#also hi ive returned to this blog

[mindtrip]

third person pov

i turned 25 almost a month ago, and in many ways i still feel like the scared 15 year old i was. my self perception is fragmented - i know that much. it has been years and years of working on myself, but it's hard to put the pieces together. it's a matter of how, and if it's even possible.

[thedeadthree]

ok ok listen…….. what if i made a oc verse set in m*etriod.. like a clown or two set in the verse ✨👁🥀❣️

[elbowreveal]

ok i put some more things into the queueee wahoo!

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Solar Return Chart IV

Hi!! Here is another Solar Return Chart Observations post lol. Since I am officially on the new one, I thought of doing another post to conclude and coming back on the last one, meaning the one of last year. Coming back and looking back over what happened :) Let's go! I hope you will enjoy this post ^^ This post has mature and triggering contents, so be aware and careful when reading it!

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart III

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email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ I was Leo Rising last year, and I was very popular around me, people were also checking me in the streets. It wasn't even sexual or anything, people were just noticing me super easily, and I was the center of attention wherever I was going.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun 12H indeed meant that loneliness was def going to be there. I was very lonely most of the times, and it's not even physically, it was def mentally. I wasn't seeing my friends often, and I was just feeling very alone in a corner. I felt like no one really understood me and as if I was just left alone. One of my friend passed away suddenly also this year, so I really felt alone for sure. Also the years I was more into Astrology and Tarot! Just a full year of learning more on the spiritual and esoteric side!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus 1H, I had a glow up, though it happened quite over night. I don't have much explanations on how it happened. Suddenly I was veryyyy pretty, I bought better make up products, and the way it was showing on my face was just insanely good?? IDK!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury 1H, I was more confident when it came to talking to other people. I used to be very shy, and used to not be confident enough to talk to others, but this year I felt more confident to do it. Anxiety when calling, ordering disappeared. And I was less scared to talk back to people.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 1H Ruler in 12H, I was most of the times by myself, mostly doing things on my own, and I felt very alone.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mars 2H, I was much into shopping some times, and I was more anxious and stressed about making money. I had a lot of motivation about it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 2H Ruler in 1H, I was more spending money on myself.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 3H Ruler in 1H, I was talking more about myself to others, than before. And I was also writing more about myself, for example on the blog I post a lot about my experiences to support my theories.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Scorpio 4H, time at home was stressing and slightly toxic. I had this need to runaway or even live somewhere else. I wanted to escape. My idea of home changed.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 4H Ruler in 6H, staying at home was my routine, I was working from home too.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Vertex 5H, some destined events happened in my love life.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 5H Ruler in 9H, I traveled to NYC last year, and it was for holidays. I traveled to meet someone I loved (who didn't come in the end lmao). I also met another guy who had a crush on me there.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Pluto 6H, I took some weight lol, not so much. Since I moved less because of my job, I kept seating down and took some weight.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 6H Ruler in 7H, I was healing my relationships trauma last year, I went to therapy and understood a lot of traumas I had. I also made a lot of friends at work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Aquarius DC, a lot of things changed in my relationships, I realized tons tons tons of things!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 7H Ruler in 10H, I was in a serious relationship last year, but 7H was ruled by Uranus, and it didn't end well.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn 7H, didn't see my FS all year, didn't talk to him. And when I asked to meet him, he refused. Def a year I couldn't reach out or talk to him! I also couldn't be in a relationship, or anytime a guy had an interest in my, it's like the Universe worked through to not make it work out. I also broke up with my ex bf that year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn conjunct Groom, same!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom 7H, I realized my FS was my FS last year. I also realized I was in love with him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Neptune 8H, I had a lot of vivid dreams last year, I dreamed of my mother in law too, and of my FS as well, both of them talking through dreams to me. I also didn't had s3x all year, refused any s3xual advanced. Though, I had a lot of s3xual dreams.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 8H Ruler in 8H, transformation was a keyword last year, I was also more open on the spiritual side, and I had a lot of grow that happened.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon 9H, I was constantly learning new things, and more on the spiritual side, and also esoteric. I discovered so many new things, and I needed that. I wanted more and more!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Chiron 9H, i traveled and felt like the travel I did was a waste of time and money lol ;-;

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 9H Ruler in 2H, I traveled to NYC and it was painful for my bank account.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter 9H, similar to Moon 9H.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon conjunct Chiron, my feelings were hurt often this year. I was crying A LOT in general. Perhaps the year I cried the most.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter conjunct Uranus, a lot of benefic transformation, despite it wasn't that easy sometimes or just very sudden.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Taurus MC, a year of trying to find a harmonious balance at work, and trying to find my way. Was focused on the money I made, and also trying to find a routine through work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Uranus 10H, I changed jobs twice last year! I was fired, I just changed. And by the end of the second job, I decided to work at my own name. And so, I now work online, as an Astrologer! Uranus also rule here over uncommon jobs.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 10H Ruler in 1H, was more popular, and people noticed me in the crowd more easily. I also decided to work for myself, and started my own company.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 11H Ruler in 1H, I was positing lot more selfies and pictures of me than before online. I also had a lot of internet friends.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Union Cancer 11H, I met one of my best friend last year, she is a Cancer Sun and we met online!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Juno 12H, i was dreaming a lot of my FS this year, also didn't meet or talked to him all year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 12H Ruler in 9H, I traveled this year, and overseas!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun conjunct Venus, I was and felt more pretty, a glow up that happened!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury conjunct Mars, I was more aggressive sometimes when I was speaking, I was often aggressive when trying to stand up for myself, or just explaining myself, I think it was me finding the right adjustment between never standing up for myself before, and doing it now, but not knowing how.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom conjunct Neptune, dreamed a lot of my FS.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun opposite DC, didn't see or talked to my FS for the whole SRC, I also didn't want to be in a relationship.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus conjunct Rising, very same as Venus 1H or Sun conjunct Venus.

Thank you for reading!

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[morning-star-joy]

here, everyone knows you're the way to my heart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Neighbors, Joel x F!Reader, Ellie x Platonic Reader

Summary: At Joel's request, you teach Ellie how to press flowers, and become even more engrained in the life of your neighbors. Joel continues to struggle with your kindness, and makes a choice that'll have consequences between you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Grumpy x Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Implied Age Gap. Angst. Joel's an emotionally unavailable asshole. Petname (dollface). Mentions of food and eating. Cigarette use. Language. Please check series warnings on masterlist.

A/N: This took far too long, like 5 months after I started this series, but it's here now! Angst is kicking in towards the end of this one and through the next few parts so...yeah. Buckle in loves. Ty for being so patient and supportive for this fic!

Wordcount: 6.3k

Part I || Part IV || Part V || Series Masterlist

Masterlist || Kofi || Updates Blog

Looking back at it all now, the way you always acted around Joel finally made sense.

It had started out of neighborly kindness. You treated the older man, and the girl who he looked after, the same way you would’ve treated anybody who moved in next door, with a warm smile and offers of goodwill made by your own hand.

Somewhere along the way though, your reasons for seeking Joel out had shifted, so subtly that you hadn’t even realized it until suddenly it was all you could think about.

And now he was all you could think about.

Out in your garden, tending to your flowers, you wondered which blooms you could give him next. The meanings hidden within each family of plants, each variation of color, how you could tell him exactly the way you felt without him knowing a single thing.

In your kitchen, baking a small batch of brownies for Ms. Garcia again, wondering if Joel would like some, if you should set aside a few for him to try. Wondering if he liked something decadent, if the dour man had a secret sweet tooth, or maybe he preferred a sour taste instead.

Wondering if he had even cared enough to try the banana bread you had brought to him when he first settled in. 

Or if he had put any of your flowers in a vase like you had told him to.

Hoping you’d see him when you walked out of your house in the morning to go about your daily tasks helping out around Jackson, or hear that soft music played by rough fingers on his porch at night.

So when there was a rapt knock on your door one afternoon, you rushed from the kitchen to answer it without a care for your apron splattered with remnants of baking ingredients, too full of irrational hope until you opened the door, and your eyes were led down.

But the sight before you still brought a smile to your face, watching as the girl who also lived next door to you brightened when she saw you. Her awkward slouch straightened, a tentative smile twitching on her face to answer your welcoming one.

“Hey,” Ellie offered in terms of cautious greeting with a little wave, stuffing her hands back into the front pockets of her jeans, rocking back and forth on her heels as you returned her wave cheerfully. “Uh, I’m here for the…flower lessons?”

“Oh! Of course, please come in,” you chirped, smile widening into a grin with excitement at the prospect of sharing your knowledge of botanicals with somebody willing to learn. 

There weren’t many people in Jackson who were as invested in gardening as you—some even turned their nose up at it, deeming it trivial in the kind of world you lived in, when others were working day in and out to keep the place not only running, but as safe as could be.

But what was the point of having all this safety, if there was no warmth of it? What was the point of surviving without living, without finding what beauty remained, lovingly tending to it so it could grow, and cherishing its worth?

So you had been thrilled to learn from Joel that Ellie wanted to know how to press flowers, but you hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the girl, deciding it was best to let her come to you. 

Though she had seemed bright and energetic for the most part, and had been kind the few times she’d called to you from the next porch over, at times there was a shadow cast over her young face, a look that almost reminded you of a cornered animal. A soul that had grown up without knowing any sort of beauty.

And so you hoped that by showing her patience and kindness, Ellie would find there were still beautiful things that remained in the world around you.

“I thought maybe you had smelled the brownies,” you teased as you led her through the house, glancing back to see her eyes light up at the mention of desserts.

“Like, as in chocolate brownies?” Ellie asked, suddenly on your heels as you entered the kitchen, and you laughed at the way her jaw dropped at the sight of ingredients set out on your counter, in the midst of making a batch when she had dropped by.

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ of the word as you circled the counter, gesturing to the batter you had been mixing with a fond smile at her growing grin of excitement. “I don’t always have the ingredients for it, but when I do, I always try and make a batch for Ms. Garcia down the street—they’re her favorite.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the older woman, bright mood dropping quickly at the name, even as she stepped closer to you to peer down into the bowl when you picked the whisk back up. “I don’t like her.”

Arching an eyebrow down at her, you countered the blunt statement with, “Do you know her?”

The young girl paused, eyes flashing up to meets yours, looking a little taken aback by the question before you saw her stubbornness double down before your eyes, squinting up at you as she shot back, “Well, she doesn’t know me, but she sure likes to talk shit about me. Joel too.”

You frowned, sighing softly before glancing back down at your batter to mix it a few more times. “Yeah, she can be a bit of a busybody. She’s lived in Jackson longer than most, and she’s watched so many people come and go that I think she finds herself a bit of an expert on the matter of who lives here.”

“She should mind her own fucking business,” Ellie mumbled, and you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise when a snort of shocked laughter left you, four eyes wide before the girl’s smile grew mischievous at your hint of amusement that you quickly tried to hide.

“I’m not a fan of gossip, and she does a bit too much of it,” you admitted with a sigh, turning to grab a pan to pour the batter into so you could get it in the oven and move on to what she had come here for. “But she’s lost a lot, and I try to offer some kindness to her.”

“Like you do with me and Joel.”

Your head whips back around to Ellie, eyes wide at the no punches drawn comparison.

That’s also when you see her hand as it crept towards the uncooked mix of ingredients for a sneak taste, and you gently smacked it away, lips twitching up into a smile as she huffed indignantly that you had caught her.

“Everybody deserves some kindness,” you replied softly as you poured and spread the batter into the pan, sliding it into the sweltering heat of the oven and setting your little timer. You turned back with a smile that showed your genuine motivation in spreading goodwill, one that made the tension in Ellie’s shoulders relax. “How could that not include my new neighbors?”

“Yeah, okay, Sunshine,” Ellie teased with a roll of her eyes, and you laughed again, not only amused by her wry sense of humor, but happy to see how she perked up at your positive reception to her jokes. “I came here for the flower shit, remember? But I’m definitely staying for those brownies.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you gestured for her to follow you out the back door to your garden. When Ellie descended from the porch and stopped short, turning around in place to take in your carefully tended garden, you felt a swell of pride in your chest at the wonder in her wide-eyed gaze.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed out, her tone impressed as she glanced over your carefully coordinated flowers spreading throughout the yard. “You did all of this?”

“Sure did,” you chirped, a bright grin on your face that she slowly matched with one of her own as you led her to the flowers you’d be working on today. 

“I’ve had to do a lot of digging around for them—both through trades and, well,” you gestured with the trowel you picked up to accentuate your point, “literally.”

Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes at your joke, even as the sharp brown of them lit up more than you had seen yet at your bad pun. The cheer faded into something more somber, almost melancholic as she knelt down next to you in front of the patch of white and yellow daisies.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she mumbles as you pick up a pair of shears to give to her, and you watch as she takes the tool and holds it as if ready to wield it. 

The teen doesn’t even seem to notice the way she holds it out, sharp edges pointed away from herself like preparing to stab an Infected that didn’t exist within the walls of Jackson, and you wonder just what Ellie has gone through in her short life, how many improvised weapons she’s learned to make deadly, how hard she’s had to fight just to make it this far.

You’re reminded once again of the spooked animal backed into a corner at the sight of her awkwardly gripping the shears, and you show her your open palms before slowly reaching out, making your intentions clear before gently readjusting her grip on the shears.

“You’re nurturing something,” you say gently, picking up another pair of shears and demonstrating how you trim the dead leaves off your plants before finding a bright yellow daisy to carefully pick. “Not killing it.”

Ellie frowns, watching you retrieve the fresh bloom and present it to her with a smile. She takes it gingerly, staring down at the petals as she swirls it between her fingers and says bluntly, “But it’s gonna die anyway.”

You falter, a frown pulling onto your lips as you hear the unmistakable truth, the knowledge that ran deeper than just flowers in her grave words.

“It will,” you assent, voice quiet as you pick another one, handing it to her to join the first. “But they’re not alone. We’ll appreciate them while we have them, and when they’re gone, we’ll keep a reminder of them, like you wanted to learn.”

Ellie glanced up, solemn frown turning into one of confusion with the pinch of her brows. “Huh?”

Now it was your turn to frown, your facial expression mirroring hers as you clarify, “We’ll press the flowers. That’s what Joel said you wanted to learn.”

Blinking rapidly, Ellie shifted around to face you completely, and you did the same as you stared at each other in dual confusion and misunderstanding. “Joel said what now?”

“He said that you wanted to press flowers,” you said slowly, head tilting to the side as Ellie’s mouth opened before she stopped, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding that you were still lacking.

“Ooooh,” she drew out the sound of realization as you continued to look at her blankly, a slow smirk stretching across her face before she looked back down at the daisies, then up at you again. “Yeah, right! Pressing flowers. Yup, that’s what I told him. Totally wanted to learn that.”

There was a new excitement in Ellie’s eyes now as she nodded enthusiastically, matching the mischievous smirk on her face, and you tentatively gave your own nod before turning back to the flowers, continuing to pick a few more daisies along with her as the girl kept shooting you looks and asking you questions about the flowers decorating your garden.

“What’s that one mean?” she asks, pointing her shears towards a bunch of blooming lilies with bright pink leaves stretching outward.

“Pink lilies symbolize love and femininity,” you explain, snipping away a few dead leaves around a few more flowers before pushing yourself to your feet. “A lot of the time, they’re gifted between women because of that. It’s a show of admiration.”

Ellie nodded slowly, perking up at the explanation as she rose to her own feet beside you. She cast another glance around the garden, turning around slowly on her feet much like she did when first coming out, but you saw a honed look in her gaze, different from the wide scale glance of appreciation for the flowers from before.

And you understood the subtle calculation in the action when she not so subtly asked, “What about that one?”

Your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in to find your roses swaying gently in the spring breeze, and your back stiffened instantly.

“Uh—” Clearing your throat, you shifted awkwardly on your feet, trying to brush off the inkling that she knew what you had given Joel, ignoring the shrewd way she focused in on your face while you tried to turn it away from her observation. “Different colors have different meanings—”

“The orange one!”

You froze, holding your shears tightly in one hand and your own bundle of daisies in the other, trying to hide your internal panic and knowing you failed when you heard a snicker from beside you, letting you know that she must have seen the rose you’d given Joel at some point.

Did that mean he kept it?

You swallowed down the sudden surge of excitement at the thought, trying to focus past your feelings towards the man as you glanced back at the smirking teen beside you.

Clever kid.

“They’re energetic flowers,” you admitted a partial truth slowly, moving towards your back porch to drop off your tools and conveniently face away from Ellie, when she bounced in front of you to walk backwards, eyes fixed on your face with a purely trouble-making grin.

“Energetic how?” she prodded, arching her scarred eyebrow, and you sighed.

“They typically are meant to convey…fascination,” you hedged with the explanation as you set your shears down on your workbench, beckoning for her to do the same with hers before opening the back door and letting her go inside first.

“And not so typically?”

Holding back a groan, you strode past Ellie quickly, busying yourself with finding a small, unused book in your living room to start her collection of dried flowers in. You mumble the answer as you try to bury your face in the book, hoping she wouldn’t continue to interrogate you for her own amusement.

But as any true teenager would, she popped up behind you with a bright, “What’s that?” and you snapped the book shut with a groan after flipping through the pages.

“Attraction,” you admitted on a loud sigh, turning to see her grinning up at you. You resisted a smile yourself, her youthful glee at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong nearly infectious, even through your embarrassment at being caught. You passed the book to her, beckoning her to join you on the couch so you could show her how to press the flowers on your coffee table. “Happy?”

“Very,” Ellie grinned, and you could almost see her mentally filing away the information for the most inopportune time, all the while your own mind churned over the meaning of the flower you had left unsaid.

The very meaning that you had given Joel the flower for, the feelings that he stirred up inside you again and again with each fleeting look, stronger with each passing moment in his presence, even without him intentionally fanning the flames.

You wondered how much longer it would take until it finally burned you.

Joel had tremendously, irrevocably fucked up this time.

He should have never let you get that close. 

He should have said no when you asked him if he wanted that smoke, even if it meant seeing dejection on your face before you turned from him and hurried back inside the safety of your home. As far from him as allowed with fate—or, more likely, his goddamn brother—putting him next door to you. 

You should be far away from the likes of him.

The dejection would’ve been better than the hope that flooded your face whenever you saw him now. It would’ve been easier if you avoided him instead of seeking him out, less excruciating than the ache steadily settling into his very bones when your eyes lit up every time they met his own if you happened to see him, or find him, around town.

Spring was warming into summer, and you shone in the warmth of the sunlight, like those flowers you loved so much that he’d catch you taking care of around town. Half the times he ran into you, you were leaning over some flower bed or up on your tiptoes to reach a hanging basket, tending to the bright blooms that faded in comparison to your brilliance.

Joel would try and get away as fast as possible, if you didn’t catch him staring more often than not. You’d approach him, offer a new flower to him with a dazzling smile that burned itself into his eyelids and taunted him every time he blinked.

The new flower would go into that same shitty vase, and the old one would join the ever growing pile of dying flowers on the edge of the counter, balanced precariously close to the trash bin next to it.

He kept telling himself he’d shove them all into the trash someday.

But every time a dried petal would flutter into the bin, he’d lean over with a grunt at that persistent ache in the back of his left knee and pull the splintering petal back out, setting it back onto the counter with the other blossoms that continued to fall apart.

One of these days, he’d get rid of them.

Every time he entered the kitchen, he’d tell himself it was that day.

And every time his hand hovered over them, gazing over the once full of life blossoms that had dampened with the passage of time, he’d decide tomorrow would be better. 

The pile of flowers grew, until one day Ellie stopped in her tracks heading through the kitchen, staring pointedly at the dried up petals hanging on for the last dregs of dear life off brittle stems, and then back at Joel.

And he pointedly ignored her, focusing on peeling the washed apple in his hand, knife carefully shedding the skin as he asked her before she could speak, “Where you goin’?”

“To learn more about flowers with your girlfriend,” she shot back, the snicker evident in her voice, and Joel’s thumb froze, the shiny red peel of the apple hanging in a swirl off the fruit in his hands.

“My—” he shook his head sharply, brows knitted together as he huffed out a quiet, exasperated breath. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hardly know her.”

“Sure.”

Joel exhaled sharply, the peel finally falling into the sink when he finished, and he focused on cutting off a slice instead of the aggravating tone in Ellie’s voice that said she knew something he didn’t.

Something he in fact knew very well, as infuriating as it was to deal with.

“She just lives next door, Ellie,” he doubled down, only looking up to pass her a slice of apple, then another slice when she popped the first one into her mouth, even as he shook his head in disapproval when she smiled wide with the apple in front of her teeth when she saw his exasperation with her antics. “Thought you could give each other some company.”

“Right,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the chewed fruit, and he shot her a disapproving look that she only snickered at. To her credit, she did at least swallow down the first piece and hold off on eating the second to say clearly, innocent words with a sharp double meaning, “Nice flowers, by the way. What a neighborly gift. I sure admire them.”

Joel frowned, glancing from Ellie towards the light red flowers that currently sat in the vase—carnations, he thinks. You’d given them to him a couple days ago, when he had been on the way home from a patrol that had taken him out before the sun rose, and brought him back when it was finally setting again. 

Your head had popped up at the sound of his footsteps going past your house, a grin spreading across your face before you called out to him. There was a quick snip of the stems at the flower bed you were kneeling at in your front yard before you rose and handed them to him over the fence, old wood with peeling white paint that separated you from each other.

He had thought of you on your knees that night, the dirt on your skin, what it would be like to rub it off with a gentle caress until each passing of his thumb over your knee would turn needy. Desperate.

God fucking dammit, longing.

But he thought of the unabashed smile you offered him, and the startling way it eased his worn nerves after the long day even more.

What an old, goddamn fool he was.

And what made matters so much worse was how fond Ellie was growing of you. He could deal with his own…his own, whenever you were around him for too long.

But each time Ellie returned from a visit to you happier than when she’d left, it was harder to keep those lines that separated his life from yours from blurring even more. Two sets of fences separated your property from his, but your very being still bled into him, seeping into his bones and settling with a tension under his skin when you began to brighten not just everybody’s fucking day, but Ellie’s as well.

You may have given the girl a gift of flowers to help her feel welcome in Jackson, but it was you who truly made the kid feel at ease. Joel had hardly heard so much praise for anybody else from her, and he couldn’t even be irritated when Ellie started coming home from her flower lessons with you first with gifts of brownies and cookies, and then with casseroles, full meals in dishes that they’d sit side by side on the couch with a couple of forks and eat from together.

“She doesn’t think we eat enough,” Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of casserole one night, and Joel scoffed, even as he shoveled another bite into his own mouth.

“She’s right,” he begrudgingly relented once the dish was empty on the coffee table, their forks discarded inside, and they both fell into a peaceful nap like you had delivered them a fucking Thanksgiving.

Everything you did to him, everything you made Joel feel was harder to ignore when he saw the positive influence you had on Ellie. She went from hardly ever getting out of the house to looking forward to those flower lessons he had lied to both her and you about the other person coming up with the idea, when it was his own.

His own stupid blunder, the question of how to press a flower falling from his lips that night he had made the crucial mistake of letting you get too close. The question he had asked to stop the other question from leaving him, the one that had been taunting him nearly from the first time you had fixed him with that dazzling smile and wide, kind eyes.

How do you do it?

How are you so kind? 

How do you not hate the world?

How do you not hate him for hardly giving you the time of day everybody else was more than willing to give to you? 

All because he was old and bitter and couldn’t fucking admit to himself how you were growing on him, how you were branching out around every cursed inch of him and entangling him in all your softness, pulling him in like ivy, pernicious in its beauty until he crumbled under the weight of your light.

He was too scorned to appreciate what you illuminated in your path, taking your sunshine for a burn on his skin whenever he let you take another step closer.

Somewhere inside him, he worried that he’d burn you too, if he kept letting you take another step.

And somewhere even deeper, he feared that he wanted to.

If he saw you crack, if he got you to lash out at him, maybe he’d finally understand you.

Maybe he could finally let himself—

Fuck, he was an awful human being, if he was even that. The things he’d done, the things he’d still do—he needed to stay away from you.

And if he wasn’t so awful, he would.

If he wasn’t a selfish man, he would’ve sat out on his back porch to play his guitar night after night. Or better yet, stay inside altogether.

He wouldn’t be sitting out on the front porch as soon as the sun began to set, his eyes flickering towards the lights that would flick on in the house next door, filtering through the floral curtains when he switched to strumming a new song.

His fingers wouldn’t be twitching in yearning to hold a cigarette between them, his throat not parched for the stream of smoke that mixed with the sweet taste of you on his lips from sharing that cigarette with you.

He wouldn’t let you consume his every thought. He wouldn’t let you get closer when you weren’t even there.

He wouldn’t let you.

But he did.

He always did.

And maybe he always would.

It happens like clockwork.

As soon as the sun starts to set and sends the deepest hues of purple and pink cascading across the sky, the gentle strumming of a guitar starts. The music bleeds through the walls of your home, and at this point, you’re always sitting by the window in your living room when it starts.

You’d learned to crack open the window the slightest bit before the sunset begins, so you can hear it better when he plays.

You’d also learned to flick the light on in the room when it starts to get too dark. Because when you did, those calloused fingers you could see so well when you closed your eyes would stop across the strings.

There’d be a pause, and then he’d start again. A different song each time, and you’d lean against the wall and listen, his music filtering in as your light filtered out.

You could never bring yourself to open the curtains, but you wondered if he ever noticed the crack in the window after the first few times.

Sometimes you’d read, letting Joel’s music blanket your senses as your mind got carried away into whatever story was on the pages in your hands.

Other times you’d swirl the stem of a flower between your fingertips, the next one that you planned to give him. Or run your fingers down the recipes in a worn cookbook, searching for the next treat or meal you’d give Ellie to take home after a visit.

One night, you’d fallen asleep like that, curled against the wall and waking up with a start and a crick in your neck when nightmares plagued your sleeping mind again.

And when his music still filtered through, it had seemed like such a good idea to get even closer to it. 

There was a comfort to it, real or imagined, and you needed it. You at least had half a mind for a jacket and shoes that time, shoving the dwindling supply of cigarettes you had into the pocket before you stepped out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you without a care to try and hide it that time.

The music stopped abruptly. By the time you dared a glance over, he was already looking at you.

A moment of silence that felt like forever stretched in that short distance between your porches before Joel jerked his head in a silent beckoning for you to approach, and you were off towards him in an instant.

That first night—or the second, really—you didn’t say a word to each other. You shared another cigarette until your nerves had settled, and left with a small wave and a thankful smile that was returned only with the growing familiarity in the weight of his gaze on you until you disappeared back inside your house.

The next few times it happened, you’d make small talk. A nervous habit, and he didn’t look at you as you spoke, but he’d give small hums every now and then. The smallest scraps of attention that only made you keep coming back.

When you were out of cigarettes, a fear caved in on you that he wouldn’t want you there, that he wouldn’t tolerate your presence if you didn’t have anything to offer.

So you padded about your kitchen that day, making three different batches of cookies as you couldn’t decide on which one to give him. Even with the way you found your life intertwined with his more and more, there was still so much you didn’t know about the man. So much you wanted to know.

Eventually, you settled on a hunch that he did have a secret sweet tooth. Either Ellie scarfed down every batch of sweets you sent her home with—which very well could be—or she shared them with Joel, and the latter thought had you crossing over to his porch that night, a plate of peanut butter cookies nervously clutched in hand.

Cookies he stared at when you ascended the steps to him, sending your heart into a nervous flutter when his jaw set as severely as the first time you’d shown up on his doorstep with an offer of goodwill in something you’d baked with your own hands.

“I was out of cigarettes,” you offered weakly for an excuse as you seemed to mess up around your neighbor once again, and Joel’s gaze finally flashed up to your face, flickering over whatever emotions were probably bleeding through onto your features before looking away.

His hand lifted from the neck of his guitar, rifling through a pocket of his worn jacket until he pulled out his own few rolled up cigarettes with a lighter, which you blinked at in surprise.

“Where did you—”

“Don’t matter,” he mumbled, gaze averted from yours, and you tried to swallow down a lump in your throat as he held them up.

Wordlessly, he passed them to you, and you handed him the cookies, which he set onto the small table beside his chair and stared at as if your gift was the greatest offense you could have ever made.

You tried to find relief in the nicotine, but he kept staring at those darn cookies, a furrow in his strong brow and a dark look in his eyes that you wished you could ease, or at least understand.

Eventually, you dared to try and speak.

“I—”

“I don’t get it.”

Your brow furrowed when Joel interrupted you, confused as to what he meant, and he seemed just as confused as he glanced over your face before hesitantly clarifying, “Your…kindness. The way you’re so positive all the time.”

He raised his hand from the neck of his guitar, gesturing towards the cookies with it, then in the air as he listed off with a voice tinged with irritation, “Baking. Flowers. Fucking…smiling like you do. I don’t get it.”

Your stomach flipped again when Joel met your eyes for a brief moment before he looked back down at his guitar, setting it aside with a sigh so he could rest his hands on his knees, and you murmured, “Well, I'm glad you're finally saying it.”

Joel’s head rose, his gaze finding you again as you gave a small smile, his entire body stiffening at the sight while you continued, “I knew you hated me since you came to Jackson, but it's a bit freeing to hear you finally admit it.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flickering all over your face, as if he was searching for…you didn’t know what he was searching for, and didn’t know whether or not he found it as his eyes narrowed and he looked away again.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off with a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to rub down over his face, his next words muffled against his palm as he said slowly, “...I just don’t get it.”

His hand dropped, hanging between his knees as he said to you directly, “I’m not kind to you.”

Your head tilted, observing him quietly for a moment to try and see what he was getting at, figure out whether he wanted an answer or not. When he kept looking at you expectantly, you replied quietly, “No, you’re not.”

“So why are you so fucking nice to me?” 

With a shrug, you answered easily, “Because I’m nice to everybody.”

“Why?” 

You sighed, feeling a small flare of irritation at Joel’s persistence on the topic, but you let the feeling fade as you shrugged again.

But when you opened your mouth to reply, Joel swiftly rose, taking a step towards you as he lifted a finger to gesture towards your face while he murmured, “There. I saw it. You were annoyed.”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet laugh slipping from you as you searched for the words you wanted to say, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to think as he slowly closed the distance between you.

“I get irritated, Mr. Miller,” you said patiently, watching Joel’s jaw clench again, though you weren’t sure what set off the reaction as you continued, “I’m only human. But what would being mad get me?”

“Satisfaction,” he replied easily, getting closer now, and your breathing quickened, pulse racing as you noticed again how big he was, how thick those arms were when he crossed them across his chest and how broad that was, and your mind was screaming at you danger again, just like that first night on his porch. 

Not because he was dangerous—though he might as well be from the rumors, just not towards you, not in that way—but because these feelings he stirred from you threatened to pull you under completely if he suddenly decided to stop keeping that short bit of distance that remained between you.

Lord, when had that distance gotten so short?

“There’s plenty of things to be satisfied about, Mr. Miller,” you said calmly, watching his jaw tick again, and your head tilted, observing him as closely as he watched you. “Cruelty isn’t one of them.”

“No?” he asked softly, the volume of his voice a direct juxtaposition to the stern heat in his gaze, and you shivered again, one of your hands pulling your jacket tighter around yourself in the same moment he reached for your other hand.

You froze as Joel tugged the cigarette from your grasp, holding it in front of your eyes as he mumbled, “Like this?” before dropping it to the porch, lifting his boot to stomp it out, and your breath hitched as he leaned in closer towards you. “Is that vice of yours really enough to satisfy you, dollface?”

Doll—

It was harder to breathe now, your head spinning, mouth still warm and tingling from the mere memory of that taste of him you had once gotten on another cigarette—mint and whiskey, mint and whiskey, and you wondered if his lips would taste of that now if pressed to yours, your tongue in his mouth to explore it and find out.

You quickly shook the heat of the spiraling thoughts from your mind as you breathed out, “There’s enough wrong with the world, Joel. I don’t plan to add to it.”

He exhaled sharply then, and your eyelashes fluttered as you felt his breath wash over your face, and there was that same scent of mint and something wholly intoxicating enveloping your senses and oh god, when had he gotten that close, but you were lost in the proximity as he murmurs, “Say it again.”

You could hear your blood rushing through your head now muffling your ears, heart pounding in your chest that was heaving from quick breaths as you whispered distractedly, “What?”

“Say it,” Joel repeated, leaning closer, and your breath hitched, lips parting when his nose brushed against yours, feeling your pulse between your legs now as he ordered in a low tone, “Again.”

Your mind was struggling to keep up, trying to find out what he meant, trying to find logic in the situation.

But there was no logic, only feeling, only this strange all encompassing heat, and your lips parted further to whisper what you knew he wanted to hear, “Joel—”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, the curse slipping from his mouth a mere moment before it was on yours.

The only thing that you could manage to do was moan, the warmth of his lips pressed to your own increasing the heat until you felt like you were standing in the middle of a fire, feeling as much warmth as you did a scalding burn when he jerked away from you as quickly as he had kissed you.

Kissed you.

Joel had kissed you.

Something he was apparently horrified by as he leaned away from you, wide eyes darting across your face as he breathed out another, “Fuck,” before he was spinning on his heel and marching towards his door.

You knew it was coming before it happened, the same thing that always happened when Joel seemed to think you got too close. And so you were left standing on his front porch, burning with heat that still lingered on your skin, on your lips from where he had kissed them for just a few seconds before tearing himself away, the door slammed in your face once again.

[garoujo]

hi guys! unfortunately for now, if it wasn’t obvious i have decided to leave garoujo . . i’ve just not been feeling very great here anymore & as much as i have such an attachment to this blog, it’s become not fun again as it’s beginning to affect my mental state. i’m not going to deactivate for now it will be left here as an option & an archive! i may eventually private eventually but until then it’ll stay.

i’ve made a new possible blog that could be an option after a well needed break from here, but i won’t be publishing the url publicly because i feel like i need a proper fresh start and a clean slate if so. mutuals can still dm me to ask for the new url (ive followed a few already but i’ll still be logged in here to make sure i don’t miss anyone if u ask) but its mostly just a personal one for the time being. also if you happen to come across it on your own eventually, please respect my decision to have it remain completely separate from this one.

i appreciate all the kindness & support that’s been shown to me during my time on this blog despite how much it’s been through. i also want to apologise to anyone who’s ever gotten a negative impression from / of me on here or been roped into any drama surrounding me, i hope we can all just continue to enjoy our time here while we indulge in our silly little hobby!

please remember to be kind & thank you for giving me a place.

- emmie ❤︎

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[g1rld1ary]

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

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Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

[eepwriting]

hello there 💖 your friendly iii loving reader here again.

popping in to see if you have time for a new request; I would love to read your take on slightly subby iii fic where reader, who loves when iii dirt talks them, tries to give him a little dirty praise in return. possibly calling him a good boy? possibly putting a hand on his throat to see how he reacts?? would love it if it takes him by surprise and he unexpectedly loves it 🤭

thanks again so so much for your time and your amazing writing 🤩🙏🏻🫡

My Good Boy ✶ III x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, dirty talk, praise, light choking, no plot, we get right into it bby

ANONNNN im smooching you on the forehead for this!!! I love it, thank you for your request!! 🤍🤍 More of a blurb btw. Also IM SO SORRY I’ve been gone. I literally thought about this blog everyday and have felt so bad but I think I’m back 😎

!! mdni !!

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“You love it, baby, don’t you?”

III’s mouth rests against your own as he speaks. “Love it when I stretch you out, huh?”

You wanted to answer, you really did but it was almost impossible to get the words out. The way he slowed the pace of his hips, making sure you felt every possible inch of him, combined with the filth coated words he spoke had you practically choking on your breath.

“Yes, baby…cock always feels s’good. You always feel so good baby.” Your words are breathy, your heels digging into his hips in an effort to keep him close to you. The blush that starts on iii’s neck and crawls up to his cheeks is bright. He lets out the quietest groan and leans down to slot his head in the crook of your neck.

It was rare for you to speak during the act. Whether it be from nervousness to actually speak the filthy thoughts, to not being able to force them out due to overwhelming pleasure, you usually settled for head nods and moans of approval. You had little idea that your words could cause a reaction like that from him.

It’s startling when he flips the two of you, rolling under you and straightening you atop his lap. You let out a small laugh at his swiftness and lean down to press a kiss to his mouth. His cheeks are still a pretty shade of pink and he’s slightly sweatier than normal, stray hairs sticking to his forehead. “I fuckin love hearing you talk like that…wanna hear more, please.” The way his eyes rake over your body make you feel like the most desirable thing to ever exist.

You give him a sheepish smile and circle your hips. Your eyes shut tight, because he somehow feels ever better in this position. A long hum leaves you and your hands land on his chest. It’s good leverage to lift your hips off him and sink down again. “So, so good to me. I love my good boy.” The praise you give him is not one you’ve ever given, but feels the most natural, leaving your mouth with little thought. The loud half chuckle, half moan he lets out might be the hottest noise you’ve ever heard from him. He huffs and digs the tips of his fingers into your hips. “Yeah, I’m your good boy. Fuck…yes.” His hand cups the side of your face, coaxing you down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fingers tentatively trace the base of his throat before wrapping around and gently squeezing. The need to hold on to something was strong.

Another moan from him floods into your mouth and you need to pull away, wanting to watch his face. Watch him make those noises. His eyes are glazed over as he looks up at you, pupils blown wide. His mouth hangs open slightly and his chest heaves. He strains his neck slightly. You squeeze your hand again, a little tighter this time and he eagerly nods up at you, squeezing your hips tight with a high pitched whine.

Oh.

You could definitely have some fun with this.

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YALL IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN GONE

BUT I had so much fun writing this 🫢 thank you once again anon!!!

More to come!

K. Bye bye.

[evercelle]

hi ever!! ive been following your blog since early 2021 i think (im bad with time so bare with me here) but i just wanted to say your art is Incredible. the composition, color choices, lineart and shading always blow me away. did you go to college or any art schools or are you entirely self taught?

and another question; are you moving on from xiaoven, or do you ever plan to? your xiaoven work is my favourite <3

tysm for sharing your work with us!! best of luck ^_^

i'm self taught! if u draw literal hundreds of pictures of your favorite blorbo over seven years you will definitely improve in all of those things...!!

i'm returning to xiaoven, actually... lol some friends and i are currently organizing an xvx fan event right now!! we're still working on the back end stuff, but we'll be posting event info in the next couple weeks. i hope lots of people will participate, either to visit or to also exhibit their xvx works! if hyv won't give us any new venti or xiao crumbs we will, in the time honored tradition of xiaoven fans, simply make it ourselves <3

(and thank you! i know i haven't been posting much... but i promise i've been busy :'))

[whumpofalltime]

friends, enemies, lurkers, we've made it to the

Whump Of All Time Finals!

What's the whumpiest whump of all time? Help us decide!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter! Make sure you click through to the main blog to find the run-off poll to crown third place, as well!

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc."

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[fairuzfan]

im sure you probably get asked this a lot, but i have no idea what the whole deal with israel and palestine is

the only thing ive heard is from someone i overheard next to me in a lecture that palestine terrorists attacked israel or something but im starting to think im missing a lot of important context with that

Hi, thanks for sending this in. I've had this in my inbox for a while now because I feel like I didn't know where to start. There is this new crash course online that educates about history and information regarding Palestine's colonization and the history leading up to October 7th, 2023. I recommend taking a look at this resource first:

Generally, a quick rundown is that on October 7th, a group of resistance fighters launched a coordinates attack on the state of Israel and took some hostages back to Gaza. They had done this specifically because Gaza was experiencing a critical point on the 20 year seige the Israeli state imposed on them — even before this they were struggling to find clean water and their economy was severely damaged since their imports were calculated by the calorie by Israel. So they were starved and malnourished, many people with medical issues were not granted access to seek help outside of Gaza if they needed specialized care.

In 2018, Gazans had launched the "Great March Of Return" where they marched en masse to the militarized fence separating Gaza and "Israel." This was, by all accounts, a peaceful protest, though the Israeli government responded with brutal force, killing children as small as 2 years old and elderly people as old as about 80 years old.

This had gone on for a while in 2018, after every Friday prayer, and hundreds died. Even if they were not killed, a large number of them were critically wounded. There are many Palestinians disabled from bullet wounds, and the Israeli government purposefully does not allow them to seek treatment if they require it.

This, coupled with the estimation that Gaza would be absolutely unlivable in a couple years, caused an armed resistance to break out, which is what you hear with the "terrorists" attacking Israeli settlements. Now the reports of who killed Israeli civilians is widely argued, with many claiming that Hamas (some of the resistance fighters) did not kill the majority of Israeli casualties, like in this account from a survivor in which they described that the majority of deaths from the kibbutz were because of Israeli indiscriminate firing:

I can't say I totally understand what is going on now with the resistance fighters, but I know that Israel has tried, and failed, a number of times to invade gaza, always getting fended off by the resistance.

Now, gazans are suffering collective punishment where they are bombed indiscriminately in residential areas, hospitals, and schools, all under the excuse that there are "Hamas tunnels" they wish to destroy that lie under Gaza. They provide no evidence of this — they just claim it and drop the bombs. About 10,000 Palestinians have died from the bombing, many of them in pieces, about half of them children. They are also suffering an unprecedented siege where absolutely NO water, fuel, or food is allowed in Gaza (except for like 20 trucks one time) since October 7th. Gazans are reported to have completely run out of clean water. A vast majority of them are showing symptoms from drinking dirty water like vomiting and diarrhea. The water in Gaza does not work, so they are suffering from sanitation issues that will no doubt make the spread of disease proliferate.

I can go on about the issues the Gazans face, but you can scroll through my blog to learn more. Right now Gaza is suffering a humanitarian crisis and genocide. Palestinians in the west Bank are getting arrested en masse, tortured and humiliated by Israeli police and settlers. They are also getting shot randomly. Right now is the collective effort to completely erase Palestinians off the face of the earth, led by Israel and the United States, all for their own selfish interests.

Check out some posts here as well:

Please let me know if you have any questions about anything. Feel free to dm.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Okay so maybe this it too dark, but I’m taking a chance because your inbox said “disgusting or dark themes” lmao. Imagine Dick goes through with the paralyzing of his darling, and it’s successful, but something goes wrong during one of his patrols, and he gets knocked out/kidnapped or other. Now Darling is there in the apartment all by herself, with no way to move or care for herself. I imagine she’d be incredibly sick if enough time passed, like near death if she’d been allowed to just sit there for a few days or more. What would dicks reaction be once he finally made it back to her and saw her in that state? Would it be enough for him to admit what he’s doing is wrong, or would he rationalize it away?

Love your work btw!! 💗 you keep us fed!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇…

!!! GN reader, paralyzed reader, drugging, starvation, dehydration, brief blood mention (extremely non-graphic), emaciation, near death experience, brief mention of poor hygiene, feeding tube, infantilizing.

(I know this ask uses she/her pronouns, but I thought it was better to keep this consistent with the other immobilization asks, so I used the same gender neutral reader.)

(Also, how dare you think this is too dark for this blog. I eat this shit up, MM-MM-MMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

I’ve actually wondered about this before. If you’ve seen my previous asks, then you know that yandere Dick Grayson is still all in with the hero game. This already has an impact on his ability to care for you, as he sometimes comes home later than he’d want to, so it’s only natural that something like this would happen.

I can see him having to leave for a Nightwing emergency around noon-ish. You’re left sitting upright in his bed, head lulling to one side with your hands delicately poised in your lap like a porcelain doll. Now, whether you imagine him paralyzing just your legs or your arms as well, I think it’s safe to say he’d still keep you on a drug that immobilizes as a precaution, so the only movement you can manage is your eyes. With any luck, he wraps up whatever he needs to quickly and he brings you back to the living room where you can at least watch TV. You can only sit alone with your thoughts for so long before you become just as fucking insane as your captive has…

Noon turns into evening. Evening turns into night. Your stomach bubbles uncomfortably from the lack of dinner, making it difficult to fall asleep. Still no signs of Dick when you finally manage to drift off, and when you wake up the next morning, your mouth feels like sand paper. A loud gurgle emits from your stomach, your groggy mind filled with prayers that Dick got home last night and is currently preparing your breakfast in the kitchen, but those holes slowly diminish as the hours tick by, the pain in your stomach becoming almost unbearable.

From the corner of your eye, you can see your IV drip practically empty. This confirms the unfortunate reality that Dick has yet to return; otherwise, he’d take the needle out of your arm, or at the very least, replaced the bag. You’re still unable to move with the drug still in your blood stream, but as soon as it wears off, you plan to use the limited control you have over your body to at least try and inchworm your way out of here… or even just to the kitchen.

By the time you approach the 24-hour mark of Dick’s sudden departure, you feel like you’re agonizingly rotting away. Dehydration is making your mind fuzzy, but before you’re granted the release of passing out, starvation sharply pulls your consciousness back in. This a persistent cycle that taunts you through the day, midnight providing a small reprieve as your mind finally shuts down before the torture begins again in the morning.

The drug has long left your system, allowing you to try and generate some moisture in your mouth. You viscously gnaw at the inside of your cheeks, swallowing the chunks of skin you manage to tear off and almost crying in relief when you’re blessed with the flavor of blood. It’s not much, as you doubt you can survive off this alone, but it would tide you over long enough until Dick showed up, right?

… He’s on his way home… right?

It’s been 3 whole days. You’re fighting a losing battle between a mouth filled with sand and a stomach trying to digest itself. Through your bleary vision, you can vaguely make out the outline of bones in your arms, the twist of the radius and ulna prominently bulging through your skin. Drifting between two planes of consciousness, you tried to focus on anything other than your eminent demise, like memories before this never-ending hell or the smell of your own horrendous odor.

This is it. This is how you die. If you didn’t feel like your brain was slowly turning into mud, you might’ve been more afraid. But fortunately for you, death seemed to be kind enough to numb your thoughts entirely, allowing you to pass on with serenity rather than terror. This may have been the most merciful thing the universe has been towards you in the past several months. After weeks of being a captive in your own body, you’re finally being relieved of this nightmare…

… But, of course, you should’ve known you would never be granted the privilege of pity.

Dick is greeted with the horrifying sight of you on death’s doorstep by the time he stumbles into his room. After making sure you’re still alive — and almost sobbing from relief when he feels a feint pulse — he quickly prepares an IV bag of actual sustainable fluids to replace the empty one filled with just the drug. Hopefully, it would be enough to stabilize your electrolyte levels until he can put you on a feeding tube.

Now, remember that Dick isn’t an idiot; he does his research before doing any sort of medical procedure on you, and it helps that he already has some preexisting knowledge thanks to his field of work. But, again, since he isn’t an idiot, he knows that there’s only so much he can do as one guy, and a condition like this requires a team of professionals who can monitor your vitals and nutrient levels. There’s a chance he may actually take you to Gotham, either to Leslie’s Thompkin’s clinic or even the Batcave depending on what’s closer. I think it’s possible that Leslie and/or Bruce are already aware of your paralysis, albeit not the true story behind it. Dick wouldn’t have to explain himself much other than the reason he couldn’t take care of you for the past couple of days.

However, after you’re fully stabilized, it would only be a matter of time before someone talks to Dick about what’s good for you. Having your only caretaker be a vigilante who can’t always be there for you is a huge risk to your safety. Leslie, and/or Bruce would try to convince him to move you into the manor, where Alfred could keep an eye on you, but Dick would only be enraged at the suggestion. He almost just lost you, and now they want to take you away from him?! He’s the only one who can take care of you because he knows what’s good for you!!

(The cracks in Dick’s carefully crafted façade are showing… Leslie and/or Bruce can only hope this is just him being overwhelmed from all that’s happened.)

Anyways. One way or another, you find yourself waking up to the familiar sight of Dick’s ceiling. The stinging sensation of a feeding tube irritates your nostril, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a steamroller. Dick immediately takes to your side the moment he realizes you’re awake, desperately clutching your hand (which you can’t feel, cuz… y’know… paralysis) as he sobs into the bony crook of your neck. He’s practically in hysterics; the way he gasps for air between agonizing wails makes you distantly worry he’s gonna pass out on your weak form.

So, what would be Dick’s takeaway from this? Does he finally recognize how fucked up it is to paralyze someone so he can take care of them easier? Well… no. Not at all. In fact, as soon as he’s allowed himself to grieve over the fact you almost fucking died, he realizes that this is actually perfect for him. You’re in a critical state and he needs to nurse you back to health? He absolutely adores coddling you to the extreme, so this is like living the dream. Really, the only thing he regrets is not putting you on a more sustainable drug before he left (though it’s not like he could foresee his initial Nightwing emergency going south like that. But it’s okay, cuz now he knows to take precautions!!).

Your recovery would take months, but things return to normal very quickly… much to your anguish.

[randomfoggytiger]

Forever amazed by the amount of content you have created for the fandom in what feels like such a short amount of time! Thank you for helping keep this show alive!! What are the analyses/fics/lists that you are most proud of/pleased with that you've done?

Thank you! That compliment means the world. :DDDD

Couldn't pick one, but tried to keep things simple.

FIC LISTS

One doesn't stand apart from the rest, but Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part I)-- and Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part II) and Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part III) and Fics that Deserve More Comments (Part IV)-- is my favorite conceit.

FICS

I'll never forget the outpouring of love for my first fic Son of Egypt, so that is definitely on the list. Runner up is "The Dead Are Everywhere, Scully"; but I'm unutterably proud of both.

I also treasure all of my Fictober Wrap Up and Eight Nights of Mulder Master List fics (except the last one for 8NoM.)

Chariots of Fire  makes me chuckle.

The Bill Scully POV fics were a way to flex the nuances of his character. (They can be found through the Bill Scully POV tag.)

Fics outta my comfort zone that I'm proud of: "Kids Today, Huh?", The Hospital Where You Slept, and "I Know You. It’s What I Do."

META

I'm most proud of All IVF Roads Lead Away from The Unnatural and to Millennium, Fire and False Romance, Ice and Love, and How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug because they got the most traction.

In love with? Today: 1. "Proving" Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby, 2. Scully Is the Conduit Conductor and Mulder Is the Dancer, 3. Mulder Is a Brooder; and Scully Is His Concluder, 4. One Son: An Intense, One-Shot Analysis of “You’re Making This Personal”, 5. Never Again: An Intensive Essay and 6. The Mulder Family In-Depth. Also: anything Season 8 or Arcadia.

XF MUSICALS/FANVIDS

These are my passion projects, I admit.

TINH: Scully’s Solo, S2 Abduction: Mulder’s Torment, Drivin’ Right Along, CSM and Diana: The Riddle, and Milagro: Hellfire have my heart.

Others that make me equally proud: 1. Syzygy: Everything You Can Do I Can Do Better, 2. Mulder and Samantha: Miracle of Miracles, 3. Amor Fati: If I Never Knew You, 4. The Mulders: Sunrise, Sunset, 5. Monday: There’s Always Tomorrow, and 6. Memento Mori: I Bring You a Song.

PERSONALITY TYPING

I'm super, duper proud of MULDER, The Spooky INTP and SCULLY, The Enigmatic ISTJ (which I then applied to Mulder and Scully: Love and Touch for INTPs/ISTJs, and an analysis of One Son-- Part I and Part II-- and Never Again.)

OFF-SHOOTS

My "live-blog" reacts to Return to Me (from the POV of Someone Averse to RomComs) and IWTB (Losing My Mind) crack me up.

Did a few Personality Typing posts for Hank Moody and other movies (Return to Me, Bringing Up Baby, and What Happens Later.)

Lastly, David Duchovny’s Face: an Aesthetics Study got me hooked on exploring fashion-- Seasonal Color analysis, body types, essences, etc.-- through the lens of David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. (You can find those posts through the randomfashiontiger tag.)

CONCLUSION

Thank you for making me feel special this weekend~. :))))))

[galedekarios]

idk if u posted anything about this before but im really curious what you think about an elf tav with gale.

specifically, what ive been rotation in my mind is what romanced gale says if you use speak with dead on him: that he'll be waiting for you.

but what about an elf tav who still has centuries left to live, who expresses their worry that long after gale's death, whenever that may be, they might find someone to love just as much as they love gale now? would he still wait for them? would it instead motivate him even more to ascend to godhood? would he search for a different method to become immortal/ extend his life span in his good ending so they could grow old together? or would he tell tav that they deserve to live life to the fullest and find love again? and if so would he actually mean it?

i can't really tell what would be more in character for him towards the end of the game so here i am asking you, dear gale expert :)))

thank you for your message, anon. <3

i haven't talked about it on my blog yet, no, but i have thought a lot about it since my main oc altonaufein is a drow, who could live to be several centuries old.

i think what's important to keep in mind with gale is that while he may be human - humans, who of course have a general life expectancy that's considerably less than a drow's might be - he is also a wizard and a powerful one at that. he was an archwizard.

not only are there several spells that extend life in the dnd universe (clone, for instance), but there also endings in which gale regains mystra's favour by returning the crown, either as her chosen, or as someone who carries her blessing.

that status too is something that would extend his lifespan to far longer than what a normal human's lifespan is.

i think we have a good example of that in the game itself with elminster, also a human, who the game tells us is 1300 years old at the time we meet him in the game.

so i'm happy to say that lifespan angst is something that doesn't necessarily need to be an issue with gale and a drow or elf protag, and i think it's likely something that gale would do.

(sort of related: in a conversation with elminster (act ii when he delivers mystra's instructions), there's a devnote saying that gale doesn't expect to grow quite as old as elminster, and the only reason for that is the dangerous life he leads right now. so i do think if the danger had passed, it might be a different topic.)

however, if you are asking me on the principle of the thing if gale would mean it if he said that it's alright for the protag to move on if there was an extreme lifespan disparity with no way to overcome it, my answer would always be yes.

gale never once holds it against the protag in any shape, way or form if they have turned him down respectfully and found a new love, even within the timespan of the events of the game. that is even further reiterated by the devnotes to these specific lines you get from him in this case, which are variations of "sincere/heartfelt/happy for you/etc."

the same wish is reflected in the variations of his epilogues in which he dies. gale's spectre, his letters, all tell the protag one thing: that he wants them to be happy.

also while gale is romantic, he's also pragmatic. if there truly was no way to overcome this, he wouldn't want the protag to grieve for him for centuries/never move on.

so yes. he would mean it.

but like i said, thankfully, the lifespan issue isn't really an issue in this case.