#Me: Tragic backstory incoming

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

quick note: i love all the reblogs/feedback and that you're all enjoying this as much as i am <3 and a huge thank you to @swiftispunk for being the best and looking over the first chapter for me, i am completely scatter-brained and forgot to mention this when i posted last monday, so tysm han and pls go check her out if you haven't! & follow my fic update blog (@pedgitos) and turn on post notifications so you don't miss any updates/posted fics!

Chapter Summary: Settling in is easier than you expect, but it does come with a fair share of challenges. A week filled with getting to know one another and some moments shared, your week doesn't end on the best note, leaving you with a choice.

Chapter Warnings: (8k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, domestic shenanigans, Joel being naturally assertive, cooking dinner together, reading is good at encouraging Joel, one hot tub & two stubborn individuals, also...one bed trope incoming

You wake up refreshed, like you’ve been born with a new reverence for life—alright, it might be a bit of an overstatement but it’s a wonder what a decent night of sleep could do and you’re feeling that this idea, playing house with a stranger—though it wasn’t much like that anymore—wasn’t the worst choice. And it reminds you of Joel, having left him in the chair last night, not wanting to burden him but you can only imagine the ache in his bones, his back, the discomfort of sleeping in a chair all night. 

You lay for a moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The morning sunshine wasn’t strong here, blanketed out by a stark white snow that covered the ground, it muted out most colors and left a cool, but bright blue that shined through the window above your bed. 

It was peaceful. No cars, no buzz of strong electricity outside your window, people and their idle conversation a few floors down from your apartment window. Not even a bird, really. But, there’s a distinct clearing of a throat from the living room that has you stirring in bed, rising lazily as you move with the same enthusiasm. 

It was a fresh week. The first official week of your vacation and you were going to start it off on a good note, clambering out of the bed and slipping on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toes from freezing off, not bothering to glance in a mirror on the way out—not that you needed to, it didn’t matter. It was early, you were still trying to shed the sleep from your body and you could care less. Plus, it wasn’t like an old t-shirt and sleep shorts was some foreign concept. 

When you peek around the corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, you can spot Joel’s head tilting to one side, hand kneading at the taut muscle in the center of his back where his neck starts to begin and then you’re stuck watching as he stretches his arms out wide, working out all of those muscles. Every single one. And you’ve been silent for far too long.

Yeah.

Clearing your throat softly, you approach from behind and keep your distance, announcing your presence like you hadn’t been lingering for a minute or two already. 

“Morning,” You greet politely, resting your weight against the edge of the island, taking in full view of a freshly awoken Joel, eyes still puffy from sleep.

He looks very…gentle. Surprisingly, so. It softens his rigid demeanor significantly and you have to silently talk yourself out of glaring at him for too long, “I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry.”

Jeez—you two are getting good at that. Apologizing, afraid to step on each other’s toes. 

“Not your fault,” Joel massages his bicep with the heavy pressure of his thumb, looking slightly pained as he rolls his shoulders, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Yeah, but I forced you to stay up, so—”

“You didn’t,” Joel quickly shuts you down, “I’m a grown man,” there’s a laugh hidden somewhere in there, but Joel continues, “don’t blame yourself for my own irresponsibility.”

It’s too early for this. You force on a fake smile, void of any real emotion at this hour, running on fumes and the smell of coffee. Speaking of—you sniff, eyes searching for the smell like a dog would track a scent, and Joel is already pointing in the direction you should be looking for when your eyes land on him.

“I already finished it off on my own,” Joel admits, pointedly taking another long sip before resting the mug back on the counter, “I can get another pot goin’ if you need it.”

There’s an inclination to let him, seeing him assert himself so easily and offer, but you shake your head, “I think I can handle a coffee maker,” You assure him, meandering around the kitchen in search of the coffee grounds, ignoring Joel’s tracking of your movements, waiting for a moment to interject and point you in the right direction. You spot them a moment before the urge comes with a soft aha!

“I needed to make a drive into town,” Joel tells you after you’ve gone through the steps of starting your own batch of coffee, “pick up some more food, figured you might wanna tag along.”

He’s not asking, only assuming. But to be fair, his assumption is right. 

“Sure,” You reply cooly, pouring yourself a hefty cup of coffee to sip on, letting your body take hold of the caffeine, “...how far away is the closest town?”

“Hour and a half.” Joel answers and you almost have the nerve to go wide-eyed on him, but then you remember just how deep into the woods you both were and that it was necessary.

Truthfully, there was a more concerning matter at hand.

“How’s your music taste?” 

Joel has the gall to look offended by the question.

“I’m leavin’ in thirty,” Joel ignores you, “don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave you here.”

Okay, noted: Joel wasn’t much the morning person you assumed he was.

-

Joel immediately realizes how little disregard you have for touching things that aren’t yours when you reach for the makeshift box of cassettes tapes placed in the backseat of his truck—the thing was old, riding on it’s last leg, but it was something Joel would cherish until it was unsalvageable, torn seats, dents, and all.

“Ain’t gonna find anything you like in there,” Joel assures you, “None of that pop stuff they’re always playin’ on the radio these days.”

The tables turn on him suddenly, seeing your face contort into a similar emotion that he gave you earlier. Bewilderment, shock, annoyance. You scoff at the comment.

“Says you,” You retort back, sifting through the different cassettes until you find Joel trading glances between you and the road in front of him, almost worried you might chuck his collection out of the passenger side window, “Joel, eyes on the road.”

Joel enjoys a lot of country, which isn’t a total disbelief. But, it wasn’t something you shared the sentiment on, flicking away a handful of country artists you’ve never listened to and reaching some of the good stuff—older rock music, some classic 80s, and late 90s.

You pluck one out carefully, prying open the cassette case with gentle hands before sliding the tape in, allowing the low hum of the music to fill the car. There’s a brief moment of respite before Joel smirks to himself, thumb tapping against the steering wheel.

“What were you saying?” You look at him pointedly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Joel looks away briefly, biting back a chuckle, “Fine—I’ll give you some credit. Foo Fighters aren’t terrible, but you skipped right over Bruce Springsteen, so…”

You scoff in disbelief, “You don’t get to criticize me with that atrocious collection of country music,” You stare down at the box in thought, eyes brimming with a mischievous that Joel knows of immediately, he’s seen it before. Not with you, but he knows, “you know, maybe I should just do you a favor and—”

You can barely get a hand on the window roller before Joel’s hand is gripped tight over the box, trapping your other hand in his grip as he warns, “I’m not above leavin’ you stranded in the cold.”

Your grin is nothing but evil and Joel finds that there’s something about you that infuriates him in a way that is hard to describe, not in anger or rage, but a level that he thinks he could match. A game of back and forth that he could play into—but you’re quickly relenting regardless of the threat and placing the box on the floorboard.

“Already tried that,” You retort, “didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Fair is fair. Joel doesn’t poke the beast.

Instead, he takes the chance to ask a question.

“So, what exactly was your plan?” Joel asks curiously. “You comin’ out here with no car and all?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Didn’t really have one, but I would have figured it out.”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, subtly resembling a face of disapproval.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, okay?” You don’t wait for a response, “You can have whatever assumptions you want about me, but don’t try and act like you know anything about me.”

It was another reminder. Joel didn’t know you, but you didn’t know him either. You reign your frustration in slightly, quick to defend yourself but aware that not everyone handles confrontation in the same way—if Joel was quick to anger, you didn’t want to stoke the fire. 

“I’m not,” Joel argues, his voice calmer than you expect, thinking back to the saddled rage his voice held the night you arrived, the threat that lingered with every word, “I’m not, alright?”

“Then stop that.” You comment, waving your hand in a vague motion toward his face, “Stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?” Joel interjects, eyes more pensive as he looks over at you.

“Like—like I need a fucking lecture on life or my choices,” You tell him, a hint of pleading in your voice, “I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand how life works.”

“You’re not a kid—” 

“Good, great that we established that,” You lean back in the seat more comfortably, arms crossed over your chest as you keep your eyes on the snow covered road, “now shut up so I can enjoy the music.”

Thankfully, Joel does just that.

-

Conversation falls flat until you arrive at the store in town a while later, Joel fetching a cart and pushing it your way before he stops you suddenly, hand over your own again—a touch that normally you would flinch away from, but he’s already done it once before and the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“I’ll catch up,” Joel tells you, “I forgot somethin’ in the car.”

You glance back briefly, knowing that the walk isn’t that far. 

“Oh, I can wait. It’s fine.”

Joel doesn’t say so much, but the look in his eyes goes a long way. A silent plea for you to go with it and don’t ask questions—again, you didn’t have any right to. You nod quickly and wander off toward the store as Joel trails away.

It’s then when your phone starts to vibrate away in your pocket, the sudden availability of service sending a barrage of notifications your way—you’re terrified to take a glimpse, but you do anyway. It should be no surprise to bear witness to the many, many texts from your mother wondering where you’d run off to, but there’s a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach.

You send her a quick, dismissive text to explain that you were fine and enjoying your time, but no elaboration on the things she wanted to know, because really, there was nothing to tell. And if you did decide to expel the details of your trip, mentioning that there was no boyfriend and it was just a stranger you met in the middle of the woods, well…that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

You also find a quick, heated moment of frustration to send an unpleasant text to the owners of the cabin, still polite enough that it wouldn’t warrant your ability to work things out—and you decide that calling would reach them faster, that somehow they’d magically find a way to appear and fix things, but there’s no answer. Only a voicemail that gave vague details about being away on their own vacation.

Just your luck.

Great. You sigh deeply, shoving the phone away into your pocket and returning to the land of obliviousness as you step inside the small market.

You fend for yourself for a while, throwing several random necessities in the cart as you go, enough sustenance to spread over four weeks and manage meals the entire trip, also a few more bottles of alcohol don’t hurt, looking for a few hard liquors that catch your eye and adding them to the growing supply of items. 

You’re lost in concentration of the ingredients on the back of a box dinner when Joel’s voice startles you back to the real world, eyes jumping up to look at him and he spots the panic immediately.

He nods slightly when you recognize him, “Sorry, keep forgettin’ how jumpy you are.”

“You’re just ridiculously fucking quiet,” You tell him, breathing out a long sigh as you toss the box into the cart, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel assures, doesn’t elaborate. Okay, cool. You weren’t going to pry, no matter how much your instincts told you to. He scans the cart casually, “Mind tradin’ off?”

You lend him the lead and follow, watching as he pointedly finds things, like he’s reading off a list in his head and moves around the store with a purpose. It’s only slightly annoying that you have to keep pace with him, but he’s suddenly speaking out to you as he’s glancing over something on the bottom shelf, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” You responded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Why?”

“Grab some of that fresh rosemary,” Joel says, pointing out somewhere behind you and you whip around, eyes searching furiously and coming up empty, “—find it?”

You’re a little dumbfounded as you search the shelf of fresh herbs, Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you as he reaches over your shoulder and plucks the exact thing he’s looking for with ease, “Hey, I had the right idea.” You defend, noticing how amused he looked at your befuddlement, “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

“Well,” He tosses the small, plastic package in the cart, still tucked up at your side and you can feel his body heat, the solid wall of his chest against your shoulder, “don’t like the idea of accidentally killin’ you if I cook something you’re allergic to.”

“Well, what if I’m lying?” You challenge and Joel shoves you aside gently to grab the cart, hands on your shoulder as he shifts you away—and when had things gotten so…touchy?

Truthfully, Joel finds it easier than telling you, noting how quickly you quiet down when he asserts himself and does rather than asks. He knows if it made you uncomfortable you wouldn’t have had a problem speaking up immediately. 

“Look at me,” And there’s a deep timbre to his voice that has your chest sparking like a fire, eyes connecting with Joel’s for longer than you’ve ever allowed and it’s like he sees right through you, but he’s searching for something, “—you’re not lyin’.”

“But, if I was?”

Joel nearly leaves you in the dust, but turns to look at you with a subtle grin.

“Well, now I know you’re not.”

–

The ride back is easier, much easier—and Joel doesn’t fault you when you fall asleep halfway through, the heat of the car and the low hum of the music like a perfect mix as you curl in on yourself. Joel wakes you with a gentle hand on your shoulder when you finally make it back, allowing you a moment to shake the grogginess away with a word over his shoulder as he opens his door.

“Careful over that patch of ice on your side,” Joel instructs, “gettin’ colder so it’s slicker than it was a couple days ago.”

Careful. You roll your eyes carelessly, nudging the door open with your shoulder and hopping out, boots hitting the hard ground—your first mistake was underestimating the slickness and Joel’s warning, because the moment you take your first step it’s all downhill. Literally.

Luckily though, like a moment of divine faith as you pray that you don’t hit the ground, Joel is right at your back, arms slipping under your own as he plants his feet firmly and catches you. One arm crossing somewhere over your midsection and the other wrapping around your shoulder, a large palm holding you steady as he helps you back to your feet. You can feel him on the brink of making a comment, eyes looking down tenderly into your own—

“Don’t ask.” You warn him bitterly, face scrunched up like a kicked puppy, shrugging him off lazily. Joel doesn’t argue, making sure you’re steady before he allows you himself to fully let go.

Joel shakes his head subtly, a nuisance of his, and rounds the back of the truck to reach for the bagged groceries, “Fine, I’ll just say I told you so then. How’s that?”

Worse. 

-

Joel never asks for help, doesn’t even seem bothered when you stand there aimlessly, watching him stow away the groceries like he already had a game plan and you feel slightly useless, but it does give you a good opportunity to watch without any explicit reason or excuse. 

There’s an obvious purpose to Joel’s movement, clear that he’s used to doing a lot of heavy lifting and keeping up, probably prefers organization over clutter, and has a certain inclination to do things himself, always. And you can’t help the way your gaze clings to his face, noticing something a little off—not good or bad, just slightly different. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but with the extended amount of time your eyes lingered on him, you realize he’s cleaned up a bit, shaved his beard down to near stubble, a subtle difference…but you notice.

You’re not sure how long you’re stuck in this state, arms resting against the counter as you stood there, practically useless, thinking about what Joel looks like on a regular basis, when he isn’t cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter. You want to see that side of him, crave it. It’s an insane thought that doesn’t make sense, eyes widening suddenly at the realization of the thought you’re having—

“You still with me?” Joel’s voice calls out in the haze, muffled slightly as you come back into focus, eyes landing on him. “Think I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh—no. I mean, yeah. I’m still a little tired, I guess.” It’s a bold face lie, but Joel seems to believe you. “Why?”

“I was sayin’ I need to go chop up some wood for the fireplace,” He explains again, “then you went all wide eyed…”

“Oh, okay,” You nod jerkily, “...do you need help?”

Joel immediately declines. No surprise there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel suggests, “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Sleep sounds great, but it doesn’t happen. 

You try—you do, but the splitting of wood, the strong crack of the axe catching the wood outside of your bedroom window, it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. So, you find yourself wandering into the kitchen, peeking between the curtains with a wild curiosity that reminds you of when you were younger and trying to catch a peek of the cute boy next door, a bashfulness replaced with a deep, insatiable hunger that you didn’t know existed until this moment. 

Joel was attractive, you could easily admit that. But, seeing him now, it’s a done deal. There was a deep pit of despair in your mind and you were stuck at the bottom with no way out.

It’s almost abysmal how easy he makes it look, the axe he’d brandish as his weapon of choice against you swung over his shoulders, the unfortunate lack of skin stretching over taut muscles as he went through the motions, covered up by thick layers. But, you get the idea. 

There’s a slight pout forming on your face before you catch yourself.

He slices full power through the wood like it was eager to give way to him. You also find that his face tugs up in a scowl after every swing of the axe, a soft sigh of exerted energy as he tosses the logs to the side and starts up again. You could watch for hours. But, you settle for the few more minutes he spends collecting the wood before you’re scrambling back into your bedroom like you had been there the entire time.

Unfortunately, Joel isn’t oblivious. Still, he spares you the embarrassment. 

There was no reason for him to entertain whatever he thought might be going on. He couldn’t.

-

The next few days are uneventful, though that was to be expected. It allows you time to really settle in, usually curled up on the couch watching the fire crackle away until you thought your eyes might melt away, or reading a book that Joel always seemed to be trying to catch a peek at. There was an innocent curiosity there that you could appreciate.

You also learned that Joel only took his coffee one way, offering up your services to refill his cup while you refilled your own, sugar lingering over the rim and he’s quickly pushing away the small container of crystalized goodness. 

“Joel, come on–” You grimace but relent, placing the cylinder of sugar on the counter.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Is all he offers, almost challenging you to take a sip.

You accept, obviously. But, it isn’t without consequence.

The moment the bitterness hits your tongue you’re scrambling away, forcing the mug into Joel’s waiting hands and spitting out whatever putrid liquid remained in your mouth in the sink.

It’s the first time Joel actually laughs, a full on chuckle that isn’t very receptive on your end.

Joel apologizes with dinner that night, a gesture that wasn’t expected or needed, still you’re thankful nonetheless. But, it offers you the realization of just how good a cook Joel can be.

Steaks grilled to a perfection that only came with repetitive practice and learned techniques, vegetables sautéed and seasoned to an enjoyable level, and a side of pasta that if Joel told you he made from scratch, you would’ve believed wholeheartedly if you hadn’t seen him dump the entire box of pre-made pasta into a pot of boiling water.

You’re halfway through dinner, chewing thoughtfully on a bite when you finally break the long, but comfortable silence that had blanketed over you both.

“So, Joel,” There’s a tone to his name that catches his attention, eyes flicking up to meet yours mid-bite, “what do you do for work?”

At this point, your nosey tendencies take hold.

There’s a scrunch to Joel’s nose before he speaks, almost as if he considered feeding you a lie alongside the beautiful meal he’d made. He settles for a simple answer.

“Uh, carpentry.” Joel tells you after a long pause, “I—build stuff for people, businesses sometimes.”

That explains some of his sturdiness, his practiced strength that came from, probably, years of hard constructive work and building. It also explains why he’s also working away at his hands, rubbing out the stiff joints and knuckles.

“I know what carpentry is, Joel.” You deadpan, but there’s a playfulness lingering in your voice. 

You assume he’s used to explaining himself often, which is why he forces it on you so easily.

“And you?” Joel asks suddenly, “College? You’re about that age, right?”

You snort softly at the tone he offers, slightly patronizing, but all in good fun.

“I’m taking a semester off,” You answer indifferently, remembering how disappointed your parents had been about the ordeal, but you were suffocating, “I’m not sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel assures, “can’t fault you either. Never went to college so I don’t have an opinion on it.”

There’s no judgment on your end, but for the sake of conversation, you bite.

“Any reason?” You ask curiously, wondering if you'd receive the similar sentiment that it’s all just bullshit.

“Didn’t have the money,” Joel answers simply, “didn’t have the grades, either. I thought I could start my own business out of carpentry, but…”

But…you lean into the table slightly, hanging on his words.

“You need a lot of money for that,” Joel finishes, “and, I mean, I’m livin’ comfortable now, but that idea took a lot of money that I didn’t and still don’t have.”

“So, you waste it on month long vacations in the middle of the woods,” You surmise humorously, nodding in approval, “can’t say I blame you, either.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, chewing around a bite as he speaks, “Your turn.”

Right. An eye for eye. A question for a question. He's watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give a response to the same question you asked him. 

“Oh—I work out of this bookstore in downtown Austin.” You admit, finishing up the last few bites of your food, scraping the plate nearly clean. “It pays the bills and then some. I like it.”

There’s no compliment needed for the food, all the evidence of it gone. But, you feel the need to appreciate it anyways.

“Thanks for this, Joel.” You speak again, softer this time. 

“It’s no big deal, darlin’.” Joel assures you, holding up his hands in a feeble defense at the compliment, clearly something he doesn’t welcome easily. “Just food.”

“It’s been...months,” You tell him, “since I’ve had any type of home-cooked meal. Take the damn thank you, Joel.” 

He smirks at that, seeing the threatening fork raise before you utter those final words.

“You’re welcome.”

And he means it.

–

You force Joel to stay seated while you clean, knowing it was the least you could do after he spent so much time preparing and cooking dinner. There’s a solid few minutes of arguing before you have to physically shove Joel back into his chair despite his protests, hands pressed into his shoulders as you threateningly speak down to him.

 “If you move, I’m locking your ass out in the cold.”

Joel wouldn’t mind, but you’re silently hoping that he’ll just listen.

After all is done, tossing the damp washcloth to the side, you sigh with a newfound relaxation.

There’s only one thing that might top off this night, making it almost the first perfect day here.

“That’s it, I’m getting in the hot tub,” You decide, squeezing tenderly at the tense muscles of your neck, thankful that the owners had a small alcove connected to the cabin that allowed for you to enjoy the hot tub from the safety of the cold, “join me?”

You’re not sure what inclines you to ask so openly, but you don’t second guess it.

“While I appreciate the offer,” Joel starts, “I don’t think I brought the proper…attire.”

He’s still seated where you had him planted and it makes you laugh softly at the idea that he was taking it seriously, which—yeah, you did threaten the possibility of hypothermia on him. 

“Fine,” You relent, rounding the corner of the island closest to him as you quickly call out over your shoulder, “but, there’s still a couple of chairs in there if you need the company.”

He didn’t need just anyone’s either and didn’t need, so much as wanted.

He wanted your company.

A while later, you’re already waist deep in the hot tub, figure hugging white bikini tied back securely, arms resting against the side furthest from the door as you press your chin against your forearms and staring out the wall of vast windows that line the room, allowing a view of the snow storm outside, coming down in a flurry that seemed to only be gaining in strength—and Joel, well, he’s still sitting in that stupid chair.

He’s allowed himself too much time in his own head, thinking over the events of the past few days. His call to Sarah was pleasant, a much needed moment of peace when he hears his daughter’s bright, hyper voice on the other end. When he doesn’t have her for the holidays, it’s hard. The calls are sparse, the communication is clipped, and it feels like he’s being forced away from her, knowing that she’s growing older every day. That he is growing older.

He’s allowed a lot of his life to slip away, when he wasn’t working to pay bills and put food on the table he was usually drinking, bar-hopping with Tommy at his old age to hide the pain he felt everyday, mentally and physically. There’s a problem brewing under his skin, using the company of his brother and alcohol to cope with loss he feels so viscerally everyday. The life he could’ve had.

He feels pitiful, miserable—only took this damn trip to get out of town by the suggestion of Tommy, away from all distractions, hoping for a refresh to clear his head. But instead, he met you.

He had no clue what the fuck to do anymore.

Joel’s never processed emotions well, feelings or anything thereof. 

But, here he was, lusting after you. 

He knows it’s the excitement, the taboo idea around sharing something special with a stranger. Someone who knows nothing about you, someone who doesn’t have the leverage to judge. Someone who doesn’t have to know about all the wrongs he’s committed and bad choices he’s made. 

You’re not privy to the fucked up version of Joel that belongs in his hometown, cooped up in his childhood home that he inherited from his parents, filled with too many now painful memories that he’d made with Sarah when she was younger—when he still had her.

He can’t help the way his mind races every single second of the day, constantly worrying, always trying to busy himself with something, anything to keep that lingering cloud of anxiety away. But, when he thinks about you, even something so mundane as the way you squint to get a closer look at a paragraph of the book you’ve probably read a thousand times, his mind goes quiet. 

Because, frankly, he’s fascinated by the idea of you. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t actually real. He’s halfway leaning toward the idea that he’s had a full mental break and this is all an illusion he’s cooked up in his head, but then he reminds himself that you are just as full a human as himself. There is a reason for this, even if there had to be some other force at play. 

Maybe you needed this as badly as he did.

A fresh start, no judgment.

And that’s why he decides to follow you, the moment he catches a glimpse of you as you turn the corner to take the steps down into the room that connected to the kitchen, a full glimpse of skin and body that he’s tried to keep his mind off of, despite how openly you stare at him.

There has to be something there. He can’t have imagined all of this.

You feel his presence when the creak of wood gives him away, one hand shoved into his front pocket and his other arm helping him stay upright as he leaned against the doorframe. The steam billows and settles like a cloud over the bubbling hot tub but does nothing to hide how see-through your bathing top is and the slick slope of your breasts, his eyes trailing down toward the small bow that was sewn to the midpoint of your top and know he’s staring at your chest, very openly—Joel’s immediately regretting his choice.

Your eyes follow his but you dare not speak, afraid to startle him.

Now who was the jumpy one?

“Change your mind?” You ask curiously, shimming the expanse of the hot tub as you grab onto the opposite ledge, resuming your previous position, closer to Joel now. If you reached out you could touch the edge of his flannel and soak the trim, maybe even pull him closer, but you resist the urge. “It feels amazing. I’m serious.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get him in, but it wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t respond, eyes staring at the soft wave of the water as it hits your side, his posture rigid. 

Maybe you’d broken him.

“Joel,” You call out with a soft nudge to his thigh, as far as you could reach with your fingertips, cutting into his line of sight, offering a friendly smile, “just strip down to your underwear and get in.”

“I don’t think—”

Oh, for christ sake. 

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you weren’t at least thinking about enjoying the benefits of the hot tub,” You argue, “so stop being grumpy and strip. I won’t even look.”

It shouldn’t sound as gritty as it does, a playful venom in your tone as you sink back slightly.

It makes Joel feel like he’s back in high school, flirting with who would eventually be his ex-wife and mother of his daughter, but there’s an assertiveness that intrigues Joel, your willingness to put yourself out there without fear. Take a leap, a jump, and hope that someone will catch you. 

Joel caught you, he just needed someone to catch him.

You spot his fidgeting, the wheels and cogs in his mind turning and he just needs that shove.

Just enough.

You rise over the edge, palms pressed flat to bear your weight and squeeze your breasts together, belly button nearly level with the water as you’re close enough to see the fine details of his face, giving him a look that Joel couldn’t deny.

“Get. In.” You stress the words, making direct eye contact. “You can thank me later.”

Finally, he moves. 

You sink back slightly into the pool and wade the water until you hit a corner, watching briefly as Joel works away at the buttons on his flannel, quiet air filling with an unspoken tension. You try to busy yourself with the view outside, something that didn’t require you to look in the vicinity of Joel for a second, knowing that the moment felt more intimate than it needed to. But, it doesn’t stop that sparse glances over your shoulder to check on him, now barefoot and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the fabric pulling and obscuring your view of his face and his view of you, staring so starkly at him in that moment.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. The freckles that speckle his shoulders, nearly invisible from this distance because of his tanned shoulders and the unevenness of the tan as it continues down his arm, varying in shades of intensity, undoubtedly from hours of working in the sun. There’s also a smaller patch of hair on his chest that with his short cropped beard, seems to be trimmed down too. His strong build doesn’t throw you off, though—solid muscle that flexed across his stomach as he yanked his shirt a little harder to get it over his head fully, not built in a way that rippled down his abdomen, but showed a sturdiness to his figure that had your body humming to a tune that reached down to your core, thighs squeezing together under the water. 

Joel passes the shirt off into a waiting arm chair, clothes slowly piling on the cushion alongside your towel and he pops the button on his jeans, still unaware of your…innocent observation. But, the moment the jeans stretch over his thighs you swallow a little too hard and you’re immediately averting your eyes when he looks up briefly. 

Like you’d been caught. 

Joel clears his throat like a warning, as if he hadn’t felt your eyes on him the entire time, and swings a leg over carefully, a view of the black briefs that molded to his skin perfectly and hugged his backside in a way that feels criminally illegal…and you’re staring again.

He hisses at the sudden change in temperate, but inch by inch he lowers and adjusts, eventually huffing out a low groan, eyes closed, when he finally settles on the seat inside of the tub.

Suddenly, this felt like a terrible idea.

“See?” You break the revered silence for him, “Worth it?”

“Almost forgot how you just bullied me in here.” He jokes—full on fuckin’ jokes before cracking an eye open to catch your reaction, a subtle look of disbelief on your face. “I’m kidding, darlin'.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the seat under the water and you smile, a half-hearted roll of your eyes thrown his way before you relax too, for a moment.

“This is so weird,” You speak softly, after a while, and Joel looks slightly puzzled as he opens his eyes fully now, perking up slightly as he adjusts himself, chest rising over the water slightly, his arms hanging over the ledge with his fingers gripping the ceramic—and you’re gaze is drifting again, mostly to his hands, but you mask it as you look away briefly, down the hall or out the window. Literally anywhere but Joel, “it’s just—not how I expected things to go.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Joel replies with an underlying amusement.

As the quiet settles, slowly drifting closer to one side, where you originally were when Joel came searching for you—voluntarily, he lingered and waited, waited for the push you gave him—Joel joined alongside you, burrowing himself in the closet corner nook and enjoying the view in silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Joel comments, “everything alright?”

Everything was fine and you couldn’t make complete sense out of it. The ability to be so inherently comfortable with someone you’ve only known for a little under a week, the attraction you felt despite your own rational thinking telling you otherwise, the urge to connect openly and without fear of judgment. It terrifies you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask quietly, “Like…a real question, not those superficial ones that we’ve thrown at each other.”

Joel doesn’t like the sound of it, but there’s also the inclination that he could feed you a total lie and you wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.

He nods, fist resting against his cheek as he turns to look at you and suddenly the pressure is on, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden, full attention.

“Earlier…you said you forgot somethin’ in the car,” Joel’s fist clenches unknowingly under the water, an instinct to bury his reaction, “I know it isn’t my business, but I was just curious what is was.”

Joel, against every fiber in his being that tells him to deflect, gives you a straight answer. It’s almost startling how easily it comes out, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest that he’s carried for years.

“I had to make a call,” Joel admits, “to uh—my daughter, she’s back home with her mom.”

Your brow pulls together in confusion, “Wait, are you married?”

Joel somehow amidst the heaviness of admitting his truth still laughs, quick to defend himself from your next question.

“Oh, not at all. Never, actually.” Joel responds, “We…I never married her mom, it was obvious pretty quickly we weren’t going to work well together.”

The answer is simpler than you expect, different too. Part of you wondered if he was pleading his own case to the owners and was just as unsuccessful as you, but this is much more vulnerable.

And despite your ability to lie, and his own, neither of you can force it.

You don’t pry further, feeling like it may push things too far. Too personal.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Do I scare you?” Joel asks suddenly, almost like he’s been anticipating the moment too.

You’re almost sure the expression you return makes you look insane, feeling the implication that he might, that he thinks—it’s so far left field that it throws you off.

“No—no,” You quickly reject any lingering doubt he has, “I mean…the first night, maybe. But, now…no.”

“Oh.” It’s all Joel can muster, unsure of why he was expecting a different answer. That you would say yes and whatever shroud of thought he had about this moment you were sharing was only out of fear, that you were just trying to be polite. 

“Look, I get jumpy because you sneak up on me,” You answer, “and you have this…presence about you,” Okay, not the best wording, “not scary or anything, just…strong.” Big, like a wall. Like, if anyone were to ever approach you wrongly, Joel would attack without question. And maybe the fact that he would do that should scare you, but instead, it entices you.

Joel sits with the implication, burdened by his own mind. 

You can see him lost in thought, speaking with a comforting surety, “Thank you…for telling me.”

The truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.

The next stretch of time, what feels like an hour, is spent in a comforting silence. You think Joel is nearly falling asleep but then he moves, make a comment about how the snow won’t let up and eventually you’re forcing yourself out of the hot tub, reaching over the side to snatch your towel and sending all of Joel’s clothes descending to the floor in the process and as if you had a death wish on Joel, your ass pops up at an angle that is physically impossible to look away from.

Joel is a gentleman, he swears. He was raised to respect and care and always put women first, but there’s a split second where he can’t pull his eyes away, feels like he’s just caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have, but then you’re turning your head over your shoulder and you definitely catch him—you could ruin the moment and say something or you could ignore it.

Fortunately, you save Joel some embarrassment, covering it with a sly smile as you apologize for dropping his clothes and take the final step out and wrap the towel around your body.

“Shit,” You quickly realize that in the midst of your pushing Joel to join you that he didn’t have a towel, “stay here—I’ll go grab you a towel.”

Joel wasn’t eager to move anyways, admittedly. Sporting half a hard-on under the water, he wouldn’t subject himself to the scrutiny of your gaze or what implications it would make, thinking every horrible possible thought to will it away—luckily your timing is perfect. 

You quickly gather his dropped clothes and pile them in the chair as you toss the towel his way, ignoring any and all chances to glimpse at his wet body, back turned as you quickly excuse yourself away in fear of the idea that you might say something unforgettably stupid.

-

The walk to your separate bedroom is quick, swift, like a desperately needed escape. 

But, as fate would have it, the moment you open the door and wretch the towel away from your body there’s a loud pop! to your left and a spark on the outside that has you halfway on the floor and slamming into the wall out of both shock and an attempt to shield yourself from whatever unseen force was at play, yelping out loud in the process.

From an outside perspective, you can understand why Joel doesn’t hesitate to come running.

He runs straight into your back, bare chest pressed against your know bare shoulders and leaving you half-dressed in front of him, scared out of your wits and willing to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep you upright—fortunately, Joel’s arm is the perfect anchor as your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes.

“What the hell?” Joel inquires, slightly out of breath as he searches your face for any signs of injury, “What happened?”

You both look at the culprit—the heated window unit that was no longer expelling heat, and while the cabin was still heated, it didn’t reach the bedrooms well enough that you weren’t shivering without some type of additional help. You sigh in frustration, eyes turning up towards the ceiling as you feel no shame, too frustrated to care as you lean into Joel’s chest.

“Shit.” It’s all Joel offers as a solution, not that you were expecting one. But, still, it would be nice.

“Yeah, shit.” You echo, pushing away from him suddenly to gather your damp towel and a change of clothes, padding your bare feet toward the living room, but Joel is grabbing your wrist before you get too far from him.

“Hey, woah,” He starts in a calmer tone, “you can take my room—I’ll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can get ahold of the owners, we’ll figure something out.”

“I already tried calling them,” You admit, “Earlier. Straight to voicemail and something tells me they won’t be answering their phones until after the holidays.”

Pulling away again, you continue your way toward the living room and gather a few pillows and blankets, tossing them on the larger couch beside the fireplace. Joel doesn’t seem to entertain the idea, following on your heels as he gathers each item you throw in that direction and you finally reach a point of full, unrestrained frustration. 

“Joel, cut the shit.”

“Take the room,” He offers as a counter, “I can sleep on the couch.”

With his back? Not a chance. But, he offers anyway.

“Fuck off,” You chuckle bitterly, “I’m not forcing you out of the bedroom.”

“Then it looks like we’re sharin’ the living room.”

You close your eyes, toss the blanket aside and breathe, clenching and unclenching your fists in an effort to not completely lose it on the man standing opposite of you.

Chivalry be damned, Joel wasn’t giving in.

Fine, two could play at that game.

“I’ll take the bed.” You quickly agree, but there’s a lingering ultimatum.

Joel waits, sees the thought brewing behind your pensive eyes.

“But, so will you.”

“Now—”

“No,” You interject, putting your figurative foot down, suddenly vividly reminded of your vulnerability as you stood there, still slightly damp and in a swimsuit that did nothing to cover your body—it was the reason Joel’s eyes were so pointedly stuck on your face, never lingering elsewhere, “either we both sleep in here on the couch or we share the bed.”

Joel’s hands shift to his hips, towel tight around his waist and you’re too annoyed to admire the way his muscles tense and flex with the movement, the underlying thickening desire settling beneath the surface.

You match his stance, daring him to challenge you.

A small part of you wants him too.

—

“Anyone ever told you you’re damn stubborn?” Joel asks, trailing behind you as you enter his bedroom, a clone of your own but with a small bathroom attached.

“All the time.” You answer truthfully. “I’m going to shower and sleep—no funny business.”

Meaning if Joel did sneak away into the living room to offer up the full amenities of his own room, he would feel your wrath tenfold.

Joel resigns to the idea and gathers his own pair of fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom down the hall, leaving you both to a moment of levity.

There’s no anticipation to the arrangement—but the idea is there, burrowing into the back of your mind. 

You’re sleeping with a stranger…someone you knew little to nothing about, but it was your choice. And you trusted your gut. 

Joel was safe, he was good. 

You relax under the spray of hot water, a different heat to the one you enjoyed just a while ago, the type that allowed your thoughts to roam, and you laugh softly at the sight of Joel’s shower supplies, knowing he was stuck with whatever you brought—it wasn’t something you thought about in the moment, but there’s a brief realization that he was sharing a moment similar to your own, scowling at the sight of your fruity scented body wash that you left on the shelf there. It wasn’t a huge deal, Joel wouldn’t fuss over it. 

But, it also lends your mind to roam more.

As if his bare chest wasn’t already at the forefront, and his eyes as they had stared at you so unabashed until the moment he was caught, all innocent looks with deeper intentions that invaded your mind like a plague.

You were so fucking frustrated—annoyed with him, the state of your life, this stupid vacation. With the suds gone and the water drowning out the silence you allow yourself one—just one moment of selfishness...

And as if the house was the biggest tattletale of them all, the floor creaks on the other side of the door.

“Joel?” You call out curiously, as if an intruder in the middle of nowhere was even likely.

There’s several seconds of silence before Joel finally answers.

“Yeah?”

“Your body wash sucks.” You goad lightly, hoping to ease the earlier frustration that had grown between you both, and while you can’t see him, you can hear his laughter on the other side of the door.

“Can’t say yours is any better.”

You smile to yourself, the way he responds with fondness that he tries to hide.

When you finish up and dress, peeking your head out before you move to open the door fully, Joel is already on his side, turned away. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be bothered. The small blanket of division rolled and wedged in the center of the bed like a barrier, a warning. 

Keep your distance and you both may manage to survive the rest of this vacation.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Twisters AU - meeting the in laws

Been thinking about Twisters and that iconic moment they recreated with the dude pressed up against the girl trying to protect her from the incoming tornado, practically wrapping himself around her as they both cling to the uprights for dear life....

I wouldn't mind seeing that happen with Kara and Lena, except in this version Lena would be the one promising she's got Kara, "I've got you, it's okay, I've got you", while Kara is one hundred percent being triggered by the past literally repeating itself around her.

Then afterwards, Kara is basically unresponsive, so once Lena passes the mom and the kid off to the paramedics, she returns to where Kara is sitting numb in the bottom of the pool, and just sits with her, holding her hands to ground Kara until Kara eventually comes round enough to move.

When she has the presence of mind to actually look at Lena and read the woman's expression, she realizes that Lena understands what's happening-- that Lena likely knows (has always known) who Kara is and her tragic backstory. But there's no judgement in it, only calm assurance.

They only part ways when their respective teams show up. Lena gives Kara's shoulder a reassuring rub before disengaging, shooting Mike (because of course Mon el would be the scummy stooge working for the Luthors under the radar) as she goes. When Mike fusses over Kara, Kara can't help but wish Lena was still with her, missing the woman's staid presence and the bubble of calm around her that had extended to envelop Kara as well.

When Kara eventually confronts Mike about his work for the Luthors and their predatory practices, and basically bites his head off about it, Lena watches from afar, and when Mike storms off to lick his wounds, Lena splits from her crew and approaches Kara once more. Kara can only try to pretend she isn't relieved by her return-- she isn't sure she's successful.

"Hey, ah--" Lena lifts one hand to scrub the back of her neck, plainly nervous in a way Kara's never seen her before. "I'm gonna let my guys handle things on the ground here. Can I-- would you like to come somewhere with me?"

Kara stares, and Lena realizes how weird she'd worded the request. She flushes.

"I mean-- I've got someone I think you should meet."

Kara ultimately-- inevitably-- agrees. Because it's Lena and she needs Lena right now. In the same way she'd needed Alex so desperately after her sister had died, but also... in a different way. A new way. She nods, and before she knows it they're heading to what Kara eventually realizes is Lena's hometown.

When they pull up to a quaint farmhouse standing amid acres of land, Lena throws the truck into park with a smile that Kara hasn't seen before. It carries the warmth of relief and familiarity, and Kara knows that they've arrived to where Lena has spent the majority of her life-- where her heart has always remained.

Lena hops out first, shutting the car door before reaching through the open window to beep out a "shave and a haircut" on the horn as Kara comes around the side to meet her. Lena snags her cowboy hat off the dash and settles it over her braids, shooting Kara a bright smile as the door opens and a lanky woman trots out wearing a grin not so different from Lena's.

"I wasn't expecting you til Labor Day!" the woman exclaims, throwing her arms around Lena in a fierce hug that Lena returns just as enthusiastically. "Ohhh, I've missed you!"

Kara hovers awkwardly, unwilling to interrupt the moment, but well. Clearly an interloper. When Lena and their host part, Lena cocks her head with her arm slung around the woman's shoulders.

"Kara, this is my mother, Jo." She doesn't really need to say it-- the similarities abound, from the bright glint in their eyes and the bright, keen smiles that crease their features, both warm and inviting. Lena glances sidelong at her mother, then slides her gaze to Kara.

"Mom, this is Kara."

[woodchipp]

You have a lot of thoughts about the topic, so what ideas/suggestions/other input (if any) do you have for an Omori rewrite?

Ideas? I have way too many. I've outlined some of them here and here (in a very disorganized manner), but I've thought up a lot of new ideas since then. I recommend to check the linked posts first, but I'll try my best to recap some of the ideas from the posts I've linked in this post, if you don't mind!

Long and most likely incoherent rant incoming.

1) Make Mari actually kill herself, of course. I really did like the game's initial premise of this young kid and his friends trying to deal with the loss of a beloved relative/friend before The Twist, so I'd cut The Twist and try to keep the story straightforward in that aspect. Perhaps that could've made Sunny a bit more sympathetic since he'd get to be the victim of circumstance the game evidently wanted people to see him as and allowed the story to explore Mari as a full character instead of reducing her to the typical saint for everyone to revere and cry over.

One could try to make the suicide itself the plot twist, though. Maybe the sight of Mari's hanged corpse could've been so incomprehensible to the 12-year-old Sunny he'd just pretend to have never seen it in the first place (his mind would block it out) and instead convince himself that Mari happily left for college with Hero. Maybe Sunny mentioning her to Hero or asking him about her after he comes back would make the latter pause and then change the subject of the conversation in a neat little bit of foreshadowing. Besides, a good chunk of the original game's foreshadowing for its twist already pointed to suicide, so why reinvent the wheel?

I insist on this idea in particular because it's tragic, it's horrifying and, most importantly, it's realistic - it's everything the game strove to be. Realism-induced horror is one of my favorite "genres" of horror, and I think OMORI could've had a great shot at exploiting said trope to its benefit were it not for The Twist.

The biggest problem with that sort of plotline, I think, would be Basil. His importance to the game's story relies on The Twist; without it, he has no reason to be there. I woudn't want to cut him altogether, but I can't think of an organic way to insert him into the "Mari kills herself" plotline either, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2) Make Sunny and Mari's home life horrible lmao. I've already talked about it here and in the first linked post, but I'll reiterate myself - you don't grow up into a strict perfectionist or with self-esteem as low as Sunny's (the game very clearly implies Sunny had self-esteem issues even before he killed Mari) by partying at your besties' birthdays and hugging plushies together. Problems like that tend to be caused by a dysfunctional home.

Yes, the "abusive parents" trope is rather overused nowadays, but I'd still consider it somewhat of an improvement over the complete lack of information about Sunny's family pre-Mari's death. I also think it'd have been quite interesting if the game explored how the toxic home environment the two were born into would inform their personalities. That way, the recital argument would be less "why is Mari so mean 2 me 💔" and more the result of their issues boiling over.

Tying into this idea is the next one.

3) Make Black Space a recollection of Sunny's backstory a la Time's Arrow. Long story short, Time's Arrow is an episode of a show called Bojack Horseman that stands out to me due to the way the featured character's trauma is subtly conveyed without sacrificing story - the flashbacks are mostly coherent, but filtered through the character's emotional perception of the events at the time. The best example of this is a formative memory from the character's childhood, in which she sees her father callously throw her beloved toy into the fireplace before warning her to keep her emotions in check and telling her not to cry. The fear she felt at the moment infuenced her memory of the event, represented by the aforementioned fireplace becoming a wall of hellfire.

I think such an approach would've been a great fit for Black Space as well. Not only would this allow the player to get some real insight into what made Sunny the way he is, his memories being filtered through his emotions would allow the game to characterize him (e.g. the sash bars on his house's windows could be made to look like the bars of a prison cell to imply he felt trapped in his own home). This could even allow the game to show us the big argument itself!

4) Make Kel, Aubrey, Basil and Hero characters instead of props for Sunny to interact with. The story should've examined their issues too. Hero and Kel have some workings of interesting conflicts (e.g. Hero's outburst and how it affected Kel, Hero struggling with relating to the friend group only as their "dad", Kel's status as the unfavorite sibling), as do Basil (his parents and the abandonment issues stemming from them, his general relationship with his grandma) and Aubrey (see the second linked post), but none of that is elaborated on by the game in favor of focusing on Sunny and his (w)angst. Delving into their issues would've been way more interesting for me than listening to them go "man I miss my wife Tails Mari ;A;" over and over again, at least.

5) Make the game's timespan longer. 5 or 10 days instead of 3 would allow the game more room to get through the other characters' arcs before shifting focus to Sunny for the finale, I think.

6) Make Faraway Town a bit larger. Make it wackier, too. There's four streets, a church, a park and a supermarket. There's nothing to do in this town at all, which isn't good since it's where the player spends a good chunk of the plot in. The NPCs and their sidequests are equally cookie-cutter - buy a grandma her medication, tutor some kids, play hide-and-seek with the twins...

It'd have been nice if the main story's subject matter was juxtaposed with the sidequests being as batshit insane as realistically possible. "Realistic" doesn't have to mean "boring", IMO. Real life can be fun!

Tying into this idea is the next one.

7) Lock the good ending behind 100% completion of all the Faraway sidequests, probably...? It's one of my weirder ideas, and I don't know whether it'd be feasible since I'm not a game developer lol. But I think the game could've tried to make some sort of point about how Sunny managed to make headway in working on his issues only because he made the effort to socialize with people who weren't his comfortable circle of friends.

I don't know what to do with Headspace. Really. The general concept of a saccharine dream world created to avoid reality is nice on paper, but it's a big tumor on the plot - it contributes next to nothing to the player's understanding of Sunny or his friends and becomes entirely irrelevant halfway through the game. I guess I'd make it shorter?

[arachnid-party]

what’s up. i have commissions now.

at the risk of sounding like an anime character giving their tragic sad backstory, my money situation right now is. tight. my mom had a SCAD 2 years ago, and for very personal reasons she is the only family i trust. i would like a steady income supply in case things go terribly wrong. also i want to buy my sister slurpies

UNCOLORED HALF BODY SKETCH: $5

UNCOLORED FULL BODY SKETCH: $10

COLORED SKETCH BUST: $10

COLORED SKETCH HALF BODY: $15

COLORED SKETCH FULL BODY: $20

COLORED POLISHED BUST: $20

COLORED POLISHED HALF BODY: $30

COLORED POLISHED FULL BODY: $40

+$10 FOR DRAWN BACKGROUND

REFERENCE SHEET: $50 for an already made character, $70 for an original design.

HOMESTUCK STYLE PANNEL: $50 as a general estimate, but it will honestly vary in price for complexity, so. just talk to me about it in DM’s LOL

GUIDELINES

NO:

nsfw/kink/suggestive work of ANY KIND.

pro/comship (get out)

excessive amounts of gore

hate speech

i will also refuse any requests i get a weird vibe from. pretty much anything else is on the table ^^

your commissioned piece may be used in the future as an example/posted to social media. if you would NOT like this, please specify when you make the commission.

ALL payments will be 100% of the price after approved sketch/flat colored sketch (depending on complexity.) each commission comes with 3 free revisions, and each revision after that will be $15. kill fees will be 30% of final price.

details of what you want will have to provided + any reference images you may have for anything you want added ^^

payment will be done through cashapp due to the situationssss. commissions will be done within 1 week. please don’t rush me!

[fels-fantasy-hoard]

A general reminder to gms to never turn a recurring or tag along npc into a plot device as your players will notice and it will piss them off (rant incoming)

The last dnd game I was in as a player I wound up leaving due to this exact thing. My character’s whole deal was protecting and caring for a child npc that shared their tragic backstory. Unfortunately for me, this npc became the gm’s favorite new toy and not only did they make this npc more powerful than every one of the players and more intelligent than all of us, the dm used them to facilitate literally almost every plot point from the moment I joined the team.

I spent so much in game time dealing with this npc’s bullshit that I barely had any time to actually get to know the other characters or make any meaningful bonds with them. This npc was constantly dragging me away from them and derailing the story because the gm used them like a carrot on a string to create drama. I don’t even know what our goal as a party was other than collect the macguffin and take down the government because every plot after I joined revolved around finding this npc because they ran off or protecting them from their own idiocy or having a crisis because this npc wants to kill themself.

I cannot describe to you how annoying it was walking into every session expecting this npc to act in any consistent way. One session they would be moping about how they don’t belong in this world because they are too smart for their own good and the next they are being manipulated and kidnapped like a normal 5 year old by someone plot convenient so the party gains plot relevant information. One session they don’t want to use their insane power because it’s too much and the next they want to practice by torturing people and animals and the next they leave the fortified base to go flower picking to drag the party to learn more plot relevant information. Every single session I was dealing with an entirely different character whose levels of intelligence and emotional maturity changed on a dime to suite the gm’s needs. It was exhausting and this on top of a few other things made me leave the group.

If a player hands you something like this, show some restraint. Please. Especially right after they join the crew. I’d say restraint is one of the most important aspect of being a story teller in general.

I gave this gm two big red buttons with my character and they pushed both of them immediately. The dm brought in my characters personal antagonist session 2, before I had any kind of bond with the crew and was at the point where when I had the option to have my character lose their memories of this antagonist I took it just to remove that button because I could immediately tell this gm has zero restraint.

I talked with the dm out of session and asked them to tone it back because ever since I joined literally every single plot had my character at the center and she kept pushing me/my character to drastic measures that were preventing my from actually interacting with the rest of the crew or even learning what our goals were. For fuck sake I removed my character’s memories of their antagonist because they were nearing the point of saying fuck it and leaving the group just to escape this person.

Did the gm listen? No. Not only did they continue dragging my character’s antagonist into the plot, they kept using this npc to create drama and push the plot forwards in inorganic way.

If you have to use an npc as a plot device, then at least keep their characterization consistent. If story is the main focus of this campaign, it’s like watching the gm reach into the game and tell you directly: hey, hey, players, go here for plot. It breaks the immersion. If it happens on occasion, that’s fine it’s bound to happen eventually. But when it’s happening every session… oh boy is it extremely annoying and hits one of my biggest pet peeves in writing: seeing the hand of the author. There are a million ways to make a plot hook feel in congruence with the story and the world. If you need to take an npc out of character to make it happen, your players will notice.

Tldr. If you are running a long form campaign- use restraint. I promise you that holding back and waiting to push the big red buttons your players give you will be so much more rewarding for everyone if you wait. Don’t force the story. Let it breathe.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Trey: *Trying to explain Riddle is that way because of his mom*

Me: Give me a minute as I pull up my ‘Trauma Doesn’t Excuse Sh*t Behavior’ PowerPoint.

Say it with me, everyone: an explanation is not an excuse 😊

You know, the other day I was watching one of Ryan George's Pitch Meetings and when Producer Guy asked Writer Guy how the audience would root for the villain of the franchise and the response was "he's handsome" which basically explains most people's reactions to fictional men.

Prepare for incoming rant that has little to do with the ask

This probably might come as a shock because one of the main appeal of twst would be the whole villainous aspect/Disney Villain fanbase but I don't really like villains that much, at least, not romantically. Like don't get me wrong, I think that they're incredible characters and it would be so fun to sit down with one and have a conversation with one. Villain songs are so fun (I was literally singing ‘This Day Aria’ to myself the other day I haven’t heard that song in like a decade) and you can tell that that characters like Scar or Hades or Shere Khan or Jafar or Maleficent are having so much fun being deliciously evil and even the more serious, complex ones like Loki or Frollo are fun to pick apart so yeah I understand the hype. I just always rooted for the heroes and I guess heroic characters have always been more my type.

My mother absolutely loves Erik Destler and is forever salty that Christine chose Raoul (despite my many many attempts at arguing why Raoulstine is the superior couple - smol primary school me could not understand why my mum liked the chandelier dropper and was deeply concerned), my best friend has been in love with Heathcliffe since we were eleven, and my little sister has literally told me that her type of fictional men are the toxic red flags (not exactly word for word but she did explain why she likes bad boys over good boys when I was complaining about how my type (wholesome soft boys) always get sidelined for the arrogant, snarky bad boys - we're also very diametrically opposed on our views of friends to lovers (my s++ tier all time favourite and her loathing) vs enemies to lovers (I can't really stand it - Pride and Prejudice is the only exception - and that's literally all she consumes) so that might also be a reason).

Like, I understand the appeal of a Byronic hero (Mr Darcy has far too much power) - a closed off, broody man that hates everything but you? And will burn down the world to keep you warm? I can respect that there are people who dig that. But their not really for me.

The mild bout of insanity thirteen year old me had where I spent two months attracted to Edward Rochester is an outlier and should not have been counted (though that was during my wattpad phase so...)

But I can admit that I have yet to shake off my feelings for Dr Henry Jekyll, Victor Frankenstein and Dorian Gray (though to be fair, Mr Gabriel John Utterson the lawyer and cinnamon roll artist boy Basil Hallward do own my heart). And yes, Jeremy Jordan did make me question my morality as he did make my feelings for Light Yagami be too positive to be sane for a brief moment (Touta Matsuda is still my man, don't worry). But apart from them, literally all of my faves are what you'd call your traditional, morally upright heroes.

Basically what I'm saying is that my perception might be skewed because I've never had the whole 'villains are cooler' mindset when it came to stories. Yes, I love the villains as characters but I always liked their heroic foils more (goodness is just so attractive to me). You get lots of amazing heroic protagonists that have horribly tragic backstories and they're the ones I always fall for because the idea of being a kind sweetheart despite the world being anything but is just *chef's kiss* that's a kind of strength that's so swoon-worthy.

I guess that's why it's harder for me to look past the characters' actions in twst is because, well, they chose to do everything they did. They made a conscious choice to be terrible, despite understanding the consequences. Riddle may have been brainwashed into becoming a tyrant by his mother but he still admitted that he knew he was being horrible - he understands the concept of morality, of good and bad, and he willingly and deliberately did everything he did.

I suppose this text post I found on Pinterest would explain my point better:

[x-neurotoxin-x]

💕 GIVE ME BOUNCE BOY OR GIVE ME DEATH

I'm sorryyy I posted that than went off Tumblr and did not check it til now

5. 💕If you have OCs, who is your favorite?

Okay so. Bounce Boy. Bounce Boy is technically an "npc" oc from this several year long rp/collab server. (Basically I originally only made him to aid in with another role-players scene bc they had a villain character and needed a random hero guy to jump in and get beat up while he was destroying a Disney World, while wearing a Mickey Mouse Hat might I add. Cracked out stuff. You'll never guess who the villain character was. For some reason I gave this random npc a whole backstory.)

Bounce Boy is a rookie hero fresh outta a hero training academy. Hes only like 18, 19 and has a quirk where he can turn his body into rubber and bounce around, stretch his limbs, etc. Think Luffy from One Piece. Hes a super ambitious young hero and his catch phrase is "The Hero Commission didn't raise no bitch!!"

Tragically, he was horribly injured during a patrol when trying to stop a villain from destroying Disney World. Both his legs got torn off. The Hero Commission insurance did not cover the expenses so now he's in debt. He don't have no legs neither so they fired him. Hes got no income and a fuck ton of debt so now he's homeless. Rumor has it, he mayhaps become a villain 👀

[insomnikat-mused]

:3 for the fic writer asks. I may or may not be building off of your previous answers that I just read.

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

13. a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

17. talk about your writing and editing process

And you would be right to because...

2. My Tav

LOL, I've literally just taken a pause from researching lutes to answer this. The part that I've spent the most time on so far was finding the right voice and tunes for their barding. I haven't even gotten to thinking about dialogue yet. But I have an idea around that which I'm fleshing out with inspiration from the Dorothea and Yuri support in FE3H and Red from Transistor. In short: a bard reluctant to sing? Tragic backstory, incoming!

13. Baldur's Gate 3. You so see me, friend.

I probably won't publish anything until I've completed my first playthrough though. And at the pace I'm going... I would be lucky if I finish Act 3 before the end of the summer. I haven't even entered the city yet :p

17. It's either painstakingly slow or a burst of manic inspiration, there is no middle ground. The slow route is all over: in notebook(s), Google notes, Microsoft OneNote, Scrivener projects. Vibes are embodied in Spotify playlists. I will either sit on something, editing and re-editing, agonizing about its worthiness to publish for weeks and months at a time, or I immediately reach a state of fuck-it-we-ball and publish first, edit and panic re-edit multiple times for the next 72 hours after. This, of course, all has to fit around a work and family schedule and it is a constant struggle to not breakdown the fragile sleep balance I require to stay physically and mentally sane.

So I guess what I'm saying is... it's chaotic and sporadic and purely driven by a stubborn determination to connect dots and empty the brain just enough on most nights to sleep well.

Send me more fic writer asks.

[dramallamas]

The (unserious) notes of Beyond Evil, Episode 2!

Previous Episode || Next Episode

bro this body really dragged everyone out there. all our side characters are here.

"there's mud everywhere" my guy youre in a field what do you expect

"could it be a pervert obsessed with feet?" that doesnt narrow down the list that much in this day and age...

Lee Dongsik was sexy in his 20s 30s and 40s not every man can pull that off. Lee Dongsik the man you are

oh and he's here too (Juwon)

Dongsik is also a little shit and i love him for that.

“Do you like me that much?” Houston I’m deceased.

HE DIDNT SAY NO

Man we get flirting in Episode Two damn we get fed well as a community.

“Isnt she your sister, Lee Yuyeon?” LIARRRR

“The recording room isn’t your bedroom.” As in both of theirs? Because I have read the fics 👀

How warm is the recording room is my question. Because if its like my bedroom then shits freezing

I have said this once and will say it again lee Dongsik is a sexy mf

“I got lured?” Juwons face pls he is so confused.

THE SCORE AND SOUNDS GOD PROPS TO THE MUSIC PPL

Juwons disgust is so amusing.

Bro it must suck to be talked about when you are right here.

Part of me is curious as to how Dongsik went from Lee Dohyun Dongsik to Shin Hakyun Dongsik. Like we get hints in flashbacks but not much more.

We act like Juwon had this sudden shift in how he reacts to Dongsik after his Busan trip but it was there the whole time just a lot more subtle.

Juwon looking at dirt is me looking at Jinmuk. Fricken gross.

“Touch it (my phone) again and your fingers will…” shit man

Also unpopular opinion incoming: not the biggest fan of minjeong. Shes tragic and interesting enough but she is also the type of person I would avoid being friends with

We dont give Jeongje enough credit for him standing up to his mother passive aggressively.

THE FIRST RAIN SCENE ITS HERE

All good things happen in the rain in this show and I stand by that.

This one melts my heart (and Juwon’s too)

He just stares at Dongsik smiling… perhaps he cant be all that bad hey Juwon.

HAN KIHWAN GTF OUT OF HERE

Also juwon can I have that jumper pls? At least tell me where u got it (that blue one he wore with the stripes on his arm).

Juwon in casual clothing is smth we dont see enough of especially at the start of the show

Juwon proving he is just as insane as Dongsik in this scene but also just as driven about solving what really happened. Two sides of the same coin.

Also we do not give the camera ppl enough credit either the way they shoot the scenes is incredible and rlly captures both the character and their thoughts/feelings as well as their situation and vibes of the scene.

“I don’t like solving riddles” juwon aint that ur job…?

Tiny hc: jeongje learnt some english words and slips them into his conversations to add fuel to his lie of ‘studying in america’

“There isnt a single cop in the country wjk would prioritise such a case.” Jeongje says to Juwon, who is prioritising such a case.

Juwon nearly losing his cool is so interesting and important to me.

Juwon doesnt fuck with people telling him to stay quiet thats for sure.

Ok so Dongsiks mum sees Dongsiks dad frozen to death and calls him 동식(이?) 아버지 (Dongsiks dad). like imagine u mother calls ur dad "(your name)'s dad!" is this a thing in korea or a script choice?

Tfw you hear the tragic backstory of ur suspect/future bf

part of me thinks dongsiks limp/leg injury might be psychosomatic, at least a little bit.

jihwas contact name for dongsik being 똥식 is so funny. (동 is how its supposed to be 똥, pronounced only slightly differently means shit/poop)

Underrated friendship Jaeyi and Jihoon moment.

God I hate clubs sm (I have been and ended up stressed depressed and just on the verge of tears by the end of it and I was dead sober)

Dongsik is in protective dad mode and he stands for womens rights (and probably womens wrongs) and i love that.

I am aware that this episode 2 notes is mostly just me loving Dongsik.

Everyone beind done with minjeon is also me.

"Dongsik I wasnt cheating on you..." girl youre giving Juwon the wrong ideas. also dongsik would deserve better than you anyway

Juwon rn "this girl is insane... idk what i expected because this is manyang but she rlly is and I am not dealing with it"

Juwon not being a physical touch person and valuing personal space a lot and Dongsik being an exception is everything to me.

also underrated duo moment of Juwon and Jihoon

Honestly Juwon Jaeyi Jihoon friendship trio should be a thing in fics

Actually Dongsik isnt that much shorter than Juwon... huh...

The shot where they are both looking down... I should use that as my laptop wallpaper tbh

Minjeongs death sequence gives me the chills every time.

Them talking about the death body and Jinmuk being in the shade in the background with Jaeyi... means smth but im not smart enough yet.

Dongsiks case wall for Yuyeon in his basement genuinely makes me cry knowing the truth about it

'hey bitch 😏' is the energy we have rn

Bro cannot control his emotions well around Dongsik

“Let me give you a thorough tour of our jurisdiction” is Dongsik code for, ‘follow me I need to show you something’

I remember this scene being the netflix preview (the one where juwon states that he wants to move to manyang) for beyond evil and I remember thinking… what a shit scene to preview to convince ppl to watch the show. However… I think otherwise because…

“Just what about me interests you so much? I don’t think it’s that I’m a cop. Perhaps that I’m a suspect?”

“Let me ask you. Just what about me interests you so much? You obviously seem to be dying to know what I was up to at Foreign Affairs.”

THAT PART IS CONVINCING ASF HELLO

And then… pain.

Juwon hesitating and genuinely looking torn deciding what to do. Does he call it in or… what? Comfort Dongsik? Probably considered how he reacts upon hearing Dongsik start to cry before realising why. His entire face screams “I’m so sorry…”

And Dongsik oh my god. Even though we know he put them there I think this is the first time he properly grieved it, even if only a little.

He probably did it to bust the case back open again so he and the vicitims can get justice.

And fin. See you next ep!

[practically-an-x-man]

Colored Pencils, Eraser, and Palette for Nikoletta!

Thank you!!

OC/Writing Art Asks (that I created lol)

Colored Pencil: if given the choice, would this character splurge on an expensive (but potentially worthwhile) branded product, or buy a low-budget alternative even if the quality suffers?

Low-budget by far. She's been under the poverty line almost her entire life, and is more used to having to skip meals because she can't afford them than even thinking about name-brand products. Even once she has a little more money to spare, it's still hard for her to give any thought to quality instead of just necessity.

Eraser: what's one way this character has changed over time? Either over the course of their story, or over the course of designing them as an author.

Oooooh now she's an interesting one for this question. Big ramble incoming...

When I first designed her back in 2021, Nikoletta was a very different character. She still met Abner back in Belle Reve, she still operated at the Queen of Belle Reve and had partially contact-based powers, and she still got her powers from STAR Labs at about the same time Abner did.

However, her powers were completely different, and they were much more lethal. Originally, she was given this sort of nightmare-illusion power, where anybody who looked her directly in the eyes or touched her skin-to-skin would experience a waking nightmare that inevitably ended in a brain bleed/aneurysm.

However, some people were mysteriously immune to her powers, with no apparent pattern to them. This would be a big mystery for a while, until it was finally revealed that her powers caused people to imagine unspeakable mental trauma until their brains overloaded, and the people who were immune were the ones who had already experienced extreme trauma in their lives and had learned to process it without being overwhelmed- like war vets, or some of the metahumans in Belle Reve with particularly tragic backstories.

Her appearance also changed quite a bit. Part of her abilities included a sort of demonic appearance to most people, and the ones who were immune to her powers were also immune to that illusion, and could see her for how she looked before she was sent to STAR Labs.

The one other detail I had that changed is that while in the final version of her story, Nikoletta escapes STAR Labs years before Abner burns it down and only realizes much later that their time there overlapped, the original version of the story had them interact much more while in STAR Labs and escape at the same time. The idea was that they were friends while they were there, would talk through the vents and try to comfort each other through the experimentation, but they never learned each others' names or met face-to-face.

Then it would be a reveal in Corto Maltese, they're in the jungle talking about STAR Labs, and Nikoletta pulls up her sleeve to reveal a burn scar on her arm in a perfect circle (where she was singed by one of the polka dots when Abner burned down the lab), which leads to them realizing they'd actually met years before and didn't know it.

In the end, I changed up her powers to "ground" her a little more. I wanted her powers to be more dangerous on reputation than on actual ability (i.e. how her shadows themselves don't actually hurt people at all, she just builds so much reputation around them while in Belle Reve that they seem dangerous), and I thought having her interact with Abner in STAR Labs just... didn't line up as well as I wanted it to, the more I thought about it. I think the original version of her character was cool, and still fit with the other metahumans in the DC universe, but her final version feels much more dynamic and human to me.

Palette: list four of your character's primary skills, then share at least two ways these skills might blend or overlap

She's great at keeping her emotions in check when assessing a problem, manipulating social situations, breaking down a problem into manageable facets, and generating mystique around herself.

All of these skills were built from her becoming the Queen of Belle Reve and generating her reputation there. Manipulating social situations and generating mystique was how she was able to take that mantle to begin with and turn her relatively harmless powers into something that could keep the whole prison in line. Keeping her emotions in check and breaking down problems are what helped her maintain that persona in the long-term, since it allowed her to keep that position of power and quell dissent in a way that kept most of the other prisoners in her favor.

[disregardcanon]

amc iwtv abigail (2024) au 

The year is 2024. The location is Paris. A team of professional criminals are hired to kidnap the “daughter of a wealthy businessman” and hold her hostage for a large sum of money. 

This team includes: 

The “mastermind” 

The medic in charge of anesthetic doses and taking care of the kid 

The getaway driver

The hacker

The muscle

The ex army 

These roles are played by

Santiago as the mastermind

Madeline as the medic 

Estelle as the getaway driver

Daniel as the hacker

Celeste as the muscle

Now you may ask, why these particular choices? Here's the explanation

The “mastermind” of the team thinks that he’s far smarter than he is, doesn’t view abigail the child vampire as either a threat or a creature with feelings, starts out sadistic and only gets worse until he’s the real villain of the piece after becoming a vampire toward the end of the movie. This is all very Santiago to me. 

The medic is the one who develops a bond with Abigail, the child vampire. In the movie, this character has a son that she’s trying to get the job money for so that she can reconcile with him too. While I wouldn’t want that to be the exact backstory, it does work for the framing. A Madeline who went into health care to help her ailing younger sister and try to get her foot in the door for a medical transition. Who was able to transition but had that kill her career and then had to resort to working for crime bosses. She ends up nicking some of their supplies to try to help her sister and has a very traumatic firing. Without that income and those supplies her sister dies and she loses access to her hormones, so she decides to do something.. Drastic. To try to get back on her feet. What other option does she have, really?

Estelle is the getaway driver because she blows up on a motorcycle and I think that’s funny 

Old Maniel. This character in the movie is a young woman from a wealthy family who hacks for the fun and the thrill. I love the idea that publication of his vampire memoir destroyed his journalistic career in the 80s. After that, he still had to make do somehow, right? Hacking got the job done. He’s doing one more big job to send home an enormous paycheck to his girls, maybe write a book about it that’ll be published post mortem and keep paying their bills. Sure, whatever he gets on paper won’t make him look good, but it’ll be something. He doesn’t expect that vampires involved in his past situation would be so close to the ones plotting this situation.

Celeste as the muscle because if Estelle is there she has to be too. 

I liked the ex army character but he doesn’t really line up with anyone I have in mind so. He has been tragically cut. Such is life

ONTO THE PLOT!

Santiago brings the group together. No one tells anyone else their real name. 

Then, they kidnap their mark from her luxurious Paris apartment. Everyone feels a little weird about the mark being a kid when no one was informed of that, but like.. It’s a bit too late to turn back when the kid’s knocked out in the back of your car, right? And like… she’s not a kindergartener or anything. She’s probably like… 13? A bratty little teenager with a rich dad. That’s kind of justifiable, right? 

(It’s not.) 

They get to a giant villa in the countryside and meet up with their contact, a white American woman named Antoinette. She tells them about how they just have to keep the mark in the house overnight while she “negotiates terms” with the father. She confiscates all their electronic devices for the “safety of the operation” and gives them almost no information. After some prodding she gives them all fake names from twilight. Then, she leaves them alone in the mansion for the night with the bursting liquor cabinet.

We get some character setup after Estelle tries to do a cold read on the others and madeline calls everything she says out as bullshit. Then estelle’s like well if that was so bad how about you try it? And then madeline reads the CRAP outta her. Then celeste asks for one and it’s spot on. Santiago’s like here’s 50 bucks if you can say ONE true thing about me. And she’s like you were an undercover cop who decided that you liked being able to hurt people even more easily and never wanted to go back to having some level of rules on you. And he’s like WELL YOU’RE A DUDE! And she’s just like wow! How original! You figured out that I Transed My Gender. Can you tell me literally one other thing about me? And he. Can’t. Because he’s not as smart as he thinks he is! 

Daniel has been weirdly quiet during this, so she turns to him and she’s like hey gramps do you want one? And he’s like i would literally rather die. She’s figured out that he used to be a journalist from a few of his conversational ticks but she doesn’t point it out, because he asked for no reading and she has some manners. Unlike SOME people! She’s blunt but she’s not a total asshole. 

Then, Madeline goes up to check on the mark who should be waking up from the anesthetic soon. She IS! The girl plays up being scared and hurting and madeline’s like. Well the blindfold is a LITTLE over the top. I have a mask on. This is fine. She won’t be able to ID me from a lineup like this, probably, 

So she takes the mark’s blindfold off. Now that the thing is off, the girl doesn’t seem scared at all. It’s like it was just a game and she’s done with it now. No “who are you” no “what are you doing” no “are you going to hurt me?” Just a staring contest with a middle schooler. 

In the briefing, they told them that the mark’s first language was English. That’s the language that Madeline starts with. 

“Who are you?” Madeline asks.

The girl smiles. “I’m Claudia.” 

“Your whole name.” Madeline clarifies. The kid must be someone powerful’s daughter if she’s this assured of her own safety. 

“Just Claudia,” the girl tells her, “I’m not on good terms with either of my fathers right now.” Well. That gives Madeline some information at least. The girl has two fathers who are separated. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Madeline assures her, because it feels like something she should do. It’s what she’d planned to do, coming up here. 

“I know,” Claudia tells her, “you can’t hurt me.” 

Madeline feels her breath catch in her chest. “We can’t?” 

“You can’t.” 

“And how do you know that?” Madeline asks.

“I just do.” 

Madeline laughs. “Any other insight you want to give me?” 

Claudia smiles brightly. “Sure. Can you tell Daniel Molloy that I didn’t like his book?” Madeline feels fear curl up even sharper in her gut. A fearless child named Claudia, two powerful fathers, and Daniel Molloy. She lives in Paris. She is very familiar with that man’s “memoir” from the absolutely exhausting American tourists obsessed with retracing the steps of the “real life” vampires chronicled in the book that killed a promising journalistic career in the 80s. 

Is someone punking them? She doesn’t even let herself consider the crazier option: that everything in that book was real. 

After whatever THAT interaction is, madeline corners santiago to make him give her more information. Who is this kid’s dad? Does she actually have two? Does he have any real clue who this kid is? Why does she seem unphased by being kidnapped? Why doesn't she seem like a kid at all? 

He’s less than helpful, so Madeline brings her findings to the entire group. How the girl doesn’t seem phased at all by being kidnapped. How she claims she’s not on good terms with “either father”. “Just Claudia” and her strange request for Daniel Molloy. 

“Okay, yeah,” the elderly hacker says, closing his laptop and standing up, “that’s my bullshit threshold. I’m getting the fuck outta here.” 

“What?” Estelle asks, “but we are so close to getting our money?” 

“I am not waiting around for one of Claudia’s dads,” he declares. 

She frowns. “Do you know them?” 

“Know them?” he asks, “uh yeah, I know them. One of them, at least. He’s not a man you wanna mess with.” 

Celeste rolls her eyes. “Come on. What could make him so frightening? Truly?” 

He just stares at her. “He’s a vampire.”

Estelle bursts into laughter, “Oh, what a funny old man you are! Who is he really?” 

“A fucking vampire!” he repeats with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Ah,” Santiago says, “you’re the Daniel Molloy. I should have known.” 

Celeste frowns. “Who?” 

Estelle giggles. “He wrote the gay vampire memoir! He always said it was real.” 

“It was!” the guy tells them, “every fucking thing I wrote there was real. Every word. And no one believed me.” Santiago snorts. 

The old man turns towards him with a deadly look in his eyes. “You think that’s funny?” 

“Yes,” Santiago assures him, “I do.” 

He points to a nasty, mottled scar across his neck. “Her father did this to me. I almost died. Still think it’s funny?” 

“Yes,” he assures him, “with every word you speak it just gets funnier.” 

“Whatever, man,” the old man mutters, “I’m getting out of here before she starts picking you fuckers off.” Then he turns to the driver. “Can I have the keys?” 

“No! I’m not giving you the car keys!” Estelle declares, “we will need them to leave in the morning.” 

He laughs. “None of you are making it to morning. I’m getting outta here while there's still some sun.” 

“Then you will be walking,” Estelle says firmly. 

“Whatever,” Daniel says, waving off the comment, “I’ll take my chances with the walk to town.” 

The old man staggers out the door and into the dying evening sun, leaving his cut of 50 million dollars on the table. 

“Well,” Celeste says, “more money for the rest of us.” That brings each of their counts up to 12 million dollars. Certainly enough for Madeline to give her sister a proper funeral and pay for HRT for the rest of her days. 

Santiago goes to “speak” to Claudia, which is just an excuse to try to intimidate her and be mean. She lets it “slip” that she’s the daughter of a famous crime boss who has people killed by decapitating them: Lestat de Lioncourt.

He comes to give the group that information and they decide they'll take their chances. Like... sure. That makes… some sort of sense? If her father is a terrifying crime boss that could explain some of her behaviors. She’s still worried, but she tries not to let those consume her. 

Claudia isn’t a vampire. She’s just… a smart young woman. Older than she looks, surely. Stunted growth, perhaps? That can happen with neglect. Perhaps she split from her fathers because of something along those lines. An undergrad student, perhaps. The team made an assumption concerning her age and Antoinette just let them go with it. 

(Madeline tries not to let her mind settle too long on “Antoinette” from the book- the mistress whose position was always so precarious until she just… disappeared from the story entirely.) 

She goes to speak with Claudia again to put her worries to rest. This will prove to her that this isn’t a preternatural middle school student but a shrewd university student. 

When Claudia sees her, she starts speaking French. It sounds atrocious. 

Madeline doesn’t bother responding in her mother tongue. 

In English once again, she says, “Your French is bad.” 

Claudia sticks with her atrocious French. “Really? You’d think a girl would get better after 80 years.” Four twenties, she claims. 

Madeline chuckles and permits the girl a response in French. “Four twenties, you say? I will believe you’ve lived one of them, at least.” 

Claudia grins as she switches back to her mother tongue. “Not buying the little girl act?” 

Madeline scoffs. “You only acted as a little girl before we caught you. The moment you were here, you showed your true colors.” 

“I’m a hundred year old vampire,” Claudia tells her, "a hundred twenty one to be exact."

Madeline laughs. “No, I think you are a cunning college student conning your father out of money.” 

Claudia grins, maneuvering her cuffs to be slightly more comfortable. “However would I do that?” 

“Stage your own kidnapping,” Madeline posits, “then scare the attackers into leaving and pocket the money."

“How would I do that, exactly?” Claudia asks. She sounds intrigued, excited to hear Madeline tell her back her own genius plan. 

“You’re pretending to be the vampire Claudia from Molloy’s delusional diary,” Madeline tells her, “you hired another woman to pretend to be the vampire Antoinette. Recruited a few people that you thought would be susceptible to strange suggestions in addition to the father of the delusion itself so they’d leave. Then you get 25 million to yourself at the end.” 

Madeline turns her head to finish her point and notices something.

She’s not in cuffs anymore- 

Claudia’s canines slide down like a trick door, turning into fangs. 

“I like you,” Claudia tells her, “I think I’ll kill you last.” 

This is where “you should watch the movie if you haven’t yet” comes into full effect. The action is GREAT and I am just going to give you a brief play by play. The house seals itself into a special trap until the sun comes up. Claudia kills Estelle first- detaches her head from her body and drinks her blood. The three survivors band together for a while to try to evade her and stay alive. 

The stakes rise as they try to talk about what awaits them outside of this death mansion. Santiago decides that he straight up hates her for “letting her sister die” and having the gall to Be Trans About It. 

They “capture” Claudia who spends the whole time taunting them and turning them against each other. Santiago is needlessly cruel. Claudia “escapes” and Madeline realizes that she was never trapped in the first place. They engage in a Flirtatious Bonding Moment TM before the group splits again. Madeline and Santiago run off and Celeste gets left behind.

Then, Celeste gets turned into a vampiric puppet that Claudia uses to scare the shit out of them before the woman's body dies. It seems like Claudia has all of the murders in the bag until a door to a hidden room opens up and fucking Antoinette is behind it. And guess what! She WAS the mistress! She gives them some pathetic backstory bits about being a scorned lover turned by one of Claudia’s fathers a hundred years ago. Lestat, the one who turned her to be his lover, planned to kill her as a peace offering to his husband as they reunited at the temporary return of their runaway daughter. Said runaway daughter decided that she wanted to start again, completely on her own, and requested that Antoinette be allowed to live in her service since Claudia can’t make a vampire on her own. Both fathers agreed, as it made them feel better for their daughter to have someone as she ventured off into vampiric adulthood away from them. Antoinette has been forced to play errand girl to her ex-lover’s daughter for 80 years. The ex-lover that was going to kill her to return to his husband’s good graces. 

So yeah. Antoinette wants to turn someone she thinks can help her defeat Claudia and then get rid of her keeper and find out how to escape somewhere that loustat can’t find her afterwards. Compassionless, mainly competent Santiago seems like a very good choice!

He is. At least… he like, takes to the gift? Pretty immediately? But he kills Antoinette because he doesn’t want to share and then Madeline realizes that she’s 100% safer with Claudia. She’d been thinking that might be the case for a while, but now she’s certain. 

Madeline tries to get away from him to find Claudia and makes it to her, but they realize quickly that his size advantage is.. .real bad for her in a fight. Especially since Madeline’s like, 100% dying. He shifts the odds one more time by trying to make Madeline into a vampiric puppet like he saw Claudia do. Thankfully his hubris got the better of him and it doesn’t work. Madeline’s able to fight against it and restrain him. 

Restraining him is just a temporary fix, though. Madeline is bleeding out and Claudia is trying to bring her back from the brink with her blood, but with a volatile Freshly Turned Fledgling and a dying human that claudia doesn’t WANT to die… the odds aren’t looking great for her.

That is until her father finally does come. Lestat de Lioncourt appears in all of his vampiric glory. The moment he arrives he’s separated Santiago’s head from his body. 

“You’re late,” Claudia says primly.

He huffs. “Late? I wasn’t aware I was welcome until you were losing a fight with a fledgling!” 

“A fledgling that your fledgling made,” Claudia says, “so really, it was your fault.” He smiles ever so slightly. 

“If you had allowed me to kill Antoinette years ago, she never could have moved against you,” Lestat tells her pointedly. 

Claudia shrugs an acknowledgement. “I wanted a companion. She worked alright."

He snorts. “That's what I thought when I made her, but Antoinette was a poor replacement for your father."

Claudia frowns. “Where is Daddy Lou?” 

“Home,” Lestat tells her. 

“What? He didn’t come help?” she sounds devastated that her father might have been reading the paper while she was being hunted. 

“He closed his mind off from you,” he says, “per your request, ma petite.” 

She moves her hand up to her elbow to rub gently at the viscera coating it. “Asking that of him mighta been… harsh.” 

The man smile ever so slightly. “Perhaps. If you were to reopen your mind to him-” 

“No,” Claudia tells him, “just havin’ your presence in there is bad enough.” 

He flinches. 

“But..” Claudia says, “maybe you could just… keep an eye on me, just in case?" A slight smile. “And you can both come round every once in a while, I s’pse.” 

Lestat’s eyes drift over to the mortal dying on the floor. “Would you like assistance with this.. Cleanup?” 

Madeline feels her heart stop in her chest. What does that mean, exactly? 

“You can’t kill her,” Claudia says firmly. 

Lestat turns his gaze toward back to his daughter. “And why is that?” 

“She saved my life,” Claudia tells him, “and I like her. She’s interesting.” 

“Hm,” he says appraisingly, “you are without a companion.” A companion. What, exactly, does that mean? 

Claudia’s eyes widen. “Are you offering to make me one?” 

“You cannot create one on your own,” he says, “and I will not be “coming round”- he uses air quotes, like a douche bag- “until I am invited. So. Yes. I am offering.” 

Madeline tries to wrap her head around this offer, a vampiric eternity with the most interesting person that she’s met in years. Someone who understands the horror of having a body that makes people make all the wrong assumptions. 

Claudia takes her hand. “Well, what do you think? How's forever sound?” There’s nothing in this world for Madeline, anymore. A dead sister and a world that doesn’t want her. 

Why not join someone who might understand? It’s not like she has anything to lose. Her sister is dead and all she’s working towards are a funeral, a tombstone, and her own hormones. Why not live the way that she wants for once?  “I say,” Madeline tells her, “turn me. Now.” Forever isn’t too scary when there’s someone you trust it with.

[1dreamsareweird1]

may I please have your jayden hc's pretty please :)?

Ofc you can twin, sorry everyone I sort of forgot I had Tumblr again.. whoops.

So unfortunately we don't get to see a whole lot of Jayden in Void Paradox and I haven't watched Dreams of Estorra but on the Aphmau wiki it says that he's from Estorra and we do get to see his armour a few times but not him. This means I don't really have a lot of hc's for him but I will try and answer this ask!

Jayden HC's Incoming!!

1. He's the type of person to just do whatever he feels like in the moment as long as it's relatively safe

2. He actually really cares for other people but it's that sort of, "This person will literally die in front of me if I don't do something, better save them I guess.. 😐😒🤷‍♂️." Type of way

3. Desperately needs a good nights sleep

4. I feel like Jayden would be very on top of things in any universe, modern or not. Like Void Paradox Jayden was not playing, he had his routes mapped tf out and the caves too. He would hate to be caught unaware so he does his best to make sure that is literally never a possibility

5. He probably throws himself into danger a lot and then sits there like "wtf did I just do." Afterwards because like, did he really have to save that girl from the evil grey man in the middle of the woods and then cauterize the wound? (Yes he did)

6. Ik he gave Aphmau a lot of flack for judging him in Void Paradox but I like to think he probably silently judges people a lot

7. He's so funny, please get behind this bandwagon everyone I think if we gave him a chance he'd literally be such a funny and deadpan friend or protagonist

8. This man is built for the outdoors idc he probably likes it outside better than he likes being indoors because of the open space, that being said the open space also freaks him out a bit because he's always on guard outside so really he just can't exist comfortably anywhere, sorry Jayden 💔.

9. He's built, like he has an eight pack, back muscles, never skipped leg day, everything

10. He seems kind of unconsciously flirty and playful I just ARRRGGH

11. He probably has a really tragic backstory but I like to think his life before he got sucked into another dimension was pretty normal, he's just some random adventurer in Estorra who got knocked out (Laurence..) or went to sleep and woke up in the middle of the woods like "😨🤨"

[kotonoba]

Sorry for disappearing like that. I'll post the next chapter of ISYT when I wake up. But this post ain't about that.

I want to write a pokemon fanfic where the reader has a sad/tragic backstory. & I kinda want to revolve it around a reader in their mid 20s with Hassel (Paldea E4). So, if you guys have ideas on team comp & whatnot, shoot me a message. Starter is already picked (:

Carrd incoming soon, sorry for the wait!

[strangesmallbard]

Ooh Torlynn 7

7. what circumstances led to your tav becoming their class/subclass?

torlynn's class is necromancer wizard and her subclass is eldritch knight fighter! (in my mind palace, she also has some battle master maneuver actions involving a staff, but you can't do this in-game afaik). and what a beautiful excuse you've given me to lore dump about her backstory. let's go!

if life circumstances were different, torlynn would simply not be a necromancer wizard. unlike her famous necromancing academic mother, she does not delight in re-animating corpses and always smelling vaguely like fantasy formaldehyde. she did not delight in death and the rot and reshaping the natural order of the world to her liking; in fact, she finds her mother's profession kind of grotesque. (we love dramatic irony at strangesmallbard dot tumblr dot com).

more than that, however, she probably wouldn't have become a wizard at all. as a kid, she thought the weave was something super lame her parents did. she ultimately wanted to hit things very hard with a sword and cause problems on purpose for the stuffy tutors her parents hired. but her parents were determined to make the alderstar name famous in the wizard community; her mother's academic work and father's work at sorceries and sundries (fantasy captitalism) have already made them upwardly mobile. all torlynn has to do is, well, give up her own hopes and dreams to fulfill her parents' lofty goals instead. many such cases. read more incoming!

torlynn fucks about in wizard school until she's allowed to learn fighting techniques in the upper levels. her indefinite plan after graduation was to fuck about in the longterm, maybe becoming some type of adventurer, but then torlynn's mom goes missing in the baldur's gate sewers. nothing good happens in the baldur's gate sewers, especially when you're doing necromantic experiments in the baldur's gate sewers at the same time bhaalist cultists are killing people so much in the baldur's gate sewers.

despite her father's well-intentioned attempts to protect her (and maybe cover the whole thing up before the press gets wind), torlynn joins the flaming fists directly after graduation so she can investigate the disappearance herself. unfortuntely, the fists also stonewall the fuck out of her; they don't want a rookie doing gods-know-what in the scary sewers where people go missing and they're also pretty embarassed about the bhaalist cultists constantly murdering people under their noses. in her early 20's (in elf years), torlynn hates politics more than anything and cowards even more than that. so she quits the flaming fists and does fuck-all for the next 50years until she quite literally runs into the harpers.

and that's where she picks up her fighter subclass! and becomes wholly dedicated to preserving life! maybe she has an unhealthy fear of death now, but that's none of her business! having a purpose changes absolutely everything for torlynn; she's very goal-oriented and lawful good even when she acts chaotic neutral. this part of her lore is still undeveloped right now, but in my mind she has a wizard harper mentor who teaches her how to be an eldritch knight and also hit people very hard with her staff. she also trains in daggers, shortswords, longswords, halberds, and axes; she's forever pissed that she doesn't really have the build for greatswords. the dream of swinging big sword never really dies.

torlynn eventually does become a necromancer, however! and the circumstances ARE tragic! if you want to read more about that, click this fun link. and thank you so much for reading this <3

[superconductivebean]

#578: ah damn it's wright again

The very first post I made about her wasn't great, so I am changing it. Inspiration post <3 @boxdstars tagging bc I remember you're in for reading about other mcs 👉👈

So, that's Wright, that's my girl:

Julia Wright is a young aspiring tradeswoman from the late 19th century, currently doing business in Hogsmeade. Hasn't finished Hogwarts yet; in her 7th year she is known as top of the school student in Transfiguration -- due to her ancient magic abilities -- and in Potions -- both a hobby and a source of income to her.

Nobody knows if she ever sleep or eat, as nobody hardly ever sure where she is at at any given moment. Her friends might have an idea but if anyone tags along with Wright when she's seen roaming the castle or its grounds, their whereabouts becomes a mystery, until safely return back from: ingredient harvest / check up on a beast population somewhere in the valley / trailing down remnants of poacher gangs still active in the area / whatever foolhardy adventure she's after while nobody's looking.

Wright is tired and busy individual but she enjoys a good joke, a good butterbeer and a good company.

I can't draw stick I tried screenshot and it went horribly wrong in colour dpt I'm sorry.

More notes:

catches up on her Dutch because her extended family speak it;

her pick for Deathly Hallows is The Resurrection Stone, due to Tragic Backstory;

can't drink for the life of her, alcohol and her aren't friends;

doesn't use her connections at all the way people would think but is thanking whoever started the rumor she can ruin somebody's mark in Potions because Sharp is her bestie (Story Reasons, from 5th and 6th years) -- it saves time for The Real Deal;

The Real Deal -- "I apologize for bringing this one up again but. How does one brew The Hangover Potion. It's the best seller by the name alone, I'm giving up on my cut entirely-- no, it's not a bribe, HOW COULD I-- I only wish to help people and I am the people, sir, amongst them, the very first in line-- I wish I would joke about it! No, I'm not in trouble. Well, maybe a little. I'm finishing the school in a few months and what's next awaits me is -- isn't anything pleasant about it to say.";

very Ravenclaw much Gryffindor little Hufflepuff;

today smiles tomorrow hisses;

plays in the House Team but isn't the best player, if her overall performance could be even called one; Quidditch is very much a pastime, not a life-long passion;

duelling is though but finding an opponent became a quest;

still, has full moral support from Imelda because 1) girlfriend 2) the effort is appreciated; if Wright had more time than it is in the day, she'd play better but it's obvious her life path isn't turning to the Pitch;

3) and if the banter isn't the banter anymore, Poppy will be upset and nobody has the right to upset her but especially her two dorks for girlfriends. Nobody. Upsets. Poppy;

Wright's life is either throwing poisoned dirty axes at her, or doubles the fun;

her mom's girl, her dad's babybird, her uncle's HAVE I SHOWED ALL OF YOU LOVELEY PEAPOL PICTURE #878748357845 OF HER WHEN SHE WAS 5;

this pic

Bonus:

literally i want her to have The Joy of Life as if it wasn't me who ruined it in the first place <;3 a family and different friends were chosen bc she needs more than just M O R E <3 <3 <3

[dinocos-golden-boy]

List our beloved angsty fire chief!

I'm curious! :D

AHHH! Love all the Blade asks! We Stan our beloved angsty fire chief after all on here! :D

• Favorite thing about Blade

My favorite thing about Blade is that his personality and character overall is so well written. In most cases, you have to create and come up with your own scenarios and thoughts as to what he's thinking about (i.e. when we see the part where he's on the hilltop watching the incoming lightning storm)

• Least favorite thing about Blade

I don't think I have one for this. I like his personality overall. He suits the characteristics of a fire chief really well. (I don't even think fire chiefs are this harsh irl) but I'd say he's like that because he also lost loved ones close to him throughout his life.

• Favorite line of Blade's

Hmm I have a few xD

- "No excuses! If there'd been a downdraft, you'd be dead."

- "Good move partner."

- "Life doesn't alway go the way you expect it."

• brOTP

I hope I'm understanding this right but my guess is that this means it's someone who is meant to be best friends forever with someone else. So in this case I'm definitely going with Nick. I see him not just being best friends with Nick but also as a brother. We can clearly see that when he lost him, it's affected him so much. And he took Nick in as his brother.

• OTP

I don't really have one for this

• nOTP

Same as above (sorry xD)

• Random HC for Blade (head canon for those who many not know abbreviated terms)

I have a couple for this one too

- Can totally make an amazing dinner dish. It just depends if he will do it.

- Actually lives in a small cabin with his two daughter, Dakota and Christina, after the smokejumpers agreed to build it and there they have dinner sometimes as a family depending on the work schedule the PPAA team is on.

• Songs I associate with Blade

- AHH! There's so many choices I have for this one. So I'm sorry if the list is longer than anticipated. This also gives me a chance to share a little bit of my taste in music. Hope you like it. I see some of these relating to Blade following his tragic backstory with losing Nick and later on losing Kate and becoming a widower with two little kids.

- I also HC him sounding like George Sheppard (the one who is singing in the first song listed below)

Favorite picture of Blade

• I love his paintwork when he was in CHoPs. I thought his visor made him look really handsome and charming