#hollow gets in on the mom cuddles

[pascalsbby]

Hot Single Dad of The Neighborhood

Summary: It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, eventual smut (c’mon…wouldn’t be a celebration without it)

This is satire. Kinda. It’s me laughing at myself & my love for this fictional man. But you’re laughing along, because you get it. Let me know what you think!!

This is a part of my 700 follower’s celebration. Read the detailed description here 🩷

It all started with this:

Let me set the scene:

It’s 9:45pm on a Friday, and this is better than having the house to yourself. This is the time of week where we tuck our children (and husbands) in, and we gather around this shitty glass table as the tales are whispered through. It starts off with your usual: sugar-salted peach margaritas turned to two, a joint, and then the riveting conversation of, “now who would leave that dick?”

We call ourselves ‘Joel Miller’s Neighborhood Wives’. It’s a mouthful. But we like a mouthful. So- sit down, have a smoke, a wee little drink, and listen to the goss.

The neighborhood wives (Kat, Kali, Chloe on the right of you, Kit, Vic, Bug & Angela to the left) are all cuddled around Kat’s patio, enacting a dramatic retelling of ‘who the fuck is Joel Miller?’ Himself, somewhere across the street, wondering why every now and then he hears a chorus of squeals. Then, he smiles to himself and wishes he had the guts to grace y’all with his presence. He’s not invited though.

This is the first time you’ve hung out with them, and maybe the last, tbh. No way this Miller guy is worth all this fuss.

And, action.

It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller. We take whatever we can get from him, between when we hear his truck two streets over, lightly running across the hollow wooden floors to put on our slippers. The low growl from his truck pipes (or yours) grows louder as he turns the corner onto the street. We watch as he drops out of the truck and thuds against the concrete, slamming that damn door closed. Probably how he lets all his ladies know he’s home. Our eyes follow his form, tapping all the way up to his front door before he takes those goddamn cowboy boots off. We stumble out of the front door and check the mail. Well, only for the third time that morning. What? We are all always expecting something, alright? You catch what you can before his shoulders disappear through the blue-chipped front door, right back into his house. We close the mailboxes simultaneously and sadly drip back to our front doors. No hello’s today.

Sometimes later in the night before supper, you’ll see the door shaped hole widen in the darkness, warmth boasting from behind as Joel’s form takes up the light, smiling as he pats Tommy on his way inside. Tommy usually drinks too much and stays the night, so we sit back and tend to the family. We ride our delusions in the meantime. Then, the cycle continues. It’s like… the cycle of life. You know?

He seems like your typical gentleman, Joel. A Southern-raised man, one who would let you be his nuclear-family sweetheart. Cook for him, clean for him, spread *it open for him, let his massive fucking hands feel any part of you they wanted. Especially if that meant they were to explore more under the stiff shirtwaist dresses. Or in. We would all rather him in.

Spread, what, exactly? Oh yeah dude, sorry. I meant: *Cunt, asshole, any part of you he wanted to look down the middle of and split open, really. We aren’t shy about it when it comes to talking to each other. Obviously.

The aforementioned Tommy?

That’s his brother, probably about seven or eight years younger. He is a beau too, but he doesn’t seem the type to really fuck it out of ya. I mean sure, he has done his fair share of fucking around with the moms’ of the neighborhood, too. Bug even whispered a tale of Tommy going after those mom’s college daughters, swooping in to help clean the pool before setting them gently on the concrete and swiping their panties to the side as he buried his face in them. He always made sure they were at least 22. This is only moments after the pretty younger girls make their way back into the pretty, white iron gates afront their parents' houses.

Fair enough, he has the same curls wrapping down the base of his neck, kissing the skin beneath them. He has the ‘Miller Smirk’ - what the town wives call it. The Miller brothers are known throughout the neighborhood for their distinct brand of charm. Both possess an effortless charisma that begs you to get on your knees. But they never let us. Sad. Their shared features aren’t few, but none are as similar and charming as their half-smiles. Grins always slightly tilted, as if they were sharing an inside joke with each other but not the rest of the world.

So of course Tommy is desired to an extent, physically, of course. Emotionally? Probably not. But shit, you’d have both if you could. Paris looks great this time of year. Anyways.

He wasn’t the Miller we all grappled over and wanted so deeply, despite a metal band around our fingers (or not). His competency and willingness. They way he looks at his daughter. Oh yeah…girl dad. The way he looks in the Texas heat. His back, flexed and sweating through his too-tight shirt. “The day that man wears a white shirt and it’s over 90 degrees- I will drop fucking dead. Someone take care of the kid for me,” Kat.

There’s been one story about Joel that is retold over and over like it’s fuckin’ Genesis Chapter 3, creation and all. The story on how, why, we all got here to begin with. No one can agree who first told it. Angela or Bug, shit…was it Chloe? Okay, okay, it really doesn’t matter at the moment. Just listen.

It was late August, three years ago. Hot and dripping with the dead-end heat of summer. Almost as if it was giving all it could before the last of it sputtered out and away, knowing Fall was right around the corner to take its place- happy to finally have a rest. A for sale sign that had been smiling at you for months was suddenly gone, the dirt still fresh from where it had been happily ripped. Joel Miller, Mr. Texas cowboy himself showed up one day as the crickets started singing, he kissed the cicadas goodbye for the season, unloaded the Miller Construction van and then he never left. A few weeks later after he and his brother fixed up the place, a little girl was running up the concrete to the front door. But there was no wife.

When he moved into the neighborhood, a new era dawned. It was one where the wives would rather mow the lawn, take the trash cans out on Wednesday nights, and tend to the long-forgotten garden. No really, all of our gardens are pristine now. Because somewhere not too far away there was a beautiful, muscular man with a mustache you wanted to wet, and God, his nose. A nose that was prominent even a few houses down, sun setting behind as it sat there strong and just uh- you knew a nose like that would be tickling your clit while he used his tongue other places. Or the other way around, whichever way you were sitting. Whatever way he wanted you to sit.

It was something about that deep navy cotton shirt his chest and shoulders grace about once or twice a week. The other is some form of a Lakers’ tee, yellow or purple, love-worn but scrunched up and stretched in the right places. You’ll see. Maybe that in itself, how it wraps around his sun-bathed/loved/kissed skin is the reason for everyone’s fever induced fluster. Maybe it’s the drawl, and the fact he absolutely drips of sex.

Most interactions end with deep breaths leaning against the door, knocking on your chest. Or texting the group message (we’ll add you in a minute, it’s called JMW)((Joel Miller’s Whores)). He always has something to say, something to coo at you while you in turn try not to purr back… at least with your mouth. Although no, because you would purr around him with your mouth if he’d only ask for it.

But you? Metaphorically, denoting us all. No, he would never look down upon you, between his eyelashes and brooding smile, dark, tanned skin smelling of the day- “want you to pull the pretty dress up and get on your knees. I’m tired from the day, workin’ so hard for this family. Leas’ you could do is suck my cock, no?” And he didn’t know it, but he was right. He did work so hard for this family. He was your maladaptive daydreaming, he’s what you giggle at during fake conversations, he was the cock slipping between your hungry folds at night.

Instead, it was half-baked smiles and short waves in the drop off line in the morning. He walks Sarah in, every single day. She’s getting to the age where she seems like she’d deter the sweet action, but she doesn’t- she loves him that much. We never see him in the afternoon, his barely-present wife (he has to have a wife, right? Like Bug says, “I mean look at him”), was probably the one picking up Sarah. Probably taking her to some even bigger house on the richer side of town because it's her turn to watch her. How the hell could you leave someone like Joel?

But regardless, we never see her. Never have the entire time we’ve peeked out of our blinds, running to turn off the lamp so no one can see the strip of light coming from the window.

He has never brought a woman inside of that house, let alone has anyone left it. Once, Tommy brought a girl to their Thanksgiving dinner and Vic told Kit she had come alone, first, and hugged Joel. That “Joel was extra smiley to her.” Moral of the story, we don’t know for sure if he’s still married or he’s just somehow keeping that dick to himself.

Jesus, Kat retold that story for three fucking weeks. But, we don’t really blame her. It was how it all began.

Don’t get me wrong, Joel Miller is available- if that pesky little wasp hive directly atop your living room window is getting out of hand, and you just happen to be a single mom who so desperately needs a man’s touch. Not like that. Well, yeah like that. Then, you could count on Joel Miller to back up his old blue truck bed into your driveway, set up his ladder, and allow you to spend the next hour watching through the window as his shirt pulls up his stomach as he does his diligent work.

His v-lines kissed by veins and tufted black hair towards his middle, peeking up and saying hello every time his jeans got a little too low. Musta forgot his usual belt. Or maybe his work belt was a tad too heavy today. Uh, to take that pressure off of his back for him, and into your hands.

-

But him owing you? That’s a different kind of available. It was a week later, the morning before the mom gathering, and you had only seen Joel once. Yes… peaking through your blinds. Then you heard his voice.

“Hi ma’am,” he waved, turning your attention from where you were setting your bags in the car. “Sarah, ask the pretty lady what you wanted, don’t make her wait any longer in this heat.” He was loading his work tools into the bed of his pickup. Another bed of his you’d like to grace.

Shit. Maybe this Miller was worth the fuss.

-

Part 2 later this week babes <3 It will be an actual fic, hehe.

@justagalwhowrites @cool-iguana @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @netherfeildren @chloeangelic

#700 followers #celebration #pedro pascal #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pascalsbby #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal memes #carnal #tdahb #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #singledad!joel

[flowersandbigteeth]

A Heath the Gargoyle part 2? It’s going to be the 1 year anniversary for his story soon (you posted Dec. 29 2022) and I’d love to see the couple’s relationship in a more established/long term phase. Maybe Heath is getting ready to propose so Y/N doesnt end up “dying alone eaten by local strays”?

I can't believe it's been a whole freaking year!!! Time goes soooo fast! Okay, I didn't make it the 29th...but I'm close ^_^

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Gargoyle (Heath) x F reader

Word Count: 3.5 K

General Plot: You and Heath go to a childhood friend's New Years Party.

Previous Parts

TW: nsfw gargoyle smut, extremally awkward party conversation, p in v sex, flying and being in high places if heights bothers you, discussion of depression, hurt comfort dynamic

“Are you sure this looks good?” Heath asked you, shifting on his feet and plucking at the silver tie you’d fastened to his neck to match your sparkly dress.

“It's perfect!” You beamed, smiling up at him and swatting his hand. “Don't look so nervous!” 

“I don't want to embarrass you,” he said, uncharacteristically shy. 

You snorted. 

“I’m more worried about the opposite,” you sighed. “Just…take anything they say with a grain of salt.” 

“What does that mean?” He asked. 

“Grace and I have been friends since we were kids because my mom works for her dad’s company…I kind of had to be her friend. Don't get me wrong, we were really close when we were kids,” you said. “But now I only see her for her annual New Year's party for my mom's sake. It's all I can stomach…how do I say this…she's kind of…competitive….You'll see.” 

The two of you stood on the doorstep of her boyfriend’s obnoxiously large house, the sound of the party inside filling the chilly night air. You wore a sparkly dress, and Heath a sharp suit customized to fit his wings. 

“Maybe they didn't hear me.” 

You hit the doorbell again, and it let out a hollow DING. 

“I’ve got it!” Someone shouted behind the door. 

You heard the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Grace's boyfriend Mark. 

He was a better than average looking guy with blonde hair cut in a trendy style, wearing an expensive suit.

“Well…hello!” Mark said, his head tipping back to meet Heath’s eyes. “You’re…” 

His mouth hung open for a moment, at a loss for words, then they both spoke at once.

“Heath.” 

“Huge.” 

There was an awkward pause before you stepped forward and hugged Mark. 

“Thanks for having us over, Mark!” You beamed, shoving a bottle of champagne in his hand. 

Mark blinked for a moment as you pushed past him, pulling Heath behind you. 

“Grace’s in the kitchen!” He called after the two of you as he shut the door. 

“Hiiii!” Grace squealed as you pushed through partygoers to get to the kitchen. 

It wasn’t particularly difficult since Heath was bigger, harder, and wider than anyone in the room.

Grace looked beautiful, dressed in a glittery champagne bodycon dress. She'd always been lithe, her profile spruced up by a new pair of boobs Mark had bought her.

As usual, her party was perfect, every detail considered. There was a bartender wearing a bow tie serving drinks, the perfect music playing, and fresh flower arrangements everywhere. 

All the furniture had been removed to create a dance floor, and someone had specially designed gold lights to set the mood.

“So this is the man himself!” Grace exclaimed, looking up at Heath with wide eyes. 

“Gargoyle,” you corrected. 

“Right! Right! Henry, wasn't it?” 

Heath gave her a humble smile and stuck out a hand to shake hers. 

“Heath. Nice to meet one of (Y/N)’s friends.” 

She held his hand a moment too long before she dropped it.  

“(Y/N), shame on you for keeping him hidden away!” 

You blushed and put a hand on Heath’s arm, unsure what to say. The two of you had been half hibernating for the winter. You tended to get a bit of depression during the cold, dark months. Heath was more than happy to snuggle up with you and his fluffy little cat Aero and cuddle, which is all you really wanted to do from November to April.

People usually imagined gargoyles sitting stoically in the snow and menacing passerbys, but Heath liked to nest, tucking you both in piles of warm blankets and reading to you while you shared snacks.

Her eyes traveled from the tip of his folded wings, down the trim suit was wearing, to his clawed feet. 

“I can see why,” she went on, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she caught herself. “I'm so glad you two came!” 

“I've been missing my best friend! Let's get you some drinks!” she squealed, leading you out of the kitchen.

Heath glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Best friend?” He mouthed at you, and you shrugged. 

“Pomegranate martinis for us,” she said to the man behind the bar. 

“What do you like to drink, Heath?” Mark asked, appearing with the bottle of champagne you'd brought and handing it to the bartender. 

“Whatever you've got with Whiskey.”

“Gotcha, big guy,” the bartender said, tossing bottles elegantly as he made the drinks. 

When you were all set up with beverages, Lily led you out onto her back patio. 

“Look at this,” you said, taking in the beautiful outdoor space. “You've been hard at work! It's beautiful out here!” 

She'd put in layers of neatly trimmed flowers and bushes, which were dusted in snow. White lounges were arranged to make comfortable seating areas warmed by blue glass fire pits. The massive pool glowed, steam drifting up from its surface. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. 

“Isn't it? Mark got the best landscaper in the state! I'll give you his card!” 

She frowned at you. 

“Oh, you're still in that icky old apartment, aren't you?” she asked.  "You've got to get out of that place. Aren't you afraid of mold? It's terrible for your complexion."

“(Y/N) lives with me. Gargoyles like high places, so I have a flat downtown,” Heath corrected her, then smiled down at you. “Though the only plants we have are potted.” 

“Heath is really good with plants,” you said, smiling back at him with warmth. “He’s made us a whole jungle on the balcony!” 

“Hmm,” Grace hummed, eyes dropping to Heath’s large hands. “You look like you're good with your hands, Heath. You’ll have to come by sometime and give me some lessons.”

Heath’s eyebrows rose, glancing down at you for help. 

“How’s work going, Mark?” You asked to change the subject. 

“Mark got a promotion,” Grace said before he could answer. “He's a senior account manager at Dawson and Shields.” 

“Congratulations, Mark,” you said politely. 

He raised his drink and put a possessive arm over Grace’s shoulder. 

Before anyone could speak, one of Grace’s’s friends practically ran towards you, eyes on your hulking boyfriend. 

“(Y/N)!” Mary wailed, throwing her arms around you in a way she’d never done before. 

“Oh…Oof!” you gasped, catching her weight. “Uh…nice to see you again, Mary. This is my boyfriend, Heath.” 

He put his hand out to shake hers, but she shoved her body past it, attempting to plaster herself to his chest.

“We do hugs here!” Mary brayed. 

He took an awkward step backward, gently pushing Mary off of him with one large hand. 

“Sorry,” he said, tapping his nose. “Your perfume. My kind is very sensitive to scent.” 

He folded his big body down and tucked his nose into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, tapping a small kiss into your skin and subtly sniffing your neck as if he was cleansing his pallet. 

Mary’s face turned bright red, and she took a step back. 

“Are you still working at that bookstore?” Grace asked, filling the awkward silence.  

Before you could answer, she turned to Heath.

“I've been trying to tell (Y/N) it's time to get a grown-up job for years now. I mean, who works minimum wage at some shabby little bookstore at our age, don't you think?” 

Heath glanced at you and tipped his head to the side in a way you recognized as annoyance, though didn't look it. He took a sip of his drink to hide his frown.  

“What do you do, Grace?” He asked when he’d straightened his face.  

Excited to talk about herself, she went on, her hands waving around as she talked. 

“I'm a beauty influencer!” she said. 

“Beauty…influencer?” Heath asked. “I'm not sure I know what that means.”

She stuck out her chest to show off the Chanel necklace resting just above her cleavage. 

“I model jewelry, makeup, and nails,” she said. “Then I do reviews on all the products!” 

“Oh..uh…neat,” he said, trying to be friendly for your sake.“I didn't know that was a job. Do the brands pay you?” 

Her bright smile fell for just a moment before she plastered it back on. 

“Well…No, but I'm hoping to get some sponsorships this year!” She said. “I have 1,000 followers on TikTok!”  

Heath gave her a blank look. 

“Tik… Tok?” He asked, glancing down at you for guidance. 

“Um…it started as an app for teenagers to lip-sync popular songs, but now lots of people use it!” you explained. 

He raised his eyebrows but was at a loss for words.  

“What do you do for work, Heath?” Mark asked. 

“I own a shabby little bookstore,” he said before taking a long drag of his drink. 

“Oh!” Grace said with a stilted smile. 

There was another incredibly awkward silence. 

“Well, I think that's wonderful!” Mary cheered, squeezing his elbow. “There aren't enough brick-and-mortar stores these days! Everything is online!” 

Heath brightened, though he took a half step away from Mary.

“We do a lot of online business, as well.” 

He brushed his heavy hand over your hair, affectionately. 

“We?” Grace asked. 

“I made (Y/N) my co-owner.” 

“Wow, sleeping with the boss, (Y/N),”  Mary snickered. “I never thought you had it in you.” 

You blushed, but Heath folded you under his arm. 

“It’s the other way around,” Heath chuckled, brushing his thumb over your bare shoulder as he spoke. “(Y/N) is the boss. She’s got more of a mind for business than me. I'm just a book nerd, but she’s a marketing genius. Sales were dropping the year before last, so she managed to turn the store into more of a destination. Since she took over things, we've started focusing on hard-to-find antiques and hosting auction events. Profits have quadrupled.” 

“Oh!” Mark said, snapping his fingers. “Of course! You own Gargoyle Book Gallery! That's a legend! My boss loves antique books...first editions and all that. He raves about your spot all the time!” 

Heath tipped his drink at Mark. 

“Donny Shields, right? He comes by for poker night.” 

“Poker night?” Mark asked. 

Heath nodded. 

“Some guys from the Business League come over on Saturdays to play a couple of hands of poker and shoot the shit,” he explained. 

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I'd love to get in on that!” He said, eyes almost green with envy. "Can't imagine the conversations over that table!"

Heath shrugged. 

“We’ve got a full table now, but if a spot opens up, I’ll ask the guys,” he said. 

Grace decided too much time had passed without anyone paying attention to her. 

“Now that Mark is on track to be partner, we are going to buy a new house!” she said. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in a tiny apartment!” 

Mark looked at her like he did not, in fact, want to buy a new house. 

“We’re still discussing it,” he said. 

Grace smacked him on the arm. 

“Don’t be silly, Mark,” she said. “With your raise, we can afford something bigger!” 

“I mean, I spend a lot of money on your stuff for TikTok, Grace,” he murmured. “Maybe if you were pulling in some revenue-” 

Grace smacked him again, harder this time, and gave him a look that said, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.” 

“This place is really nice,” Heath offered Mark, trying to be diplomatic. “Plenty of room for a family.” 

They both spoke at once. 

“We aren’t starting a family.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I bought it.” 

You and Heath glanced at one another and took long sips of your drinks. 

“I have my career to think of!” Grace said while Mark found somewhere else to look. 

“That’s a pity. You’d be a great mom!” Mary said. “You could be a mommy blogger. Your fans would love that. You and Mark would have beautiful babies.”  

“Of course. We have excellent genes,” Grace said, enjoying being complimented. 

Her eyes slid mischievously to you. 

“What about you two?” she asked. “Are you thinking of starting a family?” 

You and Heath’s eyes met. 

“Maybe,” Heath said. “If you want to.” 

Your cheeks warmed, but not from embarrassment. 

“I’d like that,” you said. 

Grace frowned. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. 

The two of you looked at her, confused. 

“You know, because of your mental illness. You wouldn’t want to pass that on to your kids…and how can you be a good mom with depression?” 

Your heart dropped, and tears flooded your eyes. It shouldn’t have gotten to you. You knew how Grace was, but it still hurt. It was something you’d always felt a little insecure about. 

Heath’s mouth fell open, and he shoved his glass into Mark’s hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, Mark,” he said before he scooped you up in his arms, and with a heavy pump of his wings, the two of you shot up into the night sky. 

He flew a couple of blocks away, before he stopped and hovered in place.  

Tears slid down your cheeks, leaving an icy streak as they cooled. 

“Are you okay?” Heath asked as the two of you hung suspended in the cold December air.

You sniffled, wiping your tears. 

“Yeah…I told you…Grace is competitive. She doesn’t like anyone looking better than her,” you whimpered. 

You felt a low growl in his chest. 

“That’s no excuse,” he said. “I think you’ll be a great mom. I’m not the least bit worried.” 

“But what if she’s right?” you asked. “What if I’m a terrible mom? What if my kids are messed up or something?” 

Heath let out a chuff with no humor. 

“That’s nonsense, teacup,” he said. “Depression is pretty common…and you manage yours just fine. Nobody is a perfect parent, and everyone has different challenges. Grace sounds like some kind of eugenicist. It’s creepy, to be honest.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You don’t wish you had a perfect girlfriend like Grace?” 

Heath laughed out loud. 

“Grace is not the perfect girlfriend. Sooo far from it. I kind of feel bad for Mark, to be honest,” he said. “You on the other hand…” 

He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, smattering kisses over the skin. 

“You are smart…sweet…patient…incredibly patient,” he whispered, kissing you or nibbling with each word. “I have no idea how you put up with that woman.” 

“You get used to it,” you murmured. 

He tipped your face up to his. 

“I don’t want you to get used to that kind of meanness,” he said. “I don’t want to control who you see…but I don’t like them. I’d rather spend the rest of New Year's with you if that’s okay, not some snobby weirdos.” 

He adjusted you in his arms, nudging you to loop your legs around his waist. You pressed yourself against his warm body to chase away the chill of the night air. With one arm holding you to him, he cupped the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his with the other. 

He tasted like oaky whiskey, making your mouth water. His heavy kisses chased any thoughts of Grace or the party away. 

Hovering in the inky night with the twinkling lights of the city sparkling in every direction, your only focus was Heath’s thick hand holding you securely in place and his lips on yours. 

You ground your hips into his body, delighted to feel his hardening shaft meet your core. 

His hand slipped down your neck, tugging the front of your dress down with a stiff jerk. The straps snapped, and your breasts tumbled out. 

“Heath,” you gasped, but he hushed you with another deep kiss before speaking. 

“It’s dark. No one can see us. Let me make you feel good.” 

He dipped his head, drawing a peaked nipple into his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue and the chilly air made you quake. He licked and sucked one nipple and then the other until you’d completely forgotten everything going on below. Your world shrank to just Heath and all the decadent things he could do to your body. 

Your head fell back, pleasure snaking up and down your spine as he delighted you. Thick fingers roughly shoved the skirt of your dress up your thighs, and he traced your slit, growling at how wet you were for him. Another swift jerk and your shredded panties were fluttering a hundred feet down to the snowy earth. 

You gasped his name, but he was high on your scent and taste, wholly focused on giving you pleasure. He screwed two fingers inside of you, opening you up for him. You let out a needy whimper when they pulled out for a moment but were quickly replaced with his tail, thrusting in and out of you. 

You hardly heard the buzz of his zipper, your eyes rolling back in your head. With a tight thrust of his hips, his tail slipped away, and his thick cock filled you. He clutched your ass with a deep, satisfied grunt. 

A hundred feet up in the sky, you didn’t dare unhook your arms from around his neck, so you were at his mercy as he slammed his shaft into you. You bleated lusty yelps with every smack of his heavy balls against your skin, clinging to him for dear life. You were dizzy from fear blending with pleasure, your breaths ragged gasps. There was nothing between you and falling to your death but Heath’s enormous arms and powerful wings. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N),” he growled into your ear, practically feral from the way your channel spasmed around his cock. You were tight, wet, hot, and the only woman in the world he wanted. Gripping your ass, he used your cunt like a fleshlight, slamming his cock into you over and over again. 

The tip of his naughty tail circled your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end until there was nowhere else to go, and you went careening over the edge. With the addition of your pussy strangling his cock he couldn’t hold back any longer, his final thrusts savage and bruising.

Your stomach dropped as he lost control of his wings for a moment, and the two of you dipped into a free fall for a few seconds. You felt his searing cum fill you as you screamed into his chest. The confusing sensation of falling and his cum filling your womb slammed you into another unexpected orgasm. You bounced in his arms as he steadied the two of you. 

“Heath!” you gasped, your nails digging into his neck. 

“It’s okay, teacup, I’ve got you,” he muttered as he titled his wings, and the two of you streaked across the city. 

Instead of heading home, he deposited you on the roof of a tall building downtown. 

“Wait here,” he said, zipping his fly, and before you could say anything, he swooped away. 

When he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bottle of champagne. 

“Where did that come from?” you laughed as he settled next to you and tugged you into his lap. 

“I stole it from a party going on down there,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they have plenty.” 

You giggled, leaning back into his chest, while he popped the top, aiming the spray off of the edge of the building, before tipping a little into your mouth.

There was a pop, and fireworks exploded in the sky across the city. 

He turned you around to him, slipping something out of his pocket.

"I wanted to do this tonight...but things didn't go quite as planned..." he said, appearing suddenly nervous.

You tipped your head to the side, confused until he opened the little box in his hand revealing a pretty ring.

"Heath!" you gasped your hand going to your lips.

"(Y/N)," he said. "Since the day I hired you, my world changed. At first it was just a fantasy crush. I mean, as your boss...I felt like it was wrong to act on it...but something about you is irresistible. It was impossible not to fall in love with you. Impossible not to steal you away.

Then we started dating and for awhile, I thought that was enough...but as the year went on...I realized I was happier than I'd ever been and you seemed...happier than I'd ever seen you...So...I want to make this permanent. If...you want that..."

Your eyes danced from the ring up to Heath's eyes. More fireworks bloomed in the sky, and you could see them reflected in Heath’s dark irises.

"Are...you asking me to marry you, Heath?" you asked.

"I guess I forgot the most important question," he said, giving you a shy chuckle. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time for the best reason.

"Yes! Of course! I love you, Heath! I want to be with you forever!" you said.

“I love you, too (Y/N). Happy New Year,” he said quietly, slipping the ring out of the velvet and slipping it on your finger.

“Happy New Year, Heath,” you said tucking your head into his cozy shoulder and watching the fireworks make your engagement ring sparkle.

#monster x girl #monster fucker #monster smut #monster #monster romance #monster x human #monster lover #male yandere #yandere smut #gargoyle #x reader

[sounds-void-fishy]

ik i said i was gonna sleep but then fanfic and my cat nemesis screaming. anyways thinking about how ever since i was a teen ive not wanted to have kids but wanted to foster teens cause id be too scared to fuck a kid up but my set of skills has always been on track to being that of someone good at fostering teens.

and like. idk being maggot granddyke has rlly scratched that itch? especially with the idea of maggot summer camp? i am so so so full of care. being able to teach and help and support. this is all stuff i always wanted to do. this is what i was trying to do school to. and im so grateful that i get to.

i think a lot about this elderly dyke when i worked at an old folks home who toasted me when i told her how honoured i was.

i think about the kids at my high school who tomorrow afternoon are having a st patricks day party with my mom because she is one of the adult supervision and how i started that pride club nine years ago and how having a legacy at 24 is beautiful and terrifying

i think about my roommates when i moved into my current place who were like seven and ten years older than me and declared themselves my parents, at a time when i was freshly out of inpatient and floating at best

i think about the actor at sleep no more, and me crying from the beauty of the connection of queerness

i think about a friend of mine who was a youth leader at my congregation when i was in high school who i thought was nonbinary when i first met them. they didnt realise until quite a bit later. they are one of my dearest friends now

i think about the only time i went to summer camp, a week of leadership camp. it was the first place nobody knew my birth name. where i used just they/them pronouns. it was the first place i learned of the beauty of physical platonic intimacy, where we would all cuddle, or be close while playing cards or reading my immortal

i think of all of us holding hands across the years and the time and the space. in my heart and my mind there is a hangmans tree, from peter pan. the inside is all hollow and infinitely large and there is space for all those i love.

in my soul we are at summer camp and i am yearning so deeply for that to be real in whatever way i can make it

#fuck theres an angels quote #the sould of these departed joined hands clasped ankles and formed a web a great net of sould #and the souls were three atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone #and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired #nothings lost forever #in this world theres a kid of painful progress #jehangel tag #maggot taggot

[bullet-prooflove]

"I dream of this life, with you" ❤️

It’s on a lazy Sunday morning in bed that Omar realises he wants to take the next step in your relationship. You’re cuddled up into his side, your thumb lightly tracing circles across his abdomen. His lips brush over your forehead and you make that sweet little noise, the one he knows means you’re happy, content.

“Do you ever think you’d wanna make this permanent?” He says softly, his fingertips tracing languid patterns across your shoulders. “Getting a bigger place together somewhere in Queens or Brooklyn.”

“Queens is closer to your mom.” You murmur, your lips brushing over the hollow of his throat.

“That’s why I was thinking Brooklyn.” He says half seriously.

He hasn’t spoken to her since the last time the two of you went over there, you’d tried to broker the peace, it’s your way but he still can’t forgive her for what she’d done, what she’d tried to do.

He’d gone to the bathroom to wash his hands and come back to find you excusing yourself due to a ‘work emergency’. He had known you weren’t on call that night, and if that wasn’t a sign that his mother had done something, the watery eyes and your tense shoulders would have been a giveaway. He’d offered to give you a ride, but you already had an Uber pulling up outside.

It hadn’t taken long to get the story out of his mother. She wasn’t ashamed of what she did, in her eyes she’s simply looking out for her son.

“I told her the truth.” She says as she sets the table. “If she can’t bare your children she needs to let you go. She’s a lovely girl Habibi, but she’s not for you, she’s not someone you can build a future with.”

He’d walked out then because what his mother had done, it was beyond cruel. He had told her your history in confidence as a way to circumvent the inevitable grandchildren conversation and she had thrown it in your face.

It was the next day you had tried to end things with him.

“She’s right.” You say quietly as you play with the sleeves of your white sweater. “You deserve someone who can give you a family and I… I can’t do that.”

“Hanna, I don’t need that.” He had told you, his hands reaching out across the table for yours. “If it’s something we decide we want in the future we can explore our options, fostering, adoption, surrogacy, a family doesn’t have to look the way my mother thinks it should.”

“Omar…” You begin but the look in his eyes makes you trail off because there’s such earnestness in them. He means what he says, starting a family doesn’t have to mean getting pregnant, so long as he’s with you he doesn’t care how it happens.

“You are enough for me.” He tells you, his thumb chasing over your ring finger. “What we have right now, that’s enough for me.”

Your voice draws him out of the memory, you’ve propped your head up on the pillow so that you can read the expression on his face.

“How about I go make us some coffee?” You suggest, your lips brushing over his bare shoulder. “And you can start looking up listings on your laptop.”

His entire face lights up as it dawns on him that you’ve just answered his question.

“Are you saying that you want to move in together?” He murmurs, his hands threading through your hair as he draws you close.

“Were you serious?” You ask him as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “About what the future looks like for us?”

“You know I am.” He tells you, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek. “Any future I have, I want it to be with you.”

Love OA? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@trublu2u @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @redpool @district447 @yousigned-upforthis @stelacole @abby-splace

#oa zidan #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x reader #omar zidan x you #fbi #fbi cbs

[teddypickerry]

Hi, i really love your posts, i was wondering if you could perhaps do dating jess mariano hc’s. No problem if you dont want to but anything for jess would be amazing🤍

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

d a t i n g j e s s m a r i a n o h c!

pairings! jess mariano x fem! reader

a/n! oh my goddd i love him so fucking much guys. it’s practically an illness at this point. anyways i hope i did you justice ;)

+ being with stars hollow's own troublemaker was a front page story itself

+ everyone told you your heart would get broken and to not fall for such a rebellious kid

+ but he’s so much more than a gnome stealer with good music taste

+ he always brought you food when you were alone

+ and honestly got a little flushed when you walked into the diner one day in a mini skirt

+ he'd never admit it though

+ but he pulled you into the supply closet and placed kisses all over like he'd lose you in ten seconds if he didn't

+ "is it my birthday today?”

+ getting caught by luke right before the good stuff was gonna happen

+ "really you two? you're that rabid that you couldn't have gone upstairs? you're on food kids, this is a business. you can't multiply next to my cheese!”

+ jess pulling you out of the room before you could apologize (taking luke's advice and taking you upstairs)

+ making you a tape of some random songs that made him think of you

+ lots of the strokes, the smiths, inhaler, nirvana, pixies, and a bunch of random rock songs

+ obviously and i love her by kurt cobain

+ can't forget a few halestorm songs

+ a random knock at your window while you brushed through your hair made your head turn, already knowing who it was

+ he was sat there and raised his eyebrows at you as you opened the windows and he pressed a kiss to your lips

+ he handed you the tape, laying on your bed in the process

+ he denied whenever you teased him for the sweet gesture

+ even though it was all true

+ random visits through your window on a daily basis

+ your mom heard them nearly everytime but did nothing to stop the interaction as long as you were using protection

+ walks through stars hollow with his arm around you are by far his favorite activity

+ besides maybe reading together by a tree

+ ooh and gifting you books he annotated for you while he should have been working

+ taking little pins that say weird shit from record shops and putting them on your bag and on his jacket

+ so you're like always together

+ falling asleep on the phone and luke finding jess after he closed up, cuddling the phone to his ear

+ and don’t worry, he didn’t let his little lovebot forget

+ when you guys were just friends, he stole a photo booth slide from your mirror and kept it in his nightstand every since

+ and not for any weird reason but simply to see that pretty smile whenever he pleased

+ getting pissed off whenever you interact with a guy your age

+ even if you're just being polite or doing your job, he's all "hi" and giving you a wet kiss to make sure that guy knows

+ getting a stick and poke of your initial on his hand because he can. he's jess.

+ and since you're not quite there yet, you wrote his initals on your favorite pair of sneakers

+ "why did you yell at that guy at work he won't talk to me now?" "i told him if he did talk to you... i'd cut his tongue out and make him swallow it." "very mature jess, your psycho is showing." "good, thought i lost my touch."

+ calling into radio stations or camping out by himself just to get you concert tickets

+ luke trying to take a picture of the both of you

+ you smiling awkwardly while jess is simply annoyed but looks over at you, his eyes softening and a small smile falling on his face

+ that picture being framed above the fireplace the two of you share in new york <333

#gilmore girls #jess mariano x reader #lorelai gilmore #teddypickerry #jess mariano #rory gilmore #jess mariano x y/n #luke danes #jess mariano headcannons

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Heeeeeyyyyy

Can I drop a request? (You can say kriff off and I will still love you ❤️)

I'd like a little soft Hunter? Or any clone really if you wanna try someone new.

I had one of the worst days in a long time about two weeks ago. It was the first anniversary of my caretaker's death combined with the worst day at work I've ever experienced. I cried for the thirty minute drive home, and for another 30 curled up catatonic on the couch. I tried to quit my job, called my mom sobbing, it was a very bad time.

Cue some clone comfort? You absolutely do not need to use the details of my bad day, that's just what was going on and inspired my ask.

Anywho, here's two cats as payment:

🌙Hex🔮

Omg of course you can drop a request, Hex, always!! You're actually the first person to make a request too, and I was so surprised I kinda cried. 🥺

Penelope and Baklava are so cute all cuddled up like that too aaaa~

I hope you like what I came up with, sweetheart; and I'm sorry you're Going Through It™ as well, too. I'm currently there for different reasons and it suuuucks so this was extremely cathartic. Hope things will get better soon, love. 🩷

W&I: Minor proofreading and plot. 2nd person POV, undescribed fem!Reader. Emotional angst. Talks and thoughts centered on the loss of a person only described as a "loved one" without explicit mention of relation to you or their role in your life. Can be read as an established relationship fic. Hunter's just being real sweet on you to cheer you up. Little sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language. No real age rating for this one.

Word-count: 2,383

That's it. 

You're done. 

You're so over this place. 

If one more patron tries to tell me to smile while using some variation of darling or sweetheart, I'll give him teeth alright: in the flesh of his arm, you think to yourself. 

It's not exactly an appropriate time to laugh, but if you don't snicker softly to yourself over the thought of such a forbidden fantasy, you're going to cry. You're going to cry before you squeeze through the doors that read EMPLOYEES ONLY and make your way to the machine to clock yourself out of your shift and get yourself home. Who gives a load of Kryatespit if it only earns the customer's ire to have you laughing at him?

Right now, if you had your way, if you gave into your impulse, you'd quit. You'd turn in your uniform, your name badge, and any little piece of company property you'd ever acquired so these soul-sucking middle managers and CEOs can't come around and accuse you of anything. 

You didn't want to be here today. You didn't want to get out of bed today. But you couldn't get the time off approved. Some banthashit about too few hands to run the place as it is.

Well maybe if you hired more kriffing people… 

"Your receipt is in the bag. Enjoy the rest of your day, sir." When you give the customer his purchase with these phrases you're required to say, it means he can leave now and take his smug attitude with him. Social obligations means he's going to tell you the same. An empty, hollowed out "Thanks, you too." that perfectly encapsulates how you feel inside. 

How the hell am I supposed to enjoy today of all days? One of the most important people to me in this galaxy isn't here anymore. 

I don't want to be here at this job anymore… I just want to quit.

You keep your head down when you clock-out, and grab your things. You don't return sentiments of farewell from any of your co-workers, and you don't respond to the request to trade shifts with someone for some BS reason. "Hey, c'moooon! Please?! I've got things I wanna do that day!" they whine after you, calling to your retreating back. 

Don't we all? I just wanted to stay home and maybe sob into a carton of ice cream while looking at my photos of my loved one. We don't always get what we want. 

What you want is to go home. Think of how you're going to call in, or write up your two weeks notice, or just cold-quit while you're sitting in your transport and-

You find an unexpected figure leaning against your transport when you step out into the employee lot, their back to you. What the hell? You begin rifling through your bag for something to arm yourself with, perhaps something like a bottle of cheap perfume you have in there somewhere that you can spray in their eyes, or maybe there's something you can throw in their direction, tell them to scram. Or maybe their after your credits, so you hope you can just tell them to take your credits and not cause you any trouble and-

Looking over his left shoulder, you find yourself staring at the ink of the skeletal tattoo and a side profile framed by waves of curled, brown hair you'd recognize anywhere. 

"H-Hunter?" 

Hunter turns to face you, his hands fiddling with the knot of his crimson bandana to work it loose. That's when you finally realized why you didn't recognize who was leaning against your vehicle in the growing, deepening purple shadows of the late afternoon. "I thought you'd be a little happier to see me than that," he says with a look that's somewhere between a typical smile and a concerned frown, "but I guess you didn't realize it was me. And I guess I shouldn't have been standing here with my back to you, either." Hunter slips the accessory around his head and reties it with a hasty knot. "Sorry about that, mesh'la." 

There's a million questions swimming over the top of your tongue, each one vying to be asked. "Wha-? How did-? Why are you-?"

Hunter does his best to answer the questions he believes you're trying to ask. "Crosshair gave me a lift here so I could drive you home once you got off work." he says, holding a hand out. He's offering to take your bag and the keys to your vehicle. "As for why, well: it's today. I saw it written on your calendar the last time I came to visit. It's been a year since you lost your loved one. I figured you might be just holding it together by the time your shift ended, and… I think I was right." His hand cups the soft curve of your cheek, the pad of his thumb collecting the first tears that have begun to escape the confines of your tear ducts. 

Hunter sweetly helps you into the passenger seat, and gets any and all safety belts secured before he himself climbs behind the controls and gets ready to take you home. 

"We'll pick up whatever you want to eat on the way home, if that's what you want, cyar'ika." he offers, gently resting the palm of his hand on your trembling shoulder for a brief moment. He's not certain if you want a lot of these gestures of reassuring, physical touch, but it's what he can offer right now so you know that he's there for you. 

Right here, right now, as you weep silently into the sleeves of your work uniform in the passenger seat, Hunter is here for you. And he's not going anywhere until he's either satisfied with his efforts to do his best to lift your spirits, or until you ask him to leave. 

Remnants of the comfort-food you'd requested are either tucked away with the rest of your leftovers, or swept up and deposited into the kitchen trash by Hunter when he makes the offer to do a bit of tidying up. Gentle murmurings that he doesn't want you to worry about it, he'll take care of everything. 

He'll take care of you. Hunter's not going to judge you for your tears. Or for telling him how you wished you could have reamed out this difficult customer. Or for how you shout in your episodic instances of anger, calling your manager a spineless and incompetent little twit who needed to get their act together and quit being so cheap and to hire more people so you're not running yourself so karking ragged. 

Nor does he admonish you for how silly it was that you're complaining about the rip in your clothing made by the thorns found in one of the bushes outside your house, or easily you fall apart into a mess of tears at the gentle hand on your shoulder when he joins you on the sofa once again. 

"Could this day get any worse?!" you sob, your face hot with anger and grief, and your voice thick and choked with the respective emotions.

Hunter is patient and endlessly perceptive; tucking your body just right against him, the way you need him right now. "C'mere, cyare… You've certainly had a pretty thorny day… And I don't blame you for simply just having enough of it all. I don't blame you at all." he promises, sweetly and softly peppering your face in tender kisses with the intention of comfort. 

"I've been having a lot of thorny days lately…" you admit with a stutter, burying your face into the material of his shirt. Hunter smells like sun-warmed cotton and the heavy tang of seawater. Of course now you can't tell if you smell hints of his homeworld on him, or if that's the dried tear stains from earlier. When the two of you simply sat in the parked vehicle once you'd gotten home, Hunter leaned over the center console so you could weep into his shoulder. You'd dialed up your job, ready to tell them that they needed to find someone else, but you couldn't go through with it. Not then, anyways. You haven't been able to make up your mind, either. 

Hunter rubs little circles with his thumb into your shoulder blade as he holds you close, saying that he's sorry to hear you've been struggling lately. That he's sorry you're having hard days. "I just want them to stop!" you sob softly, feeling his fingers gently caress the back of your head, and the deep rumble in his ribs as he asks you to take a deep breath, promising that he's here. That he'll help however he needs.

If you breathe him in deeply enough, you could probably find something from all of his brothers. Something sugary that he was offered a bite of to share with his brother as Wrecker indulged his sweet tooth. The rich blend of caf Tech was partial to lately, that could give him the jitters when Hunter drank it by mistake. The smooth notes of the polishing agent Crosshair spoiled his Firepuncher with because he swore nothing else would do. The faint whiff of synthetic lubricant that must mean Echo had performed upkeep on his prosthetics today or the day before. 

"There we go," Hunter says softly in praise, feeling the frenzied beating of your heart begin to slow and your tears eventually peter out, "it'll be okay, cyare." 

You sniffle, mumbling softly into Hunter's chest. "I'm just so scared that it won't. And I feel silly for feeling so scared..." His arms stitch just a little tighter around you in return when you pull yourself against him, feeling his breath against the top of your head. You just feel so small in your sadness today. But in his arms, the way you fit just right…

The way he's so steady, you feel so loved and protected when you're at your most vulnerable. 

Hunter hushes you, pulling the hair back from your face with a gentle touch once you sit up again. "Tech would probably tell you that that fear is a natural and normal part of life, and that there's no use to feel silly about it. And, even if the way he'd probably say it isn't so gentle, he'd be right. How you're feeling today - angry and upset about your job and wanting to quit, and how much you miss your loved one - is all very thorny and uncomfortable, and no one likes feeling like that. But it's normal. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. And I promise you, I'm here to help. However I'm needed. However long you need me to hold you and make you feel loved while you're feeling down." 

The gentle reminder is just what you need. You're not dealing with this alone. That if you're going to quit your job, Hunter would do whatever you asked of him to help you get ready to sever those ties if you felt it was time. That even though you're left with a hole in your heart with the passing of this loved one who was very important to you, Hunter doesn't expect his presence to merely fill it like it's nothing. 

That's the marvelous thing about the human heart. 

It can hold so much love for so many people if you let it. 

You're certain your eyes look so swollen and red. You're certain you'll find more tears to shed when the thorns of grief find their excuse to make you weep once more, but right now, Hunter's hands have carefully and kindly cleaned away the last of them. He's so gentle and sweet on you, right now. 

"Hey… what if," Hunter begins, offering in a soft, low voice between the kisses he stamps in the crown of your hair and trails down one side of your jaw to the other, "you changed out of your uniform, and we found something to watch together now that we've had something to eat? Something silly. Maybe something romantic. Or both. Whatever you want, cyare. I don't care what it is." he promises.

You fiddle with the frayed and torn edge of your clothing that had been caught on the thorny plant outside. "What if I just want more cuddles after I change?" Hunter laughs gently, nodding as he reluctantly releases you so you can slip into something comfortable and try to end this day on a happier note. 

(You're going to have to send Crosshair a message later to thank him for doing Hunter a favor by giving his brother a lift and dropping him off.)

"Whatever you want. Especially if that's more cuddles." Hunter says once more with a warm smile, hooking your pinky fingers together so he can hold some part of you just a moment longer. If you found comfort in his touch and wanted more of it, he was happy to provide. 

You're pulled back into Hunter's arms when you come back to the living room after you've thrown on a comfortable pair of clothes, finding yourself wrapped up tight. He's so strong, like all of his brothers, and every ounce of it is devoted to comfort and consoling you right now.

Hunter is so warm and comfortable, and you're so emotionally drained that it's hard to resist the act of nuzzling one cheek into his chest and closing your eyes to simply relish this quiet moment. You don't know what you want to do, but you just know that you need this. Hunter knows it too.

People need a good hug now and again. This galaxy could be so cruel and thorny to the people who mattered most to us, that sometimes what they needed most was an act of deliberate softness to remind them everything would be okay. That the bad times will pass. 

That while our hearts yearn and grieve for the ones we miss the most, the room we had for them in our hearts will always remain no matter how long they've been gone. 

And the people we love in the here and now will fit themselves next to that jagged space and trim back the thorns, if we only ask.

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #Thorny Days #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter tbb #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb x reader #x reader #hunter x fem!reader #comfort fic #request fic #the-hexfiles

[total-feminism-takes]

Lesbian Courtney anon here!

HOT TAKE!

Beth don't need to main three because the main three need her and love her who they are!

Imagine this and the scene: Bratz style girls x TD

Beth, the sweetheart they all love Beth even Courtney in her own I rather punch the wall or die then admit my feelings to anyone because that's how I was raised and my therapist with I am working on it.

Courtney angry feminist trope stick up her butt religious type everyone says (Mom of the group and puts herself in dangerous situations make sure all her girls are alright!)

Lindsay the bubbly cute (she more than likely get away with it after being caught once)

Leshawna - true leadership

Heather ('Leader' but not really the figure head, she will tear people apart in heartbeat that stare in sexual way at her girls)

All of them have sleepovers, a bit fights over teenager things like Lindsay no! Frosted tips for Tyler so gross! AHHHhh

Boy troubles are in comfort and cuddle times! Maybe Lindsay and Courtney cuddle the most after Duncan and Tyler got detention with Alejandro again and Heather is like no tears boys are stupid! Then they all cuddle together and stuff!

Girl dates!

Beth with Lindsay holding hands and Courtney then carrying them when they get tired sometimes because Courtney strong and works out with Eva!

Heather makeovers! Lindsay and Beth in beauty school poor Heather as their test subject and Leshawna happily waiting her turn!

Eva and Courtney teaching Beth self defense!

That's it and immediately someone draw these girls in fluffy strawberry cowgirls, blueberry cow, and farmer moon outfits like NOW!!

I like Beth but I have hate relationship with people who are like she gets a glow up and rest the cast can't tell it's Beth!

Everyone is ugly sometimes.

Beth is not ugly due to her looks. I don't like Beth trope of her thinking everyone wants her because I was like that once but then I was like male validation ain't it. BUT THEY DON'T GIVE HER GROWTH AND GIVE HER BRADY!!!

ANGOY

BETH DESERVES BETTER. BRO!

I am say it.

Fat, chubby, acne, greasy hair, and depression- I don't care.

I love you, girl or not. I have in my whole life care over others from throwing up toddlers and older people in mental distress.

Baby, let me tell you something, ugliness is when you look hollow look in the mirror due to being the 'prettiest girl in the world' but alone just for validation for a guy who can't even remotely recall your favorite color or birthday!

I rather tell you I have bath my sick loved ones when they weren't healthy or just happy in general. Beth is not meant to be perfect girl or the prettiest girl because she just a girl.

Her warmth, her smile, and her willingness to help is just her that we should value.

And she ain't even that ugly.

All these girls not even ugly. Mess up drawing shaped bodies but not ugly.

Speaking with experiment from a little girl who was Beth growing up and became the Courtney archetype of rage, acting like I know better to push everyone away, and etc, the world was cruel and killed a little girl of hope now I have rage and my tan skin with angry makes people think I am danger for not knowing how to let go or grieve all of it yet.

Basically Beth. They- I - the fandom should leave you alone if we don't love all of you with flaws and such too.

Beth for president and Courtney vice president! for a school AU trope and Heather gets jealous runs against them with Leshawna! Lindsay just wants to make their posters!

- 🧡

#total feminism takes #total drama #mod emma #td beth #td courtney #td lindsay #td leshawna #td heather #lesbian Courtney anon

[stardewsnail]

Shane SFW Alphabet

Requests open until 4/18/23 

Bold  = complete

Italicized = available

crossed out = in progress

Snail’s directory

Shane

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Shane is an affectionate guy once you get past the outer crunch of his unique personality. He’s like an onion, okay? He has layers. He shows his affection in nicknames and light (goofy) bullying. He also is a big hugger once you get closer. He also is a bit of a mother hen–absolutely will call you at midnight if you forget to text that you got home safe. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Shane is the begrudging mom friend who is perpetually exasperated by his friend’s antics but secretly loves the tomfoolery. Once he’s in he’s in—immediately ride or die no questions asked. If his friend doesn’t like someone he’s the first to be like “yeah fuck that guy! Why don’t we like him?”

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Shane pretends not to like it in part because he’s prickly when flustered (and affection always gets him flustered) and in part because he’s insecure with his body. But he wants to cuddle—please cuddle him. He’s not going to initiate but he really wants to be held. And when I tell you this man might just be the best cuddler out of all the bachelors? C‘mon. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Truthfully, pre-therapy I don’t think Shane would be the one to end things. I think he’d just sabotage and act shittier either consciously or subconsciously hoping he’ll get dumped.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s scared of commitment and of disappointing his partner. These two things will push off getting married for at least three years of dating, plus probably living together in that time. He’s got Jas to think about, and he’ll prioritize what he thinks is best for her to the best of his ability. Jas, however, loves his partner and will constantly bug him to propose ASAP.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I just wanna preface this by reminding everyone that Shane meets the farmer and promptly tells them to fuck off—he’s not gentle in his words and he’s certainly not gentle emotionally until he’s had some therapy. And even then, it’s really too direct and to the point to be called gentle (it’s very effective communication but only for the right partner)

Physically is another story—Shane is a gentle giant. He’s not that tall but he’s broad and big. He’s used to handling hollowed boned chicks and eggs, he’s very careful and deliberate with everything he does especially because he's so strong—it’d be easy to hurt somebody by accident. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Shane likes hugs, but with a romantic partner he prefers to be kissing them while hugging. This could be on the lips, the neck, or the cheek—he wants to be touching his love as much as possible. His hugs are encompassing and make you feel safe and protected. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?

Shane is the type to just accidentally blurt it when overcome with emotion. I would say it’s soon into the beginning of the relationship because he wouldn’t have started the whole thing unless he was certain. It’ll probably be when he sees how good his partner is with Jas or when they’re in the coop just chatting with Charlie like he doesn’t

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

When sober, depending on the day he’s having, Shane is prone to being more self deprecating than jealous. There’s some jealousy but it’s vastly outweighed by the “it makes sense they’d be more interested in someone else.” This is something he would work out of over the course of the relationship. 

If he’s drunk, it’s a whole different story. Shane is a jackass and it’s only the fact that he’s a big, burly guy that’s kept him out of fights. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

When Shane really kisses his partner he’s like a man starved. He can’t believe he got so lucky as to find someone who knows him so deeply and loves him so thoroughly. His favorite place to kiss his partner is the lips whether it’s a quick peck or something more. It feels very intimate, and it’s something only he gets to do. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Shane is used to getting up early regardless of how late his night was. He’s got animals to take care of and a job to get to. In a relationship with the farmer he’s probably up at the same time—although they encourage him to sleep in since he doesn’t have to go to Joja any longer. He’s not conscious until he has coffee though, so maybe don’t try to talk to him until then. Results may vary.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Before he stops drinking his nights are spent in the saloon and then stumbling home to sleep it off. After, he gets into scifi. He spends a lot of time reading and watching old Star Trek reruns. Something about imagining humanity as ultimately good with a better future is comforting.

O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say  everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little  detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Shane would never admit to being the guy that remembers everything, but he would. He’s always nonchalant but he remembers everything from your first pet to how you like your eggs. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Shane’s favorite moment (so far) is a quiet one. He started dating the farmer in the spring, so they hadn’t been together long when the Egg Festival came around. They hadn’t really told anyone they were dating yet and he was secretly worried the farmer might be embarrassed to be publicly linked with him. But, as soon as the farmer got there and found Shane, they bounded right up with a quick kiss. They were smiling, talking a mile a minute about how good all the eggs looked, and then held his hand for the rest of the festival. He likes being claimed in that way, and the farmer just did it sincerely and openly.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Shane is protective, but mostly it’s using his dry humor and abrasive personality to diffuse situations and navigate away. Physically, again, he might not be the tallest but he’s large. 

Mostly Shane needs to be protected from his own harsh judgment and self loathing. Verbal reassurance and physical affection help tremendously. (Holding his hand in public?? Making it obvious that he and his partner are together?? <3<3)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Shane needs noise to sleep, he always has a fan going.

#sdv shane #shane stardew valley #stardew valley #sdv sfw alphabet #snailwrites #sfw alphabetm

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Something like this probably won't happen in the actual story...😂

MC is sick and ends up having to stay holed up in their dorm/room(?) for the rest of the day. According to Mary and Aurelian (he's 16 and attending the academy in this scenerio), they get a certain way when they're sick (MC is basically like Kaguya Shinomiya when she got sick that one time https://youtu.be/rvfVVtp-q5o).

How do the ROs react to F!MC acting this way when sick? For Nysthe, Cheris, Veriel, Max ngl he might just stab her while she's down lol, Zera and Voryn.

Sorry for the long ask! (◞‸◟；)

On another note, I loved the new update! (＾▽＾)

Lmao, have the MC revert to speaking their old world language lmaoooooooo

Nysthe would...uhhh...

Cheris would be dutifully helpful and spoon feed the MC soup to make her feel better, and honestly would stop others from entering since Cheris can go all mama mode

Veriel would unashamedly try to cuddle with MC as he'd pretend to be sick too, only to then actually get sick lol! But my boy would probably think it worth it since he can get with his crush and see a different side to her. Although if Aurelian and Mary tried stopping him?

Max would get annnnnnnngry cause he wouldnt want to have the girl he hates humanized and vulnerable. He wants to hate, he wants to blame all his misfortunes on her but how can he when MC is too damn cute?! He'd be doing that anime tsundere blushing and fed her some really good soup commoner soup that his mom made for him. He'd also tell this to the MC as she eats happily, and when she finally passes out, he'd share that he hates her and her family. He'd share everything, and feel better about it. But then he'd feel that hatred hollow as he lifts the sheets to cover the MC as he leaves.

So TLDR?

MC:

Max:

Zera would not know wtf to do (when he got sick no one nursed him back to health or cared) and would bring Astrid along to try and help him take care of MC. He'd be trying to help but his shenanigans would only make Astrid roll her eyes until she kicks him out as he keeps fucking up and finding himself in typical anime situations that look like he's trying to take advantage of MC. Poor Zera, he tries to help but...

Voryn! The dude would whip something up from his garden, serve it to MC, and smile while she eats happily with his eyes closed cause while he plays it cool and calm on the surface the dude is melting down inside cause he cant believe the MC is acting so adorably. He is, quite literally, internally screaming

#kingdomsandempires #romance #zera #voryn #veriel #max #cheris #nysthe

[ferretrade]

Skybridger Week Day 3: Pain + Cuddling (this is an excerpt from a longer 5+1 fic that is meant to be a companion fic to it’s a gift to be truly known if I ever finish it)

tw for ptsd, anxiety/panic attack, depression

Ezra wakes, drowning. He gasps for air, scrambling to get up and getting tangled in something—and where is he? He needs his lightsaber, but it's not at his side. He needs to be ready to fight, something is coming for him, something is always coming, he's alone and never alone and— 

"Ezra!" 

His eyes focus through the dark and everything rushes back. A dream. Fears and memories haunting him. But he's not there. He's on the Ghost, in his bunk, staring back at Jacen.

"I'm okay," Ezra chokes out, voice rough. He counts his breaths, in and out, and feels the steadiness of the Force around him. He can feel the calm Force signatures of everyone else sleeping. One, two, three, four; they're safe, he's safe, they're together. 

"Ezra?" Jacen says again, a question this time.

Ezra detangles himself from the blankets he twisted into, sitting up. His breathing is mostly steady and the chill of panic has dialed down into a slow thrum of ice in his veins. "I'm okay." 

Jacen crawls into his lap, wrapping his arms around Ezra's neck. "I'll protect you." 

A laugh escapes him, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture. Ezra wishes Jacen had never seen him like this, but it's not the first time and it probably won't be the last. He ruffles Jacen's hair. "I know you will." 

And it does help, having Jacen with him. 

They stay that way for several long minutes until the adrenaline fades and exhaustion starts seeping in. Jacen's already half asleep against Ezra's chest. When he moves to stand, the boy protests. 

"I wanna stay," he whines sleepily. 

Ezra smiles slightly and relents. He can recognize when he's going to lose a battle, and Jacen sleeping in his bed is an outcome he can live with. If he's honest, he knows it means he won't have another nightmare. 

He's had enough of that—can still feel the icy chill of water and eyes watching him from hidden depths. 

Jacen curls up beside him on the bed and Ezra watches him drift off before he falls back into a dreamless sleep. 

When Ezra wakes again, feeling better and worse, it's to Hera standing over them. 

Jacen's pouting at her, clearly arguing he should stay. 

Ezra is too groggy to really pay attention but he forces a smile. "I'm fine, Jace. I'll get up in a minute." 

He knows Jacen isn't convinced, but there's not much you can do when you're four years old and your mom can pick you up and whisk you away. As soon as they're gone, Ezra curls up into a ball and drags a blanket over his head. 

The panic from the early morning is gone, but now he feels heavy. Empty. He hates this more, really. Panic he knows what to do with, but this? It feels like when he would use the Sith holocron—the terrible whispers that left him hollow after the anger subsided. He wonders sometimes if that's what broke him, not his time lost in the unknown regions. Maybe his own stupid decision planted the seeds for his destruction. 

Zeb is the next one to approach him. Ezra doesn't know how much time has passed or if he fell asleep at all in between.

"Come on, kid, at least wash up and eat something," Zeb says softly. 

"Not hungry," Ezra mutters from his blanket cocoon. 

"You know I'll pull you out if I have to." 

Ezra sighs. It takes more effort than it should to pull the blanket off and sit up, squinting under the light. 

"There you go," Zeb grins kindly. "You're halfway there."

He snorts at the encouragement, but doesn't argue. It's easier to go through the motions, he reminds himself. It means Zeb won't have to stand over him for half an hour, needling him to get up.

And sometimes the motions are enough. Sometimes, he showers and eats and snaps out of it enough to be almost normal.

But not today. 

Ezra's back under his blankets before anyone can try to get him to eat something, but he's clean and in fresh clothes, so they will leave him alone for a while. He tries to sleep, mostly to stop thinking. 

"Ezra?" 

That voice, soft and hesitant, is not one he was expecting. It startles him enough that he comes out from his blanket. "Luke." 

He stares up at him, golden and perfect and out of place. Ezra scrambles to sit up, his head swimming. 

Luke's smile is warm, but falters. "Sabine told me you weren't feeling well. I wanted…." He trails off. 

"I'm fine," Ezra replies automatically. He stares down at his hands. "I'm… it's a bad day. I'll be me again tomorrow." 

"Okay," Luke says softly. He looks at Ezra in a way that makes him feel completely bare, all his worst pieces strewn out to be seen. "I can stay, if you'd like."

He should say no. Ezra doesn't like being a burden; he hates the pitying and worried looks. But Luke isn't looking at him like that. 

"Okay," Ezra breathes out. He bites his lip to feel the sharp pain, to feel present. 

Luke smiles again and takes his hand. "Come here." 

He doesn't lead Ezra far, just to the ground where there's a tent of blankets and cushions left from story time with Jacen a few days ago. It's just big enough for the two of them to squeeze into it, shoulders pressed together. But… it's nice. Comfortable. 

Luke pulls out a datapad. "I have reports to read," he says apologetically. "Unless you want…?"

"No," Ezra says quickly. He doesn't want anything, except maybe to be left alone. But alone with someone, he supposes. Alone with Luke. It's not like everything is suddenly better, but those Sith holocron-like feelings dull a little. 

Ezra doesn't watch Luke so much as he feels him working beside him. Somewhere along the way, Ezra drifts off. 

Luke catches his eye when he wakes up. "Hey." 

"Hi." Ezra's throat is dry and his neck hurts from the way he fell asleep, but he feels lighter. More himself. 

"You were snoring," Luke tells him with a grin. 

Ezra surprises himself by laughing. "Yeah?" His stomach growls and he winces.

"Hungry?" 

"Starving."

Luke reaches across him and outside the fort, pulling a tray back in. "Hera brought this," he explains. 

Ezra manages to restrain himself, eating meiloorun pieces slowly instead of ravenously shoving it all in his mouth.

"Thanks," he says to Luke, wiping juice from his chin. "For being here." 

"I didn't do anything," Luke insists with flushed cheeks, unbearably earnest. Like being here, being what Ezra needed in the moment, didn't even require a second thought. Like it's as easy as breathing to care for him. 

Ezra wants to wipe that look off his face. Wants to kiss it off him. And oh, that… that's new. It's one thing to know someone's attractive, but he's never wanted like this before. Never ached to give his whole self to someone, to let them see him and love him. He's never wanted to hold someone's heart like that and be the one to love them back. 

But he does now, doesn't he? Luke matters to him. Luke sees him and he sees Luke, even the messy parts. He loves all the messy parts. 

Ezra chokes on his fruit. 

"Are you okay?" Luke's face scrunches with concern. 

"Mhmm." Ezra nods a little too quickly, coughing a few more times. There's no good way to say I just had an emotional realization that's confusing and a little scary and I definitely don't want to deal with it now, so he doesn't. "Eating too fast. Hey, you should have some. It's good." 

Luke gives him a look like he knows Ezra is full of it, but he doesn't say anything and takes a slice of melon. It may have been the wrong thing to offer because now Ezra is overly aware of Luke's mouth—the way he licks his lips and sucks juice from his fingers. 

Ezra turns away deliberately.

“You don’t have to stay,” Ezra says. “If you need to go.”

“Oh.” Luke is frowning when he looks at him again. “Do you want me to go?"

Ezra shakes his head quickly. "No, I—I always want you around," he says more honestly than he means to, conveying what he can't yet say. "But I get it if you have more important stuff to do."

"Nothing that can't wait. I'd rather be here," Luke says with that same earnestness and smile that makes his eyes soften. 

Ezra tries not to let it go to his head but he feels light and floaty about it for the rest of the evening, long past when Luke finally leaves.

As night falls, Ezra pushes it from his mind, and almost convinces himself he's made it up until he sees Luke smile at him the next day. But the fluttering, weightless feeling in his stomach could be anything. What does he really know about love? 

Ezra charges into Sabine's room, which he's not supposed to do (he's been told many times for almost a decade, he knows), but this is not a wait and knock moment. 

"There's a door for a—"

"Am I in love with Luke?" He blurts out. 

Sabine stares for a moment, then bursts out laughing. So, that's a yes. 

"Fuck." Ezra leans against the wall, letting his head smack against it. "When did that happen?" 

"Seriously?" Sabine asks. "You really didn't know?" 

Ezra shakes his head hopelessly. "I mean… maybe?" If he thinks about it, it's obvious. The attraction, their friendship, how close he feels to Luke. The pieces add up when you look at them together... he just never did. 

"What do I do now?" 

Sabine narrows her eyes at him, then sighs and gestures for him to sit down. "You know how it's obvious you love him?" 

Ezra frowns but nods instead of protesting. He pushes off the wall and takes a seat opposite Sabine. 

"Well," she says, leaning in. "It's pretty obvious he's in love with you too." 

"Oh." His face feels warm at the thought. Again, the pieces are all there and when Ezra puts them together it makes sense. The way Luke gravitates toward him; the looks, the touches, the smiles. He supposes he's always known Luke felt the same connection, just not what that connection was apparently. 

Ezra frowns suddenly. "Oh, then this doesn't change anything," he sighs. It should be a relief, but it's not. Ezra's not good at keeping things inside and now that he realizes how he feels, he's not sure how to unfeel or unknow it. 

"What?" 

"Luke's not…" Ezra starts to explain and falters. "The way things are, it's not the time. Maybe someday, when this is all over." 

He can't imagine that time, though, or what that life would look like. As much as he tries to deny it, his whole self is defined by the rebellion. Even his identity as a Jedi, everything Kanan taught him, is tied up in fighting the Empire. 

Sabine gives him a look, lips pursed, hesitating before she speaks. "Ezra, I'm not going to pretend to know what you should do, but... don't be too much like Kanan and Hera." 

Ezra winces. "That's what I'm trying to avoid."

He knows Sabine means not to put a relationship on the back burner when time is so precious, but what he fears more is growing closer and losing that. Maybe Kanan and Hera had been right to try to temper things. Maybe it hurt less. 

No distractions, no broken hearts—no more than what would already break. 

Anyways, it doesn't matter. Not if Luke doesn't want it. 

"I'll leave it up to him," he decides. 

It's a bit of a cop out and he can tell by Sabine's unimpressed look that she knows it too. But it's for the best, he tells himself. They can be friends and that has to be enough.

"Alright," Sabine drawls. "Blaster practice. Now." 

"What?"

"You either need a drink or to shoot something, so…." Sabine gestures to the door. 

Ezra warms, a smile crossing his face. He's lucky to have a family like the one he has, he knows it. 

"You know, a real friend would let me try out her new jetpack," Ezra says innocently, not able to keep the grin off his face. "That would really make me feel better." 

Sabine rolls her eyes. "Not on your life."

#skybridger #skybridger week #ezra bridger #luke skywalker #i actually love love love this piece #but all of the 5+1 sections have not quite come together #maybe sometime soon! #abp fic

[helpimhyperfixating]

For the 1K follower event: a drabble about that last ask where Mertaro and Y/N are having an intimate moment at Y/N's house but then mer!Holly shows up at the doorstep and interrupts their cuddling 😂

Ask it’s based on

Poor man just wants cuddles smh 🤦‍♀️

Also I’m feeling really down today so I just needed to write some fluff. I was planning to do the event asks in order of when I got them, but that’s just a way to get me writer’s block so imma go criss-cross. I’m sorry if you sent it in early and it takes a while. I’m still gonna do all of them though!!

1k event rules

Word Count: 781

Laying in bed, you were humming a little bit as you lay in Jotaro’s arms.

After annoying you for it for a good half an hour, you had finally cracked, putting away your work in favour of acquiescing to his request.

So now here you lay.

Your arms were around his torso as your head rested on his chest, eyes closed in contentment as you monkey clung to the fish, your legs straddling his tail.

Jotaro had softly been purring the entire time. Not so loud or hard that it rumbled his chest, but a soft vibration to stay mindful of where your head lay, not wanting to scare you off.

Quality time with you was one of his favourite things. With his grasp on the English language being somewhat shaky, just sitting in silence with you - or laying, like right now - was his preferred way of showing affection.

Ever so gently, his right hand scratched up and down your arm, a soft motion mimicking the tides, something subconscious he always seemed to do to calm you, and it never failed to bring a smile to your face.

Snuggling some further into him, Jotaro tightened the curl of his tail in response, pulling you even closer against himself and sighing in deeply, making his purr stutter cutely on the exhale.

“Are you still wet enough?”

“I’m fine.” Jotaro assured, leaning down to press a kiss to your head - something he had picked up from watching you.

“Alright, just make sure to tell me when it gets uncomfortable.” You murmured, hiding your forming blush from the little kiss by burying your cheek deeper into his chest.

A deep rumble left him as a response before you both settled again, the silence and sleepiness overtaking you both once more.

It must’ve been ten minutes where you were dozing off when Jotaro suddenly shot his head up.

Jolting your eyes open, you blinked a few times before looking up at the merman with sleepy confusion. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything as he instead listened intently. Yet after a few seconds of that, he put his head back down on the pillows. “Nothing.” He rumbled, flexing his arms to instead pull you closer and further up his body, putting your head in the hollow of his chin.

“You worry me sometimes, you know that?” You sighed yet sank back into the shark either way.

“You worry me all the time.”

Squinting your eyes at his stubborn response, you pinched his pec, to which he swatted your hand away and then grabbed it, putting it down on his stomach, captive between his fingers.

“No fair.” You pouted and a low chuckle left him.

Right as he was opening his mouth to respond, another voice cut through the silence.

“Jotaro?”

Comically opening his eyes wide, a panicked trill left Jotaro upon hearing his mom as his body jolted.

You - having met the mermaid before - were faring no better.

At the same time, you tried to roll apart frantically, only to have Jotaro trap your legs under his tail as he rolled further, causing you to roll with him, now smacking fully on top of his chest in order to not break your legs.

Pushing yourself up by putting your hands on his chest, Jotaro blushed wildly as he swallowed. Seeing how his hands had automatically landed on your hips, he froze.

He’d never- this position- oh fuck, he- Hm. His whole brain short-circuited as his fingers twitched, his ears angled down in his flustered state.

“J-Jotaro lift your tail.” You hissed softly, doing no better.

It was easier said than done though, as you were right on the base, meaning he had nothing else but his abdominal muscles to lift both the heavy appendage, and you.

“Jotaro!” You whisper shouted and his lips curled up as he blinked rapidly, his eyes glued on where you sat.

“I’m trying!”

“Jota- oh!” You both snapped your heads to the door opening, seeing Holly sit there, a hand in front of her mouth before she giggled. “My, I have ill timing. Don’t mind me, you two.” She winked as she turned around yet the both of you on the bed became mortified.

Each cursing in your respective language, Jotaro then swiftly rolled over, flipping your positions as he closely hovered over you, his face a dark red before he pulled away and flopped off the bed.

Rapid clicks and trills left him as he shouted at his mother, frantically trying to explain that that was NOT what she thought she just swam in on, while you remained on your back, covering your face with your hands as you groaned.

#hih follower event #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #mertaro #jotaro kujo x reader #jjba #would you look at that: a drabble that is actually drabble sized #mer holly

[ksclaw]

it's so empty when there's nothing around to fill the space.

I've had dogs all my life, and my latest two puppers are gone now. One I lost 2 years ago, the other only a few weeks ago. And it all feels so empty and hollow.

My mom is getting a new puppy next week. We both went to see a breeder with puppies, with the intention of perhaps finding a little companion for me. we both fell for a sweet little boy, but I know my mom is lonely too, so when she said she was tempted to get him for herself, I told her to please, go ahead, he is a sweetheart I know he'll be right for her.

We've been looking around for others for me, but I've had no luck so far. Another breeder was... Cold for lack of a better word. She was more interested in showing off what her adult dogs could do, rather than letting me actually see the puppies (they toddled around our feet while we talked and fell asleep under the coffee table.)

Another had one single scottie puppy, but I could tell that he wasn't meant to be mine. A week after we lost Sara, someone had lost their own dog, and they got that puppy instead. And a part of me thought "He was meant to be theirs, and that's okay."

I had another 'maybe' just a few days ago. Went to visit someone who had a few puppies, but she had four boys and one girl. I liked the girl best, but I wanted to think it over, and the owner had other people coming. So I thought 'if the girl is still there, maybe I'll give it a chance.'

But she had been taken by someone else the next day. So be it.

There hasn't really been anyone else since then. Nothing that felt like it could be right, or even a maybe. Nothing that makes me go "yeah I'd be willing to drive several hours to take a look."

It may sound picky, but I don't want a dog, just to get a dog. I don't want a random object.

Friends will know how much I loved my dogs. And there's a big hole where they both used to be. Their memory is buried in another part of my heart, but the rest is a big void that feels empty. I've had days where I start sobbing from just seeing someone else with a scottie, or even just a puppy.

My heart aches with the memory of going to visit the breeder who had Malik, and her putting him in my lap. And how I just knew that he was mine, and I was his. There's a special warmth you get in your chest, when you get that one puppy (or kitty for some), when they cuddle up in your arms. A feeling you get through out the years you get together.

Malik would check up on me. He would sit and stare me down, or he would come and hop up so his front paws were on my thigh, just to get my attention, to let me know he wanted something, or to check on me if he could tell I was upset about something. He was my little watch dog, my protector.

I want to have that feeling again. It's possible that it will be a bit before I get that feeling again. But even if it hurts, it's a feeling worth waiting for.

#rambles #might delete later #turned out long so I put it under a readmore #had an emotional moment and needed to vent #I miss my puppers so much

[valarioncy]

Beyondverse Out of Context

I've been waiting for years to post this somewhere. Basic concept is, lines from the Beyondverse Saga series of the Hollow fanfics, but taken out of context. Enjoy.

---

Edge! Stop!

---

"It's your only chance!" the other Adam shouted. "We're not giving up. We live, or we die trying!"

---

"We could hit him in the head with a metal pole," said Kai, all too casually. Mira glared at him. He lifted his palms in a shrug. "What? It'd knock him out."

---

But this was no clock. It was salvation.

---

Cuddling in bed absolutely did not qualify as professional!

---

Either there had been something bad in those beans they'd had for supper, or this place was finally starting to get into his head. He pinched his temple. Perhaps it was some combination of both. After all, it had been Mira's turn to cook.

---

"OK. This is gonna sound crazy, but your mom's snow lady reminds me of strawberry shortcake for some reason," Mira remarked.

At once, the snow morphed into an advertisement-worthy, rose-tinted vision of a triple-stacked strawberry shortcake, covered in the fluffiest, most delectable whipped topping Adam had ever seen. He wondered whether whipped topping that fluffy even existed.

---

He shivered and he trembled. Hot, searing pain crawled up every limb, ligament, and bone. He kept his fists clenched, if just to stop his fingers from twitching uncontrollably. Every breath came out quick and jagged. He lay curled up on the ground, trapped in agony. All he could see was the ground, and a dark gray expanse above his head…

And the expanse was made of… t-shirt fabric?

---

"Yep," answered Kai with two thumbs up. "Movie night, a la Kai's brain. Pull up a chair and get comfy."

---

If Kai could fix that transmitter in less than a week, then the elephant didn't matter much.

---

That's it. Might make a part 2 eventually. Also I do have other fanfics, so... yeah. :0

#the hollow #the hollow netflix #the hollow adam #the hollow mira #the hollow kai #the hollow fanfic #the hollow beyond #out of context #fanfiction #archive of our own

[tade-imagines]

Loved by You

Haechan x reader, Renjun x reader, inspired by a Chinese toothbrush commercial

‘I like you’ those were words I held dear to my heart, especially since it was Haechan who said it.

I’ve liked him for quite some time when he uttered that to me, they made me smile widely from ear to ear and the flowers in my branches bloom even more.

Imagine, having branches grow onto you as you grow up – blooming flowers once in a while, being an offering whenever you gave love to someone special. I always thought it was cliché, I always thought it was a lecherous relationship when that happened.

That all changed when the three, sweet words were uttered from his pink and plump lips.

Just like that, I preened at all his attention, making sure my branches stood tall and flowers blooming for him… to give to him.

How can I not?

Haechan’s always so funny and charismatic.

I suppose that’s what offering a flower is to love sick people – it’s offering a part of you to someone you absolutely adore.

---

“Y/N, I’ve been feeling bad, can I have cuddles?” Haechan knocks at my door, his iconic pout in display, I cooed, finding it adorable as I open my arms for him.

No sooner, he wrapped his arms around me, rather tight and uncomfortable but I let him lead me to bed and let him curl up around me.

“Haechan? What’s wrong, love?” I whisper out, yet all my attempts to converse were met with silence.

Still, I smile to myself as I watch him fall asleep in my arms, running a hand through his soft, brown locks until his breathing evens out and his grip loosens.

Slowly, I watch as a purple peony from my branch faded away, one petal at a time. No words could describe how proud and glad I’d been to see the same flower appear on one of his branches, its purple shade obvious against his yellow primroses.

So, this is what loving feels like.

---

For a while, that bliss continued, the small and big things I would do for Haechan making me giddy.

“Please let me copy your homework!”

“Y/N, can you cook me lunch?”

“Let me sleep over, come ooon!”

“Can you tell my mom I’m over at yours?”

“I’m going to hang out with my friends, can you get snacks?”

“Let’s watch my favorite movie today!”

He requested so much and… being honest, I didn’t mind at first.

I loved giving my all to him, seeing the purple bloom in contrast to the yellow of his own flowers.

He had me wrapped around his little finger and I didn’t mind at all. He could tell me to jump and my only response would be ‘How high?’, to me, he’s the one who makes my world bloom.

All my flowering emotions were because of him, his stupid but adorable laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the way he’d ruffle his hair when he missed a shot in basketball.

God, I was willing to do anything for him just to have him by my side, to have him come over in the middle of the night and fall asleep having my arms around him … or so I thought.

---

“Haechan, can you sing for me?” I sleepily ask, earning a shake of his head.

“Sorry, Y/N… tired,” he yawns out as he tugs on my covers, eyes shut.

---

“May I…” I point to his hoodie, the cold biting into my skin a little from the early January air.

He just sneezes, “No can do, I don’t want to get sick, I have a game on Saturday.”

I just nod in understanding as I hug myself.

---

“Love,” I whisper as I reach for his hand as we move through a crowd.

Haechan simply hums as he looks back at me, raising his brows.

Upon not noticing my hand, he just smiles – the action making my heart flutter – before turning around and walking on ahead.

I looked at my empty hand, the fluttering dying down.

How odd, the feeling replacing it seemed quite… hollow.

---

“I’m going to the amusement park, Y/N, come with me!” Haechan meekly hums as he stands in front of my door one early morning.

I couldn’t do anything but blink. I look down at my branches, now bare from giving so much to him.

I felt so tired and drained, I didn’t think I would be up for rides and screaming… or basketball games and friend hangouts… or any of the adventures he wants to go on.

“I thought you liked me,” I whisper out, my hands clenching to my side as I bite my lip.

“W-what? Y/N, of course I do!” he insists out, brows knitting together, “What do you want me to do to show it?”

“Cuddle me,” I say out, “Stay here all day today and cuddle me, I’m feeling bad.”

I lift my eyes after my request, a glimmer glossing over it at his expression – troubled and shocked. Perhaps he’d reach out and take me into his arms instead this time.

Maybe he’d make my branches bloom again.

I wanted something - anything – from him, even if it’s just a bud from one of his many flowers… or get back one of mine.

That’s when a call comes from behind him, one of his friends telling him they’ll be late to the amusement park’s opening.

The looks over to them then at me before scratching his nape, a sheepish grin entering him, “Sorry… I made plans ahead… maybe next time?”

It was then that my world crumbled.

I couldn’t give any more, and I wasn’t getting back anything from all I’ve lost.

I shake my head and close the door almost instantly, not even having the strength to slam it at his face.

The last of my will was used to get upstairs, crumbling on the bed as fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

---

It’s been months, and I’ve been avoiding Haechan.

It hurts to be away from him, but it hurts even more to see him enjoying everything with my flowers adorning each of his branches while mine remained bare.

Nonetheless, I kept moving forward, as much as he was my world, he wasn’t my entire life.

Then it happened.

It was after school and I was waiting for the bus alone, the sky was grey and it sprinkled a bit, some drops splashing against my face. It was enough to be noticeable, but not an annoyance.

The floor splashed as footsteps headed in my direction and made me look over, no one uses this stop except for me, it was quite surprising to see someone familiar.

“Renjun? Are you waiting for the bus too?” I asked the man.

He’s my seatmate in class, he was always one to initiate groupworks, making it easy for me to ask help from him and him from me. He’d constantly cause a small ruckus with me, and that made me laugh often.

He seemed more shy out here though, biting his lips as he fidgeted with the button of his dark green coat. His eyes dart around a bit, seemingly nervous before it heads up to meet mine.

“No, I-um… I like you.”

The familiar words made my heart ache ever so slightly, eyes darting to my empty branches.

“I have nothing to give you.”

At my words, the man chuckles lightly, reaching over to open his umbrella and stands by my side, the sprinkle of water disappearing from me.

The action warmed me somewhat, but what shocked me more was the familiar fading of a flower – yet this time, it was one of his roses that disappeared petal from petal… onto one of my branches, the red of the flower  obvious against the brown wood.

“That’s not true… you can give me a chance?” he hums out, smiling so much that his eyes turn into crescents, one of his hands pulling me closer to make sure I’m warm.

Another flower appeared.

My face grew red as I stared up at his smile, my mouth agape.

Renjun was soon blurry with the tears swimming into my eyes.

My shoulders shook and sniffles erupted from my body.

His arms were quickly reached out and he held me.

He held me like I was the most precious and fragile thing he has ever set his eyes on, his grip gentle and caring as he lets me cry into his shoulder.

I didn’t need to look, I knew more roses appeared as he held me, whispered comforting words into my ear and ran his hand through my hair.

A few minutes passed and my sobs died down.

I pull away and he had the sense to hold out his coat’s sleeve to wipe off the stray tears that fell from my eyes.

The action made me giggle for some reason as I give a last of my sniff, “Silly… you don’t need to do that, I’m okay now.”

He smiles timidly as he chuckles with me, his voice soft – afraid to break the serenity of the moment.

“Here-“ I offer a tissue out to him, “For your coat’s shoulder,” I explain with a smile.

He nods as he takes the item, giving me a nod of thanks.

I nod back before my eyes widened.

Beside one of his roses was the odd color of purple, my purple.

On his branches lay a single purple peony that just finished appearing. This made me quickly look to my branches.

A few purple buds were starting to sprout.

“It looks pretty,” he comments softly, cheeks growing bright, “Purple always made you glow in my eyes.”

I give a light ‘thank you’ and smile at him, “I think purple will look good on you too.”

Renjun lets out a small giggle as he nods.

The man grows silent before speaking up, “You know, I can love you well if you’d let me…”

That made me cock my head, peering over at him.

I couldn’t help but admire his form, accented by blooming red roses and purple peonies, just as mine is. It’s beautiful. “I’d love to be loved by you.”

#angst #flowers #i love her #breakup #nct #nct u #nct haechan #nct renjun #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #x reader #renjun #haechan #nct fluff

[bennydwight]

TGAMM Season 2 Countdown: Four days left

A new art medium for the four days milestone. Have a post-season finale fic!

Summary: Following the destruction of the Chairman, Scratch is plagued by insomnia. Turns out, he’s not the only one. Apparently, he and Libby are more alike than first expected

Word count: 2300 (give or take)

If you prefer AO3 formatting, click here to read!

Obviously, being dead, there were some things Scratch simply didn’t need to do. Eat. Flatulate. Sleep. He did them simply because he really liked to do them, in fact they were often cited as his favourite things to do. So now, as he lay in his dollhouse with his hands clasped over his chest like a corpse, the annoyance broiling in his center didn’t come from the need to sleep, but rather the inability.

In control of himself in a way humans generally weren’t (thanks to a blessed lack of glands, those little fiends messed with everything), insomnia wasn’t a common struggle, able to will himself to sleep anytime, anywhere. Usually. Lately, it had been getting harder. After the McGees had been forced to leave, sleep became nearly impossible, the creaks and groans of his old house echoing emptily without living bodies to bounce off, turning his warm home into nothing more than a hollow structure. He took to roaming the dark halls during the night like a… well, like a ghost. He’d finally been able to relax a little after they moved back in, but the events with the Council, and the Chairman, and Molly in the Ghost World today? The edges of his form tightened with riled energy at the thought even now. Stupid pseudo-biology.

In the light of day, when the family was loud and annoying and active and alive and there, then he could rest. But in the stillness of night, the air too dead to be truly comfortable, Scratch dimmed his glow and abandoned the dollhouse to poke his head into the bedroom proper. Molly lay practically smothered under an obscene amount of fluffy blankets, all her stuffed animals in haphazard piles around the lump of her body. Their blank eyes stared eerily forward, her silent and expressionless protectors. She nearly squeezed the head off her unicorn in her sleep, clinging to the corporeal. Scratch knew creepy, his job depended—had depended on it, but if the toys brought Molly even a little comfort then he could stand the weird little button eyes.

The exhaustion of being separated from her body had put Molly to sleep almost immediately, and though it was a deep sleep Scratch couldn’t speak to the restfulness of her dreams. Especially with the way she was strangling that unicorn. He’d check back on her again later.

He drifted downwards, to the landing and then through to Darryl’s bedroom, where the youngest McGee splayed across his bed, limbs tangled in plant-printed sheets and whistling through his nose with every breath. Here. Alive.

(The sound had driven him nearly mad when they first moved in, every sign of occupants grating against his existence like sandpaper, but now he wouldn’t trade the noise for all the tacos in Brighton.)

Scratch took a second to check the bandages around Darryl’s fingers, bitten to bloody as they all waited for Molly’s successful return. And his own. He made a quick detour to the bathroom and dropped a tube of antibiotic cream on Darryl’s nightstand. If that didn’t remind him to change the bandages in the morning, Scratch would do it himself.

Across the hall saw him into mom and dad’s room, the two of them cuddled close in peaceful slumber, sleeping like the dead.

(Eew, no, he didn’t want to think about that.)

A little green bottle of melatonin sat innocently on Pete’s bedside table, and Scratch’s glow dimmed impossibly further. Maybe their sleep was sound now, but it didn’t look like it started that way. Had that been his fault?

And since when had he started caring so much?

Assisted or not, the McGees had settled, so Scratch headed out into the night, continuing his rounds. A way to burn an unfamiliar restless energy at the beginning, they’d since evolved into a fallback routine. Molly had her stuffed animals. Darryl, the older members of his family. Mom and dad, melatonin. Scratch had his rounds, a reminder (a comfort. Here. Alive). Brighton slept, blissfully unaware of the harrowing events of the day, but despite the subsurface titanic shift of the status quo, the town remained stubbornly stagnant. Ah, life. To be so ignorant again.

Scratch reached the bookshop and headed in through the left window, where Leah lay still except for the even rise and fall of her chest. He hadn’t been present for the dropoff (being detained and all), but he’d witnessed her load armful after armful of occult books back into the trunk of her old beater, pleasantly bemused at the sense of relief and celebration radiating from his family as she came to drive Libby back home. Without her help, Libby and Molly might never have been able to free him. Indirectly, Leah Stein-Torres may have saved his life. (Or death. Whatever.)

Crossing into the adjacent bedroom, though, Scratch froze on reflex. Libby sat on her window seat, notebook on her lap and pencil moving in quick strokes across the paper even as her stare remained glued out the window.

Seems he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

“Burnin’ the midnight oil?”

A thrill of satisfaction passed through him at Libby’s startled noise, and she whipped around so fast her hair smacked her in the face. Not exactly a scare, but maybe it would still count in his scare report—

Which, with the Chairman gone, probably wouldn’t exist anymore. (Weird to think about, but hey, he could use the vacation.)

Libby’s surprise faded, posture relaxing as she recognized her visitor. “Oh. Hey, Scratch.”

He scoffed at her tone, making himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat. Her throw pillows didn’t have the same comfy impression as Sharon’s, but they melded nicely to his butt regardless. “Pfft, a guy might start to feel unwanted.”

“You are in my bedroom past midnight,” Libby pointed out, annoyingly correct. Then, the previous tension hiked up her shoulders. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Scratch raised his hands placatingly. “Easy, Libs, everything’s fine. With me, anyway,” he accentuated the word with a weighted stare.

Libby leaned back, resigned. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”

“I hear it’s goin’ around.”

“Still thinking about… what happened today?”

She missed his surprised glance, weirdly focused on the window, but her direct question threw him for a loop. How could he not be? The Ghost World had changed fundamentally. His best friend had given up half her life to save him and they’d both almost been lost to despair, and despite the fact that this should all be neatly filed away and repressed in his mind somewhere to never be thought of again, here he was losing sleep over it. “Uhhh… no?”

“Oh.” Wrong answer. Libby pulled her knees closer to her chest. “Me neither.”

Equally unconvincing. Should he… press? Molly would, but wasn’t that invasive? Did he really care enough to know? Was the fact that he asked himself that proof one way or the other?

As he scrambled desperately for something to say, panic rising, Libby’s pencil started up again, scratch scratch scratch, in those short, repetitive strokes. Scratch peered over to see a messy sketch of Molly, gray and lifeless, in the notebook’s margins.

The trip to the Ghost World had been a whirlwind of dread and uncertainty and so, so much fear that Scratch hadn’t even considered what it was like on the other side. Going through it firsthand had been stressful enough. What must it have felt like to just be… waiting?

Somehow, miraculously, the connection between his mind and his tongue solidified. “Hey. Thanks.” Spirits, he was bad at this. “For, uh, taking care of Molly while we were gone.”

Instead of reacting to the praise, Libby closed off, tucking her chin into the collar of her pyjamas. “It was scary, you know. Not knowing what was going on. Stuck with that… shell.”

“…Yeah.” Molly’s essence—ironically, her life—had been deep in death’s trenches. Though it looked like Molly and sounded like Molly, it hadn’t been Molly. Scratch had spent a grand total of twenty seconds with the cadaver and even that had been unnerving.

How long had they been gone in the living world? He hadn’t thought to ask. Apparently a common theme for him.

“Will it happen again? Will Molly leave to hang out there, or… save you again or anything?”

Scratch only heard the unspoken question because he’d turned it over in the dark, secret, nasty parts of his mind so often: will Molly leave me for something better?

(He was not a fan of this particular mirror. The universe liked to play jokes, apparently.)

He sighed. “Okay, look. In the Ghost World, we have—had—this thing, the Flow of Failed Phantoms.” How had no one explained this to her yet? “A ghost doesn’t meet his misery quota and he’d be banished forever, blah blah blah. That’s what Molly saved me from.”

Libby’s head shot up, fingers tightening around her notebook to the point where the paper crumpled, and Scratch winced sympathetically. “You were going to be banished?!”

“Dipped too low in my quota. Hard to be miserable with Molly around.” No matter how hard he tried.

“So this might happen again? This rescue mission?”

Scratch felt her panic and fear in mouth-watering waves, but the ability to resist taking advantage of that had grown astonishingly strong. Besides, there was no point in scaring anyone anymore. “Nah, see, Molly took care of that. She kinda, uh, destroyed the Flow. Forever. And killed the guy in charge. So, no more risk of that.” Unless the Ghost Council formed an even worse alternative, a thought that haunted Scratch’s every (annoying, plentiful) waking moment. That was a Future Scratch problem.

The fear lessened some, and his membrane stopped itching. “So… neither of you are in danger anymore?”

Her voice was so plaintive Scratch was suddenly, abruptly aware that he was talking to a child. It was hard to remember sometimes, kids were so much more mature these days (save Darryl), but Libby’s eyes glistened alarmingly in the filtered streetlights, stubbornly refusing to meet his own stare.

This was so far out of his comfort zone.

A hesitant beat passed before he floated over, hooking his fingers around the top of her notebook. “Hey, Libs, it’s alright. Molly and I are here for good. No more wraiths, no more Flows. You’re stuck with us.” He tried an encouraging smile. “I promise.” Normally that kind of commitment only manifested when he performed a curse, but for some reason this felt like the opposite. On impulse, he rested one of his hands over hers, the way he and Molly had connected as the Flow threatened to break them down to nothing but molecules of misery.

Finally, Libby’s hands softened, the paper’s rough crinkling nearly masking a quiet sniffle. “I’d just hate to be stuck here while you two were in trouble.”

All this mushy stuff was making his ectoplasm curl. Scratch reached around, adjusting sketch-Molly’s slack mouth into a smile, and her appearance shifted from corpselike to sleepily contented. “Well, now you know how to wraith, and you know Geoff,” (a little joining of worlds he could’ve gone without, thank you very much), “so you can come pull our butts out of the fire if this ever happens again. Which it won’t.”

Molly’s hugs were telegraphed, wide-armed and strong enough to discorporate him if she really tried. So Libby’s arms around him, sudden and tentative like she was afraid of breaking him, were a shock to his nonexistent heart.

“Thank you, Scratch. For taking care of her in there.”

His body knew how to respond to the McGees, but this was new. After a moment’s hesitation, Scratch wrapped her in his own hug, secure and strong (like Molly’s). Like a conversation, Libby’s grip tightened to match. “Thanks for keepin’ her safe out here. No more trips to the Ghost World if I can help it.”

Her warm chuckle vibrated against him. (Here. Alive.) “Aww, you’re kind of a softie, aren’t you?”

“Alright, alright, get off, your hair’s getting stuck in my ectoplasm.” Another difference from Molly’s hugs: more hair. As Libby pulled away, she couldn’t quite disguise a sleepy blink. “Now get to bed or your mom’s gonna kill me again.”

She giggled, the sound infinitely lighter and Scratch’s colour brightened in response. As she put away her notebook and climbed into bed he hovered uncertainly over the window seat, half ready to leave and half insistent that he stay until dismissed. Another old habit.

“Scratch?” He nearly didn’t hear his name, Libby’s voice muffled by sleep and blankets (not as many as Molly, but close). He drifted nearer, and suddenly realized he’d been subconsciously straightening the wrinkles in her comforter. He tucked his hands behind his back, willing down a blush (some habits didn’t die at all, even without glands). “Yeah?”

Libby’s smile betrayed the fact that she’d seen his fussing, something smug and secretive in the corners of her mouth. Too observant for her own good, this one. Scratch braced himself for ridicule, but she only said, “will you stay until I fall asleep?”

His glow softened, casting warm shadows into the corners of her room like a nightlight, and he didn’t bother trying to mask the way he adjusted the blankets now. “Yeah, kid. Don’t worry. I ain’t going anywhere.”

Spirits, he was a failure as a ghost. Maybe he was getting better at this ‘friendship’ thing, though, and he knew which one he preferred.

 END

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #tgamm s1 spoilers #scratch #scratch mcgee #libby #libby stein torres #what i affectionately refer to as the introvert crew #countdown #writing

[pbandjesse]

I am worried I am getting sick. I woke up with a gummy feeling in my throat. And now I have a sore throat and a soreness in my chest and I am worried. Fingers crossed I'm just overthinking it.

I think some of the issue is I didn't wake up in a good place. I had a really terrible nightmare and woke up pretty distressed. James was right there and hugged me and tried to make me feel better but I would feel pretty uneasy for a few hours. Like it felt very real and was just messing up my whole nervous system. Very deregulating.

So I was having a little trouble. I needed to feel secure and cozy. I would switch my outfit to be more cozy. And it helped. James had made me a little sandwich and packed me a lunch. And then it was time for us to head out.

We were going to the doctors to get blood work done before we went to work. We got there a little early though so we waited in the car until the other person waiting in their car went to the door. We would follow after him.

We got signed in and waited. I was cuddled up to James because it's always novel to get to spend some time in the morning together. And I was being silly and I was just like. Oh my God James wouldn't it be so romantic if they switched all of our blood??? And James laughed really big.

I got my blood taken first. They did not take all of it, thankfully. Only 4 viles. The nurse was so sweet though and we had a really nice little chat about the street we live on and then all about me working at camp. She said I was super animated and she thinks I'm going to be an amazing mom and that was like. So sweet. People have been saying that to me for a few years now but like now fall those moments are playing in my head.

The nurse point out all the clay and paint on my boots and asked if I was a painter and then all about art and what I do at camp when I'm not teaching art and I told her about camp and getting to be in nature. And she all of a sudden became fixated on snakes and I was like we sometimes find snakes.

And I guess I spoke that into existence.

Because after James got their blood taken, thankfully not all of it, we drove over to the museum. And the I was off to camp. I would approve right before 10 and headed down to the stream to help Celia and that's when the snake finding started! Celia's group was looking for bugs, while Nick's group was looking for critters and creatures. And they found 2 snakes! A few newts and a box turtle as well. But the snakes were what I was most excited about. The ring neck snake was my favorite one and I thought they were just so cute. And I got to share with the kids about how I learned recently that we can't actually feel wetness, and so many people think snakes are wet when they are just cold. It was really neat.

I also just really had fun looking for fungus and mushrooms. I helped look though the leaves for creatures. It was pretty chilly this morning but it was fun! I was having a nice morning.

Half way through the second program I would walk up to the main field to take over the chipmunk game with Dachelle. But I have never actually played that so the children had to explain the rules. There were poker chips I had to throw around and then they had to find them to represent different needs of chipmunks. And then if they don't get them they become hawks (like in real life) and they can tag them out using flags like in flag football. And it was fun! The kids were sweet and I enjoyed playing this game and I normally hate leading games so this was nice.

Honestly all today I was forced to play games and I did have fun even if I normally don't like it.

Lunch was a nice little break. For some reason we were all having similar foods so the office smelled really nice. And we had some little laughs and we're being silly and I just love the energy in there.

The afternoon I spent with Sarah at frog hollow doing water quality testing. I felt like we were rushing through and that was really confusing for me because then we were done 40 minutes early. So we played the predator/prey game and that was fun but for the last rotation I took over and we had a calmer water testing and I think everyone better understood what they were learning. Everyone has fun though so it's fine regardless. It was a good time.

I really enjoyed being outside and it warmed up and was really nice. I did forget my water at the office which was dumb. My throat was hurting from yelling out the game instructions and the counting down for each round. Sarah thought it was funny I used an actual timer and not just vibes. My throat was hurting but I thought drinking wanted would fix it.

It did not. I would have a weao little cough for the next couple hours. Which seems to have subsided now but I am still uncomfortable.

I would keep sipping water for the afternoon though. I walked with the kids to the office and had some nice chats about fly fishing and arthritis. And then we said goodbye.

I spent the next half hour or so printing my journals and folding paper. And eventually I would head to the hacienda to finally paint the tables with primer. Heather had brought some from home and so I spent about an hour doing that. I had a podcast going and was having fun and just really feeling good.

I went back to the office and worked on some stuff on my laptop. I got the new one set up to print. It is working a lot better now. It's still slow to start but once it's on its good. It was almost 4 though. And so I finished folding papers and begged off having to help clean at the lodge, because it was time for me to go.

I would say goodbye and drove to the Dutch market. I did not buy much. Just a pretzel and some chocolate candies. Mini peanut butter cups and dark chocolate covered cranberries. And then I went home.

I had had trouble getting my phone to connect to the car on my drive to the market but it would for my drive home and I was able to listen to music and then a bit of a podcast. And when I got home I was excited that James had made me a veggie chicken caeser salad. Thank you to my husband.

They were already doing their podcast but stopped to give me a kiss. And I went to eat in the kitchen. After I finished eating I went in the studio and went through my bags to try to chose which would be in rotation. I also chose a few to tentatively get rid of. I find it incredibly difficult to part with any my bags. But at least it's organized.

I am continuing my goal of one hour of studio time. I worked on some sewing. I fixed my leather bag. I also finished my charm project!! I'm not sure where it'll hang in the future but for now it's on the wall and it looks good. I'm very pleased.

I would paint my toes and chill in bed after that. I have been searching on eBay for new blundstones (the boots I wear are disintegrating on the sides where the cobbler weirdly attached foam around the sole? Has been a crumbly mess for a bit and I just keep painting over it but I fear they will fall apart completely) all day and I found a really good price and I made an offer and they accepted! Incredible! Love when things come together.

But now I think I will take a bath. It has been a good day but I am not feeling amazing inside. So I hope I can sleep easy. A bath will help that.

Goodnight everyone. I hope you have a lovely day and a good night's sleep.