#and it ends up just being. exhausting. anyway

[chellestrash]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: seeking comfort and company you end up at joel's door warnings: none. word count: 3.1k a/n: i think this is the first thing i wrote this year…so, the quality might not fully be there but i really needed to wite something with Joel. This is just a little one shot that maybe will help someone who needs it

“Hey”

You mumble quietly when the heavy, wooden door to Joel’s big farm house on the outskirts of Jackson opens in front of you. The man leans on the door frame, head slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together in a slightly confused expression as he looks you up and down quickly, attempting to guess the purpose of your unannounced visit.

“Hey”

His deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body as you stare at each other for another moment. He continues when you don't pick up the conversation like he expected you to do.

“Didn't know you were coming.”

You nod silently as a response.

“Yeah, I...wasn't planning to, just sorta…”

You shrug, not sure how to explain the extremely deep need for his company you feel at this very moment, to the same middle-aged man standing right in front of you.

“...happened.”

Joel nods this time, sniffling quickly as he looks around the front yard. The cool winter breeze hits you both, uncomfortably cutting through your already exhausted body so intently you'd swear you can feel it going through your bones.

“Come on.”

He nods toward the inside of the house, inviting you in before you can say anything else. Without hesitation, you step into the hallway and glance back as he shuts the front door closed behind you.

“So you just happened to be on the other side of Jackson in the middle of a night? In November. Winter.”

Joel stands behind you, arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes not leaving you even for a moment as you take off your boots, scarf and the thick winter jacket he managed to find for you in one of his supply trips with Tommy a couple of years ago.

You sigh quietly, eyeing him up and down, once again going over how you could try to possibly explain the overwhelming anxiety in your head to Joel Miller.

“I don't know, Joel, I just… I needed to be here?”

That's the best you can do. The best way to put whatever the hell has been happening inside your body lately to him and maybe to yourself as well at this moment.

“Alright.”

He speaks quietly; it's almost a whisper, but loud enough so you can hear him. His body relaxes once he realizes it's not an emergency. No one is dead, no one lost a limb, there's not a hole in the wall somewhere for the runners to get through, everyone is safe, you are safe.

“You want to sit here for a bit?”

He continues, walking over to get your coat before he hangs it up above the heater. The warm air inside his house hugs your body like a thick blanket. Joel was used to rough conditions. He spent most of the years after the outbreak on his own or in smaller groups, sleeping in abandoned buildings, often outside the safe zones or somewhere out in nature. After all that, there was no way in hell he would refuse the luxury of a lit fireplace and a warm house, now that he has settled in Jackson.

“Don't really have much to offer you, though, coffee?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, watching him quickly tidying up the space around you: kicking his shoes closer to the wall, picking up the one glove that fell on the floor probably hours earlier, or straightening up the coat on one of the hangers.

“Joel, it's almost ten now.”

He frowns, glancing at the big, wooden clock by the stairs before turning back to you.

“And?”

You shake your head, scoffing with a quiet chuckle, and he hums softly, amused with the results of his attempt to cheer you up slightly.

“Well, was gonna get myself a cup anyway.”

He gestures toward the kitchen, and you think over the offer again.

“Alright, but a small one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods again, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, before making his way over to the other room.

Being left alone now, you shut your eyes and attempt to take a deep breath in, doing your best to calm your body down. It is shallow and short, it won't help, and you know it. However, you still try to push this overwhelming feeling away. You try to focus on the things around you, redirecting your attention to something outside your panicked brain. It's just this heavy, tightening feeling in the center of your chest or deep down in your stomach. You can't shake it. You can't make it go away this time, no matter how hard you try. That's why you came here in the first place. That's why you walked almost the whole length of Jackson at his hour and on your own. That's why you sought him. That's why the only thought on your mind with every step you took was, “please be home.”

“Hey.”

You shake your head, blinking a couple of times before it comes to you.

“Oh, shit sorry.”

Reaching out slowly, you wrap your fingers around the ear of the cup and smile softly as a thank you, the smile never reaching your tired eyes.

“Thank you.”

You mumble, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah.”

He starts, his eyebrow raised slightly as he does his best to estimate the situation. He knows something's off, you're acting different, you're quiet, and your demeanor is different, almost as if...muffled for some reason.

The silence is long, longer than you would've liked, you know he can tell something's off, you know you're not doing the best job at holding it all together and as your brain continues to fight itself on the matter of whether you'd prefer to tell him everything or that he wouldn't know anything was wrong you do yourself a favor and open your mouth to the first thing that comes into your head.

“You ever get that new rifle?”

His eyes widen slightly at the question, like he wasn't expecting it; he wasn't. But it was the only thing you could think about that could save you from attempting to most likely over-explain whatever the hell was happening to your body and mind on this godforsaken day.

“The one from Jimmy?”

He gives in, and you sigh, relived.

“Yeah, the one you were supposed to carve the handle for?”

He shuts his eyes with a soft nod and a quiet hum.

“Mhm.”

You glance up the stairs, towards the bedroom where you saw he keeps his guns, and he turns to follow your gaze.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

He gestures to the stairs, letting you pass by and walk in front of him. You don't say much more for a bit, somehow there's this silent understanding between both of you, he somehow understands the situation, without fully knowing it. That's why he's not asking, he's not drilling into you like some people would, he does not want to force the answers out of you. What he knows is that you needed to be here, and that is enough.

Stepping into the bedroom, you smile softly to yourself as your eyes scan the familiar space. It's comforting, it's safe, you know it. The half-made bed takes up almost half of the room, the grand painting of wild horses resting above the wooden headboard. He finally hung it up.

Joel walks past you, it feels natural now for you to occupy this space, it is almost as if he feels comfortable with you being there, more than when he's alone. After setting his cup down on the nightstand closer to you, Joel makes his way over to the big closet door.

“Didn't get the chance to clean it yet.”

He explains, reaching for the rifle through the hanging clothes as you sit at the edge of the bed, your back turned to him, waiting to see the weapon.

“Here.”

He holds the barrel towards himself and away from you as he hands you the rifle over your shoulder.

“Holy shit, Joel.”

You exclaim, setting down your cup next to him before taking the weapon in your hand. Your thumb runs over the detailed carving on the light wood. The mountain and trees with a deer bust chiseled carefully into the rings of the wood.

“She's beautiful.”

“Yeah, you think?”

The man asks, sitting down next to you with a loud grunt.

“Yeah, look at it, goddamn it, that must've taken weeks.”

“Eh,”

He shrugs, showing how much he disagrees with your statement.

“Took more patience than time.”

He explains as you drag your fingers over the handle, astonished by the details he managed to transfer into the rough material.

“Still needs some work, and care…she's in a rough shape.”

“Yeah…”

You listen to him explain the process to you and you let him talk. It's not like you haven't seen him working on different commissions before. But you want it, you need it, his voice so comforting, you wish it could be the background noise for your life as you go about your days.

After carefully resting the gun against the wall, you admire it for another moment. Your thoughts wander as you realize how aware your body has become of Joel’s presence so close to you. You can smell his scent so vividly now, you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the touch you long for so strongly.

“Yeah…gotta clean the metal, you know, don't want it rustin. The wood needs some oil too, maybe some stain so it'll look properly and not like every other-”

He doesn't get to finish the sentence, cut off by your lips crashing against his the second you turn back in his direction. Your hands fly up to his face and you hold him right there, so close to you now. He lets you lead, his eyes shut, his lips following yours as he grunts loudly into the kiss. The soft scent of his body surrounds you when he leans forward and draws closer to you. Quickly raising his hand, he rests his palm against the back of your head, pulling you even deeper into the kiss.

You pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his while you catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his old jeans.

Joel follows your gaze, wrapping his fingers around your wrist almost immediately. There are no words shared between you, but you look up into his eyes, panting after the prolonged kiss. You take a few short breaths before he lets go of your hand.

Not taking his eyes off of you, and without a single word, Joel takes the lead now. Leaning back against the wooden headboard of his massive bed, he guides you closer to him, pulling on your wrist gently to suggest you follow. And you do. Turing to face him before throwing your knee over his legs, you let him hold onto your hips. His big, working hands resting on both sides of your lower body now, his eyes scanning your face for any clue of what this whole thing meant. It's been a while since you two slept with each other. It was never anything exclusive, never really anything to make a big deal about; however, to be completely honest, it was never entirely casual either. Relationships got a bit complicated for some people after the outbreak. And for people like Joel? They always were.

“You sure you want-”

He starts, but you muffle the words, quickly pressing your hand to his lips.

“Don't.”

The whisper slips past your lips, and you drop your hand, now slowly leaning down and closer to him. There is not a single thought in your head beside that you need this, you need comfort, you need his touch; you need his body against yours. You need him. Joel watches as you move in closer and closer, his eyes glancing down at your lips occasionally, his hands passively resting at your sides. There is no push, no lead from him anymore, you have the floor, and he wants this to be how you want it or how you're convinced you want it.

Now more hesitant, you stop. Your lips almost brushing against his, your chest resting on top of him, your body rising and falling gently with his every breath.

Once again, the choice is yours. With your gaze dropping, you focus on his lips again.

Shutting your eyes quickly, you lean into him, searching for the comfort in the desperate act of intimacy. It feels different from before, when you used to see each other more regularly. Your body, despite the familiar setting, feels tense, as does his. The anxiety not leaving your chest even for a moment, despite how hard you try to get rid of the feeling. But you want this, you need this, the closure, the distraction, the company.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, and his hand moves from the side of your hips to your lower back, his lips never following yours.

You know he can feel it too, you know you can't hide it, not from Joel, he knows you too well. There is no give in the kiss, his body does not respond to you, it is as if he wants you alone to realize what he already knows.

You move away, breaking the kiss as you pull back quickly. There's a moment of silence when you both stare at each other, not sure what the reaction will be for the other person, not sure what is meant to happen now. The stinging sensation behind your eyes grows stronger as you feel your chest tightening, your chin trembles, and your lips part. A shaky inhale gives away the current state of your mind and there's nothing you can do to try to hide it now.

He doesn't say a word—there's no question, no confronting, no confusion or frustration. Once the tears flow to your eyes, and you turn away, shutting them in a desperate attempt to stop this, he finally speaks.

“It's okay, you're okay.”

His quiet, gentle voice is enough for you to crumble this time.

You sob loudly, covering your face with the palms of your hands. You allow Joel to pull you down and onto his chest, where you bury your face into the fabric of his shirt. Curling up into a ball, you let your body tense up on top of him. You let yourself feel the anxiety within the tension, feel everything, for the first time in so long you can't remember it properly. With tears streaming down your face, you rest on top of Joel. Your head pulled into your shoulder, your legs pressed against his chest, his hand resting firmly on your back. He adds to the pressure, feeling your body shaking with the sobs. The overwhelming need to let all the built-up tension out doesn't allow you to really think through what you're doing. It just happens and you can't stop it, not this time.

Joel shuts his eyes at your shaky inhale, rubbing his big hand over your back in an attempt to comfort you slightly. He’s not really sure what to, he has never really been great at this. Vulnerability, or the desperation of the display of emotions, was never something he was in tune with. It was definitely better if the emotions on display weren't his, it helped that he didn't have to think about himself. Worrying about others is always easier than worrying about yourself. Still, he always felt inadequate to provide any sort of comfort.

With shaking shoulders, trembling chest and cheeks wet from the tears, you clutch onto the fabric of his dark navy blue shirt when the tension becomes too overbearing to handle. He wraps his arms tight around your body. Your chest and throat hurt as you unsuccessfully attempt to calm yourself down, choking on your own tears.

“Shh, shh, I have you. I have you, babygirl.”

His gentle words make you lose whatever composure was somehow left within your body, and as your tears drip onto the fabric of his shirt, Joel moves his hand from your back up to the back of your head. Pressing a gentle kiss against the side of your head, he holds onto you like this for a moment before brushing his palm over your hair. He continues the movement from that point on, the slow, repeating sensation bringing you the desperately needed comfort. It takes a while for the feelings that turned out too strong for you to handle to slowly wither away. A long moment somehow stretched out in this otherwise calm, ordinary night in the small city of Jackson. The lights illuminating the main streets dim behind the window of Joel's bedroom when you finally feel like no tears remain behind your eyes anymore. With a loud sniffle, you snuggle your face into his chest, still curled up into a ball but now, attempting some deep breaths to calm yourself down. The pounding of your heart slowly softens deep within your chest.

Joel rubs his fingers against your arm slowly, gently moving his hand up and down against your skin. Your body so exhausted now, finding comfort within the gentle touch of this, some people would say, violent man's hands.

No words are spoken as you reach up, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck. Another quiet sniffle as you pull yourself up on his chest slightly. With your face hidden in the crook of his neck, hidden from the world, finally provided with the comfort you've longed for weeks now, you let out a deep sigh. Joel feels your body relax in his arms, feels the tension fleeing from your limbs, your chest, and lungs as you slack on top of his body.

Holding onto you, he adjusts his position slightly, his hands gently rubbing over the back of your neck and down your shoulders.

Shifting gently with the movements of his chest, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Your body, your insides, your brain are all exhausted from the loss of control over yourself. Tilting your head up slightly, you glance up at Joel. There's a second when you both stare into each other's eyes before he looks away, leaning down as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some rest.”

He mumbles, the sound of the words rumbling in his chest. And with those words, hidden in his arms, with his heart beating gently against yours, for the first time in weeks you feel at peace, you feel safe, you feel at home.

[stqrryeyez]

Manicure

pairing: Captain John Price x gen!Reader warnings: nothing!! just fluff and possibly ooc Price(?). I haven't written anything in two years, so this has a high possibility of being awfullll synopsis: taking care of your husband by painting his nails. 1.3k words.

“I would sweetheart, but you know I can't.” he states. Which was fair. You understood it was a shot in the dark question, just a sliver of hope that he’d agree. You’d expected this response anyway, not that Price’s masculinity was that fragile - far from. Painted nails just wouldn’t suit his line of work and wouldn't suit his general aesthetic.

You dropped the whole conversation, forgetting about it until the next time you got around to painting your own nails. Clear polish. It wouldn’t violate any of his dress codes or interrupt his image, but he still got that little bit of time to relax and get taken care of, rather than just him taking care of you, on top of all the paperwork he had stacked up on his desk. You wanted to treat him, take his mind off his seemingly unending workload for a while. 

 It was just past 10PM when you had caught him, the sun now firmly set and the moonlight glimmering through the still open blinds of his office, the only other light illuminating the room was the Scheele’s green banker’s lamp at the corner of his desk. The amber light highlighted the dark circles he was sporting, his head resting in one hand whilst he scribbled away at the pages with the other. He was glaringly obviously overworking himself, to the point of exhaustion. You couldn't help but feel sympathetic for him, witnessing the state he was in was heartbreaking.

 “John?” 

“Yes, love?” he replies, moving his head to look at you, quickly wiping the tiredness out of his left eye, his gaze holding admiration and pure love for you. 

 “How long are you going to be? I have something I think you might like.” you question, not wanting to disturb him too much, but in the same breath, hoping he was nearly done so that you could finally spend some time with him, take care of him for once.

 “Give me fifteen minutes sweetheart, then ‘m all yours for the rest of the night.” 

 Within the fifteen-minute wait (which only ended up being ten due to your husband’s impatience), you settled on the sofa, the little bottle of nail polish on the side table, yours and John’s favourite tv show on in the background, focusing on that until he was done.

 At his call of “Love?”, you patter back into his office, carrying a nail file and the little bottle of clear polish, just hoping he’d agree this time. You hid the items behind your back, sitting down in the seat on the opposite side of the sturdy, walnut desk he slaved hours of his life away over.

 “So, I know you said you didn’t want me to paint your nails because of work, but I have an idea if you’ll hear me out.” you offer, waiting for his response.

 “Go on…” He adjusted himself in his seat, encouraging you to continue, indicating that he might not be against the idea, just that he needed to know what you were planning.

 “Found this whilst I was cleaning the other day,” you say, taking out the nail polish and showing him, putting it on the desk for him to inspect. “Clear polish. Doesn’t affect your style or your job, and it tastes like shit so you might be able to stop biting your nails so often.” You knew he had a nasty habit of doing that when he was anxious, so to be able to minimise that would benefit him greatly.

 John studies the bottle for a little longer, holding it up towards the light, his brow furrowed in that way he always did when he was thinking. He nods subtly, handing the bottle back to you approvingly and holding his hands out palms down, not saying a word.

 “You want to talk about what’s vexing you?” you ask, angling the light over his hands so you could get the best view of what you were doing. As he lets out a heavy sigh, he begins to talk about work, something about “Laswell’s got me workin’ around the clock.”, and “So much fuckin’ training next week, there’s a mission being sorted in Afghanistan with Sheperd, so need to be prepped for that.”

Nodding along with his drawl, putting some words of advice in when you felt was necessary, you filed his nails down to a uniform length, making sure they all matched each other, smoothing out the nail beds, eliminating the top layer of his nail so the polish would stay on for longer. 

His calloused hands in yours were heavy, grounding, solid, yet his touch was feather-light, gentle, silk. Eventually, the conversation petered off into silence, the sound of both your breaths encapsulating your hearing, the steady rise and fall of his chest just in your eyeline as you opened the bottle of polish and began to coat his nails with the liquid.

You start from his left pinky, his hands curled perfectly around your own, easily manipulated by your touch, silent commands you mutually understood. Half-lidded brown eyes struggle to stay open when you look back up at his face, cleaning a little excess polish that spilled over onto the lateral nail fold of his fingers with your thumb. His cerulean irises latched onto yours, the adoration in his eyes evident in the way he looked at you.

Focusing back on his hands, you complete the final swatch on the right pinky, recapping the bottle, then hooking his fingers over your hands, blowing gently on the polish to dry them quicker. “Fifteen minutes and they’ll be fully dry. Sofa?” you ask, wanting to move out of his office to somewhere a little more comfortable, get the man out his space and into yours at least once today. Watching him nod softly, you arise from your chair, opening the door for John. 

“Ladies first,” you giggle, making your husband laugh, the rumble from deep within his chest finally emerging. You hadn’t heard him laugh properly in days but it felt like it could've been a lifetime without. The sound of his laugh could have cured the worst of diseases just upon hearing, seeing the way his eyes got those little crow's feet round the corners and his top lip disappeared into his moustache made him look as if he was glowing, like he was radiating pure gold. 

Following him into the living room, you watch as he plops down onto the sofa, desperately trying not to smudge his nails on the fabric of the throw cushions. You place yourself down in his lap, his hands hovering awkwardly over your shoulders, your back against his chest. You take one of his hands in yours, blowing cold air gently on his nails to dry the polish faster, just wanting him to get comfortable. Whilst waiting, you put on the newest episode of the tv show the two of you were watching together, sinking your body into his. 

Finally, you feel his hands come to rest in your hair, trusting his judgement that his nails were dry, his nails running over your scalp. The constant, rhythmic motion of his hands circling your head were like a silent lullaby, restoring comfort that you hadn’t felt in months since he’d been away on missions. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep in his arms, the unfaltering rise and fall of his chest and the ever-present warmth of his body encapsulating yours working better than any sleeping pill ever would. 

However, just before the realm of slumber consumed you, you felt a light kiss to the crown of your skull and a hushed “Thank you, love,” in your ear.

[604to647]

Holidays in the 604

Hope everyone has been having a good holidays so far, however that looks for you or best suits your sensibilities 🥹🥰🫂🎄🎄

I started to write write some HCs for what the holidays might look like for the couples in a few of my series (Safest with You, The Rockford Portfolio, etc.) but for reasons below the cut, haven't had much energy or motivation to write (no need to read, it's a bit of a downer and kind of rambly!) - I'm hoping that I can find a little bit of both in the next few days and maybe get some thoughts down to still post.

For those same reasons, I haven't been on here much, to my detriment if I'm being honest - this place is a source of escapism for me and not being able to come on here for more than a few minutes a day has felt a bit offputting. I feel like I've missed a lot of amazing holiday stories that would have likely boosted my spirits a bit - I'll try to go back and find them but if you have or read any that you wish to recommend/share, please do let me know!

Similarly, thank you to everyone for your tags/mentions/asks - I want to get to them and maybe still participate in a few tag games if it's not too late when I muster up some energy. Thank you for thinking of me!! I truly wish that you all continue to have a lovely holiday season and look forward to ringing in the new year! You're all such a welcomed presence in my life and I'm grateful to each and every one of you for being here! Hope to see you soon 🥹 KISS KISS 😘😘

Ok, now as to why Emily has a bit of the holiday blues this year:

I didn't grow up with a lot of hard set Christmas traditions, celebrations around the end of the year didn't go much beyond the commercial and the holiday season was mainly appreciated for being time off (from school, work), a time to rest and relax. There was cheer and joy, but as the kids say these days, it wasn't that deep. I've since married into a family that puts A LOT of pressure on Christmas - with an emphasis on physical togetherness and adhering to traditions/customs, that (to me anyways) can feel at times more performative than enjoyable; I totally understand the comfort in doing things the way they've always been done, but a lot of times it feels like people are just checking things off a list rather than genuinely enjoying (for example) baking the Christmas cookies, you know what I mean? Couple that with my priorities for my kiddos' Christmas, the way we spend Christmas now can feel a lot like a season of obligation. Depending on what the particular plan is for that year, it can also be incredibly hard, draining, and not all that jolly for me.

This was one of those years.

I hosted the big Christmas dinner at my house and also had those from out of town staying with us for a week. I'm a Virgo who thinks of her home as her sanctuary, am a bit fastidious about her things, and sees value in being forthright. It's a lot for me to have people taking over my house, making messes, and pushing/crossing boundaries that I've tried to set due to previous visits, all while maintaining a certain level of holiday cheer and slapping on a facade of "it's fine" when I definitely don't feel that way. I'll admit I wasn't always successful this past week.

Mr. 604 is very supportive and knows his family can be a lot, but at the end of the day a) he's just a man 😂 (and not a miracle worker) and b) they are his family and he himself has had to "grin and bear" a great many things over the course of his life, so he has more practice at it but doesn't necessarily have any advice to impart on how to better cope with the chaos.

It makes me feel like a curmudgeon for not being able to suck it up more and pretend for the sake of the kids, or even to help maintain this performance of "family togetherness" that seems to be the whole point of whatever the heck everyone was doing. So this holiday season has thus far been exhausting, filled with guilt, and left me feeling a bit empty.

I am okay and recovering now, it will just take a few days I think. If you read this far - thank you! I just needed to rant a little bit - I don't feel much like myself these days and that in itself can be depressing, especially at a time when I'm supposed to be experiencing the opposite. Here's to some rest, some quiet, some peace in the last few days of 2024 for myself, Mr. 604, and anyone else who needs it! 🤞🏻🥰

[strawglicks]

People are already whining abt the flag on grahams plushie be for real 💀

[lotus-pear]

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[azaracyy]

a lesson on good karma digimon survive week 2024 day 4: supporting characters

[deoidesign]

.

[reikunrei]

feeling a little weird about this holiday season and i’m not really sure why

[bleue-flora]

i dont think tommy said the nuke wasnt canon, he seemed to be talking about how he canonically didnt lose a life to the nuke because in the 2022 ending, no nuke killed anyone

I guess?... I don't know. It doesn't really make sense since basically Jack is pretty insistent that he did blow everything up, and yet all the buildings remain, so... and the reasoning he gives for not dying in the nuke is that he can't die, which is part of his lore. Tommy doesn't really answer how he and Tubbo are alive, except to say that the nuke wasn't canon (presumably as in canon death is what he means) and he was left with 1 life when everyone left. In response to Jack's comment about not being able to actually die, Tommy responds "Not that either of us would know anything about that" but since he fought a monster in between his Tubbo comment and Jack's, he may have meant that as a response to his above statement about logistics... so if Jack blew everything up, but everything is still standing, then the most reasonable explanation is that the Incident did happen and eventually he gained his memories back and visits Techno's house from time to time... (which people said including anons in my inbox)

So people are wrong, it is not a retcon but an extension, the end of season 2, whatever that was... even so what's funny is that innitors are more happy with this ending versus a restart even when it's down right depressing. Tommy is alone. He hasn't seen anyone besides Tubbo in a long time and lives very far away from the main dsmp area. But take it from me, the quiet is nice, living alone is nice, but being utterly alone is miserable. To live alone with no outside interaction besides one person is really sad to me, and the fact that the area is still so triggering for him is also a testament that he hasn't healed, and living alone won't heal him. Especially not when part of his trauma revolves around him feeling alone in Exile. So really, it's a very depressing ending. Tommy just wanted to have fun with his friends and in the end, he has no one but Tubbo and his sheep and a cabin in the arctic he stares at for hours. He didn't mend his relationships with people, even still bringing up Jack exploding his hotel after it's been years since then. He did literally move but he didn't heal, he didn't grow, he wasn't able to form better relationships or claim what he yearned for. And that to me is a sadder ending.

As as aside, I've talked about before how all the ghosts have sheep, so an interesting theory would be that he is actually a ghost haunting the land... have another au free of charge I guess lol... do we think the sheep is colored? maybe it's red...

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Some mild existential dread in the house today

[musashi]

.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Maybe you're more attracted to him now because of the kink. You saw him sick, and he saw you sick. Those wires might have crossed somewhere!

Ahskaksjkas you know what, maybe that is it lmaooo

[unhingedlesbear]

Hoghhh after a long month of defending the following characters from an entire discord server, I'm running back to here to say:

-I love Mark

-I also love Ashley

-I ADORE Emily

-I think Alex is okay

-I like Salim a lot

-I love Rachel

-I love Taylor

I am far less likely to get attacked here than there <3

[itspileofgoodthings]

I give my grad speech in a week, have been writing a million versions of what I want to say in my head all year, talked to my mom last night, boy did she separate the wheat from the chaff.

[echo-s-land]

It's insane how most of the time I don't get how ppl interact and I also Don't Fucking Care

[faaun]

something happened to me for like 2 weeks but we're so back