#and so id very much like you to not do things that cause those situations please!

[v3nusxsky]

Hii can I request one where reader is a very good student and the type of person who never gets in trouble or anything, but one day Larissa gets called to go get them at the police station because they got in a really bad fight, so on the way back she is kind of scolding them and reader doesn't open their mouths until they get to the school and reader just can't leave the car because they're scared, turna out they got into that fight because some jerks where being very homophobic/transphobic towards them and tried to physically hurt them so reader was just protecting themselves.

I know it can be a bit confusing, but I hope you can understand

Set up

*Authors note~ venting my feelings for this*

Trigger warnings ~ homophobia shitty friends fake friends arrest for assault hinted sexual assault

Prompt~ see ask^^^

How did you get here? Head resting against the dirty block of wood as deep marron flowers adorned your hair, vines attempting to fight their way out of your ivory gloves. All clear signs of the deep pain you were in. Yet the officers didn’t seem to care here, all they cared about was that you had hit another person. Maybe if they’d asked why it would’ve made more sense. But they never do.

Larissa Weems was fuming, it was extremely unlike you to do something like this. Violence is something you are terrified of, she almost asked the officer to check the Id of her student again. It couldn’t be you. Only this time it was. Normally this journey is done to fetch Wednesday Addams, not her estranged twin. Wednesday being your complete opposite meant you were sent to live in a facility to help tame your powers from a young age. Mortica hated it but it was necessary as you could be a danger to everyone your near.

“Let’s go” Larissa demanded making sure to add her frustration and disappointment to her tone. She was expecting some fight, an explanation but all she got was silence. Much like the police officer had warned her. Since you were brought in and questioned for assault you’d said nothing. Odd. You’d spent many evenings in Larissa’s office to catch up on studies and you were never non verbal even when things were tough.

The car journey being the exact same silence, your eyes holding all your emotions along with the flowers in your hair. Really you were just processing what happened which meant you couldn’t escape your head. Everything and everyone around you blurred into the background until the engine shut off.

“Come on daring” Larissa tried but was met with you looking like a deer caught in headlights, shaking your head. “Why? It’s Nevermore dear, you’re safe at Nevermore you know that right?” Was all it took for you to break down into silent sobs as you clung to be car door repeatedly mumbling no and don’t make me over and over.

As if she was approaching a scared cat she slowly sat back in the car shutting the door and waiting for you to make a move. It took some time but if there’s one thing about the principal it’s that she is a patient woman who would do anything for Nevermore and those within its walls.

When you moved it was like every inch was like waiting hours but eventually you lent over to lean your head on the woman’s lap as you tried to calm yourself. A gentle hand began to rub soothing circles on your back but accidentally hitting a sore spot causing you to help out. “Oh my darling, I’m sorry I didn’t know” she murmured which caused you to sit up tears silently running. “It’s my fault, they think I’m a freak. I shouldn’t like girls it’s wrong. Mother would be disappointed in me.”

“Darling, you can like whoever you want… is that what happened?” She murmured and you shook your head sadly. “I thought we were good friends, but she took me to this group of people and they kept trying to-“ you sucked a deep breath in, “touch me and I didn’t want them to!” You sobbed finally feeling relief of exposing the situation.

“Oh sweet one, you were defending yourself hmm?” Which you nodded sadly and whimpered apologies for dragging the schools name into this, that Larissa had to leave her quarters at such a late hour. It was truly heartbreaking but now she knew, she would protect you and any of her students from this pain again. It got to the point you’d exhausted yourself and fallen asleep in the car so she gently scooped you up and took you to the spare room near her quarters to make sure you were okay. It wasn’t easy but you had her for the long and painful journey of learning to love yourself for who you love.

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #larissa weems x reader #larissa #Larissa Weems #principleweemsxreader #larrisa weems #principal weems x reader #principal larissa weems #principle weems #comfort #principal weems x you #weems comfort #larissa x you #larissa x reader

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’m gonna be honest I don’t understand how people can be hazbin hotel fans and just know everything vivziepop has done and dont care or they choose to pretend they dont know so they dont have to feel guilty about it. Shocking news, you can be INCREDIBLY critical of media you enjoy parts of. I enjoy parts of this show but I’m not going to go buy shit to watch it and support some random lady using a closed religion to make her tumblr sexyman character look “scary”.

I saw someone say vivziepop misgendering someone (allegedly on accident) after getting mad, was a “nothing sandwich” which 1. No the fuck it aint. And also 2. Are you actually off your rocker nuts. I don’t give a fuck if it was an accident heat of the moment thing. Sure you can apologise for that, not me who you misgendered so I cant accept it, but misgendering anyone is never a “nothing sandwich”. Same guy also said that vivzie demonising and appropriating vodou was okay because “Alastor can do it” That… doesn’t fucking matter? VIVZIE can’t practice vodou and neither can her weird red suited deer man, sorry to burst your bubble.

I think everyone thats scrolled even a few inches on my blog (cause really thats all I have) can tell I like Angel Dust. Lots of people like Angel Dust. But apparently half of those people can’t comprehend you can dislike aspects of a character while liking other ones. I mean this directed toward fans by the way. Id sure as hell prefer if he wasn’t fucking fetishised for being a gay man but its vivziepop so literally what can I expect from the lady that makes merch glorifying his abuse. “Yes vivzie! Id love to purchase merch of a traumatic situation ive also been in! Thank you so much for making it look pretty!” I will literally eat glass and drink battery acid before any of this shit actually comes outta my mouth.

It’s so fucking weird how her spin-off show has better representation, humour, writing, and more than her actual main show. Im super glad Helluva Boss is good. Im glad there isn’t any stupid racist representations in there or overly fetishised gay men. Fizzaroli and Ozzie are a cute couple thats written very nicely but even they have elements of vivziepops unsavoury interests that you can see sometimes, but oh my god. Put some of that care into your MAIN show. I am holding out so much hope that vivzie continues the good writing of episodes 7 & 8 so much I am not going to stop noting that, but I am also fully ready to crash and burn from those hopes and that is so fucking disappointing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel issues #hazbin hotel review #hazbin angel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #helluva boss #helluva fizzarolli #helluva ozzie #helluva critical #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter nine: jesus christ 2005 god bless america

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 9.5k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, undefined relationship, small use of spanish cause joel is latino, pining joel, fingering, hand-job, dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft soft soft joel, sprinkle of possessive joel, Big Feelings, crying, mentions of depression diagnosis and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of co-parenting, signing away parental rights, effects of that situation on children, major guilt form both of 'em, this chapter has some heavier angst than before!

a/n: they're baaaaaaack <333 my babies! it's 2005 and summer #3 is officially underway and i can't wait to share it with you all. thank you so very much to the bestie/cousin/sister wife/sweet, sweet gf @northernbluess for beta-reading this chapter, and for shouting about these two with me. enjoy y'all x

You can count on your two hands the number of times you’ve been able to talk to Joel over the last year. Sarah’s schedule going into third grade was much busier, his work picking up even more business and expanding. Your job was demanding — long hours, coming in early and staying late, rejection after rejection of ideas you excitedly pitched. By a few months in, you took the hint: you were there to get coffees, do the grunt work, fill in the gaps even if it wasn’t in your job description. It wasn’t that you had a problem with doing all of those things; anyone in the industry, basically anyone with a corporate job has told you that you have to do your time, climb the rungs of the ladder to get to where you want to be. But it’s hard to justify a job that has taken you away from the one place that feels like home, the people who make you feel loved.

It came in waves at first, that feeling of heavy limbs, slogging thoughts, the perpetual cinch of your chest as if you were going to cry, with no reason to. In summer, it was easy to blame it on homesickness, adjusting to a new city, or getting used to living with your new roommates. The leaves changing brought new symptoms: staying in over the weekends, curled up in bed with the TV playing cable reruns for 48 hours straight, the lull of sleep overcoming you at odd hours. But this was merely because the cold was creeping in, and the daylight hours were waning.

Joel called one winter evening; well, the Caller ID read his name, but upon answering the phone, you were quick to realize it was someone else.

“Hello?”

“Posey, you answered! Hi!”

“Hey, Sare-Bear. What’s going on?” You find the means to prop yourself up on your pillows, turning down the volume of the TV and curling your knees toward your chest.

“Not too much, I asked Daddy if I could call you and he said yes, so I did! I was sad you couldn’t be home for Christmas last month. Santa brought me lots of presents! Oh, and Daddy took me to Disney World with Uncle Tommy after Christmas before school started again!”

Sarah’s chipper voice is scraping nails against your heart, tightening your lungs until all you can manage is shallow breaths. You hold it together long enough to hear about all her presents and the Miller family trip before you hear Joel in the background, coaxing the phone from his daughter.

“Daddy says he wants to talk to you so I have to give the phone to him. Bye, Posey, miss you!”

“Miss you too, sweet pea,” you choke out, sinking further into your bed with eyes filling with tears. You should be overjoyed to be hearing from Sarah; instead, it fills you with a reminder that you have no idea when you’ll see her again, no clue how to try to make yourself love this place.

“Hey, Mari.”

The sound of his voice was syrupy, the drawl in his tone basking you in the Texas sun that you missed so. He was like the warmth of a bonfire, the summer breeze messing with your hair while you rode in his truck with the windows down. Hearing him was like sinking into his mattress for the night, a solid, weighted arm slung around you safely.

“Hi, Joel.”

“Gotta say thank you again for the watch you sent me for my birthday. I know, you’re going to say that I’ve already said it about ten times but I need to do it again 'cause I just like havin’ a reminder of you every day.”

“You’re welcome,”  your voice wavers slightly, and you make a quick attempt to recover with a deep breath.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

No, not now, you can’t break now, you have to make it through the phone call.

Your tongue sits heavy in your mouth, your ears growing hot and tears pricking your eyes in pain as you hold it all in. One sniffle comes over you before you can catch it, concern lacing the other end of the call.

“Hey, darlin’—Hold on.”

Muffled thumps of footsteps heading upstairs crackle through the phone, the creak and click of a door closing popping in your ear pressed to the speaker.

“Sorry, I had to come up to my room. Now, what’s wrong, darlin’?” Joel’s gentle, airy tone breaks the final splinter of the dam, emotion overflowing.

“I shouldn’t let it all get to me, but, work has been awful, like all I've done this week is get coffee and take minutes for meetings, which don’t even get used because they have someone that gets to actually participate taking the minutes. And—and I can’t seem to find my place. My roommates are way closer with each other cause they’ve been working together before and at the office, it’s so cliquey and everybody keeps calling my accent cute—“

Attempting to make you smile, Joel interjects, “It is cute, sweetheart.”

“Well, you can say that ‘cause you’ve got one too. They just call me ‘Texas’ or ‘Y’all’ cause I said it once in front of the group. These people are all from around here, from generations of East Coast families and they know all about life here and constantly try to one-up each other and I can’t do it, Joel. I can’t—It’s too hard. It hurts so much.”

You’ve fully got tears streaming down your face, your voice thick with phlegm, and sniffling from your runny nose. 

“Oh, my sweet girl…” There’s a strain in his voice too, covered with a stuttered clearing sound. “Mariposa, my Mariposa, you can do It. I know it’s hard, I know. And mean people don’t make the adjustment any easier, but remember you’re the bigger person. Kill ‘em with kindness, baby.”

“It breaks my heart to hear you’re hurtin’, Mari. But you can do it. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, tough…Are you—are you talkin’ to anybody, sweetheart? A professional?”

“No…” you confess meekly, embarrassed by your lack of effort.

“It’s okay, baby, that’s okay. Maybe we can find you someone, alright? Might help to get out of the house, go see them, talk to them. We’ll find you someone, Mari. Promise.”

“Joel, I don’t want you to worry about me. You don’t have to help me find—“

“I want to. I worry about you constantly, mi amor. It’s hard not to when half of my heart’s across the country.” Silence falls over the line, picking up your hand to wipe at your tears. 

“Thank you, Joel.”

“I love you, Mariposa. Always going to.”

That was the last major phone call you had with him. He did help you find someone, a therapist, to talk to. But through them, you had come to the decision that this life wasn’t for you; corporate bullshit was leaving you burned out and defeated, and it was cooking up an unstable environment that let your sadness and disappointment fester into depressive episodes.

After that discovery, the choice was made and you phoned your parents to tell them you were planning on coming home at the end of your first-year contract if they would have you. They agreed, of course, to welcome you back home for as long as you need.  

You couldn’t bring yourself to call Joel. Hearing his disappointment in your quitting would ruin you. And, you couldn’t blame him if he got a bit angry either. You ran off and chose this life, and when it turned out to be shit, you were running home with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. He expected so much from you and was so proud of you for choosing your dreams.

You couldn’t bear to tell him about your failure. So you didn’t.

Arrangements were made in the next few months: a replacement roommate found, a letter of resignation submitted, a one-way plane ticket purchased.

Joel wipes at his forehead, standing in the middle of the job site he was working by himself. It was rare for him to really get his hands dirty these days; Miller Construction has grown tenfold since it started, a wider team built and Joel taking the helm as more of a manager and owner. He had a hand in every project, being the one to design and plan everything, leaving the execution to be led by Tommy and his employees.

This was a particular job, though, and one he wanted to make sure was perfect.

Your dad had approached him in early Spring, walking over while Joel mowed the lawn. He explained what he was looking to get done — the basement converted into a studio apartment, with a new bathroom and kitchenette.

Joel agreed to help with the task, and out of curiosity he asked why they were making the change. Usually, it was in-laws, but maybe it was to increase the sale value. Maybe they were planning a move?

He heard it and zoned out immediately.

You? You were moving home?

He wracked his brain for any mention of these plans from you over the last few months, but he came up short when he realized it had been a couple of months since the last phone call. Life had gotten so busy, evenings spent with lawyers and Sarah home every weekend, trying to adjust her to the new arrangement as best as he could. There was his own news he had to tell you, but couldn’t ever find the right time to reach out when he knew how stressed out you were. He remembered missing a call from you, but he completely forgot to return it. Were you going to tell him then?

The phone call he made to you that night went to voicemail, and he left one in hopes you would return a call or message.

“Hey, Mariposa… Hope you’re doing well, amor. Your dad, uh, he came over today and asked me for help on the house. They wanna make the apartment a basement and—shit you definitely already know all of this… Are you—are you coming home?”

He couldn’t stand how he sounded, on the verge of begging and filled with nerves, so the voicemail ended after he asked. You didn’t return the call.

Standing back looking at his handiwork, he takes a deep breath. He’s poured over the decisions for every detail, your parents entrusting him with the project completely. He matched the floors to the rest of your house, but the walls are a soft green, one accented with wallpaper he painstakingly installed that is patterned with lavender, marigolds, and hydrangeas — small butterflies hidden in the flowers.

At one side of the studio space, Joel installed the bookshelf he made by hand in his garage, the built-in coming up halfway on the wall, molding covering the surface, and stained a rich, medium tone that complemented the paint choice. He imagined your rows and rows of beat-up paperbacks filling the spaces, knickknacks strewn along the top.

Your furniture was moved down from your bedroom, arranged by your mom to fit nicely within the space. It feels like you’re already living in this space, the touches of you from your things and the new items he tried to get perfectly ‘you’. A faint smile tugs at his lips, excitement trickling into his bloodstream and tingling all over.

You’re coming home.

The first day you were back, you didn’t leave your new room.

It was out of exhaustion, but mostly out of relishing in the new space, nearly brought to tears by the thoughtfulness of your parents. When they were showing you the new studio suite of yours, you couldn’t stop smiling, turning to your mom and asking, “How did you choose the paint color? And where’d you get the bookshelf?”

Your mom laughed, shrugging as she answered, “Believe it or not, Dad and I were so busy these last few months that we told Joel just to go wild! Well, not wild, but he made all the choices — only ran the cost by us.”

“Wait, Joel did this?”

“Oh yeah, did the whole thing for free labor, too. Stand up guy. Said he just wanted to help out a neighbor — and he did the whole thing himself too, none of his guys helped him. He did a great job, huh kiddo?” Your Dad gives you a grin, extending his arms as if showcasing the room you three were already in and poking around in.

“Yeah, he did do a great job. Guess I need to thank him…” You swallow hard and toy with your bedspread as you sit at the edge of your bed, one leg bent onto the mattress, “Thank you both for this and—and for letting me come home.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, kiddo. We love having you here, always. You stay however long you need, princess.” At that, it was simply closed, your parents never pushing for more detail than you were willing to offer at the time; both gave you a kiss on your head and a tender hug before they made their way back upstairs, leaving you to begin unpacking.

A fresh set of eyes rolls over the space, the context that each choice was Joel’s, made for you, lighting up small details. The color of the wood he used for the shelves, the wallpaper covered in your favorite flowers and butterflies; what catches your attention is a frame set on the surface of the built-ins. You pick it up, free hand jumping to your chest as you study the content.

A drawing, signed in the bottom right corner by a “Sarah M.” It’s of a garden, lush greenery with an opening in the middle. Joel stands at one side, with dark hair and a scribbled beard, Sarah in the middle with her bouncy curls. On the other side of Sarah is a depiction of you in your sundress from the day at the butterfly garden last summer. The closest thing to a photo of the three of you.

Placing the frame back where you had found it, you hold back your tears, rubbing circles in your thumping chest as you look around the room for five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.

At the third out of four things you can touch, your eyes fall to your bed, pink plaid poking out from between your pillows drawing you nearer. You pull out the shape from your bedding, coming face to face with the long-eared, stuffed bunny that you passed down to Sarah last year. Flopsy.

You curl the animal into your chest, squeezing it as you climb onto your bed and lie down. Bringing it up to your face, you inhale the smell of the Miller house, the smell of your previous summers. It calms your rapid pulse, each deep breath lulling you to sleep.

Somehow, despite being each other’s next-door neighbors, you’ve managed to avoid Joel and he’s avoided you for the last few days. It wasn’t like you weren’t thinking about him — no, you were constantly thinking about him. Driving past his house, walking past his driveway, every time you wake up in your room and are faced with all of what he did for you. 

But finally seeing him, talking to him, you were going to be faced with the reality of telling him that you couldn’t make it, even with all of his support. The thought of watching his face fall when you have to admit you moved across the country for what amounted to nothing, broke his heart for dreams that ended up being the opposite of what you wanted.

Joel avoided you, simply to give you some time to adjust and also, to skirt around the fact that he wasn’t there for you when you must have needed him the most. Plus, he had his own news to share with you, and he kept it in to keep you from worrying. He knew if he had told you then, when you were away, you would be on the next flight home to help him. He couldn’t make you do that, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to you coming either. And now, he’ll have to admit all of this to you — to tell you that he kept this from you and watched your face fall into hurt.

This sunny Saturday morning, you’ve taken to walking door to door with all of the parents in the neighborhood, offering yourself to babysit or nanny to fill the summer while you figure out what you want to do with your life. Most were surprised to see you back home, but eager to take down your number, promising to reach out if they needed help. 

On your way back home, you’re on Joel’s side of the cul-de-sac, biting your lip as you get a view of his back in a white tee, shoulders straining as he stretches over the hood of his truck. He squeegees the front windshield, the truck covered in soap suds from him washing it.

As if feeling eyes on him, he turns over his shoulder to see you walking up. Completely turning around, he leans back against the hood, waving to you with a held-back smile. Joel eyes you in your cut-off shorts, licking his lips and humming to himself when he sees his navy t-shirt on you, the one he gave you last summer. 

“Now, Miller, I haven’t seen you wash that dirty ass truck once the past two summers. And now you’re out here in your little shorts and white tee as soon as I get back? Suspicious.”

On his driveway now, you stand a few feet apart, a bright teasing smile on your face. Joel can’t help but feel the familiar itch in his fingers, gripping the squeegee tighter. His butterfly is back in his stomach, stirring to life as its wings start fluttering at the sight of you, rising to his chest at the sound of your voice.

“Bit suspicious that this is the first time you just so happen to stop by to say hello, is it not, Mariposa?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows, smirk tugging up one side of his lips and exposing his dimple.

“Wha—Oh, shut up. I was stopping by to offer to help you, for your information.”

“Oh yeah? Alright then, grab a sponge, sweetheart,” he nods to the bucket on the asphalt, tossing the squeegee into the grass. You pick up a sponge out of the bucket, ringing it out a bit before going over and starting to wash the other side of his car. Joel disappears around the side of the house, coming back with the hose running water to rinse the car off.

“Think you missed a spot, Joel,” you giggle, moving the sponge in circles.

“Y’know what? I think I missed a really big spot. Kind of on the other side by you.” He’s got a devilish smirk painting his face, mischief glinting his eyes in the sunlight. He stalks around the car, moving his thumb toward the end of the hose.

“Joel, don’t you dare…”

“What, darlin’? You look a little hot. Think you need to cool down.”

“Joel! Don’t, you shithead!”

In a last-ditch effort, you toss your sponge at his chest before trying to run away. It’s fruitless, shrieking as you feel the cold water spray at your legs. You turn around to face Joel chasing you with the hose, his thumb at the end to make the water pressure higher and shoot farther. It’s as if it’s raining, the water dripping from above; you cup your hands over your head, closing your eyes as you attempt to avoid the spray.

“Okay, okay! I've cooled down, please!”

All you hear is a laugh in response, the sound multiplying the goosebumps that the cold water has caused. With your eyes squeezed shut, you're blind as you run around the car, hitting directly into something solid, sturdy, but much softer than metal. A small ‘oof’ exhales out, one arm wrapping around you to steady you.

Opening your eyes, you see Joel with a wide, childish grin and a deepened dimple on his right cheek. The crinkles next to his eyes are showing and you can see the wet spot in his white shirt from the sponge hitting him.

“May I propose a treaty?”

“If it keeps you from spraying me with the hose, sure.”

He laughs again, sliding his hand across your back.

“You come over tonight and I won’t spray you again.”

“Hmm,” you hum as you consider it, eyes widening as Joel moves to get the hose on you again, “Okay, deal! Hose down, Miller!”

Happily, Joel throws the hose into the grass, tightening his arm in a half-hug. His lips as your ear, he speaks sweetly and kisses your cheek. “Good to have you home, Mari.”

You help him clean up the rest after he finishes rinsing the truck and shuts off the hose, lingering with him on the driveway.

He nods inside with a smile, “Someone else’s been waitin’ to see you if you wanna come in for a bit.”

“That would make my day. I’d love to see that someone,” you say through a smile, cheeks hurting from laughing and grinning for the past ten minutes.

Joel leads you inside, spotting Sarah on the couch. He walks ahead of you into the living space, heart swelling at the shocked reaction Sarah has to you standing in their house.

You are feeling the same — the ache in your bones from the last few months quells once you step foot in their house, limbs lightening when Sarah jumps off the couch and runs over, or well, runs into you.

“Posey! I can’t believe you’re back!” Sarah exclaims, giggling excitedly when you scoop her up into a hug and hold her flush against you. A kiss is pressed to the top of her head, a familiar scent in her hair from the product you use. You exchanged equally ecstatic greetings before she pulled you into the kitchen with Joel, sitting at the table to chat. Sarah sits across your lap, kicking her feet as she asks a million questions about why, how, what, and more.

You answer all of them, Joel interjecting for some as you explain to her that you’ll be here for the whole summer, at least, and that you’ll still be right next door.

Rubbing her back, you look down at Sarah with a gentle smile, “I have been meaning to come to ask you, sweet pea, but I found a mutual friend of ours on my bed when I came home. How did Flopsy end up back at my house? Did he get lost while your dad was working on my new room?”

“No, he isn’t lost! I know he’s there cause I put him there. I thought you might’ve missed him, and that he might make you happy and cheer you up because Daddy said you were missing home.”

Joel was unaware of the animal his daughter left behind, swallowing hard as she mentioned how he explained you were feeling homesick back then when you two had talked. His eyes are glued to you as he watches the emotions in your eyes, sadness flashing in them before you recover, visibly sitting up and the corners of your mouth tugging up into a gentle smile.

“He made me feel much better, sweet pea, so thank you. I can bring him back next time, okay?”

Sarah shakes her head firmly, making strong eye contact with you as she says, “No, you should keep him 'cause maybe you might need him while you get used to being home. He helped me get used to staying with Daddy all the time now, so I thought he could help you be at home again, too.”

You glance at Joel, who’s looking away from you now and toying with the edge of a placemat that’s laid out on the surface. Sarah turns her head, looking between the two of you before Joel clears his throat.

“Hey Bug, we gotta head out to get you over to Emily’s house for your sleepover tonight. Can you go get your bag from upstairs? And say goodbye to Posey.”

A quick hug and she is zipping off, leaving the two adults sitting at the table in a moment of silence. It’s Joel who breaks it again, looking at you with something unreadable on his face.

“You’re coming over tonight, yeah? I—I, um, I think we have some catching up to do.”

“Yeah, I think so too. I’ll see you tonight.” You stand up and he follows you to the door, taking your hand in his to pull you back as your hand reaches for the doorknob.

“It is really good to have you home, Mariposa. Feels like—I don’t know, life feels like summer again. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Joel. I’ll see you tonight,” you lean in, stretching up to kiss his cheek before slipping out of the door and into your backyard. 

At sunset, you slip out of the sliding glass door, walking across the pool area and into Joel’s backyard. Climbing up his deck stairs, you reach his back door and knock, biting back a smile when you can see him approaching with a puzzled expression. He opens the door, looking at you through the screen with a brown raised.

“Back door? This a new thing now?”

“S’closer to my new room.” You shrug and knock your knuckles on the metal frame of the screen door. Joel nods for you to step back, opening the door and holding it for you to come inside, shutting it and the windowed, wooden door behind it. Turning around to you, he steps forward, snaking his arms around your hips. A soft smile peels apart his lips with a relaxed sigh, leaning some of his weight into you.

“Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, J.”

“You smell good,” he says, muffled into your hair, lips pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “And I like that nickname.”

A quiet giggle breathes out from your mouth, hands coasting up and down his biceps. He moves to tuck your head under his chin, swaying back and forth in the middle of his kitchen.

“Thought we had stuff to talk about?” You question, biting your bottom lip and making no move to unfurl yourself from his arms. This is what you had been missing so much, feeling his radiating warmth and care. His tenderness, his love.

“We do. But I get to just hold you first, darlin’. Been waiting too long to do this again.” Squeezing you closer, he tucks his chin in to lay his lips against the top of your head, fingertips ghosting up your spine. It’s at least two minutes before he moves, untangling himself from you with one last kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, mi Mariposa, how about we sit on the couch? You can go first, sweetheart,” his voice crackles in your ears, feeling the reverb in your chest from his low drawl. Hands at your sides guide you into the living room, letting go to allow you to sit down, Joel taking a seat next to you and facing you. “You wanna go first, Mari? S’alright if you don’t…”

“No, I do. I think I should at least…” You sigh and focus your stare on a stitched seam of the back of the couch, tracing it with your fingers as you begin to recount what brought you home, “I don’t know if you remember that one phone call we had in the winter, but it was after that, you helped me find someone to talk to?”

“I remember.”

“Well, I started seeing them weekly, sometimes twice a week, and it helped to be able to talk about everything, but there wasn’t too much I could do to help the situation I was in. My, um, my therapist diagnosed me with depression.”

Your voice was thick, phlegm building up as your emotions started to get the best of you, stare still unfocused from Joel. His hand lays over yours, pulling you away from the movement and to his face. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only concern and piety. Without any words, he slides closer to you, pulling your legs across his lap and slipping an arm around your back.

“And in our sessions, I wasn’t really getting much better with the tools she was giving to me, so we made a plan. It started with her asking me where I felt the most myself, the most comfortable, where I could work on everything without the added…stress of work and feeling isolated. And then it was a bit of a no-brainer to make arrangements to come home. And—and I meant to call you, I really tried, Joel. But I couldn’t bear to have to tell you that I—I failed and that I broke your heart for nothing. You believed in me so much, and I couldn’t do it. I left everything behind, left you behind and nothing came out of it. And I couldn’t bring myself to call cause I couldn’t hear your reaction. I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back. If you would be mad or disappointed…”

You exhale with a long breath, tears flowing freely down your cheeks while Joel’s fingers work to wipe them away as quickly as they fall.

“Sweet girl…My Mariposa, I am so sorry you went through that. I’m so glad that you weren’t alone, that you had support, but I hate that I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he swallows and holds you against his chest, “I love you, sweet girl, always going to. I knew you had to go because I knew you might’ve regretted it if you didn’t try, but, darlin’, mi amor, I could give two shits if you live some big corporate life if it doesn’t make you happy. That is all I want for you, Mari, and if that wasn’t what you had up there, then I want you to find it wherever you are.”

You sniffle and wrap your arms around his neck, both of you embracing each other tightly — so tightly you nearly can’t breathe, but it feels comforting, like a weighted blanket over your body and soul.

“Selfishly, I’m glad you came home. Missed you, my sweet girl, and ‘m always gonna be here for you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, I should have been better, but there was just so much happening…” he admits, guilt and shame oozing out of his words and tone.

You pull back, brow furrowed as you hold the side of his jaw.

“Did something happen?”

“Um, yeah. Something did happen, in the spring…” he runs a hand over his face, sighing before he drops his forehead against yours, staying silent for a moment before sitting up again and gripping onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I have full custody of Sarah now.”

He watches as confusion falls over your face, melding into concern as he sees your thought process happening. He knows you’re thinking about Sarah, all of the little things she said earlier this afternoon must be clicking finally. The rhythm of his heart is racing, waiting for your questions.

“What? What happened? How? Are you okay, is Sarah okay?”

“It’s alright, Mari, I’m okay. Sarah’s adjusting. It was just sudden, and I had to scramble to get everything in order while also figuring out how to tell her. I really haven’t told her the truth, I c—I can’t do that to her…” His voice drops to a whisper as he trails off, eyes welling with tears of his own.

“Oh, J, babe, what happened? If you want to tell me, I’m here for you.”

He clears his throat, twisting the handful of fabric he’s got, “Tiff approached me after her last drop off when Sarah was inside the house, and she told me that…She basically said she met someone new, he was movin’ out of state for his job, and she wouldn’t be able to afford her child support anymore. I asked her what she was gettin’ at and she said, she said she wanted to sign her rights away. That she couldn’t do it all anymore.”

“I mean, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Sarah that—that her mom didn’t want to take care of her anymore. So I only told her that she would be gone for a while and that she would be staying at home for all her weekends for now. I don’t know what to do, baby. And it was all so chaotic, and I couldn’t call you 'cause I didn’t want to add to your stress with work and life up there.”

In response, you hold yourself around him silently, arms at his neck, straddling his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist like a koala in a tree. Joel relaxes into you, damp droplets soaking into your shirt and skin as he lays his head on your shoulder. All of his stress, his anxieties come out. He knows he should also be comforting you, for everything you’ve told him, but it’s like a door has opened and everything is piling out of him. He’s held it together for months now, his only person to talk to being Tommy, but he doesn’t want to burden his younger brother with all of his problems all the time.

Not that he wants to do that to you, either, especially with what you’ve been through, but at this moment, all he can think about is your touch, your warmth, your care.

“You could never be anything but an addition to my life, Joel. Even if it’s a problem, I want to help you solve it or be there for you while you work through it. ‘M here now, we both are, so we can get through our things together.”

At his next sniffle, he pulls away, staying wrapped up in you but sitting so he can see your face.

“Guess these last few months have been messes for both of us, huh?” You break the seriousness of the moment with your chuckle, sending Joel into a fit of laughter as he nods.

“Guess so. Might’ve been better if either of us called. Don’t think we’d be here right now crying.”

“That’s life though, isn’t it? At least ours. Miscommunication continually brings us back together. I think maybe we should quit that habit though.”

“I agree…” he smiles sweetly, eyes pouring adoration into yours, “All this talk about us, I guess my other question would be, what are we? I mean, you don’t have an end to the summer, right? So maybe we could—“

“Let’s give us a proper shot. No expiration date. We can just be together and see what comes of it, yeah?”

“Yeah, Mariposa, yeah. I would love that,” Joel leans in, catching your lips in a slow, syrupy kiss. It’s languid, stealing your breath and giving you his, melting your tongues together and sighing at the taste of you. He pulls back, ghosting his lips over yours with an infectious smile.

“So, is that it? Are you officially mine, Mariposa? Mi Mariposa es solo mi Mariposa (My butterfly is only my butterfly)?”

“Yours. And you’re mine, so don’t forget it,” you chuckle and he kisses you sweetly again, shaking his head as his nose fits against yours.

“Never going to forget that, are you kidding me? Hearing that automatically entered my top five best life moments.”

“God, you’re such an idiot…”

“Yeah, I am, baby. An idiot in love. A fool for you,” he laughs and tightens his grip around you, arms settling under your thighs as he stands from the couch, carrying you toward the stairs, “Also an idiot who’s getting to go to bed with the girl of his dreams. So, really, who’s an idiot now? Think I made some damn good decisions.”

“Can I take back my answer to your question?” You tease, shrieking when he drops you onto his bed, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head.

“No takebacks. Stuck with me now, Mariposa,” he climbs over you and kisses you again, deeper than before but as innocent as the giggly kisses you shared earlier.

“Good thing you’re a good kisser.”

“Yeah? Bet you know what else I’m good at, don’t you, sweetheart?” He sits back on his haunches, eyes dragging over you laying back on his bed, tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“Can I have you, darlin’? Pretty please?”

A hard swallow comes from your throat, crossing your arms over your stomach as you look up from the mattress to Joel.

“I want you to, but I’ve…I haven’t done anything since—“

“I understand, sweet girl. You wanna ease back into it with me, hermosa? We’ll go slow,” he watches you nod, pushing up the hem of your t-shirt to under your breasts, “No bra? Sigues siendo mi diablita, no? (You’re still my little devil, aren’t you?)”

As you sit up, he tugs the materials over your head, folding over to attach his lips to one of your already pebbled nipples. A whimper slips from your mouth, tangling fingers into his hair and arching into his mouth. He pays the same attention to the other side, soft moans filling the room.

Joel separates from you with a pop of his lips, grinning as he reaches for the back collar of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. You happily sigh as you run your hands across his strong chest and shoulders, tickling your fingertips down his stomach as he watches you slip his shorts’ waistband down a few inches.

“Mm, I have an idea, sweetheart…You wanna try something we haven’t done before?” Joel kisses your lips before peppering kisses along your jaw.

“What d’you have in mind?”

“Take the rest of your clothes off, darlin’. ‘M gonna sit up at my headboard and you come sit on my lap, m’kay?”

You follow his instructions, licking your lips as you watch him stand and strip in front of you, his hard cock slapping against his stomach, leaking already out of need. He sits on his bed, head leaned against the headboard with pillows supporting his back. With your shorts and panties thrown into a heap with his clothes, you walk over the mattress on your knees, lifting one to the other side of his thighs.

“So beautiful, Mariposa. The most beautiful,” he sighs as he licks into your mouth, grabbing handfuls of your ass, “How did I get so damn lucky?”

“Could say the same thing about you, J. Pretty boy.” 

He chuckles against your lips, shaking his head. “Not as pretty as you, mi amor. Estás preciosa. Mucho más preciosa que cualquier flor o puesta de sol o estrella. La cosa más hermosa que he visto.”

“What does that all mean?”

“You are gorgeous. Much more gorgeous than any flower or sunset or star. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” Joel speaks softly, tenderness in his eyes as he brushes your hair away from your face. 

Heat spans across the back of your neck and up to the tips of your ears, heart pounding from the look he is giving you. It feels like it’s breaking down any facade you had left, completely exposed to him with the bashful smile on your face.

“I love you, Mariposa,” he punctuates with a stealing kiss, one hand roaming around to your front to slip between your legs. Two fingers collect your arousal on their tips, dragging some to your clit as you sigh into Joel’s mouth. 

“Now, ‘m gonna touch you, baby, and if you want, you touch me at the same time, yeah?” He pulls away from your lips, nudging his nose into your cheek.

“I want to, I really want to.”

His fingers move to your entrance, gathering more along his whole fingers before pulling from between your legs and wrapping his own hand around his cock. He gives himself a few long strokes, looking into your eyes.

“Think you can spare some for me, sweet girl? Got you fucking drenched from barely even touchin’ you,” he sighs contently, leaning his head back more, “Spit on it for me, baby, and use your own hand, m’kay?”

You nod, eager to follow instructions. Folding forward, you drop saliva onto his waiting cock, watching as it slips down the side and mixes with your slick. He takes his hand away and your own wraps around his base, starting slow and teasing strokes.

“Fuck,” he exhales, dragging it out as long as his sigh is, “Missed you so much, sweet girl. You’re my sweet girl now, aren’t you? Only mine.”

His fingers find your core again, slow circles matching the energy of your strokes. A whine slips out, brows scrunching as you attempt to move your hips to get more friction.

“Please, Joel, please. Want more…”

“You want more, mi Mariposa? You want me to fuck you with my fingers, hm?” At your rapid nod, he chuckles darkly, nipping at your neck.

“Gotta give me more to get more, sweetheart. ‘M aching for you, just giving you the same treatment.”

“Mean,” you breathe out, gasping as his thick fingers tease your entrance.

“You ain’t seen mean yet, cariño,” he kisses you again as he slips one finger inside of you, the pace of your hand moving faster when you get more of what you wanted. He groans, the sound muffled into your tongue as it flicks against his, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit. You start to bounce your hips in rhythm with your hand, imagining his cock inside of you again.

With a lewd noise, he pulls away, shallow breaths fanning across your collarbone.

“Mm, that’s right, baby. Fuck yourself on my fingers while you stroke my cock.”

His voice makes you flood his finger even more, easily slipping another into you for a few strokes before adding a third.

“Feel full, sweet girl? Feel anything like my cock?” He whispers to you as you continue to ride his hand, moving your hips and hand faster.

“So full, J. Not as good as your cock, nothing ever is, but fuck—oh fuck! Feels so good.” Your eyes close tightly as the frays of tightly coiled rope start to break inside of you. Joel takes over as your body stills with stimulation, fucking his fingers into you quickly with wet noises while his own hips move under your grip to fuck your hand.

“Come for me, my sweet girl. Let me feel what I’ve missed about this pussy. Still mine, isn’t it?”

“Yesyesyes, Joel! Oh my god, fuck I’m coming!” You open your eyes as the last fibers of the rope snap, pleasure radiating over every nerve while he continues to move under you and inside of you. The aftershocks of your orgasm fade as he whimpers in front of you, shots of warm cum coating your hand and his stomach.

“Oh fuck, Mari…” Joel picks his head up and looks at you with a breathless laugh and smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he pulls his fingers out of you.

“I love you, my girl. Mi Mariposa. Let’s get you cleaned up and get to sleep, yeah?” 

Slumber reaches the edge of your vision, drooping your eyelids as Joel guides you to his en-suite, washing your hands for you before washing his, and wiping a warm cloth between your legs. He peppers kisses to your head, shoulders, and neck as he does it all, whispering sweet nothings as he pulls you back into his bed.

“Night, Mari.”

“Night, J…Mm, before I forget, we’re getting you new sheets tomorrow. No more navy, you’ve got a girl in your life now.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head and holding you closer to his side as he exhales, “Sure thing, my sweet girl. Can’t have all the other ladies I randomly bring up to my room think I don’t have a woman in my life, Mariposa.”

The tone is overly sarcastic and you flick his chest half awake.

“It’s not for other women to know, it’s so I don’t feel like I’m with a junior in college. Makes you look like a frat star.”

Joel laughs louder, your head shaking with his chest moving and a smile turning your lips up, before he calms himself and strokes your spine, “Okay, okay, it is the task for the morning. We’ll pick up Sarah and head to…”

“HomeGoods.”

“Alright, HomeGoods it is. Now sleep.”

Sarah darts ahead of you both as Joel holds the door open, beelining in her Strawberry Shortcake pajamas to the first open booth she sees. Easily sliding into one side, she moves toward the wall as you two approach, patting the spot next to her.

“Posey, come sit with me!”

With a smile, you take the offered seat and look over to Joel as he settles in on the opposite side, shaking his head as he gives Sarah a playfully hurt face.

“You don’t want me to sit next to you, Bug?” he pouts.

“I wanna sit with Posey 'cause I always have to sit with you when we go places. It gets boring.”

You laugh loudly and cover your mouth when you get glares from other customers, Joel’s jaw drops for a moment before he looks at you and starts laughing as well.

“Never lose your honesty, mija.”

Sarah doesn’t seem phased by her dad’s response, moving to sit on her knees in the booth and look over the kids’ menu. Reaching up, you fluff her curls, smiling at her when she turns to look at you.

“How was the sleepover, Sare-Bear? I see you got some tinsel in your hair, it’s very pretty.”

“It was fun, but I kinda missed my stuffed animals and my own bed. I wanna have a sleepover at our house, Daddy,” Sarah looks up from the menu and to Joel, awaiting an answer. With one look at Joel, you can see the idea makes him nervous, having a handful of young girls to entertain for a whole night as a single dad. Sarah is one thing, she’s his and he can handle her attitude or boredom, but with other kids, he isn’t so sure he has a lot of tolerance.

“Um, I’m not sure, Bug. Can I think about it?” he asks with his brow furrowed, reaching across the table to nudge her arm with a smile. Sarah sighs and sits back, clearly disappointed in her father’s answer.

“Well, what about if you had a sleepover with me? I would be honored to be invited over. We could watch movies and I could do your hair or your makeup. We could paint our nails — a whole girls’ night. Plus your dad,” you turn back to Joel with a grin, winking as he chuckles.

Sarah immediately perks up, grinning wildly and bouncing in her seat, “You would come over for that, Posey? I want to have a sleepover with you. Please, Daddy, please can Posey come over?”

Joel gives you a knowing look, the secret shared between you two not living on for much longer, and he nods with a grin, “Sure, Bug. Posey can come over and stay whenever you want.”

Breakfast is filled with conversation about what you could do at said sleepover, making plans for movies, and going to the drug store to get some new nail polishes. Joel orders for the table so you can stay engrossed in conversation, and he can’t help but put a hand to his chest as he observes the two of you talking like you are best friends, despite the nearly twenty-year age difference. You treat Sarah like your own, and he reminds himself to thank you for that, someday.

When the chocolate waffles are set in front of you and Sarah, and a typical two eggs, toast, and bacon meal is laid in front of Joel, the conversation slows. After taking a sip of water, Joel faces Sarah, sharing one quick glance with you.

“So, mija, do you remember last summer when you were telling me about those classmates of yours that were boyfriend and girlfriend and they spent recess together?”

“Yeah, Luke and Katie. They are not boyfriend girlfriend anymore,” she says with an exasperated sigh, taking another bite of her waffle.

“Well, that’s too bad…Anyways, Bug, d’you remember what you told me when Posey was moving away? Like what you told me I should ask her?” You forgo your breakfast for a moment, sipping your water and darting your eyes between Joel and Sarah. She seems perplexed for a minute, tapping her chin as she thinks back in her young memory.

“I think I remember, Daddy. Why?”

Joel adjusts in his seat, clearing his throat — he’s never had to have this type of conversation with Sarah. Every woman he dated before had never gotten to this point, and after over two years of this back and forth with you, over a year of being head over heels for you, he knows it’s appropriate and that it’s time and that this is going to last until the end. If everything goes, well, how he is hoping it will go, this will be the only time he has to have a conversation like this with Sarah.

If only he knew how you were just as nervous, clammy hands gripping your condensation-covered plastic cup tighter and looking over at Sarah. Sure, she loves you, but that is as her nanny. As a family friend. Would she change her opinion if you were dating her dad? Your mind told you that you couldn’t be sure despite the way your heart was yelling at you to tell you that it would be all fine.

“I was askin’ you all this 'cause I have a big question I wanted to ask you. It’s okay to be honest, princess, I want you to know you can say whatever it is you feel, yeah?” Sarah nods in confirmation, encouraging Joel to continue, “What would you think about Posey being my girlfriend?”

“Is she your girlfriend, Daddy?” Her head whips to the side, curls bouncing as a grin grows on her face, “Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?”

The younger Miller volleys her gaze between you and Joel, eyes widened with her brows raised as she sits up eagerly. You make eye contact with Joel, nodding to him with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, mija, Posey’s my girlfriend now. Can you believe she said yes to your silly dad?” He teases and can’t help but laugh along with her as she giggles excitedly, the infectiousness of it bringing out a laugh from you.

“I’m so excited! Wait, so that means Posey is gonna be hanging out with you lots of times? And she’ll be at our house and can play with me?” Her tiny arms wrap around your bicep closest to her, leaning into your side. You drop your head onto hers and both of you look over at Joel.

“As much as Posey wants to come over, we’d be happy to have her, right Bug?” He smiles sweetly at you, holding your eyes for a lingering moment before Sarah pipes up again.

“Well, you can’t take up all the time Posey is over, Daddy, ‘cause I want to hang out with her, too.” Her arms tighten possessively and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“No need to worry about that, sweet pea,” acting as if you’re sharing a secret with her, you lean in, “Don’t tell your dad, but I think we’ll hang out the most.”

Sarah giggles at your joke, leaning back in the booth and letting go of your arm. Joel’s daughter starts to list everything she wants to do this summer, now with you instead of only her dad, and you look up to face Joel for a moment. He shrugs and smiles at you, reaching over and stealing a bite of your waffle. At your gasp, he chuckles and grins smugly, chewing the swiped sweet.

“Hey, Daddy, that’s not very polite,” Sarah reprimands, turning back to her food.

“I was makin’ sure it wasn’t poisoned, mija, just like I’m going to make sure yours isn’t too,” he takes the same from her plate, and in retaliation, you reach over and grab a piece of bacon, splitting it in half and giving one to Sarah.

“Hey! I don’t have that much bacon, y’all have massive waffles.”

“Sharing is caring. That’s what you always say to me, Daddy.”

“Yeah, J, sharing is caring. Can’t give the lesson if you can’t follow it.” You playfully stick your tongue out and Sarah imitates it, too. Joel sighs and shakes his head, leaning back in the booth.

“Is the two of you teaming up on me gonna be a thing now?”

“Yeah,” you answer at the same time as Sarah, the three of you laughing with each other.

It was bold to come to a HomeGoods on a Sunday, all of the aisles packed with people browsing on this relaxing weekend, stowing away in the air conditioning before venturing to the other stores in the commons. Sarah grips your hand, poking around the shelves while Joel stands behind you, a hand on your waist to keep you close.

The aisle filled with sheet sets is finally discovered by the three of you, excusing yourselves to the center of the aisle past a few fellow shoppers, looking up and down before facing Joel.

“Alright, your choice. Anything but plain ol’ navy, please.”

Joel’s eyes follow the same path that yours had, combing over the options before shrugging and staring down at you again.

“You choose for me.”

“Okay, that is not the point, it is still your room and your house.”

“I made choices for your room for you, sweetheart, you choose for me now,” his timbre rings in your ears as he presses his lips into the side of your head, fingertips rubbing circles in your lower back. Sarah wanders off down the aisle and Joel calls out a warning to stay where he can see her, waiting for you as you peruse the options. After some consideration, you select a thin pinstriped set and a plain white one, holding the sets against your chest.

“What d’ya think of these? Like either of ‘em?” Joel checks them out, shrugging and smiling.

“Both look great to me. You wanna look at anything else, mi amor?” He leads you out of the aisle, taking the sets and holding them under his arm. Pursuing the store, the three of you weave around aisles, checking out some other things. Sarah excitedly runs ahead to explore the kids’ section, drawn in by glitter, sequins, and bright colors. Joel takes your hand with his open one, nodding to some furniture on display.

“D’you like any of that?” You hum, turning your attention to him when you hear his question, following his gaze to the mix of pieces. Shrugging, you squeeze his hand and grab his bicep with your opposite one.

“The chair’s nice. Personally, I prefer my handcrafted, artisan bookshelf though.”

Joel scoffs and laughs a bit at your descriptors, “M’glad to hear that, the amount of splinters I got for that thing was brutal.”

“There’s literally blood, sweat, and tears put into it then,” you tease, continuing to scan over the goods, “None of this compares to a Joel Miller original.”

“I mean, thank you, sweetheart, but I do want you to feel at home with us. I’d get whatever you liked—well, maybe not something I could make 'cause it’s less expensive for me to just do it, but I want you to have a hand in our home. Make it as much of your space as it is ours.”

“I do feel at home with you both cause it’s the two of you. I mean, I didn’t really feel completely at home until I was at your place. The drawing from Sarah and Flopsy and the fact that you built my studio for me made me feel so much more comfortable, but it was like something really settled when I saw you.” 

“Y’know, I like having little reminders of you every day, darlin’. Bedsheets, stolen bites of waffle, the stuffed animals on Sarah’s bed, my watch from you,” he lifts his left wrist to show off the round face with the army green band, kissing your cheek, “And I want whatever you are willing to give me, even if it is just those tiny moments. I would be content with that for the summer; no matter where you decide to end up, I’d cherish all the small things with you.”

Looking up at him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, “Think we both know what I’m gonna decide, J.”

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[vampirevatican]

Hi, hope you're doing well!!

I love your Judd works and was wondering what your headcanons are for Judd having a sensitive girlfriend...

Like, they're polar opposites. She's quiet, sweet, and tender hearted. She keeps to herself for the most part and is good at self-regulating her emotions, but when she gets too overwhelmed, upset, mad, or stressed, she totally breaks and has a hard time cooling down. How would Judd handle her strong emotions?

I think Judd being super soft only for his sensitive girlfriend is such a cute concept 🥺

Thank you sm!! <333

omg thank you, that's so sweet!! also...

'oh my goodness i love this question!!! um, i think...'

a super soft gf for judd?? just what the doc ordered tbh

i think he'd handle her big emotions differently, mainly depending on the situation

like say she's really pissed and is about to get into a fight? i don't think he'd stop her unless it wouldn't be good for her in the long run. like if it risks her bright future or he could see her having to go to hospital

when it comes to work? be it a job or school then he'd definitely make sure she got breaks before she breaks down or burns out completely

he'd probably give her a rage room, like he'd build a cutesy shed and the inside of it is where she can scream, throw, punch, kick and break things as much as she wants

he's very much an actions over words, ya know? although if she just needed him to sit with her for a bit and repeat reassuring phrases he would

he'd hold her close and rub her back, or play with her hair, kiss her forehead and the top of her head

god forbid his family caused the break down, you're just consistently in his room as prisoner and if you have to use the bathroom he's a body guard at that point

some additionals bc gosh this is cute (and brainrot tings)

he will not do the soft sanrio cutesy things with her like matching outfits... UNLESS she found a way to make badtz maru, or another all black sanrio character, more punk

hear me out please... i can picture him 'tolerating' a lot of cute stuff for her, especially if she pulls puppy eyes

the raccoons? consider some of them dressed up with bows, silly outfits or even glitter

his van? there's holographic and cute stickers on it sometimes and yes he rides in her car sometimes and accepts that it's decked out in full girly uniform

actually his favorite sticker on her bumper is a cute bunny that says, 'i know i have a cute ass. can you stop riding it?' or it's baby baphomet stickers he picked out for her by the same artist (tiktok mention)

whenever he picks outfits for her? she has to hide whatever black she has, lest it looks more pastel goth/grunge

he loves her dearly. this is a sun and moon dynamic. this is one of those 'if anything happens to them id kill everyone in the room and then myself.'

#.⁠｡⁠*⁠dingdong💌━♡ #i hope you're doing well to and yw!!! #judd birch #judd birch x reader

[astrum-aetherium]

hi dear

no because i love anything domestic and mundane and with henry even more.

you know those sweet little things. like washing the dishes, drying them, cooking, glances across the room, reading quietly together, falling asleep on his lap, oh and if i saw one of those small smiles adorning his lips i would never stop grinning ( or sobbing) while looking at him ( honest id love to see what he'd do if he saw me staring at him with a big smile upon seeing one of his smiles). i so so so need this.

im violently sobbing rn

-A

i, too, am immensely fond of domesticity and the simple things, specifically applied to a character as cool and otherwise indifferent as henry. it's very mellowing, so tender, and comforting beyond all comprehension. i wholeheartedly love the few ideas you've pitched in the request, they're marvelous. let me see what i can conjure up on the basis thereof.

doing the dishes for him after a long, taxing day; knowing he is merely situated in the adjacent room, working; being reassured of the fact by the waft of smoke curling its way into the kitchen. washing mugs that previously harbored tea he'd made for you, precisely the way you like it; drying plates that were previously used to serve a meal you'd brought from home for the two of you, a loving gesture he appreciated so much he couldn't help but press a gratuitous kiss into your forehead, specifically because he had been so busy lately he couldn't even bring himself to cook. but there you were, swooping in, and saving him from the brink of giving up on himself once more.

finishing up the dishes and tiredly lowering yourself into his couch with a book as he sits at his desk in the same room and continues working on something so tremendously important to him. flicking through the pages placidly, calmly, at utter peace — lighting yourself a cigarette when and if you feel like it, having wordlessly snuck one from the pack of luckies lain by his dominant hand. indirectly and passively listening to how he breathes, how his pen scratches ink into the firm paper, how he turns over book pages of his own and sighs every now and again with a heaviness that awakens sympathy in you. all the while, you read, immersed in either a story to get your mind off of your studies or matching henry in productivity by reading something on the curriculum.

soon enough, he would rise, and flick off the desktop lamp — thereby marking his work time done for now. without detaching your eyes from your book, you'd know that his would be looking for you, only because mere moments later, you'd feel his tired, large frame sinking into the very same couch you're curled up on. he would gently grab hold of your legs and place them on his lap, tenderly caressing them through the dark tights posing a barrier between his digits and your bare flesh. you'd sigh, then, laying your book aside — only to be met with a mellow, soft glance exuding from him. he'd smile upon having locked eyes with you, albeit lightly — tiredly. that smile would simultaneously cause your heart to swell and bleed, aware of how much relief your presence provides him but also due to the bitter recognition of how much he needs said relief in the first place due to constantly being burdened and plagued by his studies, his environment, and his problems.

"read that to me, please," he'd request, then, nodding at the book you will have lowered in your lap. "and come a little closer, if you'd like."

because of his kind, meager proposition, you'd be propped against his shoulder, his arms tenderly encasing your body, in no time. you'd be lowly reading to him, regardless of whether he is familiar with the content of the book or not; he would merely delight in listening to the velvety, quiet flow of your voice. every now and again, his lukewarm fingertips would drift across the stretch of your arm, your waist, or your legs — whatever he will be holding onto. once you would end up falling asleep on him in this way, he would slowly lull you into a more comfortable position, and then light himself a cigarette — descending into contemplation and worry once more, ready for yet another sleepless night, which would merely be sweetened by your warm and comforting presence asleep in his grasp.

#henry winter imagine #henry winter x reader #henry winter thirst #indulgent thoughts #astrum asks #i went off on this one okay oops #i need this very badly though #like wow wow wow craving this carnally #all i need is tenderness and domesticity #mr winter i NEED you #please let me have this #godddddddddddddd

[mmyashas]

hi! you're a big q!roier fan, so I was wondering if you had any tips on writing him for someone who doesn't know that much about him! I wanna include him in one of my fics, but I don't know where to start when it comes to writing him, so some tips would help a lot!

hello my dearest anon . .. ...... :-) i myself am not that great at this i think ahahaha but i will give you my best advice....

id say the most important thing that you've got to remember when writing him is that he swears . a lot. and he's also a jokester type of guy, even in lore moments he'll throw in a meme or two (ej: estoy cansado jefe) yet his cubito as a whole uses jokes as a coping mechanism. that doesn't mean he can't recognize his own feelings (ej. being upset at qcellbit killing abueloier) and can be often very empathetic, knowing how to start AND end convos. he's also very charismatic i feel like. this also gives him a leeway to be an asshole sometimes LOL (ej. him teasing qmaxo) here's some of roier's mannerisms which translate into his cubito... both in eng and esp. erm erm what else he's also not that serious but can recognize when a situation needs him to be (ej. him guiding bobby through a tantrum)

though RECENTLY his cubito has kept most of those traits, he's definitely going through a lot which has caused him to be more abrasive and blunt. he's also very self destructive and suicidal and expresses that a lot through his actions (ej purgatory and the pool) it makes him a lot more rougher so he doesn't get attached (spoiler alert. he does anyways) he also holds grudges.......... and gets revenge if he can ^_^ (ej him still not being over qspreen killing him) he also impels people to do things he doesnt want to do or feels like benefit him . etcetc

wow i have rambled quite a bit...Hope it helps!!!!!!

#qsmp #qsmp roier #character analysis #i guess? #suicidal tendencies tw #this is also what my interpretation of him is ahaha #but honestly if you wqtch any vod where he speaks eng (if esp isnt your first language) you can get a pretty clear idea of his character

[cowboyjen68]

hi jen, i just followed you and this is really random but ive seen some of your posts helping younger people and it really struck a cord and i need to just let the words fall out of me.

ive been having issues with my girlfriend she cheated on me but this situation is very complicated and we're both fucked up people but i know she still loves me and i really love her. but my anxiety and our lack of communication is really bad right now and im so worried she might not love me the same anymore

ontop of this im 18 and for the past id say 5ish years my mental health and family life has been getting worse, getting diagnosis is hard especially with mentally ill and just overall bad parents that somehow dont understand or believe. i know im deppresed and have been i have anxiety, sever paranoia maybe bpd and bipolar and autism and everything is just so much. now the one person i had is something thats making everything hurt more and i just don't know where to go, im trying to get help but its so slow in this country and i feel so lost and tired i barely eat now and when i do its ether rare or unhealthy and everything is so much i want to collapse.

i hope this isn't to much to randomly send anonymously but you just seem really kind and helpful. thank u for your reply if you do

HI and please accept my apologies for the delay on answering this. I am sorry you are going through so much. My kids are adopted from foster care and I had many kids in my home for up to 5 years who eventually went back home. That is to say I have a lot of experience with mental illness, the systems that treat them, trauma and kids who came from unstable home lives.

At the ripe old age of 18 you have plenty of time to find love and contentment but right now might not be the time. I understand there might be odd circumstances that caused your girlfriend to cheat on you. If you feel betrayed and lost trust that is a feeling that is next to impossible to overcome for people with no comorbidities let alone a teen trying to figure herself out and deal with navigating the broken mental health/care system.

It is actually quite normal for young love to change and get redefined into friendship even when the circumstance are the best. Her cheating on you might very well be a sign that your relationship is in flux and not what you thought it was. A romance that has run its course is not a failure, relationships do not have to last forever to be important and real and worth having had.

It might be scary to think of not being with her, of not having your "one" person that you can count on but I do believe you can get farther working on yourself if you put time and energy into you and not dividing it up between you and her.

There is a lot of precedent set for women to set aside their romance and intimacy in order to be just friends while one or both does some work on herself. Sometimes it is necessary to stay involved for emotional support or financial support, that is just the reality of our world. Living single can be very difficult.

Please consider letting go of the relationship in its current form and putting your energy of yourself. Letting go of the stress of trying to repair what you had with her will remove so much pressure from you and from her that you will feel much more ready to tackle your mental state.

I promise. You are not a failure, she is not "the bad guy" in this story. Take all the wonderful things you shared with her keep those with you when you want a reminder that it loving her was worth your time even if it didn't end like you planned.

Seek mental health help but starting small. A therapist can help you begin to talk through things and often she can help you find additional resources like a medical Dr, public subsidies for insurance or free clinics to assist you in getting medication and mental health support. Most counties have a social services office and those employees are a wealth of information.

#mental health #lesbian #young love #stress #health #relationships

[loversj0y]

am i the only one who has a boiling hatred for fanon ghostbur?

Like--- I'm neutral about canon ghostbur.

But i really really hate how so many people went as far as saying that Ghostbur was all the good parts of Wilbur.

That is just so wrong---- ghostbur has the good memories, but not all the good parts. it just drives me nuts.

ghostbur wasn't good for c!tommy or anyone coping with wilbur's death

it wasn't his fault, but people need to stop depicting him as they do

ohohoho i specifically waited to get to this until i had my laptop because i love me some character analysis! so. lets talk ghostbur!

disclaimer: these are opinions, i didnt write the character, this is just how id analyze ghostbur and audience portrayal of him

so something i think people dont note about ghostbur a lot is the fact that he is not wilbur in a much more real sense than people realize. something that revivebur kind of touches on but people dont really note (in my opinion) is the way the memories and your actions during memories actually shape you as a person. ghostbur could never be all the good parts of wilbur because without the negative memories, he could never have knowledge of how he can be good in negative scenarios, like being good towards tommy in darker times. this is one of the biggest things that makes ghostbur not healthy for the characters around him, and why wilbur being revived is so important to wilbur's overall character arc

ghostbur is the image of wilbur if he never dealt with significant problems, never caused problems or engaged in them, because he only has good memories, he's never seen himself in a negative situation (think to how ghostbur reacts to philza telling him fundy wants to be "adopted" by someone else (i cant remember who at the moment))

when people tell him of his own negative consequences, he literally cannot react in a way of genuine remorse. he feels guilt because he learns that the living version of himself did those things, but he cant actually give any apology that would be beneficial to anyone involved. ghostbur cant apologize for something he cant remember doing because he doesn't know why he acted in those ways.

we can contrast this with when revivebur tries to later apologize (im thinking particularly to fundy) and how when fundy asks why he did those things, he tells him about how he wasn't well mentally. even though fundy doesn't accept the apology (in a very. drastic way), revivebur can actually acknowledge his own motivations, which allows him to actually have a chance as being forgiven.

ghostbur doesnt know any of those motivations, which is why his character is unhealthy. he is literally a ghost of the man he once was, so even though people want genuine answers, before knowing he was going to be revived, they had to realize that ghostbur is basically a punching bag for them to push their issues with c!wilbur onto because ghostbur cant actually respond in any meaningful way in terms of remorse and forgiveness.

also, as for the audience portrayal, i think people got very caught up on the "sweet ghost boy" image rather than what he actually is and how he actually affects the characters. he literally haunts them and reminds them of all the trauma c!wilbur gave them, while knowing that he can't actually answer for any of it because he doesn't remember hurting them

its a very famous philosophical argument (i believe by kant) about the concept of "if someone has no memory of committing a crime, can they actually serve time for it?" because if you have no memory of doing something, can you actually learn from and grow from your experiences?

because ghostbur cant. and thats what hurts the people around him so much. people like c!tommy and c!philza who geniunely care about c!wilbur and want him to be okay know that ghostbur is not that answer because he can't grow from memories he doesnt remember playing a part in, so it hurts to see someone you love be constantly stuck in place of never being able to grow and never being able to answer for all the things you want to ask.

ghostbur is so important to c!wilburs arc because he reminds people not to seek justice on those who can't answer for it. some people actually recognize this, some don't, and some just avoid him like a plague because it hurts.

#mar answers #ghostbur #character analysis #dsmp analysis #ghostbur analysis #anon :3 #i love character analysis so much #i have so much more i could say on ghostbur #but my thoughts are so jumbled that i'd need to create a whole character essay on the philosphical concepts behind his character #dsmp #c!wilbur #warden shes out again and shes cwilbur posting

[system-of-a-feather]

If you are still taking asks about your syscourse stance from anti endos (I'm a bit late) :

1. Excluding those who do not remember their trauma or do not believe it to be enough to be traumagenic, do you believe that endos are really experiencing systemhood and not some other kind of plurality or multiplicity?

I cannot understand how someone who doesn't have any dissociation could ever have alters. It just doesn't make sense at all to me, no matter what angle I look at it from, and I cannot find any sources explaining it either. I do not *not* believe that endos are experiencing some kind of multiplicity but I don't think it's necessarily systemhood, if that makes sense?

2. How do you not get jaded by some of the things you see happening in the pro-endo spaces?

I'm talking about things like people labeling themselves "trans-programmed" or "trans-RAMCOA" (and so many more), those same people often calling traumagenic systems privileged, and other people who keep spreading misinfo about OSDDID (for example, that you don't need trauma to have DID), etc.

I know this isn't the entire community but I rarely see much opposition to those behaviors, which makes me feel very unsafe amongst most pro-endos.

1. Excluding those who do not remember their trauma or do not believe it to be enough to be traumagenic, do you believe that endos are really experiencing systemhood and not some other kind of plurality or multiplicity?

Honestly, I think the only thing in this topic is a lot of arguing over semantics and if words can be shared. From what I'm getting, I think you equate systemhood / being a system to being traumagenic / DID / OSDD exclusively. From the sounds of it, I think you seem to be open to the idea that they do experience multiplicity / plurality so I don't think we disagree there much. I personally don't think "system" and "systemhood" needs to be an explicitly DID/OSDD term but its also a debate I have very little interest in. I am cool with saying that "system" is a term that people can use regardless of their nature cause - to me - it's just a way of labeling yourself.

Also, while I am not sure if it is similar or the same as DID/OSDD alters, I honestly could see how someone could have disordered plurality without being traumagenic simply due to how prolonged internet usage can cause a dissociative effect, especially in situations where roleplaying features are around and those have been documented in clinical studies - particularly around the proposed internet gaming disorder and internet gaming addiction. There is a lot of research to be done whether the experience of DID/OSDD like symptoms late in age is anywhere comparable to the more traditionally researched and understood DID/OSDD that stems from complex and chronic childhood trauma - but it's honestly a pretty false notion that dissociation ONLY comes due to trauma. (ADHD has it as a symptom, internet usage has a dissociative affect on the self, substances can also do it, meditation also can do it) So I figure with the combination of developing research in developmental psychopathology and research into other things that can cause dissociation that we might honestly find other means of developing alters or alter-like experiences in people who did not experience the extended trauma often seen in our current understanding of DID/OSDD.

2. How do you not get jaded by some of the things you see happening in the pro-endo spaces?

I just divide "pieces of shit" from "people just living their lives". //shot//

Honestly, really though, if someone is being an asshole, bigotted, extremely fucked up, etc I consider them first and foremost their fucked up group and then the neutral or positive group identities they have second.

So if someone is trans-programmed and identify as endo - I identify them FIRST as a toxic and fucked up trans-ID person who happens to identify as part of the endo community. I attribute the trans-ID shit to their trans-ID beliefs and give the overall community the benefit of the doubt and good faith that the overlap is a Ven Diagram and not a circle.

Generally I like to avoid generalizing groups as all bad based on their bad corners, especially if I've seen the community actually make efforts to improve. I personally found the latter of the that statement earned with the good faith I saw in a lot of quiogenic and endogenic systems when the tulpa-discourse came up and a good number of servers and people made the effort to leave the appropriated terms behind.

From that point I went "aight ok" and divided the endo community between racists and people with no intent of improving themselves and their community and endos that just honestly want to live their life and are doing the best in their knowledge to not harm others.

TransID people I generally put in the same group as the Tulpa people and just click my tongue in disgust and block them.

But TLDR I just honestly would prefer to give the people that haven't done anything wrong a chance to just live their lives without hurting people rather than punishing them with the people that really don't care the harm they do. Just cause some people who claim to be part of your group are pieces of shit, doesn't mean everyone in that group both 1) supports and wants those people in their group and 2) deserve to be shunned, harassed, and treated with poorly.

#alter: riku #alter: fei #ask #asks #syscourse #syscourse tw

[bobbinalong]

I assume Steph never temporarily "dies" in the "keeps the baby AU" but does she ever become Robin? I figure it goes way differently if it does happen cause her relationship with Tim and Bruce is way different but id be interested in knowing what you're thinking about that arc

I have actually been thinking about how I wanna deal with Steph's continued vigilante-ing in this AU, because, like. Ya can't just leave a baby alone. But I also can't see her giving it up completely. For the first few months I think it'd mostly be a lot of "Mom, I'm going out with Tim, can you watch Allie for a few hours?" and she does go out with Tim, just, well, as Spoiler.

For the Robin thing I'd have to re-read that arc properly, which I do not currently have the brainpower to do, but I did go over the wiki, and I'd think there'd just be. Less drama around everything? If Jack finds out Tim's Robin in this AU, I think Tim might suggest Steph to Bruce himself as a replacement. They're more secure in their relationship; Tim revealed his identity himself, he spends a lot of time at the Browns and their parents know each other. He's basically step-parenting her kid, not that he's fully aware of that yet.

I also kinda like the idea of a dual-Robin situation? Like, Steph still wants to be a vigilante but she's also very aware of the dangers that brings with it, much more so now than before she became a mom, and Tim's like, maybe you should go out with Batman and me more, then, not fly solo as much. And she's like, it's Batman and Robin, not Batman and Robin and Spoiler, and he goes I'll put in a good word for you, and from there things just fall into place. Batman and Robin (lucky break) and Robin (picked up from the street). Bruce is ecstatic (not).

And she definitely doesn't die in this AU. For one because War Games sucks, for another because while she is still a teenager and she does still stupid and impulsive shit, she is not risking her life for Batman's approval. As much as she'd maybe want to. Again, there's a baby waiting for her at home.

And those are all my thoughts for now, but feel always free to send me more asks.

#dc #anon #bobbinasks #stephanie brown #steph keeps the kid au #yeah i think i'll go with double robin #i also think tim might retire from vigilante-ism eventually #like when allie's older when they've moved in together and stuff #stay at home dad (not really he just takes nights lol) #because i think i might not kill jack in this au so when damian comes around there's a little less drama #heavy emphasis on the little #but yeah tim originally originally only wanted to be robin for a while #i think #im not misremembering that right #OR they become a family of vigilantes #spoiler. batgirl? and ... cardinal and. #... #sparrow #i dunno we'll see

[wordsandrobots]

If there's one thing I crave more of from IBO, it's Bauduin sibling interactions. I've watched that scene with them McGillis in S1E11 more times than I can count.

I do like that we've gotten a few more pieces of the Bauduin family situation from the side-stories. Almiria's assessment of marriage as a man and woman living together in the same house, eating together, going out together, and arguing once a month suggests certain very specific things about Lord and Lady Bauduin's relationship, perhaps making sense of why Gaelio and Almiria's mother is nowhere to be seen come the start of the series. Although, saying that, *none* of the Seven Star kids' mothers appear to be a presence in their lives. When Carta and Iok lose their fathers (effectively and actually), they're placed with guardians rather than being raised by their other parent. Which is probably yet another aspect of the predominance of bloodlines in Gjallarhorn's social mores. When only one parent truly 'counts', intimacy is going to be the first casualty.

I think a lot about how that applies to the Bauduin kids. Because they clearly know each other well enough to be properly annoying, and their father shows genuine concern for them, so I don't imagine their home-life was particularly cold or remote. At the same time, I wonder how much contact Gaelio and Almiria have actually had. The implication is that he's at a boarding school in his teens and then on to military academy. It's possible he only ever saw Almiria during holidays and while on leave. If we're being generous, we might use that to explain why he stresses her babyishness so much -- he's literally missed seeing her grow up. Although, even if that is true, Gaelio is 1) a jerk and 2) kind of weird about the status Almiria throws herself into living up to.

Don't get me wrong, he really needed that 'learning to be a better person by exposure to normal people' arc. Yet we see he has contempt for the corrupt, the underhanded and, significantly, for the specific people in his social circle. "The guests are even more vulgar than usual," indeed! I'd imagine childhood spent in proximity to those in Iok's mould would not give you a good impression of your peers. Coupling that to the whole 'running for the hills when people propose to him', it's feasible Gaelio finds Almiria ridiculous for affecting manners he himself resents. He's standing there, isolated by his status as Gallus' heir, with McGillis and Carta as his only actual friends, and Carta going like that as she gets older, and here's his baby sister acting all prim, too naive to understand she's being used as a pawn. It's small wonder he turns to mocking sarcasm.

For her part, Almiria is caught between the reality of being a child and the expectations placed upon her by the adults in her life. As much as Gaelio mocks her, she *can't* be a baby, or else the whole political structure of their lives falls apart. Being ridiculed for being a little girl is exceptionally cruel in the context of having her husband picked out for her when she was five. Like, what do you want from her, you bastards? Because what you got was a kid who idolised the idea of being grown up as a kind of freedom, while being unable to conceptualise it beyond the social structures that caused her to be in this situation to begin with. Gah, sorry, I know it's off the point, but I am constantly struck by how Almiria in some ways has it worse than the kids who are actually homeless. At least they have some measure of personal autonomy.

Anyway, jerk or no, I still think Gaelio cares for his sister and was sincerely afraid for her following what McGillis said at Edmonton, albeit in a 'I am her big brother so I should be protecting her' sort of way rather than necessarily protecting Almiria the person. I played into that hard when I approached writing their relationship post-canon: with how they were raised and the gaps between them it caused, I feel it's reasonable to assume they each have an idea of the other that causes them certain emotions, without necessarily knowing one another. They are both good at loving shadows, after all, and even if it is genuinely love, I think it would take some very hard conversations to make them close.

(For plot reasons, I weighted that towards Gaelio seeing what he expects/wants while Almiria gains a better understanding of what's going on between his ears, but it's still rather superficial on both sides. Gaelio tries. He really does. Almiria . . . well. Ahem. I did Things with Almiria as a character.)

In terms of scenes we could have gotten but didn't, I'd personally want to see a Bauduin family meal. Gallus, Mrs Gallus, Gaelio and Almiria, all round a table together. Probably a very big one that made it impossible to have comfortable conversations, with fancy food and servants fading into the walls. It'd be the dinner from hell, one way or another, but I'd love to get a glimpse at the full dynamic.

#words in answer #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #Bauduin Family #Gaelio Bauduin #Almiria Bauduin #character interpretation #spoilers

[soranihimawari]

Chances are Earned

Word count: tba

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji x reader//strangers -> potential lovers

Rating: t/m (teen+/mature for violence maybe & old world godlike powers)

when you lock eyes, this is one of the first scenes i think of...

“What do you mean I can’t take the exam?! You know I was on special leave!”

“And I’m telling you, Mx. YN, Yaga did not inform me, so you aren’t able to retake it.”

At seventeen years of age, you were having a discussion with your teacher who, mind you, had been giving these make up exams for students where missions for exorcising curses had been granted. Just because you aren't on the front lines doesn't mean you're not truly fighting either. If anything, your work behind the scenes along with the other medics in the sorcerer community has anything to add, you were always talented. Ever since the night your older cousin told you what she and her friends fought over summer vacation that one time you were nine years old. That aside, you chose to follow her in her footsteps in order to do your part to ensure the safety of humans everywhere.

You sigh, thanking them for their time, and retreat back to the school medic wing. Your cousin, Shoko, is still filing something or other for another student and you explain your situation. She isn’t really paying any attention, you’re gone to fetch some waters. In the midst of all this, you peak into an empty classroom. It’s there you meet him. Him is one of your most respected and revered peers since he did eat an ancient relic: Sukuna’s finger.

You’re very nonchalant when you pass each other again during mid morning break. He talks playfully about his plans for the weekend with his classmates. Unlike me, I’d be stuck editing and re-reading some case files, deciphering if the victims were caused by curses or humans.

•Itadori, Yuuji: filed special case.•

You recall seeing the file Shoko babes you from reading from, however Gojo-sensei noticed in his passing of the exchange and conveniently emailed you a copy. Every report involving Yuuji came to you from Gojo all except the one he’s about to go on.

[[Four days later]]

“Medic! Shoko?!” Gojo is holding a slumped over Yuuji.

“She’s gone ho—! What happened sensei?!” You inquire.

Yuuji is barely breathing when he is laid down on the examination table.

“Call Shoko, get checked out by her. I’ll take care of him,” you say.

Gojo id about to protest, but he sees the cursed energy float around you like Hermès’ serpent staff. There is something odd about healers in the sorcerer communities. Those tied to the ancients seem to have stronger concentrations of one of their talents. For example: in voodoo there is legends of the Shadow Man; in Greek mythology, there is Hermes god of speed and healing; but there is one more old world god from a pantheon outside of your realm of knowledge. Gojo smirks when your fingers have that kind of kahjal black: Ra the Sun. You harness what you can to save the boy on the table and he breathes easier with you.

“Nnnhnn,” Yuuji groans as he starts coming to.

You sit on a chair next to him and take notes. It’s been a while since you’ve healed someone who isn’t yourself and you’re almost too scared to poke his cheek which now is gaining more color. Yuuji sits up suddenly and looks around the morgue before settling on you. He studies you, curious and ask, and for the first time in his mind, Sukuna is quiet.

“Hi,” your day as the light flickers above your head.

“You made him shut up,” Yuuji is cautious.

You hold up your hands in protest. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…? You were unconscious and it seemed like you were in pain a-and I’m really sorry.”

Standing to walk away to grab your things, partly embarrassed and partly because he seemed either happy or relieved (you couldn’t tell which). Itadori Yuuji, when he can, he learned tommaintain a sense of respect and accountability for those who heal people. He has seen so much death that perhaps now is a good time to actually… live; so he stops you with just one question:

“What’s your name?”

“…” you mumble it under your breath before his boyish smile encourages you to repeat it.

“Thank you,” is what he responds with.

It seems today was a good day for luck to have shown you favor.

Ever since that day, whenever there’s a mission to complete, Yuuji asks your cousin if you’re free the night or the whole day before. You’re not really dating nor are you letting your imagination get ahead of yourselves, but you do enjoy the company of his classmates as well. Nobara thinks you’re brilliant and Megumi recognizes the talent you have. You’ve spent your lunches with them in either a classroom or they stop by the medic wing. One time, the three of them walked in as you were studying the flowers died and nearly dead on the table and you tried your best to have them become lively again—the vibrancy holds true for a few seconds and the flowers wilt and turn to ash.

Sighing, you mumble, “not good.”

“Yuuji did bring canned coffee for you though,” Nobara says, noticing how her classmate seemed to have blush marks under his eyes.

Megumi looked between the can of coffee to Nobara’s mischievous face, to Sukuna’s vessel and finally on your face… he connected the dots as he stares at Nobara for dragging him to a supposed “lunch”-date.

“Oh c’mon, ‘gumi,” she whispers. “Ya gotta admit this is nice.”

Megumi grunts sort of reminding himself they’re all teenagers in a high school surrounded by the occult practices of exorcising curses.

“‘S good to feel a little normal, right?” is all the Fushiguro boy says.

It’s not until two months later you are pivoted against Nobara for a sparring match with Gojo-sensei as the instructor. Somehow there is even some things which should remain secret. Like now, how you read Nobara’s movements after only seeing her attack once and how you laugh saying you’re having fun as phantom serpents wrap around your arms when you swing a throwing tomahawk her way and slice her face. It’s a rough cut, but not deep enough to require stitches, but when Nobara counters, you seem to dodge certain nails of hers. You’re not one to be outmatched by a peer, yet you are forcing her to think outside the box in terms ending this. You glance over at her teacher who just nods to stop this.

“‘M sorry?” you ask after Nobara walks away exhausted because for once her solutions weren’t sticking.

“You did good as a sparring partner,” Gojo is pleasantly surprised. “Think you can square off against Megumi tomorrow?”

“I have to check with Shoko, but sure?”

“Good, now go on get cleaned up and go back to class,” he instructs. “I have to make a quick call.”

[[Summer 2005]]

The first time you’re going to be able to arrive at the shores of Okinawa is also the first time you’re cordially invited to hang out with Gojo and his students. Why you were signed off by Shoko and even Yaga to go. Gojo must have framed it as a team bonding experience in order for you to be included. What you didn’t know was what led to this: rumors around the campus was that one strawberry blond who would not stop talking and asking about you caused this invitation to happen.

Room arrangements were made and more often than not you do not break any habits that were synonymous for you to breathing. At the sunrise, you were found on the sandy shores across the safe house listening to the world around you. Everything was harmonized from within outward. Nobara seemed to wake earlier sometimes, she sees you and says nothing as she goes to text her classmate. The two switch places for a moment and before long, the sun light kisses your skin and a phantom sigil under your eyes glow a deep kahjal black. You do your Sun salutations prior to realizing you’re not alone.

“You can join me if you like to watch,” you call over your shoulder on the second day.

Itadori Yuuji, Sukuna’s vessel, special grade, does just that. He sits with you one morning on the shore; you brought two blankets and he comes dressed in his long pants and tanktop; you’re dressed similarly except you bring a coat with you. Together you’re both overlooking the skies between the space of dawn and first light; Sukuna remains silent for now, learning more about what his vessel seems to be attracting to. Both of you glance up at the fading of the night and you face the boy you brought back from the brink and finally truly sees you in all the glory associated with the sun.

“Don’t be scared of me, ok?” your voice is low and gravely like you needed a pot of tea with copious amounts of honey.

“You think I find you spooky?” he seems a bit playfully amused, but he pipes down when you give him a forlorn look.

“Many didn’t like what we can do,” you carry on, closing your eyes trying to drown out the screams of those in your last you couldn’t save and those who were angry you let their loved ones pass on.

His gives you a once over and hums before you continue to meditate. He follows your lead on the next breeze that dances across the seas ahead of you. Just beyond the horizon, the rays of the sun start to shine.

Strength comes in many forms, so when he sees the sigils appear, he makes an attempt to hold your face. Gently, whispering to you a word of thanks, causing your lips to curl into a grin.

There is beauty in giving another a chance. Chances are earned, you reason and for right now, this individual holding your face, is smirking flirtatiously at you. And before the mayhem in the future no one can really predict, both of you decide to give romance a chance.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #jjk x reader #🎋.jjk🎋 #🎋.itadori yuuji x reader🎋

[krikeymate]

The conflicting feelings tara had after sam left would be very interesting to look deeper into, in my opinion, if my sibling left me w/ a very toxic alcoholic mother, no matter the reason, i dont think id forgive them as fast as tara did (that could just be that ive never had a great relationship w/ my sibling though, whereas tara did) but i feel like even if tara forgave her, there would still be lasting conflicting feelings about sam (which they did show in scream 6, but i feel like it could've been deeper than that), i feel like something like that is something you don't just get over, and it tends to end in resentment, cause why could you leave when i couldnt? Or why did you get to reconstruct your life piece by piece when i was stuck in a toxic home? Those tend to be the most common reactions to abandonment like that, and just knowing why sam left wouldnt remove all the years tara spent wondering what she couldve done, what wouldve made sam stay. I do quite like the path they took in 6, where they did kind of show the resentment/anger tara had for sam, but i wish there was more to it. They kind of passed it off as 'oh, taras drunk. Theres not much behind it' and dropped it for the rest of the movie when they could've done so much more. Like i said, if my sibling ever did what sam did, even after they came back into my life i would constantly have conflicting thoughts of 'i hate them' to 'i love them' and back and forth, and i hope they show atleast a bit more of taras abandonment issues if they make another movie, because i feel like it would be really interesting to get more stuff about her character and reactions.

I would like to add that this is partially based off how i would react to my sibling doing that, which in itself could make my perspective on this completely different cause ive got like 10 scenarios i can think of off the top of my head that would make me 100% biased about how i would react to stuff. But it is also based off some human behavior stuff i already knew

I think there's too many individual factors involved to generalise the situation. At the end of the day, there's so many people who wouldn't forgive their sibling in this situation, but there's so many who would.

Personally, I've never forgiven my brother for the nerve to be born in the first place.

I think this is all part of what makes Tara a much more fascinating character to take apart and reconstruct, because I know Sam, I can see why she does the things she does, I know her motivations, her fears, what makes her tick. We just don't have that information for Tara. Sam's story starts the moment she finds that diary, and we know what happens after that. But it feels like Tara's story starts the moment she is born, and we don't see any of it, any of the formative stuff. We only see the aftermath. By that I mean, what defines their characters and their personalities. It's really interesting actually, because obviously we don't actually see a young Sam either, and yet we've been given so much more context to who she is and why.

In 5, she's overwhelmed by her sister's return to her life - an event she thought would never happen. She never thought she would see her sister again. She clearly begins to work through her feelings about Sam returning between 5 and 6, however I don't read the way she reacts to Sam in 6 as actually being upset with Sam at all.

I think Tara has forgiven Sam. For everything. I think, as we see at the end of 6, she realises she would rather have her sister in her life than not, and to do so, she has to let go. Of her anger, of her fears, of her facade of a normal life.

She learns in 5 that Sam leaving was never her fault, that there was nothing she could have done to help her or change what happened. She learns that Sam left because she thought it was the only way to protect her, from herself. Tara forgives her for that. Sam clearly then makes up for lost time, and does so in a way that unfortunately Tara can't quite fully appreciate because it's conflicting with her trauma and her attempt to ignore the fact she died. Something she can't do because it's also what brings her sister back to her. Sam uproots her life once again and does so to make one with her sister, she's dedicated to her, she builds her new life around her. It's all an act of worship, and Tara knows that. She digs into it when she's drunk and arguing with Sam. But that argument isn't really about Sam and Tara's feelings about her. It's about Tara trying to pretend everything is fine, when she's not fine.

#/mp #ask box #iheartthreedaysgrace #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #-the girls

[dollybeagle]

okay so. clover and flowey. i know you havent finished undertale yellow yet so i wont spoil anything, but i do wish we got to see more of them in game.

again , wont spoil much but you can pretty much tell that.. feeling sympathy is very hard for flowey. id imagine this causes a lot of trouble in his and clover's friendship. clover being someone who was Most Likely abused [thanks to implications we see in the game text], i imagine clover often cries and has panic attacks. i mean not only because of their past but also they are. going. through a Lot. they got trapped underground with many monsters that want them dead.

flowey, in these situations, has no idea what to do. zero clue. he does try his best to comfort clover, but its pretty hard for him since he doesnt feel empathy for anyone.

and also as someone who headcanons flowey as Kind Of Mentally Ill, i imagine its even harder for him. he tries to brush clover's problems off and is mean but he doesnt mean to. he is just like that. he does hate himself.

.... aaaaaand i could say other stuff but those are spoilers tehee

OUGHH OKAY I love this- i agree that, especially since flowey started of as the only one clover could cling to after they got lost, they could have done more with their friendship. flowey, an unwell individual, and clover, who is also unwell. they both struggle in different ways, which makes it hard for them to reasonate with each other, but even then, they care for each other, despite the trouble that's often caused. things are said that are not truly meant, and i think you know how that goes

i absolutely love all these headcanons, ,

#rowan speaks #im gonna cry now #if anything happens to clover in game #like canonically #im gonna.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

if you want an additional Situation, id be curious about ethedis with #2 :D

ok well. idk why my brain decided these go together but it turned out Very Mean oops. sorry it took so long my brain just, was Not letting me write descriptions. or dialogue. also idk why this is in 2nd person but that's just what it started as and I guess we're committed now *shrug*

#2: time loop (creative liberties taken) #6: reverse amnesia (no one can remember the character)

“Sorry, Corunir, was it? I think I’m a little lost-” Ethedis sets down her cup on the coffee table between the two of you, looking at you intently. There is the sound of rain pattering outside. You search her eyes for the faintest hint of recognition -futile, you know- but still she looks at you like a total stranger. Courteous, curious, but distant. “Can you explain it one more time?” You know it won’t do any good, but you start anyway.

“I’m afflicted by a curse. You’re not going to remember this conversation, you will not remember my face, my voice, or anything I’ve ever done. Sometime between now and dawn, you and everyone else I’ve met today will forget. And the same thing will happen tomorrow.” You managed to keep your voice level explaining it this time. You’ve had practice now. 

“I was a part of Golodir's Company, then the Grey Company, and then the Conquest of Gorgoroth. I became like this after retrieving some kind of cursed artifact from Mordor. I did not realize how dangerous it was at the time. Evidently the curse had a delayed reaction, as it only took effect after I had turned it over to the Houses of Lore for study and safekeeping.”

“I see…” You remain silent and let her process your admittedly hard to believe story. She always takes it better than most you encounter, no accusations of madness or ill intent at least. 

When your brothers see someone they don’t recognize wearing one of their stars, they tend to assume the worst, that it was stolen by an imposter trying to infiltrate their ranks or something of that nature. You of course don’t blame them for it, it’s an understandable reaction. There are so few of you left now, of course a stranger in one of their uniforms would be cause for alarm, but you cannot deny how much it hurts.

So you keep your star hidden when you speak to those of them still in the city. Sometimes you still try to explain your plight, sometimes they actually believe you, but always they forget by the next dawn. 

You find it hurts less to keep your distance from them. The mistrustful look in their eyes typically reserved for strangers is almost too much to bear. 

But Ethedis has always been a little more trusting. Ok a lot more trusting, to an almost worrying degree, but at least it means you have someone to talk to. Coming here to see her has probably been the only thing keeping you sane these last few weeks, she’s one of the few people you find easy to talk to in your current predicament.

The second time you came to her, you just broke. Realizing she truly remembered nothing about you, and the hopelessness of your situation truly starting to set in, is a pain you almost wished you could forget. 

But instead of doing the reasonable thing and demanding that the sobbing madman leave her room at once, she actually attempted to comfort you. A little clumsily perhaps, but the fact that she tried at all was enough to hold you together.

Maybe some part of her could see you were telling the truth, despite how strange it was. Some elves have the power to see into people’s hearts, and though Ethedis never believed she possessed such an ability, you have your own suspicions. She’s always finding new ways to surprise you.

She rummages around her belongings for a sheet of paper and something to write with. You don’t bother telling her it’s pointless. Come morning those papers she’s hastily scribbling down your story on will be blank once again, but you don’t stop her, there’s no reason to keep her from trying.

“So, this relic then,” she says without looking up from the paper “I assume you’ve already tried simply breaking it, and that clearly didn’t work.”

“Yes, the enchantment upon it protected it from any harm I was capable of.”

“I wonder if there’s something I could do to it… maybe tomorrow, after I’ve read over these notes, I could try-”

“I do not mean to sound rude in saying this, but I know that will not work.” You say gently, “You have tried that before, and many other things.” 

She’s attempted to unravel the enchantment a few times now, but truthfully you don’t want her anywhere near it. Not until you’ve exhausted all other options. The risk of her becoming cursed herself may be small, but it is far too great for you to bear. 

You think it might have been your proximity to the relic over such a long period of time that caused you to become like this, as it was on your person all the way from Mordor to Minas Tirith. But you still think it’s too risky for anyone to get near it, even for a short amount of time. Especially Ethedis. You cannot let her fall to this fate. You cannot let her be forgotten.

The scholars in the Houses of Lore at least seem to understand that whatever enchantment is on the relic is dangerous, so it is locked away far from anyone. Ethedis had to pull a great many strings for you to be allowed near it, until you learned who you needed to talk to and exactly what to say to be let in by yourself. 

“And, besides that, I guess I should tell you those notes will not be there for you to read tomorrow.”

“Ah.” her pencil stops “I take it the words will vanish as well as my memories?” 

you nod solemnly. “Anything written by or about me, I’m afraid. Truthfully, I did not come here to try to work out a solution. Not tonight.”

“Don’t tell me you're giving up, are you?” She asks sharply. Ah, there’s that stubborn hope you remember.

“No, not yet.” you sigh “But I am tired. Tired of all the dead ends. Right now, I just wanted to talk to you, hear your voice.”

“I suppose it would get rather lonely.”

You nod sadly. ‘Lonely’ seems a bit of a tame way to describe what you became after losing all your friends overnight, but it gets the point across.

“So, how did I know you?”

“In Angmar. You were there at my lowest point, when my spirit was broken by the Watchers, you gave me hope and light I thought were long beyond my reach. I have tried to be the same for you, in our battles with the Iron Crown, through the journey south, but… it seems I have once again fallen into my original role.”

She gives a thoughtful hum and glances out the window, between the storm and the darkness of night it is pitch black out there, but Ethedis still seems to be looking at something. “...Now that you mention it, it seems a bit unbelievable that I could have done all those things alone. I had not thought much about it, but it makes much more sense if I had a strong Ranger like you there with me.”

Your face gets a little flush “I think you give me a little too much credit, it was still mostly you-”

“Nonsense! I mean, Barad Gularan? Bogbereth? All those fights with Mordirith? They hardly seem like tasks for a lone elf, I must have had someone with me, and that must have been you.”

She looks back to you, her bright demeanor dimmed ever so slightly “I wish I remembered… You and I must have been close.”

“We were. Something other than friends, we loved each other, but we were not lovers, at least, not in the traditional sense. We didn’t really care what we called it, we were just… very important to each other.” It doesn’t feel right to refer to your relationship in the past-tense, you don’t want to think of it as being ‘over’, you still love her. But, you are a stranger to her now, present-tense would be inappropriate.

She looks at you piercingly, her bright green eyes seeming to search for something in you. Then her expression softens, something like pity almost.

“...do you need a hug?” 

You’re a little taken aback, she hasn’t asked that before. “I… wasn’t going to ask… I am a stranger to you after all, but if you’re offering-” you try to swallow a lump in your throat, and you cannot look her in the eyes “Yes. I need one.”

She walks over and sits next to you, then pulls you close. Tighter than you had expected, not how you think she would embrace a total stranger such as yourself.

You hadn’t noticed how cold you were until you felt the warmth of her arms. Ice has seeped into your very bones, and you do not want to let her go. It feels like it’s been years since you felt her embrace. The loneliness and the fear and the hopelessness all claw their way to the surface of your heart, desperate to be laid bare before her. You fight with everything you have not to sob into her shoulder.

You don’t want to let go, but you know you must. Your time here runs short.

As you pull away you hastily wipe away some stray tears that had fallen unbidden from your eyes.

“You will find some way to break this curse.” she states, her eyes not filled with hope, but with certainly. 

“If anyone else had said that I would think they were lying to be kind. Not you, though. I believe you.” She always has plenty of certainty to spare when you find yourself without any. There was a time when you might have thought it was mere naivety, but you know better now.

But you’ve been here too long now. It’s late, she might forget about you at any moment.

“I should be going now.” you say reluctantly “The curse will take effect soon I think, and I doubt you will be happy to find me in your room when that happens.”

As you walk through the door, a chill suddenly runs all the way through you, your blood turns to ice and your breath freezes in your lungs, now a puff of visible vapor before you. 

It’s happening again. You mistimed this visit, you had hoped to leave before this. You don’t want to turn around, you hate watching people forget, but you turn anyway.

Ethedis sits with the blank papers in front of her, seeming a little confused. She shakes her head as if to dispel some fog in her mind.

“...What on earth was I-” She looks up at you, the stranger in her doorway, and jumps to her feet in alarm.

“Um, hello? What are- what you are doing here?”

“Oh, sorry to disturb you, I just got a little lost.” You can’t hide the sadness in your gaze, and that probably only confuses her more.

“Wait, you…” she looks you up and down, then tilts her head “You look like a Ranger, but I have not seen you before… Who are you?”

You shrug “I should be going now.” and quickly make your exit.

She probably thinks she’s seen a ghost. You guess that isn’t too far off from the truth.

—

Eventually morning comes again. You walk through the streets of the lower circles, blending into the crowds like a ghost. 

You’re not really sure what you’re doing down here, but you find it’s easier to think when you’re walking, so here you are. 

You’ve been going around in circles in your head, no closer to any possible solution. Gandalf might have the power to undo this curse, but he is far away aiding the Conquest. You doubt he would be able to fix this without the relic on hand, and removing it from the Houses of Lore only risks exposing more people to the curse, so you wouldn’t dare try stealing it unless you had no other choice. If only you could send a message to him, but nothing you try to write ever leaves a trace. You could get Ethedis to write something to him again, but you’re starting to think anything written in your presence is doomed to vanish, as the last letter she wrote mentioned nothing about you or the curse, but it was still blank the next day. 

But something more alarming has come to your attention, too. It’s hard to gauge, but you think people are starting to forget about you faster than before. You feel chilled at odd hours of the day, and sometimes people cannot seem to look directly at you or hear your voice, almost as if you aren’t wholly there to them. You might not have time to wait for Gandalf. Could this curse even have the power to fully erase someone? You hope not, you hope you’re just imagining it, and you pray you never have to find out.

You wish you had never retrieved the damn thing. You don’t know what could have possibly possessed you to go to Mordor alone, not while Ethedis had not fully recovered from her injuries. You would have hated to leave her like that. You recall it made perfect sense at the time, it seemed important.

Another new worry has been clawing in the back of your mind. Perhaps you didn’t go to Mordor alone, and perhaps you were not the only one forgotten. Your actions do not make much sense otherwise-

In your distraction, you plowed headfirst into someone on the street. A young man with a distinctive red scarf and fiery hair to match. You do not know him. 

He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. You try to ask if he’s alright, but before you can say anything he quickly mutters an apology and slips out of sight into a nearby alleyway.

You think you should ignore him and focus on the task at hand, but, there was something else… 

When you touched him, you felt that same chill as before, when the curse takes effect every night. Smaller perhaps, but unmistakable. You still feel cold, you can see your breath.

The man with the scarf has some connection to it, and you need to get to the bottom of it.

—

(surprise! I found a way to be mean to Tossdir in this too! I am only a little sorry >:) you thought I just forgot to mention him earlier? nooo, but everyone else did! I have some vague ideas for where to go with this one actually. maybe I'll do a continuation if people are interested idk. this doesn't feel like my finest work but hey practice is practice and I think the concept is neat)

#ty for the ask! #aaaufhg this was Not Coming Together for the longest time #just had to slap myself in the face and say 'it doesn't have to be perfect it just had to be done' a few times lol #metaphorically of course #lotro fic #ask games #corunir #lotro oc #Ethedis #Tossdir

[bmpmp3]

some fashion dreamer adventures from playing too much in the past two days :) (MY USER ID IS LGXwM6wQk5 FEEL FREE TO request stuff or whatever u do in this game i forgor) :

(ignore shocked shane this aint about him) made my OC dave as my first muse so i am kinda playing hard mode with the type b body situation but im like. determined now. im gonna make the flashiest and cutest and over the top outfits i can muster with the scraps theyve given the the type b (jk jk its not TOO bad its the best we've gotten so far but I do wish i could wear shorter shorts and crop tops and some of those type a socks are so cute i saw some that were like bandage thigh highs. dave should be allowed to wear thigh highs. dave should be allowed to wear thigh highs)

still having a lot of fun tho! sometime i should get around to making a type a muse but most people i meet are type a so i never run out of people to dress either way LOL

like most people i have things i hope they add in the future (like i said before, the lack of zoom is DIRE) and right now some of the currencies and levelling systems feel a little unbalanced (i have so many of the star things and bingo things and a decent amount of gacha things but the photo prop coins are my most coveted thing rn i have like 1 single one JKDLSJFDS) but im enjoying myself a lot like i knew i would

was trying to take a pic of this other player's muse that had this really neat witch situation but i accidentally made dave dab and got really scared <3

in the end we must all go to the photo egg. in the end we all go into the photo egg. the universality of the photo egg.

kinda wacky from daylight savings time changes i always get wacky i dont know what year or time it is. i spent twenty minutes scouring the ACT cocoon for the showroom stream 'cause i couldnt find it until i accidentally went into this like. basement alley. its in the basement alley <3 <3 <3

i guess we dont just go into the egg. we also. go into the. cocoons. the cocoons. in eve? cocoons in eve have. eggs in them

anyway i just unlocked cocoon FUN and its so awesome and scary and so so scary look at this bear

free this bear somebody please free this bear ignore dave posing free this bear cocoon fun has bears behind bars and gazebos that raise you into heaven its so scary and awesome

going back to the photo props my favourites so far are the flowers theyre so cute

i dont do the vertical photos that often because theyre kinda hard to do (u have to like. turn ur head or the switch to the side..... im nearly exclusively a tabletop switch player so i cant imagine what its like for docked player LOL) but this ones cute!

but yeah very fun and extremely addicting i need to go to bed. i need to go to bed. i have assignments and i need to go to bed. but i want. to make outfits..........i must.....make outfits......graaaaahhh........GRAAAAAHHHHHH (turns into a zombie before your eyes)

#i dont do enough of the making of clothes tho i keep forgetting #i think they do need to expand it more. i understand not having like patterns people draw like animal crossing #(hard to moderate for a very online game) #BUT i do think they could do some WONDERFUL things with the system they already have for making ur brand logos #like that brand logo maker is UNREAL do u want a logo of a toilet in a heart with a forest background? you can do that if u want #you can do anything in there its absurd #but if they added the ability to make like tshirt graphics or maybe even repeatable patterns with that system it would be awesome #but i do need to make more designs. my brand is in SHAMBLES #also this is besides any point but its wild playing the type b body at the default height in a world of type a's at their default heights #everyones always looking up at me. is this what its like to be tall. is this what its like #why are you looking at me like that. whats going on down there. is this what being tall is. strange and unusual #although speaking of height its awesome the height varieties between the two body types like #the default is like slightly short type a and slightly tall type b but if u want u can be the shortest little guy or the tallest lady ever #its fantastic. i think the tallest type a matched the tallest type b pretty close and same with the shortest type b to type a #u can be small. u can be big. the world is our oyster. takes your hand and we run together into the sunset