explain but she kept going.

“You can’t call me that anymore. You can’t say it like that. Sweet Pea, it makes me wet each time and I can’t, I can’t Tommy Miller! We’re friends, you can’t call me that, not after…” The tears that she had been avoiding since she saw him walk though Joel’s doorway broke through, it was Tommy’s turn to hold her and to console. It was then he realized he wasn’t the only one that had been having feelings over the years. How long had she been in love with him? How long had he been hurting her? How long had they been hurting each other?

“Velora I don’t want to be just your friend. I feel the same way. Honey please…” Tommy whispered as he brought her close, her tears were wetting his shirt, but it was fine by him. He just needed to make her understand that he didn’t want to share her. But he also thought maybe he shouldn’t undress her this time.

After some time, she stopped just embracing her, small hands wrapped around his back, pressing on his shoulder blades. They were quiet except for a few sniffles. Vel leaned back and kissed Tommy’s cheek, her face puffy from her waterworks,

“I’m sorry I didn't let you talk, well this time and especially the last time. I just wanted to avoid talking about it. I couldn’t handle you telling me it didn’t mean anything.”

“Velora. That’s not anything I would ever say to you. And it wasn’t what I was going to say the other night either. I planned to tell you that I don’t speak like that to anyone, even during sex and that I didn’t want you seeing anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else. Vel…I…” Tommy was cut off by her lips, not forceful but clearly to quiet him again, he cupped her face and leaned into the kiss, letting out a small moan. He did let her go after he licked her bottom lip and she didn’t allow him in. Not that type of kiss he figured.

“Just a little at a time Lucky Beetle. Please a little at a time. You just told me something major, I can’t have you say that I love you right now too. I know you like to get things all out in the open but just let me sit in it a bit.” The explanation made sense to him, in his haste to share his feelings, he forgot that she needs things in pieces, slowly. It’s why he loved talking to her because she could help him see things part by part, but that was clearly different in a relationship aspect. Her hands raised to play with his hair, then ran along his cheeks and poked his mustache. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear it, but I just need time. It won’t be too much. I promise.” He nodded, accepting her proposal.

“Should we get you cleaned up? Your face looks a mess Sweet Pea. Er, not that…” The woman let out a bellowing laugh, it was a sound that he was elated to hear. He hadn’t heard it for weeks and the last time he did, was one of his highest and  lowest points.

“Yeah, I know I look a mess.” She stood up and patted his shoulder for him to follow her to the bedroom. “Tommy, I should tell you, or rather I don't know if you already heard from Joel, I have been on dates since you were away. A few…” A drawer opened and she got out a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt for him. Tommy had his own drawer at her house and she did at his, they had for years. “Like four dates,” She turned to face him, but kept her eyes to the ground, still she felt she needed to be honest. “None of them panned out. They weren’t you, I compared them all to you. Even the last one…” Her arms crossed over to stomach as she held her elbows, Tommy could fill in the gaps but he still needed to know.

“How far did you go with him?” He asked flatly. He readied himself for the potential answer that she may have slept with someone, it’s not like he hadn’t done the same thing in the past, though while he was away he didn’t think to. The vet hadn’t expected Velora to take a page from his playbook as far as fucking away feelings.

“Kissing and he tried to…well not that he could find what he was trying to finger. It’s not like mine’s in a different place than a smaller woman’s, you just have to go a little deeper.” Her eyes rolled as she complained and Tommy chuckled, it was entertaining  hearing her mock another man and gave him a sense of pride. 

“Sounds like you had a tough go of it hun.” He placed his hands on his hips, his mustache continued to dance above his upper lip as she continued to chuckle. Velora shook her head and threw the clothes at him, which he caught. “Thanks for telling me though, you're honest to a fault.”

“Shut up Miller. I’m going to shower first.” A small smirk greeted her lips as she grabbed her own nightshirt and panties before heading into the bathroom. Tommy set his clothes on the bed and went back into the living room to finish his whiskey. They felt more normal, like themselves. It was good, but he didn’t want it to stay like this. How else was it supposed to feel?

Velora took a quick shower and brushed her teeth, remembering the glass of whiskey she had and that mint likely wouldn’t taste good with it. She tossed her worn clothes in the hamper and found Tommy sitting on the couch, looking at his empty glass. “Did you want mine too? It doesn’t go well with colgate.” Tommy shook his head and downed her glass as well before heading into the bedroom and stripping, then into the shower. When he came back out, he put his clothes in a small pile in the corner of the room out of the way. The pair sat on the bed next to each other.

“So…”

“So…what do we do now?”

“We should sleep, talk more about things with fresh minds.”

“Did you want to go get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sure, though I should probably check in with Joel to see if he needs help at the office.”

“It can wait until the next day, he’s actually doing better. Tess convinced him to go to a pain clinic.”

“Really? He left that part out when he was updating me. Old man with a sore back.”

Velora climbed up in the bed and slid under the covers, Tommy watched her and wondered if he could really sleep in the same bed as her without touching her. He should be able to, he has self-control. He followed suit and slipped under the covers as well, turning on his side away from her. If he faced her, he would feel tempted to touch her and after they had a positive conversation the last thing he needed to do was compromise that again.

Turned out it was not up to Tommy Miller whether things were going to happen or not.

Velora became the big spoon to Tommy’s little spoon and that was fine until the sun started to shine through the curtains of her bedroom window. Tommy rolled over on his back and Vel’s leg wrapped around his slim waist. That would be fine, if his hips hadn’t shifted up slightly and a familiar bulge touched her inner thigh. Exhaling, she opened her eyes to see if he was awake, he was not, his breathing still steady and his face in a neutral position. Her finger started to circle his dark nipple, she sank her body weight on top of his abdomen and rested her forehead on his chest, her soft digits inched along both sides of his clavicle. “Fucking delicious menance Tommy.” Vel hummed into his chest, sturdy hands took hold of her hips.

“Am I now? Right back at ya Sweet Pea. I thought I was having a damn good dream. Looks like wakin’ up is even better. Didn’t know you were such a vixen.” A low hum emerged from Tommy’s lips and he sat up, holding her over his hips. “Don’t move, you’re ridin’ me this mornin’ Sweet Pea.” His eyes had a soft glow to them, placing his lips over hers before she could protest, he knew what she’d say, to lay her back down because she was too heavy, but he didn’t want to, He wanted to watch as she bounced on top. Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, grasping tight, unsure how much pressure to put on him. Tommy, released her hips to slide his boxers down, unleashing his swollen member from the cloth confines. He then slid her thin wet panties aside to touch her puffy lower lips, a long moan was released from Vel as the mixture of cool air and warm callused fingers entering her, made her squirm. “Sweet Pea, you’re ready for me this morning aren’t ya? Fuck Vel, we wasted too much time. I could have had a ring on your finger and Sarah could have a cousin or two.” Her eyes shot open, did he just…? She pulled back, making her ass press against his thick cock, a gasp escaped from his mouth.

“Tommy, d-did you just…what?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean Velora. You don’t want me to say three words fine. I know many a way to tell you the same damn thing woman.”

“Well you wanna try this morning?” Her suggestion made him kiss her neck, licking it as his fingers pumped inside of her slowly. “T-Tommy, give me your…”

“My what Sweet Pea? I’ll have to be careful where I call you Sweet Pea. I can’t have you gettin’ this wet at a cookout.” He smiled into her neck, before biting it. One of Vel’s hands grasped the back of his head, tugging it toward her neck.

“Fuck Tommy. Your cock. I want your cock. I’ll make a baby with you. Give it to me.” She yelped as his fingers started to move faster, her nectar dripping down his palm.

“Not yet, I have to show you who can find your pussy with these fingers.” His mouth left her neck and found her lips again, biting her lower lip as she moaned his name. He could watch her like this for the next hour, maybe hours. 

“Don’t be an ass about it Tommy.” Her hips were moving faster, her hands came back to his shoulders as she began moving up and down instead of in a circle.

“Look at you, quick study like always Sweet Pea. Be my angel and soak my fingers.” Tommy commanded, curing his head to nipple at the top of her breast. He felt her squeezing his fingers, then the flood of her slick down his wrist as he slowed down his fingers to match her body’s release and subsequent decrescendo. She sat panting on his lap, her eyes heavy as she met his dark brown orbs again. “Velora, you’re sure I can cum inside you? We still have a shit ton to talk about.” He saw her nod but needed her to speak to him so he didn’t move.

“Tommy, I’ve dreamt of you getting me pregnant and raising a family with you. We’ll work out the details later. It may not even happen this go around. We’ll have plenty of other times to practice. I love you Tommy Miller. I want to make a home with you and a family.” Velora kissed Tommy’s forehead and reached behind her ass, taking his hot member in her hand, teasing his head, “I too am not going to let anyone else have this cock if I have anything to say about it.”

Tommy wondered why he hadn’t seen it, how he could have been so blind, but that moment passed, “Did you have me not tell you I love you so you could say it first?” Vel chuckled as her small hand stroked his cock, “You’re my petty ass vixen angel and I love you. Take off that gown. We don’t fuck clothes in this house.” A beamng chuckle was shared between them as she removed her gown and tossed it on the floor and Tommy assisted her in lifting up to remove her panties, he then shimmied his boxers off and he sat her right back in his lap. “Ready Velora? I’ll ease you in slow.” 

Velora’s hand guided Tommy’s cock to her soaked folds, slipping inside of her easier than she thought, though she didn’t expect her hips to slam flush with his. She let out a loud whimper from the expansion inside of her, the pulsing heat, the grimace disappearing from his face once he was inside of her, she remained still to adjust and was unsure if she should move, it felt as if he was piercing her womb and stomach. It felt like they were finally in the right place and the right time with each other. But she wanted more, she would take from him until he had nothing left to offer her, He hadn’t said a word until she pulled on his shoulders and pressed her feet into the bed to move up, only making it where half of his cock was still inside of her. “Tommy, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this too long, damn…did you get bigger while in Ireland?”

Tommy still didn’t answer, he was focusing on not shooting his load into her after she sat her full weight on him. Velora was able to take all of him in one stroke, a feat that hadn’t been performed by any other woman he had been with. Now with her moving, he was twitching even more and it felt as if the wrong move or loss of concentration would have him prematurely released. However, when she commented about his size, his eyes open to see the woman that he loved struggling to ride him, it was breathtakingly slow, the perfect pace to make him last longer. “Sweet Pea, I’m gonna be rough for a few, you’re doing the Lord’s work up there. Need to know how it feels to fill you to the brim with my seed Velora.” Bewildered, Vel’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he began, taking ownership of her hips and forcing his upward into her, she truly started to spring off his member, leaving only his bulbous head inside of her before bringing her back down so his balls smacked her ass.

“Goddamit Tommy! I’m gonna break, Ah…Tom-Tommy..” Her voice cracked as she screamed, one hand dug into his shoulder, her nails drawing blood from his skin as her other hand cemented itself at the base of his skull. Her back was already arching, she was trying to stop her walls from sputtering, to draw this sensation out, him making her and her cunt cry for him. Miller’s grunts increased with his pace, his goal was to stuff her with his cum and he would succeed this morning. His mouth found her round shoulder, her light stretch marks broke though the rest of her brown skin, he started licking them, but felt his teeth start to dig into the soft flesh. “Ah..chew baby, Bite me Tommy..!” She continued to call his name, it was a ballad leading to their mutual end. Velora came first, her nails, raking across his back and head as her cunt attempted to milk his cock of its contents. Tommy was able to get in a few more pumps before he felt it, finally, thick ropes coated her walls as he moaned her name into her shoulder, tasting something metallic on his lips. They remained still, regaining air in their lungs, Tommy fell on his back with Vel on top of him, her breasts landing on either side of his head as her chest fell on his face.. He tilted his chin up and landed a string of kisses in between and on the tops of her breasts. She hummed as she stroked his hair, feeling him soften and start to slip out of her stretched pussy. Thankfully, only halfway.

“Velora, you alright honey? Didn’t break I see. You’re too strong of a woman for that.” His familiar glow returned to his face as she looked down at him and nodded. 

“I’m better than I thought I would be. You might be the death of me yet Tommy. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to just relax again.” Her bubbly sounds had Tommy trace his hands along her love handles and back. 

“If anything, I’ll go first. You started it this morning, remember?” He reminded her as she raised up off his flaccid cock and plopped beside him and he pulled the covers over the both of them. His hands returned to her waist as she nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “We’ll have to check our injuries later, let’s get some sleep. I love you Velora.”

“I love you too Tommy.” The two found sleep in each other's arms for the time being.

The next morning…

A series of loud knocks was at Velora’s front door.

Sarah had been adamant about seeing her uncle Tommy. Joel and Tess tried to assure her that he’s fine, he’s resting up from his long flight, which might be true though Joel doubted it. The fact remind that he did leave his bags at his place from when he drove Velora home last night. Sarah was worried that Tommy may not be happy with Aunt V going out on dates and he could have argued with her and might be moping around his house. It was plausible and Tess found it convenient to need to drive into town for a meeting or two, which she did not have to do before this conversation started.

“You shoulda never told a child about grown folks business.. Tess.”

“Sarah’s a teen, not an idiot. She knows things have been weird with them. Plus she overheard Vel and I talking, I didn’t tell her anything.”

“And now you have to go? After you start some shit?”

“They were meetings I thought were pushed back and now the parties want to meet. It’s annoying and horrible timing but -”

“Seems like good timing for you.”

“Joel, don’t start that shit again. You always do this get mad at me and then-”

“And then you leave and stay gone, not talking to me for weeks or months at a time. Would it kill you to be consistent Tess? Lord knows I am.”

Tess held up her hands, done with the conversation for now. She headed for the door. “Joel, I’ll be back later tonight. Take that time to calm down so we can talk like two adults.”

Joel crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. He felt small arms wrap around him. “Dad, why don’t you just talk to her instead of picking a fight?” The older Miller brother kissed his daughter’s forehead and smiled. 

“Your old man’s stubborn as a mule baby girl. I gotta be right, even if it kills me.”

“We���re going to take uncle Tommy’s stuff by his house right? I want to show him my new trophy. I fell asleep before I could show him last night. Joel couldn’t say no even though he was fairly certain his brother wouldn’t be home. Gathering Tommy’s junk, he threw it in his truck and drove over to the house. His brother’s truck was absent from the driveway so since he had a key he dropped off the bags inside. Sarah still insisted on seeing him so he drove to Velora’s where now he was knocking on the door. 

When there was no answer, he turned to his daughter who shocked him once again,

“You think they’re going to be friends with benefits or actually date? But they know each other pretty well so maybe not for long. I’m going to be a bridesmaid or the maid of honor.”

“Sarah honey, that’s putting the cart before the horse baby girl.”

“Dad. I’m fourteen. I know these things.”

“Where did my sweet girl go? I don’t want you to know these things.”

Tommy climbed out of bed first, he heard chatter outside the door so he figured he had some time. He relieved himself in the bathroom and grabbed a warm rag for Vel, cleaning between her legs. He couldn’t help but use two fingers to push some of his cum that had leaked out back in, that made her flinch and wake up. “Good morning Sweet Pea, better late than never. Fell asleep before I could clean ya. Someone’s at the door. Goin’ to tell them to kick rocks.” She nodded and rolled over toward the nightstand to check the time, two in the afternoon? It was pretty late.

Tommy popped his jeans on and didn’t worry about boxers. The cold floor felt good under his bare feet as he walked to the door, now on the other side, he heard two voices that he didn’t want to see right this minute. “Welp, it was going to happen sooner or later.” He unlocked the door and swing it open, 

“Afternoon brother, little Peanut.” Joel noted Tommy’s messy hair that was sticking all over the place and that he seemed to have some bruises on his abdomen. Dammit, really? My daughter has to see you like this…

“Hey little brother. We took your crap to your house. You good? Your hair is a little…” Joel studdered, first Tess and now Tommy, why were the adults he knew so damn bothersome and exposing his sweet daughter to things she shouldn’t know until she’s his age, scratch that, he needs to be cold in the ground before Sarah even thinks about, such things.

“Uncle Tommy, is Aunt V alright? If you look like that, what does she look like? Did you put a hurt on her?” The youngest Miller asked with a head tilt. Both men remained silent. Joel was the one now with his arms crossed and rocking between his heels and the balls of his feet. 

“She’s taking a bit of a nap right now, Peanut. I can stop by the house later-” 

“I'm alright, You should maybe go get freshened up though Tommy.” Velora walked up behind Tommy in a loose gray t-shirt and black leggings and tugged on the waist of his jeans to signal he should head back inside. Vel stood in the doorway and gave a stern look to Sarah before bursting into laughter. “You’re a firecracker young lady. You’re going to give both your father and uncle heart attacks. Please let your father hold onto his dream that you’re still his baby girl.”

Sarah stepped forward and gave her aunt a hug, patting her back and niggling into her. She whispered, “Aunt V, you look a lot happier. Both Dad and Uncle Tommy can be kinda dumb so don’t be too mad at him.” Vel chuckled and patted the teen’s head,

“I won’t. I promise. All adults are dumb at times, Peanut. It’s our claim to fame. I love you, you little scamp.” She kissed her forehead and let her go, Joel nodded and he headed back to the truck and left with Sarah. Asking her questions about what she knew about ‘putting a hurt on someone’ and where she had heard it. He didn’t really want to know, he just needed to identify whose knees he needed to break for telling his daughter this information.

Tommy was in the shower, using Velora’s green tea and jasmine body wash. It smelled nice on her, he wasn’t much for smelling like a flower, but he did need to be clean. He was lathering his chest when his Sweet Pea entered the shower naked and put her hand over his, helping him to lather himself. He chuckled at her eagerness to touch him, he was planning on initiating later but he wasn’t opposed to having a bit of slippery fun. He reached beyond the shower curtain and grabbed a second washcloth, the basket they had been neatly folded in fell over, but that could be tidied later. Tommy was quick to wet it and turned around, nearly falling back against the shower wall at Vel’s hair in her hot pink shower cap. Her lips pinched together as she pushed slightly on his chest to signal she was not amused. 

“Sweet Pea, you can’t tell me that’s not funny though. It had to be that neon, bright ass pink?” He cackled in between her soft hits with the soapy washcloth.

“Dammit Tommy, you know I can’t get my hair wet unless I plan to wash it and do that whole process. Stop laughing..ha, ha.” The woman started giggling along with him, the pair of them laughing until they wheezed. 

Tommy took his washcloth and ran it over Velora’s shoulders and took special care under her arms. He rung the washcloth out over her breasts and added more of the body wash to make the lather thicker before circling around each breast, carefully lifting them from their lowered position. Velora continued to drag her washcloth across his chest, then around to his back until she lowered it just before reaching his butt. She then brought it back to the front and wiped up and down on his abdomen eliciting a few more chuckles from the mustached man. Tommy started in the middle of her stomach and branched out with larger strokes before starting on her back. He then paused,

“So how do you want to take care of below the waist?” 

“I think we should each do our own, I don’t trust you not to start fingering me and I don’t want soap in my pussy.” 

“You know me so well Sweet Pea.” He answered with a smirk and made sure to clean his cock and balls well and ended with his ass as Vel did the same. They rinsed off and Vel stepped out of the shower first to set a few towels on the floor to soak up the water she was dripping and to grab two towels, one for each of them. After drying off, Vel put on the same t-shirt and black capris she had on before, they had been fresh out of the drawer so she didn’t mind putting the back on. Tommy slipped on a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt from his drawer in Velora’s bedroom. Tommy headed to the kitchen to start some coffee and make some brunch. He found eggs, onions, peppers, cheese and toasted some bread with some apple butter. Velora was finishing up the bathroom when she smelled his cooking, her mother told her not to trust a man who can cook when she was younger, but Vel found it to be one of the many sexy qualities Tommy had, among others that she could put her hands on now.

She walked out to her small kitchen and got some plates and glasses down to get the table. It could fit four people comfortably though it was on the smaller side, with just the two of them, it was just the right size. Tommy dished up the food, he made three pieces of toast for each of them, after he set the frying pan in the sink and ran some water in it, they sat down to eat, in silence for the first few bites. 

“So…should we talk about things or…?”

“I mean we can. I guess we should start with whose house we’re gonna live in. Yours is on the smaller side Vel. makes sense since it’s just you living here, but…”

“No I mean, about before. We moved things pretty fast and you never told me about how your trip went with, well what you were going to do, though we weren’t really speaking at the time.” Velora moved a piece of her omelet around on her plate as she bit into her toast.

Sitting back in his chair, Tommy crossed his arms and sighed, “Do we really need to talk about it? I went, took care of my guys’ ashes and came back. Yeah I was gone longer, but I needed time to think. I couldn’t do that…”

“While you were here. While you may have to face me, is that it?” She asked, looking up from her plate. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“What about you? While I was gone, you’re out here setting up dates left and right. I know that was your one friend who doesn't think I’m shit who told you to do that and you did it! I had to hear it from Joel of all people. That was weird as shit.” he shook his head, recalling the conversation, it had been unnerving. 

Velora took a deep breath, “I told you about it when you came back and we finally talked before and we…I was honest about it. I didn’t need to hide, I came to fucking Joel’s house with all that damn pizza and listening to tess talking about meetings and travel! I didn’t want to go, seeing you…it, I was happy to know that you were okay, but I felt guilty and hurt Tommy.” Her eyes never parted from his, the intensity of them caused him to look away, but the veteran was drawn right back.

“I know. I was in shock when Sarah mentioned on the drive home that you were going to be there. I honestly didn’t think you would want to see me, given how I reacted when you said what you said after we made love. You can say it, you know Velora. We’ve made love twice now.” Tommy grinned, trying to lighten things up a bit, but to no avail.

“I know I told you that I needed time.” Velora paused to try and figure out her phrasing. Tommy titled his head, trying to anticipate what she may say, he hoped it wasn’t that they should see how things go. He was serious about moving their relationship forward. “I’d rather we talked about things and made some future plans. We skipped ahead on the babymaking front. I didn’t think I’d…well I knew I wanted to but…” Her cheeks were becoming hot once again, having a child with her best friend and crush Tommy Miller had been a fantasy. Now she may have actually done it without dating, marriage, deciding where they’re going to live, none of that. It made her giddy that he wanted to see her pregnant and have a child with her, but what would come with it? Was she prepared for that?

“Velora, well I won’t say relax because we’re needing to make some major decisions.” Tommy rose from his chair and stood behind Vel, placing one hand on each shoulder and kissed her temple. She took a few sips of water for her throat that was painfully dry now.  “One step at a time honey. It’s alright we don’t know right now. We just started this together. Plus we gotta move you into my house, this kitchen’s too damn small and I got room in my master bath to expand the shower.” Vel coughed on the water, setting an elbow on the table before cradling her forehead in it. 

“Lord above you really are trying to kill me Miller.” Their expressions of joy echoed through the small kitchen as they continued their meal and bikered about whose house should be sold, which mattress should be in the master bedroom and who has the better office.

Six months later…

Velora plops another rose near the mailbox. She already had brought three over from the back of Tommy’s truck. She had borrowed it to drive to the florist to pick up her order that she had placed last week. Set on adding more color to the front yard, she had added yellow tulips near the large front window that was off of the living room. Red was what she wanted on the corner around the mailbox. She took to gardening well, finding it was calming in addition to decorating her new home. She and Tommy had closed on her small home last month and were able to make a sizable profit from it. Due to the time constraints though, she sold much of her furniture except what was left to stage the house. Tommy, Joel and Sarah had helped moved her items into Tommy’s larger house. Velora had fussed about it, but she knew it was the right choice, moving into his house. It was her first house though, she remembered when Tommy had helped her move in.

Standing up from her leaning over position, she felt light-headed and had to lean on the mailbox, thankfully it was sturdy and she was quickly able to regain her balance. Her head swam for a minute but then calmed. It was happening more frequently and it worried her. Tommy had asked her to cut back on her hours at work, go to part time at the hospital. She was stubborn and refused, stating that it happened from time to time, she was fine, it would pass. It’s been two months of symptoms off and on again. What really worried her was her tender breasts and back pain. They didn’t seem connected and both had been happening since she hit puberty decades ago. She didn’t mention it to Tommy though, didn't want to worry him. Heading back inside the house, she called and made a doctor’s appointment, relenting that she may need to have things checked out, though whenever she had scans before they were always benign and she was advised to lose weight. “They’ll just tell me the same damn thing.”

Tommy was thriving, sure he had way too many pillows on his couch now, but he was able to convince Sweet Pea to keep some on the bed and in the guest bedrooms, at least break them up some. The little touches as far as plants, new colors of green, reds and yellows, nothing overbearing but more accents to his neutral home. In the pillows, but also in the towels, rugs, blankets for when they would watch movies on said couch and even a few shirts in his closet. He only wore those colors for her, no one else though. Tommy brought up the topic of marriage first saying that before a baby came, he wanted to have a ring on her finger and a certificate in his hand. Velora shook her head at him as usual and asked him how he planned to do that. She was washing dishes, wearing just one of her oversized t-shirts and panties. 

“Well, like this Sweet Pea. You thought you were gonna be stuck with me before. Now we’re going to make it official.”

“Miller, we moved in together three months ago, don’t you think it’s a little soon to-” His arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her cheek.

“No it’s not. I told you we’d do one step at a time. This is the next step. We can make it big or small. Besides, I got this ring on sale.” He chuckled in her ear and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a small box. Vel dried her hands and turned around.

“Tommy I’m not taking some mood ring you got on…that’s a box. An actual box.”

“Yes. Wait, you thought I was gonna fake you out with a mood ring? What kind of man do you take me for?” Tommy exaggerated his fake outrage, crossing his hand over his chest and stumbling back. “You wound me…Vel how could you?” 

Velora shook head again, her face in her hands, not believing what she was seeing. The punk did get her a ring. She hadn’t asked for one, she honestly thought it would be next year before she got one, they hadn’t even made wedding plans yet. “You keep surprising me every day Tommy. I find you as annoying as much as I adore you.”

“I’ll take that as a yes honey. Put this on so I can see it on the pretty hand of yours.” He removed the gold ring from the box and slid it on her finger. He held her hand as he moved it around, it appeared to be a little loose. “I was sure I got the size right. Vel, did you lose some weight?” His eyes squinted at her hand, they didn’t look much different so he released her hand and grabbed her hips making her gasp.

“Tommy! I haven’t lost any weight. We just have to get it re-sized. I’m still going to wear it anyway until we do. It’s beautiful.” She admired it, a 6 mm band with 1 carat diamond in an oval setting. “Wait, how much was this?”

Tommy ignored the question, his hands were roaming her hips and love handles, she felt a little less, though she didn’t look it. He would know, the man felt her up daily, several times a day. “Sweet Pea, when’s your appointment? I’m going to come with you.” Vel kissed his cheek before placing her left hand on it.

“You don’t need to, I’m fine. They’re just going to tell me I need to rest or drink more water or lose weight like they always do. It’s why I usually just go for my physical yearly and not much else.” She explained. Tommy knew not to press her too hard on it, they were both stubborn so he would just worry instead. A distraction was in order they had gotten a new dining room table, Vel had called his old table “musty” for the mismatched driftwood it had been made of. The dark cherrywood suited the otherwise light room perfectly, drawing your attention to it. 

Tommy used his hands on his fiancé’s hips to guide her back toward the table, he reached and lifted her ass onto the table. “What’s gotten into you now? Don’t be picking me up like that. You’ll end up with a back like your brother.” He tugged on her panties pulling them down to her knees and then off. Squating, he used his forearms to part her thighs before nibbling her sensitive skin. 

“If I get a bad back from lifting you Sweet Pea, I’m gonna make sure it’s well earned. Let me taste my fiance. I wonder if now you’ll be more savory or honeyed.” He felt her put her legs over his shoulders and place her calves against his back, by now, she was aware of the position he wanted her in for his meals.

“How does that make any sense? Shit…don’t just use one love. I always need more.” Her hips bucked at the insertion of his finger, he was teasing her, leaning toward her mound and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with her scent, intoxicating as he found it.

“My greedy girl. I aim to please ya always.” A second digit followed, pumping into her down to the knuckle, usually he worked his fingers in slower but her juices were dribbling onto the wood table, making it glisten. “May have to use your nectar to polish the table later, Sweet Pea.” Tommy ran his other hand up her shirt, pulling it to reach her cushy belly. He placed a kiss on it before placing his hand on the small of her back and scooting her hips forward to start to curl his fingers inside of her, a small spongy depression he discovered inside her months ago that had her babble in between obscenities. Peering upward, his head was hung forward toward her chest, hands firmly on the table, arms taunt, forcing her pelvis to meet his hand. “Almost there Vel, a little more…” His thumb plucked the small bundle of red flesh hidden at the top of her slit. A feral growl left his love as his fingers were taken from her, thighs pulled his upper body forward. 

“Tommy…Either put your fingers back in or use your mouth. You will not leave me like this on our dining room table. Didn’t you just say you ‘aim to please’?” His snickers echoes against her drenched mound, his breath, rolling over her sweltering skin.

“I do, but you know I like my pleasantries. I’m a Southern gentleman.” Velora couldn’t see his face, but she could picture his lips curving upward, forever teasing her. She guessed she knew what it was about, she was able to keep her balance with one hand as the other twirled in his soft onyx waves.

“A gentleman now huh? Who leaves a lady wanting? Not sure I want a gentleman then. I want the same man who told me he was starving and I had to make sure he had a warm meal.” Her voice raspy from her screams, cracking when she spoke. Tommy flicked his tongue on her clit, then blew on it.

“Not my exact words, but I’d hate to make such a beautiful woman wait.” He felt Vel release his hair as he plunged into her moist cunt, lapping at entrance, grunting with the roll of her hips toward his face. His mustache tickled her clit each time he pulled back to take a small gasp of air. Her body went rigid as her peak was reached and Tommy shot up to wrap his arms around her waist easing her down on the table. “Easy Sweet Pea, easy Velora…” He kissed her chin, her hands reached for his face and licked his lips, 

“I think I’m more savory than Sweet love. May need to change my nickname.” The veteran’s head dropped into her chest, matching her laughter. He now knew how sturdy the new table was. It could stay.

One week later…

Joel pulled up to the florist’s shop. He needed to send flowers for the condolences of one of their frequent customers who would use them for construction contracts. The man’s mother had died and the elder Miller brother in his effort to be more sociable, was following more social cues. He also was doing what his daughter had suggested and ‘ghosting’ Tess. He didn’t feel great about it, but Sarah had advised to ignore her calls and texts since they couldn’t agree to which direction their relationship should go. Joel wanted a partner, someone who he would be comfortable having in his life with his daughter. Tess got along with Sarah just fine, because they didn’t spend much time together outside of a few weeks or a month. His sometimes partner was just fine with that arrangement, thus their disagreement. The man was currently distracted though so he wouldn’t be answering any calls, he was placing his order with the same florist who V had been getting her flowers from. On the glowing recommendation, he ventured into the shop and was met with a woman who had a silver streak in her otherwise strawberry blonde hair. She gave him a warm smile, wiped her hands off on her apron before reaching out for a handshake, it was firm and she had callaouses as well from the different plants she had worked with, a small pink mark was on her neck. Joel wondered what it was from, he did eventually place his order, but they ended up comparing handshakes, whose accent was stronger, discussing children, trucks and work boots. A warmth that Joel hadn’t felt since his wife passed spread in his chest, her name Andy, she had told him like the sheriff from ‘The Andy Griffith Show.” The two laughed over the reference and that their children had no idea who the man was. 

Velora sat next to Tommy on the plane. He had asked her to set aside three particular weeks in September. Vel agreed as long as he didn’t have a flash mob or a minister to marry them at an airport. He defended himself by telling her she may be the one to take them to a drive through wedding chapel if she can find one, just to save some time and money. Her head found Tommy’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She felt safe and terrified. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with him before leaving the country, well maybe she did, but she got cold feet, she was also nervous. It was happy news, but more than anything, she didn’t want to stop working. She knew Tommy would insist on her not working or at the very least, going on light duty, a compromise. Not a bad one if she was being honest. The flight was nearly thirteen hours, Tommy had done this by himself? There were points when they did move around and chat about what their actual wedding plans would be. Something small at the courthouse with immediate family and a reception at their house in the backyard, unsure of where they were going for their honeymoon, it was decided they could figure that one out later. Holding Tommy’s hand as the plane finally started its descent, Velora resolved to tell him one way or another. 

The emerald grass crunched under their boots as they walked gingerly in the forest behind the cabin they were staying in. It was cozy and Tommy smiled to himself that Vel was indeed holding onto his arm for any warmth she could gather. He surprised her with the destination of Ireland, but he wanted to show her it’s beauty that he had seen on a much more somber trip. His fiance had been the first person he thought to bring here besides his brother and niece. They were on their way back from the same rocky outcrop that he spread the ashes over some months ago. Velora held his hand as he teared at the memory, glad that she was here with him this time and for every journey the pair would take after. Velora stopped and Tommy did as well, wondering why she had stopped walking.

“We’re almost there Sweet Pea. We can warm up and drink hot chocolate. Might even go out and try some brennivin. One glass though, it will knock you on your ass, almost got me.” He was trying to lighten the mood after this visit to the site. Vel shook her head and it made him confused, she looked nervous.

“I-I have something to tell you. Honestly, I had to think about it and wrap my head around it, because normally it's never anything.” A strong gust blew through the trees whipping the leaves loudly to where the puzzled man saw her mouth move but didn’t hear. He made out, ‘we’re…’ What? All of her body language changed, like she was about to burst, whatever it was it was happy, so was it what he thought?

“Say again Vel, I can’t hear you.” He pointed to his ears but she lunged toward him and cupped his face, giving his lips a peck. The wind had started to calm but was tossing her ponytail in every direction. “Tell me what earned me that.” He grinned.

“We’re pregnant! You’re going to be a father Tommy!” Snot was starting to run down her nose and her eyes were squinted due to the air currents, a mess, but to Tommy it was the face of the mother of his child. The only face he needed to see until the baby was born. His outcry of joy was matched by the enthusiasm in which he picked up Velora and spun her around. She screamed for him to put her down, her laughter spurring him on, eventually he did and tugged her along to their cabin where they lit the fireplace. 

Tommy insisted that they shower and she spread out on the bed so he can put his head to her belly. She assured her fiance that it was too early for that but no was not an option. As her nails lightly scratched his scalp, Tommy rubbed his head on his other half’s stomach, knowing that a new life was growing inside of her.

“Thank you Velora. You’ve given me so much over the years. Now you’re giving me a little Miller and a future too. I love you Sweet Pea.” Closing his eyes, he listened to Velora breathe, her hand was still in his hair but she had fallen asleep. With a light huff, his fingers ran up her arm and traced her jaw, ending on her soft lips. “I’ll tell you again when you wake up, Velora. Rest up honey, we’ve a long road ahead together.”

Moots who might like it: @maggiemayhemnj @laurfilijames @rhoorl @fhatbhabie @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @guelyury @perotovar @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @morallyinept @legendary-pink-dot @undercoverpena @beabliss @grogusmum @sp00kymulderr @magpiepillsjunior @for-a-longlongtime @pamasaur @linzels-blog @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#tommy miller x plus size reader #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller smut #Tommy miller angst #tommy miller fluff #fanfiction #I needed more Tommy Miller so I wrote this

[soupthatistohot]

How did Chuuya react to Dazai defecting?

My thoughts on the matter ;)

In the Stormbringer author’s note Asagiri-sensei alluded that Chuuya’s reaction to losing his partner isn’t necessarily as presented (he includes it in a list of things that happened to Chuuya that perhaps he’ll expand upon one day), but what exactly does that mean?

I have my own headcanons based off my interpretation of the character, but of course everyone is entitled to their opinion, this is just mine!

Firstly, skk shippers love to bring up the ‘89 bottle of Petrus, and I see a lot of people who say that he didn’t drink it as a celebration, but rather in mourning of Dazai’s defection. I… half agree with this. In my opinion, Chuuya is telling the truth, and at the same time he isn’t. He absolutely thinks that he drank that wine as a celebration, but in reality there’s a part of him that he repressed how he felt about Dazai leaving. Maybe he just told himself he was celebrating enough that he came to believe it, or maybe he doesn’t really believe it but it’s too late to go back on that now. Either way, for as emotional and intense as Chuuya can be, he’s certainly not above repression, especially after losing so much at that point in his life.

I also believe that Chuuya never thought Dazai was dead, that’s something he wouldn’t lie to himself about. He knew Dazai too well to actually believe he got murdered or finally successfully committed suicide. Perhaps he entertained the idea for a moment, but in the end he would’ve come to the obvious conclusion: Dazai just left.

And on that topic, here’s another way in which I differ with some people on this subject— I don’t think Chuuya was particularly angry. In fact, I don’t think he would have been all that surprised after the initial shock of learning of his partner’s defection. I think he was well aware that Dazai wasn’t a loyal individual, and he’s not stupid enough to be blind to the fact that Dazai was a danger to Mori. All of this taken into consideration, Dazai defecting from the PM isn’t really all that unpredictable or uncharacteristic. What probably surprised and frustrated him more was finding out the bastard worked for the ADA years later.

This isn’t to say he still wasn’t upset by the circumstances. At the end of the day, the partner who he trusted his life to and had an inextricably deep bond with suddenly disappeared. Especially after all he went through with the sheep, the flags, Verlaine and Rimbaud, and other unnamed friends he lost (his biological family, the PM members referenced in DA), it would have hurt. Yet, at the same time, it’s because he previously endured all this that he would be compelled to subconsciously repress this hurt— especially because it’s Dazai of all people! It’s quite easy to pretend not to be upset about the partner you constantly feuded with and who was objectively a horrible person leaving your life. And on the other hand, it’s far more difficult to come to terms with the fact that you actually care for him and perhaps even miss him.

So do I think Chuuya had some big mental breakdown after Dazai left? No. Do I think he truly didn’t care at all, just as he says he did? Also no. I think he had very complicated feelings on the matter, most of which he subconsciously repressed under the guise of being glad his rival was finally gone.

The only thing is… now that Dazai is back in his life, will any of these buried emotions unearth themselves?

#chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #skk #soukoku #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #character analysis #soup rants

[mondscheinprinzessin]

random Niko/Joel shortfic

“…fight for power when one singer wants the spotlight more than the other- I can’t read this anymore.” Niko said in a loud voice, obviously annoyed, ripping Joel out of his daydreams. “This is stupid, what do they know about us? We’ve had our fights yes, but never about who wants to be the front person - there is no main singer in this band, when will they understand this and stop writing needless articles about our possible future break-up, none of these scenarios will happen.”

Surprisingly well-aimed, Niko threw the magazine in the bin next to the small table under the TV, and with a big sigh fell backwards on the bed behind him.

Joel, who had been following the end of the scene with his eyes instead of that random instagram reel on his phone, had to smile a little. It wasn’t the first time they had this talk within the band, and while Joel was known to go on rants on every topic possible, Niko was right behind him in getting furious when the media outlets speculated about their dynamics and “sudden” band accomplishments.

Also, Joel couldn’t deny that it was hot seeing Niko spitting flames. His long hair in waves around him as if controlled by his voice, green eyes lightning up, and his body size doubling with heated words.

With one long stride, Joel lay down next to Niko, the small hotel bed not giving the chance to leave much space between them, but Joel was happy enough about this fact since it gave him the perfect excuse last night to fall asleep on Niko’s chest.

Right now though he perched his head on his own hands, watching Niko’s face, holding back words in favour of smiling at him. Red cheeks were luring his fingers to stroke them but he retained from touching his boyfriend for the minute.

“What?” Niko asked, less upset now, but with a crease between his brows still. “What’s so funny about it? All they want is to see us fall when we’ve worked so hard for this. But no, they want to watch us ripping ourselves apart as if we’re lions trapped in a cage for the amusement of everyone around us.”

Not able to hold back any longer, Joel half fell, half rolled onto Niko and kissed his path up his neck to his mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He said and dodged the hand that wanted to slap him away.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! I just gave you a compliment.”

Niko grumbled but then his face softened. “You’re right, they can all kiss my ass. They don’t know how happy I am, and it’s sad that’s all they can write about us.” His green eyes found Joel’s and one of his hands lifted to slip his hair behind his ear, lingering to trace a finger down his jaw. “I never want to fight you about our position, you know that right?” His voice was soft now as if afraid to broach the subject again.

Joel was aware that everyone in the band knew about this insecurity of his because it did spark conflicts in the past, but not because Niko really did try to shove Joel out, but because Joel was afraid it could happen eventually after he failed too many times. Over the time he had learned and understood and accepted that none of the guys wanted to do this without him, and particularly Niko wouldn’t try to vote Joel out. After all, he loved him.

That’s why Joel answered assured, “I know.”

“I don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore. I don’t fucking care what anyone else would say about that. You’re part of who I am now, the most important piece of me.”

Now that’s the Niko Joel knew. The poetic, love declaring man that still managed to make Joel blush with his words and left him speechless, which was not easy to achieve.

Joel buried his face into Niko’s neck to hide his face and grin of happiness, a warm feeling spreading through him, and he would’ve loved to stop time to prolong this moment, to let go of the knowledge that they would have to go up soon for soundcheck. Right now he only wanted to bathe in Niko’s love, stay in their little bubble a while longer.

“Don’t say something like that.” He said nevertheless, still embarrassed whenever Niko directed such lovely words towards him no matter how much Joel enjoyed them. He just couldn’t get used to it and didn’t know how to behave.

“Too late. I love you, nothing you can do about that.”

“We will see about that.” Joel replied, the grin having turned into a smirk, his hands slowly creeping up Niko’s side and his fingers immediately tickling over his skin once he saw his chance.

“Don’t you dare!” Was all Niko could bring out before he was lost in laughter and tried to fight Joel off.

#found this in my doc and I have no idea what I have written it for #it wasn't for an idiots in love prompt and none of the other asks I read seems to fit #but hey if this seems like something you have wished for just pretend its for you personally😄 #Also have you noticed that this is short and sweet? Really rare with me I know #Apparently I already uploaded this once lol

[marengogo]

if said content was from someone whose account name was related to thinking my best friend and i were romantically involved, i'd check out the account before reposting (even if the content i was planning on reposting didn't have anything to do with said shipping thoughts)

i don't blame th, but i do wish he checked the account 😞

TW: mention of triggering words/actions such as “rape” but not the actual action.

Hi Anon,I hope you can forgive me for using your post to address a topic I've been meaning to discuss. The following has absolutely nothing like for real 💜🙏🏾 against you, but it kinda sets the perfect scenario, so imma take advantage it. BUT imma offer you a jikook hug in exchange, hope you can accept this for your very honest and not blaming frustration 🥹🫰🏾💜

So the topic is: SHIPPING.

Remember that chapter 2 blog which I promised, but NEVER delivered? 🤡🤡🤡 Yeah, so,shipping was going to be one of the many subsections of that blog, which to be honest with you, is sitting unfinished in my draft, and most likely will stay like that … BUT, luckily for me not sure for y’all 😬😬 today serves itself as a perfect day to actually give it an applicable context. Through today's familiar mayhem, I read a post which I think will give the perfect context to the topic of shipping. It is a post from @akookminsupporter, the following one:

I actually happen to agree with this 100%, because I do agree that we don’t want the people we stan to directly, or indirectly, endorse problematic situations, particularly those that are recognised as such universally. For example:

GENOCIDE a UNIVERSALLY KNOWN ISSUE and NOT DEBATABLE PROBLEM

RAPE a UNIVERSALLY KNOWN ISSUE and NOT DEBATABLE PROBLEM 

RACIAL SLURS a UNIVERSALLY KNOWN ISSUE and NOT DEBATABLE PROBLEM 

You get my point.

Now when it comes to shipping, it is WITHOUT A DOUBT one of the greatest plights within our fandom in particular, but in reality it is an issue in kpop and other music genres as a whole. Yet, the reality is that shipping is indeed a traditional tool REALLY HATE CALLING IT THAT BUT … that is almost always used as a means to a common and popular end. So the questions are: 

Do fans within the kpop fandom consider it an issue? Yes and No. 

Do people outside the kpop fandom consider it an issue? … Do they even know about it, or about it being a serious issue, within its perimeter?

Do the idols consider it an issue? … Yes? and No?

In its entirety, as all the questions don’t actually have a universally unanimous answer, SHIPPING in general, as of 17 January 2024, can’t be considered a universally known and agreeable issue. BUT, in the case of kpop, the situation is much worse. To begin with, we are unable to definitively agree on whether, or not, shipping is actually an issue to begin with, or not; be it the idol or the shipper. Nobody, in their right mind, is out there making jokes about, for example, genocide. If they are, they will righteously face big ass consequences by almost ANYONE who stumbles upon said comment/s. Shipping, on the other hand, the only people who would care, are the people within said field/environment. But, as I am a very integral part of this fandom, I know that, for us, it has become quite a nerve wracking issue, so let’s go a bit deeper.

Let’s go with the generally known concept within kpop that a debuting band is very likely to engage in fanservice and, consequently, form ships. The idols know, the fans know. Then, let’s give it 4 years? More or less many bands decided that “you know what? I don’t need to do this anymore” and as a consequence, some have tried to address this subject, and some just pretend to not know anymore. No matter the choice, the fact still remains that their related shippers were created, toxic or not, and 9 out of 10 cases; they ain’t going nowhere.

In the case of BTS, it is actually very funny because the only person who has allegedly tried to address this, is the one person who is constantly under fire for “feeding his shippers”. What is even funnier, to me at least, is that none of his 6 members actually came out to back him up, the day he challenged his viewers regarding shipping, at least not that I recall, if you know of any members that was actually supporting Tae, please let me know. So, if none of my bandmates seem to find it an imminent problem because let’s be honest, they had to deal with far bigger shit, apparently, and the company seems to not find it a panic-worth problem, apparently, then, if I were Tae, I’d be initially hella frustrated, but eventually I’d be like: FUCK IT. Which is the mentality I honestly think they all end up applying, in the kpop world.

So, what EXACTLY IS considered shipping? 

Repeatedly mentioning the name of a shipped/rival member? Posting pictures with a shipped/rival member? Touching a shipped/rival member? Spending time with shipped/rival member? Standing next to a shipped/rival member? Etc. Just so you know, If any, or all, of these qualify with shipping, then maknae line is UNIVERSALLY within our fandom FUCKED, and yes, only them, because, let’s be real, not many care about the shipping involving the hyung line, even though they do engage in the same type of behaviour … except for Yoongi, he is kinda in the middle, like some sort of collateral damage. 

So then what should we do? Should we completely ban shipping? Should shipping be banned maybe 4 years after the debut of all groups? Or should shipping have regulations, some kind of universal judge that presides and guides shipping behaviour? Should shipping fanfictions be abolished? Should unit names be restricted to the sole use of members? Should members cut out time in their life to make sure that they are aware of shipping and their consequences? Soooooo many questions, and probably tooooooo many answers, but the one fact still remains that MOST LIKELY these are all issues for those consuming the provided “shipping content” but not for those providing said “shipping content”, because for example:

And here I will be applying the parent/guardian/teacher/authority figure test, as in , for the next set of examples would any of the aforementioned figures be alarmed? Following are my test results  on whose problem it is, between the fandom and its idol.

A JM fan-dedicated birthday party, being crashed by rival shippers: Shippers problems. JM’s mail being stolen: Park Jimin problem, because tbh it could have been anyone, not necessarily a shipper.

JK having to look at a poster saying that he is in love with Tae at the airport: Shippers problems. JK having an actual stalker: Jeon Jungkook problem, because tbh it could have been anyone, not necessarily a shipper.

Tae posting a picture with an shipped/rival member: Shippers problems. Tae finding a girl in his private lift with a marriage certificate: Kim Taehuing problem, because tbh it could have been anyone, not necessarily a shipper.

And don’t get me wrong: name dragging, defaming, lying,character bashing, graphic obscenity, etc, they are all very painful issues to witness, and endure, but it always mainly occurs within the kpop environment. When articles write about perhaps a lazy member, when other fandoms drag our favs to pieces, in the end, when the global announcements are made, none of those descriptive, obscene qualities follow. Grammy nominated BTS, is just Grammy nominated BTS, not paving crew Grammy nominated BTS, or “worst fandom” fuck y’all possessing Grammy nominated BTS. ‘Namean?

Furthermore, the truth probably is that, at the level of BTS, the artist DOESN’T HAVE TO SEE ANY OF THAT BULLSHIT, which is why it ultimately ends up being an “US” issue. Even when toxic shippers reach higher entities, like the company, government offices etc, the second these entities see that it is about a ship, after I am hoping due diligence, they are dismissed, pronto. And so, reiterating, we are left with the bulk of it all 🤡🤡🤡.

So if, taking today as an example, Tae sees a post ABOUT HIMSELF not even his ship, just himself, by one of his shippers, we can assume that he has a pretty good idea about what might be on their page, which to be very honest, I won’t blame him for not wanting to check, but obviously, given all that we’ve been discussing, the idol themself is probably made to not have to think about it at all, as it is considered accepted, not acceptable, behaviour.  ALSO they would leave any related, and/or possible issues, to a designated team, which will assess if there is or not a real threat. Because historically, thus far at least, if there were any life-threatening hazards the company seems to take it VERY SERIOUSLY and any other threat is also dealt with accordingly. 

But what if, for example, by not checking the shipper’s page, Tae had allowed a human trafficking account to prolifer?! … let’s not 🧢:

TODAY, nobody was angry because of the fact that him not checking the page meant that he could have missed a potential infringement of human rights.

AND If they were a  human trafficking page, why is IG allowing them a platform and not quickly doing something about it?

In addition to the fact that, it is a real thing that, CURRENTLY, the accounts that are most likely to post about Tae aren't OT7s nor his biased fans (they may not be that fast or have the numbers) not even tae solos (for lack of numbers or different immediate priorities, such as streaming) but, you guessed it, taekook shippers. Hence, his algorithm will reflect accordingly. 

I mean, are we to tell JM to stop affectionately hug his members? Do we dare telling jk to stop liking shipping tiktoks or mention members' names? ….

All that just to say that @ejassy, in reality and effectively, by reposting said story, Tae wasn't actually endorsing shipping, because shipping in SK, differently from smoking or doing drugs, is generally not frowned upon. It is not an action or message that needs any kind of endorings, because within the kpop world, those who use it as a tool do not consider it a problem, hence, it is very openly accepted as a part of the culture they willingly, or not, help create. 

“But so-and-so gets dragged viciously, and disgustingly, everyday” I know. They probably know as well, but I’ve already discussed their responsible personnel. As for us, we know what to do, report report report! . I mean, I’m sure that they have a PR team that tells them about the good trends or good SM news, achievements, etc. “So what? .. we fans are stuck with toxic shippers and our favs not acknowledging or doing anything about it?” … 🤡🤡🤡

I don’t know.

We mostly all know about shipping culture’s systematic past, we know about its problematic present. In all honesty, it feels a bit like a lost battle but recently Kpop fans were able to make it known that, for example, for good reasons, they are against Starbucks. And it very effectively got to their idols, because said fans were united and in agreement. But within the shipping world, they all hate the other shipper and at the same time they kinda don't want to stop their own shipping, because they are really not against it, in fact, perhaps, they’d like some boundaries set, but who is to decide said boundaries? OR should shipping be considered a universal issue? … I think shipping has actually become an issue, particularly when regarding the queer community, BUT, what do I know, right? So, what's the solution ....

Y’all tell me.

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo.

PS - Once again, thank you Anon, now I'm off to bed 😴😴😴

#Marengo Specific Thoughts #Category Is - SHIPPING