#(i'm leaving the other post up though because a lot of people like it)

[fireinmoonshot]

all this time | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Despite the fact that you're his older sisters best friend, Joaquín has always had a crush on you. Little does he know, you feel the same way. But how can either of you act on it when you can't hurt his sister? Warnings: Reader wears dresses, has hair long enough to at least reach her shoulders. Mentions of food. Joaquín being completely oblivious... other than that I think it's all fine! Word Count: 7.8k A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever posted on this blog (not including my multi-parters)... this was requested by a lovely anon and I started brainstorming the idea when I was at work the other day (plenty of time to think when I'm in the walk-in fridge) and then I got so hooked on the idea and it somehow became this almost 8000 word piece. I loved writing this one so much though. In this, I have named Joaquín's sister Catalina, nicknamed Lina – if this happens to be your name, feel free to just pick another name for her. It's just one I liked! I really hope everyone that reads enjoys this. It was a challenge to write but I loved every second of it! 💗

“It’s like the forbidden fruit, huh?” Marcos turns to Joaquin with a grin. He takes a sip of his beer and then points the bottle across the backyard towards where you’re standing by the back door of his parents house.

Joaquin frowns, his eyebrows knotting together and undoubtedly causing an expression to appear on his face that his mother would berate him about making in public. “What?”

Marcos points the bottle towards you again. “Catalina’s friend. She’s like the forbidden fruit. The most gorgeous girl here but the only girl that none of us can have, unless we want to deal with your sisters wrath. And no one wants Catalina’s wrath.” 

For a moment, Joaquin simply stares at his cousin. He can’t say any of the things that are currently swimming through his mind. Though Marcos deserves to hear all of them, none of them are particularly family friendly and there are several people sitting around the two of them that he’d rather not offend. 

“Don’t talk about my sisters friend like that,” is all he can manage before he picks up his own beer from the table and walks away, leaving Marcos staring after him, dumbfounded. 

He shakes his head as he walks over towards the barbecue where his uncle has just started to grill some meat. How his favourite uncle managed to have a son like Marcos, Joaquin will never be able to comprehend.

“What did he say now?” Uncle Jorge says, glancing over at Joaquin as he turns over a piece of meat. “There’s only one reason you would’ve walked over here and it’s not because you want to talk to your favourite tío.”

Joaquin chuckles. “Believe me, you don’t wanna know.”

He looks around the backyard, taking in the scene. His family, neighbours, friends, everyone he really cares about all in the same place, except for Sam – he’d been summoned away to help his sister and his nephews for the weekend. Despite his absence, this is a rare occasion, and one he’s glad to be experiencing.

He can’t help it when his eyes catch on you. You’re still standing over closer to the back door of the house with his sister, a drink in your hand. The sundress you’re wearing suits you a lot. The colour compliments your skin perfectly. The breeze blows some of your hair back off of your shoulders and his breath catches in his throat. He’s well aware the situation is all very similar to a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles. 

Joaquin has barely been able to take his eyes off of you ever since he first saw you arrive, and who can blame him when you look like that? To be fair… you always look gorgeous, but today you look especially gorgeous. 

The words Marcos had said trickle into his mind again and he winces a little. He wishes that people like Marcos didn’t get to enjoy looking at you when you looked so beautiful. 

“Joaquin, are you listening?” 

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from you and back to his uncle. “Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

His uncle looks over his shoulder, looking exactly where Joaquin had been looking, and chuckles to himself. “Yeah, distracted, sure. Can you pass me the tongs over there?”

Joaquin passes him the tongs, ignoring the comment about him being distracted, and forces himself to look away from you. Even when he hears you laugh and he wants nothing more than to look at you and see the smile on your face. He loves seeing you smile.

Thankfully, his uncle doesn’t say anything more about catching him staring at you. Joaquin helps him with grilling up the rest of the meat, completely unaware that you are now the one staring at him from across the yard.

You can’t help it – Joaquin is and always has been gorgeous.

You watch as a girl around Joaquin’s age, a few years younger than you, walks up to Joaquin where he’s standing near the grill with his uncle and starts making conversation. The feeling that settles in your chest isn’t an unfamiliar one, but it is unwelcome.

“Catalina,” you start, getting the attention of your friend. “Who’s that Joaquin’s with?”

She looks up from her phone at you and then across the backyard to where you’re looking, right at Joaquin. “Oh, I know her but I can’t remember her name,” she says, thinking for a moment to try and remember it but failing. “She’s the daughter of one of the neighbours, I think they live three doors up.”

You make a noise of understanding to let Lina know that you heard her but you can’t manage to tear your eyes away from Joaquin and the young woman. They’re both smiling as they speak. It’s when she reaches out and touches his arm that you force yourself to look away. You take a long sip of your drink to try and push down the feeling in your chest.

Catalina looks at you, amused. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” you shake your head, sipping your drink again just for something to do. “I just thought she looked familiar, but obviously not. I wouldn’t have seen her before.”

You can tell that Lina doesn’t believe a single word that you’re saying. She’s been able to read you like a book for over half of your lives at this point. You just hope that she’s not intuitive enough to realise that you have been harbouring a major crush on her little brother for most of that time, despite your exhaustive efforts to stop it.

You’ve known Joaquin for as long as you’ve known Lina. When you’d met her at school, she’d introduced you to her younger brother not long after. He had just been a kid, then – a young boy who wanted to follow his sister around all day. It had been fine as children, Joaquin almost becoming like a little brother to you too, but once you’d become teenagers and you and Lina just wanted to spend girl time together, things had changed.

When you’d sleepover at Lina’s house as children, it was fine. You didn’t care about Joaquin seeing you in your pyjamas or in the morning when you’d just woken up. As a teenager, though, those were things that started to matter to you. For the first time since you’d known Joaquin, you’d started to care about the way he saw you. It had all been downhill from there.

“Yeah, no reason, sure,” Lina huffs from beside you, putting her phone in the pocket of her shorts. She’s heard the exact same question from Joaquin while referring to people who were talking to you more times than she can count. He’d never managed to come up with excuses as to why he’d been asking, though. 

She reaches out and takes your now empty glass from you. You hadn’t even realised that you’d drained it completely while trying to distract from the conversation with her.

“I’m going to get us some refills,” she says, starting to walk back towards the house. “Go and talk to my brother, will you? He looks in need of saving, judging by the look on his face.” 

You watch her, confused, as she retreats inside the house. It’s only when she’s gone that you look back over at Joaquin. His uncle, who was standing beside him, has now disappeared, and the smiles that Joaquin had been giving the young girl have turned to grimaces, despite his best attempts to keep his facial expression neutral.

You don’t waste time, knowing there’s not long until Catalina returns with your new drinks, and start crossing the yard towards Joaquin. He sees you in his peripheral vision not too long before you reach him. He notices instantly that you look even more stunning in this outfit up close.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” you start, sounding not sorry at all. “But your sister is looking for you, Joaquin. She asked me to come and find you.” 

Joaquin looks between you and the girl. He’s so terrible, he can’t even remember the poor girls name. “Ah, duty calls,” he flashes the girl what he hopes is a genuine grin instead of the look that he’s sure was on his face before you arrived. “I’ll see you around.”

Smiling to yourself, you start to walk away, knowing that Joaquin will be following you. He falls into step beside you as you walk away from the grill and back towards the house. You feel his hand brush against your back, hovering behind you as you walk – a feeling you’re used to when you’re around Joaquin. 

“Lina isn’t looking for me, is she?”

“No, but she did sense you were in need of rescue.”

Joaquin laughs softly. “Ah, so she sent you. My knight in shining armour.”

You glance over at him as you stop just outside the back door of the house, not far from where you and Lina had been standing before. “I see a damsel in distress, I don’t hesitate.”

Something passes between the two of you as you look at each other, but as quickly as it came, it disappears. You’re both aware of it, of the spark of energy between the two of you. 

It’s the kind of feeling that you’d chased in several other men during your adulthood. None of your failed relationships had ever been able to create such a feeling, not even the best of them. Not even the one relationship you’d thought might turn into marriage and a future together. The one that Joaquin had seen you crying on Lina’s shoulder over when you’d had your heart smashed into a million tiny pieces.

Joaquin doesn’t like to think about that, though. Or any of your exes.

“So, are you enjoying the barbecue?” Joaquin asks in an attempt to break the silence.

You smooth your palms out on your dress, feeling them start to become sweaty with your nerves. You’re not sure exactly why you’re nervous – it’s just Joaquin, the same Joaquin you’ve known since you can remember. But there are tiny parts of him that are different. He’s an Avenger now. He’s the Falcon. He’d almost died a few months ago. The fact that you’re even here having this conversation still feels a little surreal to you. You remember sitting in the hospital waiting room holding Lina’s hand and trying to keep it together yourself when you were just as terrified as she was. 

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum, meeting his eyes briefly. “It’s good to see everyone.”

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, it’s not often everyone gets together like this. I–uh– I’m really glad you could make it,” he stumbles over his words a little. “Lina said you had to move some things around in your schedule to make it work, but I’m glad you did. It’d be weird without you here.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Weird without me?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, just cause… y’know… you’re practically part of the family.”

“Ah,” you nod, smiling a little. “I guess I am at this point.”

An arm drapes around your shoulder and you’re immediately torn out of the moment with Joaquin by Lina’s return. She hands your drink to you and smiles over at her brother.

“Did she save the day, little brother?” Lina asks, grinning at him.

You’ve always loved the relationship between Lina and Joaquin. They’ve had many an argument in your presence, mostly as teenagers, but as adults it’s fairly civil. Joaquin has always looked up to his older sister and Lina has always wanted to make a good impression on her younger brother. It made for a pretty happy relationship most of the time. It’s part of the reason you’ve never brought up your crush on him to Lina. You never want to come between them.

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, ‘course she did.”

“That’s our girl,” Lina says proudly, removing her arm so she can stand next to you properly. “How was your conversation with our neighbour? She’s cute, no?” 

You look between Joaquin and Lina, a little surprised that she’s bringing up the girl when she couldn’t even remember her name and even more surprised because she’d sent you over there to rescue Joaquin from that girl.

He raises his eyebrows at his sister. “If you like that sort of girl, sure. You asking for my opinion, Catalina? I thought you weren’t interested in dating anyone at the moment.”

Lina scoffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Not for me, you fool. I’m talking about you. I thought you told me that you wanted to start dating again now that you’re all healed up from your accident? Sam told me you have women and men lining up for you now that you’re the Falcon. He was worried it would go to your head.”

Joaquin opens his mouth and tries to come up with something to say but eventually settles on a very weak, “I did not say that!” He looks at you and then at his sister, internally cursing her out for saying that in front of you. Not that Catalina knew any better. Joaquin was very careful about keeping his crush on you a secret. 

“If you say so, little brother,” Lina shrugs her shoulders and then reaches down to take hold of your wrist. “I just saw Uncle Jorge put the burgers out on the table, let’s go and get some before my cousins raid the table and get them all first.”

Before you can say anything else to Joaquin, Lina starts dragging you away. You turn around and catch his eye as you walk away. Joaquin sends you a small wave, smiling at his sister and her ease to exit a conversation without a single thought. They’re more alike than Joaquin realises.

–––––

Later in the evening, after the barbecue is long over and most of the guests have returned to their homes or retired inside for the rest of the evening, you and Catalina are helping to clean up some of the mess that was left in the backyard. All things considered, it’s pretty clean except for a few pieces of rubbish here and there. Lina and Joaquin’s parents had insisted that everyone clean up after themselves and mostly, people had. 

Joaquin had gone home a few hours ago, saying that he still needed plenty of rest after his accident since he was still recovering from it, and none of the family had disagreed with him even though none of them wanted him to leave.

He’d hugged you before he left, like he’d hugged all of the family. You can still feel the small kiss he’d pressed to your cheek out of pure habit after kissing the cheeks of his abuelas and tías. You hadn’t missed the way his cheeks had flushed a little after he realised.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Catalina says as she puts an empty paper plate in the trash bag that she’s holding. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You look up from where you’ve been cleaning a spilled drink off the top of the table. “You wish I’d give you a penny for my thoughts, Catalina,” you chuckle, using her full name just to irritate her a little. 

Lina rolls her eyes at you and then takes a seat at one of the chairs. She motions at you to take the other one and reluctantly, you do. You know that Lina initiating a conversation like this is never going to end well. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush on this,” she begins, making your stomach start to do backflips with nerves. You’re not sure why – Lina has never given you a reason to be nervous around her in the entire time you’ve known her. But for some reason, this time feels a little different. “I know you have a crush on my brother, querida. I know why you’ve been trying to stop me from finding out, but I know you and I know what I see.”

There’s no point trying to deny it. You know that even if you did try and deny it, Lina wouldn’t believe you for a second. That’s just the kind of person she is and always has been.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter sheepishly. “I won’t lie to you, Lina. I’ve liked him for a while now and I’ve been trying to get over him but I’ve failed a million times. And after his accident a few months back, I can’t seem to get him out of my head.”

Lina reaches across the table and places her hand over the top of yours. “You don’t need to be sorry. I kind of understand. I’ve been worried about him even more than usual since the accident. It’s made me want to spend every second with him that I can. It’s also the whole reason why I’m bringing this up with you now. I tried to start a conversation about it when Quin was there earlier, about him wanting to date again, but obviously he’s not ready for that conversation…”

“What conversation?”

“We almost lost Joaquin a few months ago, querida. Why waste more time? You don’t need it, but I’m giving you my blessing to pursue things with him if that’s what you want. You’re my best friend, have been ever since I can remember. If there’s anyone that I trust with my brother, it’s you,” Lina says. You can hear the honesty in her voice.

There’s still doubt in you, though. 

“Are you sure?” You question, a little hesitant. “I mean… he’s your baby brother.”

Lina smiles. “Yeah, he is. Which means his happiness is one of the most important things in the world to me. And if he likes you back, like I’m pretty sure he does – call it sisterly instinct – then being with you would make him very happy. He’s obviously not going to do anything about it, judging by the way he deflected me earlier, but you just might.” 

You look at her for a few moments before getting up from your chair and walking around to her side of the table, your arms extended. She laughs as she stands up, happily hugging you back. She squeezes you tight. 

“Besides, if you and Joaquin work out, it would make you my actual sister… and I secretly always wished that I could have a sister instead of a brother when I was younger…” Lina mutters in your ear.

You laugh at her as you pull away from the hug. “I basically already am your sister, Lina.”

“I know,” she shrugs, picking up the trash bag again and starting to pick up the last few pieces of rubbish. “But this way, it’d be official. And… y’know, if Joaquin starts dating someone then it might make our parents stop asking me when I’m getting married.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you pick up the cloth you’d been using before. “This is all just a ploy to make it so that Joaquin and I are the ones being pressured to get married so your parents will get off your back… fair play, Torres. Fair play.”

She flashes you a grin. “Come on, let’s finish cleaning all this up so we can go home.”

–––––

There’s an added pressure the next time you see Joaquin. Even though it’s not the two of you alone and there are other people there, the fact that you know Catalina is silently cheering you on and that she thinks Joaquin likes you back makes it a little more real.

It’s not just a little one-sided crush anymore.

Joaquin throws his hands up in the air and cheers as his bowling ball knocks down all ten pins and scores a strike. “Did you see that!?” He exclaims, walking back towards the rest of you. 

“Well, yeah,” Lina replies, “We are all watching you.”

He gives her a look as he takes his seat beside you and one of your other friends, Jack, goes up for his turn. Joaquin pulls his phone out and takes a picture of his score on the TV screen above your heads.

“First strike of the night,” Joaquin grins, turning to look at you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, owing to the small benches at the Bowling Alley. You’ve squashed four people onto each bench when they’re really only made to sit three and have split your group into two teams – it’s basically you and Joaquin vs Lina, with your other friends split evenly between the teams. 

“Oh, did you get a strike?” You feign surprise. “I must’ve been looking at my phone when you did it and I definitely didn’t hear you yelling about how excited you were afterwards.”

Joaquin laughs and nudges his shoulder against yours. “Shut up,” he says jokingly. “Have you been spending too much time around my sister? I might have to kidnap you and try and get rid of the mind-wipe she’s obviously done on you.”

“Who said spending time with your sister is a bad thing?” You reply, amused. “I never get to see you anymore since you’re always off saving the world so at least I still have one Torres around.”

It’s the truth. Joaquin is barely around anymore and you have to admit that you miss seeing him. You were surprised when he’d replied to the group text and said that he’d be joining you all at Bowling tonight. 

Joaquin’s face drops ever so slightly at your words but he tries his best to mask it. He didn’t realise that you had noticed his absence so much. “Well, someone’s gotta do it,” he jokes. “And if Lina is such great company, why aren’t you on her team, huh?” 

You look over at Lina, right as she stands up to go and take her turn. You try your best to summon some of her confidence. “Cause I missed you, that’s why,” you say, trying desperately to stop your voice from shaking. Telling Joaquin you miss him should not be this terrifying, yet it somehow is. 

He looks at you for a moment, lips barely parted. You watch as his tongue swipes out, running across his lips, before he closes his mouth and nods at your words. “I, uh, I missed you too.”

You glance up at the scoreboard. There are still a few other people who have to bowl before it’s your turn again and if you’re going to flirt with Joaquin tonight, now is your chance. “You did?” You hum, raising your eyebrows at him. “How much did you miss me?”

Joaquin is pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting. Are you trying to flirt with him? Is that what’s happening right now? He’s no stranger to people flirting with him, especially since becoming the Falcon, but you? The last time you flirted with him was when you were teenagers and you both hadn’t quite figured out what your feelings were yet. 

You can’t be flirting with him, though. You wouldn’t dare – especially since Catalina is your best friend. Joaquin is sure of that. There’s no way you’d even try something with him on the off chance you’d hurt Lina’s feelings. But there’s a look in your eye that Joaquin hasn’t seen there before and if he wasn’t internally panicking so much, he’s pretty sure he’d flirt right back.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, a bit.”

He stands then, taking you off guard, and excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you confused and a little hurt at him brushing you off. Were you that bad at flirting or was he just not interested? 

Lina finishes her turn and comes to take Joaquin’s empty seat beside you. She leans in close so that none of your other friends can hear what she’s saying. “What was that with Joaquin?”

“I tried flirting and he totally shut down,” you admit.

She rests her hand over yours and gives it a reassuring pat. “Remember what I said after the barbecue? About him not being ready for the conversation I wanted to have with him?”

You nod, the night coming back to you as clear as day even though it was a couple of weeks ago now. 

“Give him some time to warm up to the idea,” Lina finishes. 

She stands up and heads back over to her own seat just in time for Joaquin to come back and rejoin the group, sitting beside you again.

There is silence for a few moments as the last member in your team has their go. You’re trying to summon Lina’s confidence again when Alex finishes her turn and tells you that it’s your go again.

You stand, brushing your sweaty palms on the fabric of your jeans as you head to grab your bowling ball. You’re pretty sure it comes across as just trying to dry your hands before bowling, but you know that Joaquin has seen through that when you hear him cheer your name to try and hype you up for your go.

Jack and Alex join in with the cheering and you smile at them all over your shoulder as you walk up to take your turn. You don’t end up hitting a strike like Joaquin, but you do manage to take down a few of the pins and help in getting your team a better score.

As you walk back towards the group once your turn is over, Joaquin is walking towards you to take his own turn. He raises his hand for a high-five, which you give him. 

“Great score,” he grins, grabbing his ball from the machine. “I mean, it’s no strike but it wasn’t terrible.” 

You can’t help but smile at his teasing. Maybe Catalina was right, maybe you did just have to give him time to warm up to it all and you’d just come on too strong earlier. “Are you offering private lessons?” You ask, not intending to flirt but just trying to joke with him. You only realise once the words are out of your mouth that they sound much more like flirting than a joke.

Joaquin looks at you for a moment and then laughs, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. Your stomach drops. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

He walks away, heading up to take his turn, and you know that you’ve really put your foot in it this time. He’d basically just rejected you. No, I’m not. His words ring out in your mind. You’ve clearly misread the signals and so has Lina. If Joaquin actually really liked you, he surely wouldn’t have brushed you off so strongly. 

Instead of heading back to your own seat, you head over to Lina. She eyes you, a little concerned just based on the look on your face.

“I’m not feeling too good, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you tell her. “My turns are over anyway, it’s just the rest of the team to go. You can text me and tell me who won.” 

Lina stands up immediately, knowing something is wrong. “You sure? What’s going on? Do you want me to come home with you?” She lowers her voice a little. “What did my brother say?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I swear. I just feel sick.”

She looks at you for a moment and you can tell that she doesn’t believe a word but thankfully, she agrees to let you go. She walks you to your car and doesn’t leave until you’re in it and out of the parking lot.

–––––

The second Joaquin sits in the passenger seat of Lina’s car, he regrets not driving himself to Ten Pin Bowling. The game is over and your friends have all gone home. Joaquin’s team won, mostly owing to him throwing two strikes in his last two games, but he never really felt up to celebrating the victory once you went home.

It’s silent until Lina pulls the car out onto the road. 

“So, do you think you’re too good for her now that you’re the Falcon or something?” Lina says, completely out of left field. “Cause it’s my job as your sister to humble you and believe me, I will.”

Joaquin’s jaw drops. “What the– Lina, I’m so lost here.”

She glances across at him before looking back at the road. If she looks at him too much, she knows she’ll get distracted arguing, and she is driving a car at the moment. That still has to be her main focus, even if she’s busy yelling at her brother.

“Why are you fucking things up with my best friend?” Lina is basically shooting daggers out of her eyes at him. “I’ve known that you’ve had the hots for her since you were like fifteen, Quin! So, why, after she shows an interest in you, are you brushing her off?!”

Joaquin is completely lost for words. His sister knows that he likes you? She’s aware that you were flirting with him tonight? He feels like he’s missing out on a lot of crucial information right now.

“Because she’s your best friend!” Joaquin replies, defensive. “Are you telling me that you want me to get together with her? Did you get hit in the head by a bowling ball tonight?”

Lina lets out a groan as she pulls up at a red light. “Ay dios mío, Joaquin.” 

He stares at her, confused by how annoyed she is. Does she not care that he likes you? But why wouldn’t she – as a teenager she’d told him on more than one occasion that you were her friend and that he wasn’t allowed to even consider stealing you from her. Why, as an adult, would she allow him to basically do that very thing? 

“Lina, would you please tell me what’s going on?”

She turns to look at him and he’s already a little afraid just based off of the look on her face. Catalina never looks at him like that. It’s the exact same look of wrath that Marcos had referenced at the barbecue a few weeks ago, the one he’d said no one wanted to deal with. And here he was, the very subject of it.

“She was flirting with you at the bowling alley tonight, Quin,” Lina sighs, clearly already exhausted from this conversation. “You’re the reason that she left early. You must’ve said or done something that hurt her feelings. She didn’t say anything to me, but she’s my best friend. I can tell when she’s lying to me, and she was.”

Lina looks back at the road as the light goes green and puts her foot down on the accelerator. She doesn’t say anything else after that, deciding to let her words sink into Joaquin’s mind for a bit.

He was the reason you left early? Admittedly, he had been a little confused as to why you were flirting with him tonight. He probably hadn’t dealt with that in the best way. But hearing you say things like ‘How much did you miss me?’ and ‘Are you offering private lessons?’ in the way that you did had left him all hot under the collar. How else was he supposed to deal with that? 

You’re his older sisters best friend. You’ve been in his life ever since he can really remember. He’s been basically in love with you since you were teenagers, but he’s never let himself even consider the possibility that you weren’t the forbidden fruit Marcos had called you. That all along, Lina actually never cared if he liked you. 

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He looks over at his sister.

Lina nods. “You did, little brother. You really did.”

–––––

Three days have passed since the failed attempt at flirting at Ten Pin Bowling. You’ve seen Lina, going out for coffee with her twice. But Joaquin hasn’t so much as texted you, so you assume that he’s gone back to work with Captain America and try to get back into your daily routine. 

You misread the signs and that was okay. Or so you’re telling yourself anyway. Even though every time you think about the way that Joaquin had shut you down, your stomach ends up in knots.

It’s late at night and you’re just about to get up from the couch and finally go to bed after staring at the crappy TV programmes for way too long when you hear a knock on your door. 

Stifling a yawn, you head over to the door. You’re so exhausted enough from your long day at work that you don’t even think to look through the peephole on your door before you open it. If you had, you probably would have pretended not to be home.

Because Joaquin Torres stands on the other side of your door.

He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets of the jeans. He has a sheepish look on his face, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about him turning up here at this time of night, but all you can think about is the fact that he looks good… too good, really.

“Hi,” Joaquin manages.

He sounds nervous, which is strange. Joaquin Torres doesn’t get nervous, not really. He’s the most overconfident person you’ve ever met and you love that about him. You’ve barely ever heard him stutter or stumble over words.

“Hi,” you mutter. “What are you doing here?”

Joaquin is pretty sure he blacked out on his way to your apartment. He remembers getting out of his car, but the walk into the building and the elevator ride up to your floor is all a blur. He’s not sure what he expected to see when you opened the door, but seeing you standing there in your pyjamas, hair out and face make-up free, is not it. You look even more gorgeous than you did at the barbecue. 

“I’m sorry. It’s late,” Joaquin blinks, the fact that you’re in your pyjamas finally hitting him. He’s hit with a memory, then – you’re sixteen years old, staying over at his house for a sleepover. He’s almost fifteen. He walks into the kitchen as you’re getting a glass of water early in the morning and all of sudden you’re whisper-yelling at him to get out, saying something about him not being able to see you when you’re in your pyjamas. He almost laughs at the memory and then composes himself. “Should I go?”

You shake your head. “No, you can come in.” You’re not sure what you’re doing. You’re letting Joaquin into your apartment at 11 o’clock at night? And you’re letting him see you in your pyjamas. Your sixteen year old self would freak. 

Joaquin hesitantly steps into your apartment and closes the door behind himself, then kicks off his shoes. He notices that all your curtains are drawn and the main lights are off, the room only lit up by a few lamps. The TV is still on but the volume is so low he can’t make out what’s being said. 

“You never answered my question,” you state, walking over and leaning against the arm of your couch. Joaquin tries not to look at the way your pyjama shorts rise a little as you sit. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t,” he nods. “I was thinking about that time in my old house where you yelled at me in the kitchen because I wasn’t allowed to see you in pyjamas. And here I am, seeing you in your pyjamas.”

Against your better judgment, a small smile makes its way onto your face. You and him had been thinking about the same thing, then. Funny, how even after all these years, things hadn’t changed in some ways. But in others, everything had. 

“That doesn’t explain your presence today, Joaquin,” you hum, though you’re still smiling a little at the memory. “You said it yourself. It’s late. But you wouldn’t be here without a reason.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am here for a reason,” he confirms. “I wanted to say sorry about the way I acted at Ten Pin Bowling the other night. You were flirting with me and I got freaked out. Catalina was there and I was worried about what she’d say.”

“It’s okay, Joaquin. You don’t have to apologise. I should be the one saying sorry for flirting with you in the first place,” you shrug. “I misread the signs and I was wrong.”

Joaquin shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “No, don’t apologise either. I, uh… I got yelled at by Lina after we left the bowling alley. She was driving me home and she said some things that I didn’t realise I really needed to hear.” 

Lina had filled you in on the conversation that she’d had with Joaquin on their drive home when you’d had coffee with her two days ago, but she hadn’t told you anything that Joaquin had said. She’d only explained to you that she’d tried to knock some sense into him, but that with Joaquin, it could have all gone in one ear and out the other. 

Clearly, some of it hadn’t gone out the other ear.

“I’m listening.”

Joaquin takes another step towards you and then he begins. 

“I started crushing on you not long before that morning in the kitchen when we were teenagers. I didn’t really realise what the feelings were at the time. All I knew is that I loved whenever you came over to hang out with Catalina and I loved when you both let me hang out with you, too. Then, when you were seventeen you started dating Bobby Hernandez and I discovered what it felt like to be jealous. I was so mad when I found out that Bobby had cheated on you with another girl in your grade that I would have beat him up if Lina hadn’t beaten me to the punch, quite literally.”

Your heart starts beating a little faster in your chest at his words. He’d had a crush on you as a teenager and you had no idea? Even when the only reason you’d started dating Bobby Hernandez was because you were so desperately trying to pretend you didn’t like Joaquin?

“When you and my sister went off to college, that was the hardest part,” he continues. “It was the first time in my life that I was really alone. I had friends, but learning to live without seeing you and Catalina every day was tough. Then, that first summer you came home and you brought your boyfriend home to visit. I remember his name was Seth and every time I saw you with him, it was like I was being punched in the stomach. As much as I wish I didn’t, I remember the name of every guy you brought home. I was trying so hard to pretend like I didn’t care. Catalina apparently saw through me every time.

I remember when I came home after being deployed and I met Gabriel. The first thing that my mom said when I saw her after you’d introduced her was ‘That’s the man our girl is going to marry’ and all I could think about was the fact that it was so wrong. He wasn’t the man you should be marrying. I remember coming around to my sisters house a few years later and letting myself in only to see you in tears on her shoulder. I left before either of you could see that I was there. It’s a good thing I never knew much more about the man other than his name and his job otherwise I probably would have done to him what I wanted to do to Bobby Hernandez, and that probably wouldn’t have gone down well as an adult.”

You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe as you listen to Joaquin talk, but every word he says seems to knock the breath out of you. Every word is as unbelievable as the last. His crush hadn’t just been when you were a teenager. It had lasted through your other relationships, through Gabriel. The man you thought you would marry. And all along, Joaquin had been there, knowing that you wouldn’t because he’d been hoping it was him.

“Why– why did you never say anything?” You ask, even though you already know why.

Joaquin smiles, slightly sadly. “You know why, angel. The one person that ties us together is the one reason neither of us said anything. Hurting Catalina was the last thing either of us ever wanted to do. But…”

“But she’s known all along,” you breathe.

“She’s known all along,” he agrees.

You look at him for a moment, then, noticing the way his eyebrows are drawn together, at the small, sad smile on his face. The way his arms look as they’re crossed over his chest, the way his white shirt accentuates everything you’re trying not to notice. The man in front of you, the one you’ve been in love with all this time, feels the same way about you.

“I only dated the men that I did because I was trying to avoid my feelings for you,” you admit, your voice soft. It’s something you’ve never said out loud before, not even to yourself. Before now, it’s only been a thought in your head, admitted to yourself only.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod. “I really did think I was going to marry Gabriel, though. But I think it’s just because I convinced myself he was what I deserved. In the end, he hurt me just like Bobby Hernandez did. He would’ve deserved what he got if you found him.”

The whole time Joaquin has been talking, he’s slowly been walking closer towards you. Now, he’s so close that you could reach out and touch him. That feeling, the energy that runs between the two of you, you can feel it again now. It usually disappears quickly, but today it lingers as you both look in each others eyes. 

“You still have his address?” Joaquin jokes, lips twitching up into a smile.

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes. “What, now that you’re the Falcon you think you can just swoop in and kick his ass for me? You don’t have vibranium wings yet, honey.”

He shrugs. “I do have wings, though. I’d be gone for a few days at least, though. You’d have to live without me while I was gone. Do you reckon you could manage that?” He teases.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I might miss you when you’re gone.”

Joaquin takes a step towards you. “Oh, yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How much?”

“As much as any girl misses the man she loves.”

Upon hearing your words, Joaquin can’t hold himself back any longer. He closes the gap between you and cups your jaw in one of his hands before leaning down to press his lips to yours. Kissing you is instantly as easy as breathing, like he’s done it a million times before when in reality, this is one kiss over a decade in the making. He feels your hand on his waist, feels the warmth of it through his thin t-shirt, and the sensation urges him to kiss you deeper. His other hand rests on your back, holding you upright so you don’t tip backwards onto the couch as he kisses you.

The feeling of your lips on his is unlike any feeling he knows. Your lips are sweet, owing to the lip balm you’re wearing, and your skin is soft under his. He never wants this moment to end. He’d kiss you forever if it were possible.

But, eventually the two of you have to break apart to breathe and the moment comes to an end. You rest your foreheads against each others as you attempt to catch your breath. Your hand is fisted in his t-shirt and his thumb is swiping gently back and forth over your cheek. 

“So, do you offer private lessons?” You manage to say.

Joaquin laughs, the sound like music to your ears. “That depends,” he replies. “Am I a better kisser than your exes?” 

“I’m not even going to answer that question… just kiss me again.”

“Whatever you want, angel.” 

His lips meet yours again and the sound you make as they do sets Joaquin’s heart alight. His hand grips your back tighter as he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer. Your legs in those tiny pyjama shorts. The pyjamas he wasn’t allowed to see you wearing as a teenager, the ones he’s kissing you senseless in now.

He’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to leave this apartment.

–––––

“Finally,” Lina exclaims, clapping her hands together as she sees you and Joaquin walking into the diner, your hands entwined. 

You and Joaquin share a look, amused, before sliding into the booth opposite Catalina. She looks at you both, eyebrows raised, pressing you both to explain everything to her. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen her since you and Joaquin had finally gotten together. That night had ended up being a particularly long one and Joaquin hadn’t left until the following morning. You’d had a lot of catching up to do, among other things, after discovering you’d been pining for each other for so many years without really realising it. 

“We talked things out,” you state. “I don’t think you’d wanna hear all the details, Lina.” 

Catalina screws her nose up. “Oh, please no. Gross. Don’t even plant images like that in my mind,” she shakes her head. 

Joaquin laughs and strokes his thumb over your hand from where he’s still holding it. “You walked right into that one, Lina.” 

She makes another look of disgust and takes a sip of her drink. “Anyway, moving swiftly on from that… when’s the wedding?”

It’s your turn to laugh, this time, but Lina stays deadly serious as she looks between you both. It’s only when you stop laughing that you realise that she wasn’t asking it as a joke.

“We’ve been officially dating for like four days.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been in love for what, fifteen years? Let’s go, chop chop,” she claps her hands in time with her words. “I want to officially be able to call you my sister.” 

Joaquin chuckles. “You’re part of the reason we’ve wasted those years not being together, Lina. Forgive us if we want to actually date for the first time before the whole marriage thing.”

You squeeze his hand under the table and he turns to look at you, a smile on his face. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, ignoring the sound that Lina makes at the public display of affection. 

He’d almost died a few months ago without knowing your true feelings. You’d both wasted so much time trying to get over the other without knowing. 

Joaquin is going to make sure he never wastes another second with you.

–––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please ask if you'd like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5

[russeliarat]

Im constantly putting out LU headcanons when I'm stupid tired at like 2am, so have a couple for funsies:

Four has seizures sometimes. The dissociative kind but also the kind that is epileptic because his brain needs to reset. Yes this is borne from people saying portals throw bricks at him in fics. I imagine that a lot of powerful magic overwhelming the brain can be a seizure trigger in the world of LoZ, as per the logic of seizures.

I also think Four's 4'4 (132cm) and does have proportionate dwarfism. Like it's specifically a random genetic mutation thing though, not a 'Minish Cap adventure kept him shrunk' thing.

Hyrule's fully fae to me. Idk I just think it's more interesting, especially if you go off of what fae are like in European folklore. The idea of a fae choosing to live like a hylian after thousands of years of witnessing how humanoid creatures live. Like they're natural shapeshifters idk, as long as their magic is powerful enough, they can become anything.

Hyrule's appearance comes from finding Legend's disguise ring after Legend died and Hyrule deciding to take on the appearance when he shape-shifts. Probably the start of getting his sisters to use masculine descriptors and pronouns for him.

People have suspicions that Hyrule is fae-inclined, touched by the fae, or straight up is a fae based on his behaviour but no one's got anything concrete and it's mostly based on their personal knowledge of fae and their era's perceptions of the fae. And Hyrule definitely has gotten them all to introduce themselves to him as Link so going by fae rules, Hyrule could basically claim ownership and power over them. He just doesn't coz he doesn't want to (yet.)

We all know Legend is a soggy bastard but he's the 'I miss my wife tails' gay edition sort of soggy. That prob made no sense icl but those who get it, get it.

Sky's got an undiagnosed form of narcolepsy. It severely got in the way of his studies in Skyloft but he barely managed to pass it off enough that it didn't raise alarm bells (coz he was trying not to raise alarm bells in his own brain). It gets worse during the course of this new adventure because he's going through so many extreme emotions and doing so much physical activity that he's exhausting himself into sleep attacks constantly. Yes the chain are worried, yes Sky is deep in denial that anything is wrong with him. Good ol' hiding your issues Link over here.

Legend is Fable's twin. He just got passed between caretakers a lot (whole lot of being given to his uncle and then being forced by the king (his grandfather) to pass Lege back to them and so on), but he remained quite attached to his sister. A telepathic link helps. The two calm each other down and lot and they take care of each other. The two are quite similar - stern, far too wise for their years with too much experience under their belts, and very very traumatised so they hide it behind a face of pure disdain.

My Zeldas are all topsy-turvy so Aurora is AoL Zelda and Dawn is LoZ 1 Zelda. Hyrule's got an amiable friendship with Dawn but his affections lie with Aurora. She's kinda insane and let herself break a shit ton of fae rules because girl is mad in love with that boy.

Athena (yes Athena fits her so much better than Artemis guys pls I've been saying this for years) is like a big sister to Time and Wind, and she has a dependable colleague-like-but-also-kinda-dependant relationship with Warriors. It's weird, she helped raise Mask and Tune in the war where she could so it stemmed from that. She also knows Twi but only in Wolfie form. Yes chat, HW really fucks up everything but you gotta roll with it, he was in the game and yes I do believe Athena met him in the game.

I've posted in the past about my hc that Legend's transformation into a rabbit leaves his skeletal and muscular structures very weak and it causes him to go limp for a short amount of time coz his body is running on fumes. Yeah so combined with his time in Holodrum as a traveling performer/acrobat, he's just insanely hypermobile and flexible, and he can basically dislocate every bones in his body that connects to a joint. Including his spine/neck he found out one day to terrifying news when he just couldn't move at all when he hit his back wrong. He can obviously relocate them too (his back he maybe needs more assistance with), but it really freaks people out.

One more coz you've gotten more than I thought I'd type. I'm spreading the Four is buff as shit propaganda. At least his upper body anyway. He's a trained blacksmith, he's gotta have a lot of strength in his arms to hammer away at melting metal all day. (Plus gotta give him some kind of advantage, that boy got the short (ha) end of the stick in life and got nerfed to all hell and back)

[beforetimes]

what's interesting to think about with female!shen jiu is that if we work with the assumption that shen yuan is still a man, then we end up with! a similar performance of gender as there is in shakespeare's 'twelfth night.' where you have the paradox of a boy actor playing a woman who's pretending to be a man. you don't have quite as many layers with shen qingqiu, of course, but you do have shen yuan, a man, playing as shen qingqiu, peak lord and woman, while also? conforming to this role instead of actively rebelling against it because i'm working with the assumption that shen yuan wouldn't immediately try to transition amid the plot because of the glaring issue of luo binghe trying to kill him one day.

so we have a character conforming to the social lifestyle of a woman in a position of power while dealing with the changes in their relationship with the people and world around them as they navigate this new land doubly over; once because it is literally a novel come to life in a fantasy setting and twice because shen yuan has only lived as a man. though if you look at the framework of twelfth night, then you get the same questions of queering gender when you consider the meta of the stage production on top of the in-story disguise using gender. which also brings in judith butler's theory of gender which (very very paraphrased) posits gender (and sexuality, though that's more in line with adrienne rich's compulsory heterosexuality) as a performance that needs to be repeated to justify itself.

basically, would shen yuan gradually begin to see his gender as something more queer than the boundaries of 'man' and 'woman'? would his obliviousness prevent him from doing so? would his performance as female!shen qingqiu create a situation similar to the last act of twelfth night where the confusion is in part cleared up but the issue of gender is never solidly given a clear conclusion?

for people who haven't read twelfth night, it's a play about a woman named viola who disguises herself as a young man named cesario and becomes apart of the duke's inner circle before eventually falling in love. there's a comedy of errors-esque aspect to it at the end because she has a twin brother but the short of it is that when her identity is cleared up at the end, she never entirely sheds the role of a man (literally! she keeps her costume as a page on while her maiden's robes are referenced! and it's said that she'll get them later but we all know if something is supposed to happen off-screen it might as well not have ever happened at all) and when she leaves off stage with the duke, he calls her as cesario rather than viola—'for you shall be while you are a man.' while also saying 'but when in other habits you are seen, orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.'

(there is also an interesting aspect of sexuality as fluid thrown in the mix when she gets courted by a noblewoman in the middle of the play while the woman is under the impression that viola is a man. which could also carry over to shen qingqiu in this au. but that's a bit much for this post i really meant for it to be short lol).

do you see where i'm getting at with this? if shen yuan never gets the chance to have his own 'system reveal' and we carry over into the epilogue with the dilemma of his gender unresolved, can we assume that he could have an arc similar to viola in respects to at the beginning having a very strict view of the gender binary and wearing gender as a costume to eventually queering himself entirely?? if that makes sense.

i just think! that there is so much opportunity to get into the meta aspect of the female!shen jiu au and i think that. it falls in line with a lot analysis surrounding twelfth night and judith butler's paper on gender performance. i meant for this to be a short post because like. when i mentioned i wanted to make a long post about female!shen jiu/shen qingqiu this is not what i had in mind. but i hope this makes sense. i am spitballing off the top of my head lol.

[milfbrainrot]

i feel like i type so much more than is reasonable when i do talk to people but i also don't get to socialize a ton so i just have soooo many words in me and if i'm like, tired or short on time, it is so much harder to restrain to the already-pushing-it point i can sometimes manage ;-;

[b-blushes]

thursday quest - no physical therapy today - make and eat lunch sooooo early but i can do it!!!!! - get ready for wedding - attend wedding! yay! (: - decompress well when i get home <3

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[gamebunny-advance]

Hm.

I think I just gotta accept that I don't like what I don't like.

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[is-this-fascism]

Please help me survive and escape homelessness.

GFM

KF

CA

I want to be safe by the winter of 2025.

I'm having a difficult time fundraising for my van. Repeated car troubles and various other unexpected issues have eaten into my savings multiple times, and while in a slump I wasn't making as many posts about my situation and I got significantly less donations over the last ~6 weeks on both my gofundme and my kofi/cashapp. While I've 'regained' a lot of what I lost, I've been spending about as much as is coming in. Aside from one instance, my emergency expenses were eaten by my fundraiser savings, which was then gained back about as quickly as I was spending it on my daily expenses. I still haven't reached the goal for the recent $1000 I had to spend on my car.

So far I've lost $2,200 of the $3,100 that's shown on the GFM. I'll be updating the fundraiser to reflect the loss.

I'm autistic and struggle just to meet my basic needs, and despite that I've been denied disability income multiple times. Failing to hold a job (and developing PTSD symptoms from my time being employed), and let down and abandoned by anyone who could support me, I'm left with few resources and few options. I try to make posts when I'm in a good mood, or keep people updated when I'm in a bad mood. I make videos on YouTube, hoping eventually I can show people what their money has gotten for me.

On a good month, I only spend about $600, leaving me some space to save the donations I was previously getting. With winter and the holidays coming, I'm not sure I'll be getting as much money as the warmer months, and I'll be spending more on keeping myself warm and fed over the winter. It will be more like $800/mo now. The only real solution is getting more money than I'm spending, as I'm already spending as little as I safely can.

I'll only take financial advice from someone who has lowered their expenses below mine, with the same disabilities and circumstances as me. What I need is more money, and I don't always have the energy to pay back with art and things like that. I don't even always have the energy to post my pleas for help. I don't have a sponsor to help me make these posts.

I'm in a low energy mode because what can I do with no money? In a state where I have to spend as little as possible, see such slow results, see most of it taken by things outside my control, and somehow keep up hope that this will work?

When I feel safe and have adequate shelter in a van, I'll be able to REST. And then start working harder and making more money one way or another. Whether you think I should suck it up and get a job or you want to see me become a content creator, I need money for any kind of opportunity and I'm just not getting enough.

So, thank you to everyone who's suppported me so far. Thank you to the repeat supports. I'm sorry I had to spend your money on other things. Thank you to the person who covered most of a huge expense I was stressing about a couple months ago. Thank you to the person who sent me $200 to get a hotel and told me to take care of my mental health before saving anything. Thank you to the blogs that have featured my fundraiser in your posts. Thank you to everyone who keeps boosting and cheering me on even though you can't support financially.

I don't know what else I can do to get more people like that to see me. There are so many options on the internet, but it's still a daunting task and as much as I can't really afford to rest, I have to sometimes. Often, in fact.

Please keep boosting this post until my goal is really met. Until I can spend more than $600 a month and actually earn your money rather than beg for it.

[bunni-v1]

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

[rabbitrah]

A continuation on my post about unloved foods, specifically this is my in-depth defense of root beer.

Root Beer isn't inherently gross, it's just one of those weird local flavors that's off-putting to people who didn't grow up with it. We all like different things and also we all tend to like flavors that are similar to what we grew up with. That's okay! But honestly root beer is pretty unique and, in my opinion, delicious.

One of the main complaints against root beer is that it tastes like medicine. Funnily enough, it was originally marketed as medicinal! This is true for most OG sodas actually. Pretty much as soon as carbonated water was invented, people were drinking it to soothe various ailments. A lot of the original soft drinks were actually invented by pharmacists. I just think that root beer is especially cool because the main flavor came from the root bark of sassafras, a common North American shrub. Because it's so widespread and aromatic, all parts of the sassafras plant have been used in food and medicine by many different Native American tribes throughout history and was subsequently picked up and used by European colonists. In the 1960s, some studies indicated that that safrole oil, which is produced by the plant, can cause liver damage. Whether or not this would actually remain true after it had been boiled and added to root beer is unclear, but it was really easy to replicate the flavor, so the sassafras in commercial root beer these days is artificial. Another fun fact about safrole is that it's a precursor in the synthesis of MDMA. None of this information has stopped my childhood habit of eating sassfras leaves right off the shrub whenever I walk past it on a hike. I'm like 85% sure it's safe and also mmmm yummy leafs go crunch.

Another root beer complaint is that it tastes like toothpaste. I think this is probably because another key flavor in most root beer recipes is wintergreen. I'm assuming that the people who think this are the same people who think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I can understand and even respect that some people don't like mint and associate it only with brushing their teeth, but like. Mint is a pretty common flavor. I mean I think it's safe to say that humans have been eating mint flavored stuff for longer than toothpaste has existed... anyway!

Other common flavors in root beer (real or artificial) are caramel, vanilla, black cherry bark, sarsaparilla root, ginger, and many more! There's not one official recipe, and root beer enthusiasts often have strong opinions about different brands. Some root beer is sharper, with more strong aromatic flavors, and others are mild and creamier.

Another thing I think is cool about root beer is that it's foamier than most sodas. This was originally because sassafras is a natural surfactant (and why sassafras is also a common thickening agent in Louisiana Creole cooking.) These days, other plant starches or similar ingredients are added to keep the distinctive foam. Root beer foam > all other soft drink foams. That's why root beer floats kick more ass than like, coke floats.

If you've never had root beer before, imagine if a sweetened herbal tea was turned into a soda, because that's basically what it is. If your first response to that is a cringe, fair enough. That's why lots of people don't like it. If your first response to that is "interesting... I might actually like it, though" then I encourage you to track down a can of root beer today, hard as that might be outside the US and Canada. Next time you see an "ew, root beer tastes like medicine/tooth paste" take, know that there's a reason for that, but also the same could be said for literally any herbal or minty food/drink.

My final take on root beer is that it would be the soda of choice for gnomes. Thank you and good night.

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve��the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[riizebabie444]

𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 ♥️

hey all, sorry for not posting for so long, here is one of the requested pac's. this reading is about the attractive and sexy things about you that you don't realise. there are two parts, general and from your person's pov. hope you enjoy!

picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image.

be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment or guidance only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

♥️ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

pile one

in general, the sexy things you do without knowing are represented by eight of pentacles, eight of wands rv and death. with two eights here, i'm seeing your body type could be a major cause of your sexiness. it could be your chest or your booty, maybe you have curves or an obvious hourglass or pear figure. there are definitely parts of your body that people notice and find sexy. it could also be your eyes too, your eyes are sensual without you realising.

i think you have an air of mystery around you, you are private and don't like to show everything to the world in the way some other people do. it could be your body, your style, your business, even your plans for the weekend. but this privacy you have for yourself makes you seem like an enigma to others. people find the mystery sexy because then you leave it up to them to think what you are really like. mystery is just sexy anyway, so it doesn't need a lot of explaining.

furthermore, i see you being labelled as "hard to get" some may joke about you playing hard to get. maybe you're not even playing, you're just plainly not interested but others will still thank that way, that you are not easy. maybe you do it on purpose, maybe you don't i get i a mix here. but overall, others think it is hard work to get close to you whether romantically, sexually or platonically. you intimidate others with your no bullshit attitude and they find that attractive. what is rare is sought after. so many people will think you are "sexier" because there is a limited number of people you will allow your time and energy towards.

for your person, what they find sexy about you is your brightness and optimism. it is weird to describe traits like that in a "sexy" way however, i do see this. the person you are thinking of finds it so attractive how bright you are, how so many people look towards you when you don't realise. like you're nonchalant or unbothered by the attention. your confidence is also so sexy, your bravery in standing for what you believe and finding success chasing your dreams. you don't let things stand in your way.

this person really loves your back, they find it so sexy. i think you may actually be insecure about your back or just think it is not sexy, but trust me your person loves your back so much. they love your arms. they love when you are topless. they love when you wear dresses and skirts. they love when you love down at them, they get really turned on. i also think if you wear cute, coquette frilly and lace style of clothes/details on your clothes, they find it sexy. like cute lingerie or clothes in general. even floral, they find it so hot even though it's just your style preference. if not, then they want you to wear more of it because it is so sexy to them.

pile two

i think sometimes the clothes you wear and the way you hold yourself is sexy to others. it might be normal to you, you just wear what you want to wear. but some people might find it a little sexy even if you don't intend it that way. and the way you carry yourself, i see a lot of confidence here. good posture, the way you sit, particularly the way you lean down is very sexy. like say you dropped something and bent down to get it, it is quite sexy if someone saw it they wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the image. i'm seeing bending down and your hair falling or moving in that direction, like something out of a movie. but then when you fix your hair after standing back up, that is also sexy.

i think your hands are also sexy which you might not realise. people might like seeing you hold something because there is something about the way you hold things, your hands and fingers look so graceful and sexy. i see you might also be a bit clumsy, i'm seeing stars in your eyes or little stars spinning around your head. you could be a clumsy person, doing or saying silly things. in a way, this is sexy to others because they see you as a cute little, bright eyed, starry eyed thing. i get a hint of corruption here, people find it so sexy because you seem innocent and sweet but they're having different thoughts.

i see others may think you'd make a good mother or parent in general. you are seen as wife material. not the type to have a casual fling with. someone to settle down with. this is sexy because they think of having a family, how you would be as a mother. because of this, you might attract people who have breeding kinks. this message is random but yeah, the people who think you'd make a good wife and mother (or father/parent) would find you sexy because they want to breed you.

for your person, who you are thinking of, they will love your shoulders and collarbone. like i'm seeing someone kissing their a lot. they would love when you wear strapless tops or dresses. they also find it sexy when you wear gloves. the way you style your hair is sexy. again, i see when you hold things in your hand, with your person you might be holding something more particular if you get my drift, they find it sexy.

this is an odd one to look out for but i'm seeing that they find it sexy when you are emotional and crying. definitely be careful for people who are just trying to manipulate you, but i'm seeing this in a way that they like when you cry during sexy times or when you have emotional sex. for this person, emotions are a big turn on so sometimes even when you're being genuine with emotions, they can get excited by it because it is somehow sexy to them.

pile three

hey pile three. the sexy things you do without realising are represented by the hermit, justice and two of cups rv. with the hermit, i see that you have a sort of lone wolf vibe. you may have lots of friends or maybe not a lot but either way you look confident even when you are by yourself. people look at you and see that you don't need to be surrounded by people to feel confident. they think you are confident without people. you don't need anyone else to fill your inner life because you make it rich enough already. i think you also take things at your own pace, you don't conform to things easily. i'm seeing a scenario where most people are easily influenced by things they see in the internet on tiktok, but you are not so influenced. you won't follow trends for the sake of following trends but rather you'll follow things if they suit you. so people would think it is attractive because in an age where everyone thinks the same because we all consume the same, you stand out and can think for yourself. a lone wolf and smart is how i'm seeing you and it is attractive to others.

with justice, it is similar to what i previously said, you are strong in your beliefs and the things you follow. you don't believe things just because others believe it. you have your convictions. you are truthful and upright in your own regard. you judge others fairly. i think some may think you are a bit stuck up in this sense, because you stand out from fitting in with others. but i see that some still find this sexy, even those who don't like it. like, i see them thinking "i wish i was like pile three" or "i want to be with someone like pile three" but at the same time they will say "pile three is judgemental and stuck up". but still people find this attractive. there is nothing sexier than a person who knows themselves and believes themselves.

lastly, the things you don't realise are sexy, i see you personal style. i think when you wear formal attire or you dress up for an occasion, people love it! they find it so surprising and sexy for some reason. dressed smart but flashy. also, wearing high contrast colours or outfits with contrasting components makes you look sexy. in terms of your style, when you pair two colours together, it looks really good and others will think positively of your style. honestly i think again the way you are out of sync with others makes you unknowingly sexy. it's giving hot aquarius vibes, don't conform to society, doesn't think like everyone else. i also see that your shoulders and even collarbone, as well as your forearms are the physical parts fo you that people would find sexy.

for your person, what they find sexy is represented by three of wands, queen of swords rv and the artist. the way you are in control of your life and your future makes others feel proud but also scared of you, if that makes sense. and it makes them more attracted to you. for example, they would think you can sustain yourself without them and it scares them because they don't want to be without you but at the same time your power and confidence is sexy. also, your passions to travel and learn continuously comes up.

okay i'm seeing that you may have a no bullshit attitude, however, sometimes it can come off as a lack of empathy for others. whether true or not, what your person finds sexy is how you are the opposite with them. how you can trust and be soft with them and how you will confront your flaws and work on yourself as a part of your journey. and i think it is perceived as sexy because not a lot of people can do this honestly. and even when you do, it is difficult but you don't sugarcoat it. the power and the confidence and the creativity you have makes them so attracted to you and you would never think that they find it an appealing aspect of yourself.

pile four

i'm going to start with your persons perspective pile four because i'm relly excited by what they have to say. you are literally marriage material to them, or at least "i want to spend the rest of my life with them" and they find it so darn sext pile four! they love the joy and victory you bring into their life, as well as the simplicities, the domesticity. they see a beautiful and bright future with you. and i also lowkey see like the sweet forbidden fruit, so maybe you and this person aren't supposed to be together or you don't expect it and it makes the connection a bit more tense but exciting. it brings that spiciness, they aren't suppose to have you but they still want you and believe you will have a future together and that's hot to them.

i see you hands, when you're holding something long if you get my drift. your person would love it if when you giving them some hand action, it goes both ways but i'm mainly seeing the hand holding a stick so you're either playing with them or yourself. again, goes both ways. it could also be just holding random things, they find your hands so pretty so you could be holding the tv remote and they'll think it's sexy. you mind is stimulating also, you and your person could be people who need intellectual stimulation rather than physical and visual alone. your mind is like a maze they want to get lost in, they get turned on by your witty remarks and banter especially when flirting, they just want to kiss your face off.

and lastly, i see that your peaceful aura is so attractive to them. one wouldn't think calm and cosy vibes is a sexy thing to to your person and many others, peace and comfort is a turn on. you stay away from drama. like sure, everyone loves a bit of drama but i mean this in the sense that you aren't actively involved in drama, nor the cause of it, and can easily distance yourself from drama caused by other people. they love seeing you overcome things, and this makes you attractive to them because it furthers the agenda that you are the person they want to spend their future with, someone who is peaceful and warm.

now for the things in general that you do not realise are sexy. i see hands again. so not only your person, but others in general find that you have pretty nice hands. when you're holding things. i'm seeing the curve of your hand or your arm, the same and size can be a turn on for some. it could also represent the way you create opportunities for yourself. i see that you also look or act rich. whether you are rich or not doesn't matter, just the way you hold yourself, like you come from a good background. definitely a desirable feature that makes you sexier.

i think some of you may have had a glow up or your looks significantly changed. could also just be something as simple as your clothing style or hair colour that changed. this change in your appearance makes you sexier. it may not seem much to you, like say you just changed your hair colour. but others, especially the opposite sex or desired sex, find you more sexy after the change. i think you may not go out a lot, like hanging out with friends or attending parties. maybe it is not you thing. but when you do go out, everyone is excited to see you. like, you are rare to others, so people find it mysterious and kind of cherished. it makes you more desired. you may think "oh im so lonely and boring" but others are like "when will pile four hang out with us? i really want to see them" and lastly, i see the trust you have in yourself and the world or god, you seem so content and peaceful pile four and it makes you so sexy and desirable.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[moyokeansimblr]

Moyo's Great Big Afterglow Default Project

HOORAH! 🥳Finally I can share with you guys! There's a lot to get through here so some notes beforehand.

There are way, way too many hairs to list and people to credit. See everything that's included and who all deserves credit in the spreadsheet I made for this project!

Not every hair is replaced! I don't know much about hidden clone hairs, for example. Some of them are replaced if the default I used as a base included them but most probably are not.

I chose to hide a bunch of the OFB hats and whatnot when I was starting to get burnt out of this project. See what hairs I've hidden on the hiders tab of the spreadsheet. Hiders are not included, but there's a link to them.

There's a few defaults I'm using from loosiap, rudhira and seabens. They are not included, see those in the defaults by others tab of the spreadsheet.

I use a bunch of no/random npc hair mods so not all npc hairs are replaced. See those in the no/random npc tab of the spreadsheet.

I use custom turn ons that change the one for hats so a lot of the hat hairs are replaced with non-hat hairs. I think most of the flags in simpe are changed to non-hat too but not positive - some might still be hat flagged.

Defaults where all I did was change the texture that didn't contain extra ages include them in a separate file because I didn't want to add them to the main file and mess anything up. Defaults done by me have them included in the main file.

Nearly every default has extra ages, but a few do not.

The Notes column of the spreadsheet mostly contains notes I wrote for myself regarding the custom versions of hairs I retextured (which will all be uploaded) but some of them do apply to the default too. I'm so brain fried though so I'm leaving it in the sheet. You can generally ignore - or read them if you want!

Defaults are in their own folders, and include a pic of the hair they're replacing and a pic of what they're replaced with...if the kind people on the default database are bored.

I'd never made a default replacement for hair before this so if any of these are not made in the best, most optimal way, apologies. I was learning as I went!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reach out if you notice any wonkiness. This was worked on over 3 of the most stressful months of my life so I'd not be surprised if I screwed anything up. Also if I forgot to mention anything in this post that you'd like to know, don't hesitate to ask that too!

👒Moyo's Afterglow Default Project download on SimFileShare

I hope you enjoy! 😁

@the-afterglow-archive

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

User: "Do you remember what was written in the script to describe ✨this✨ moment? [link]" // Sylvia: "Lol. I miiiiiight? Let me look at my notes. Ah hah, I do! My note says that Emmrich "takes a second, surprised." And then he's touched afterwards." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""i hope it's not too late, but were there any designs in mind for what Nevarra City looks like?" Not too late! We've got a few sketches in the World of Thedas books, but that's it. If the team ever went back to Nevarra City proper, I'd imagine the art team would want to do a deeper dive." [source]

Sylvia: "(Glad you liked Myrna in particular. My first Mourn Watcher everyone got to know!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad to hear getting to know Emmrich has been of some comfort." [source]

[cat0901h3]

Goosebumps Books 1-10

Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.

Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:

Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.

The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.

Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.

Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.

Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.

Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.

Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.

I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.

The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.

This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.

Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.

Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.

Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.

The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.

In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.

Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.

While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.

The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.

Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.