#camila writes

[lifebycamila]

the intimacy of the countryside

where things are peaceful. quiet.

when you wake up in the morning

and the sun has crept upon the horizon

when you haven't spoken to a single soul

the time in which you feel,

that you might be the only person in the world.

yet, you are feeling anything but lonely

for how can one be lonely?

when surrounded by so much life

feeling the soft wind on your cheeks

and dancing across the fields

because you left the windows opened last night.

stringing along the fallen petals

while carrying the sweet scent of wildflowers.

it is a simple kind of euphoria

but sometimes you need simple.

[findmeinthefallair]

Endless things to say about these two...

Luz means "light", while Hunter was named by Belos in accordance with witch hunters:

Their encounters with one another in Hunting Palismen and Hollow Mind would set future events in motion:

and also led up to Luz telling him "You're family now":

What happened in Thanks to Them reflects the Hollow Mind paintings shown below:

Belos took both of their lives, and we hear a contrast between Luz saying "I feel like I should be used to this by now, but...I still don't know what to say" and Hunter expressing the desires which he never dared to express in Belos's throne room, since the Titan had yet to pass the wisdom of choosing oneself to Luz:

They were pulled out of the water in which they were sinking, by the parent of their adoptive sibling (who also cared about them deeply):

The loved ones who revived them, passed them the last of their strength in order for these kids to have new life:

And King's dad asked Luz to choose whether she'd receive his life force which he offered, while Belos coercively violated Hunter to use his body like he would a puppet.

The things that Luz and Hunter went through, in parallel, underscore the clash between Belos who told endless lies about the Titan's will, and the Titan himself - King's father - who had very different plans for the Isles. Caught in between:

They were put through so much.

(The big comparison post I made before thinking of this analysis - it's just a picset and not a meta/analysis - is here: link)

[clovariia]

we can FINALLY post our pieces for the @tohgrimoire zine!!! i wrote a fic about luz and her family visiting her father's grave. it's a tragic but healing time for all of them.

thank you so much to @astrolavas for drawing the devastating spot art and the zine's writing mod @taruchinator for helping with beta reading!!! all the zine contributors and mods were so sweet and encouraging. i'm so grateful that i got to be a part of this project! thank you to everyone for all the support!!!!!! 🦉💕

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58919038

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

If you’re still taking prompts, how about Eda taking bets with the other Owl House parents on which kids will be proposing first?

"Willow," Darius said, like it should have been obvious. "Of course it'll be Willow."

"You're betting against our son?" Camila demanded, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Darius said.

Alador nodded. "Yeah, my money's on Willow," he said.

Camila threw her hands up. "Am I the only one who has any faith in him!?" Camila vs Hunter's sort-of-dad and sort-of-step-dad; it wasn't a battle of wills that Eda expected, but it was one she enjoyed watching.

"I agree," Perry said. "I'd say Willow."

Raine looked contemplative. They hummed, tapping a rhythm on the table, but didn't offer a side yet.

"Actually, I side with Camila," Lilith said slowly. She looked like she was thinking hard. Weighing the pros and cons would be Eda's bet. "Hunter is shyer than Willow, but he loves her dearly and he's brave. He can be very determined. I can see him proposing."

Darius and Alador exchanged dubious glances. Camila smiled smugly.

"Well, what about Luz and Amity?" Raine asked, tapping their chin.

"Luz," Camila and Eda said.

"Amity," Lilith said.

"Honestly, considering their track record, I expect them both to propose on the same day," Alador said with a shrug. "Or they'll try to anyway. Hopefully without Hooty's involvement this time."

"Is something wrong with Hootsifer?" Lilith demanded.

"You don't want me to answer that."

"Okay," Darius cut in quickly. "What about Gus and Matt?"

Perry snorted. "They'll need to actually date first," he said. "And my hair will be entirely grey by the time those boys sort themselves out. They're both painfully oblivious."

"Are they still calling it a rivalry?" Camila asked sympathetically.

"Unfortunately," Perry sighed.

Alador snorted into his apple blood. Eda gave him and Darius her most shit-eating grin.

"Yeah," Darius sighed. "We'll all be waiting a while on those two."

[nonbinarycollector]

Chapter 27: That Could Have Gone Worse There's an astronomy observation, and The Collector and Eda make some progress.

new reader? start here!

re-uploading the new chapter as i finally made a chapter cover :D

[writing-rat]

Car Troubles

Pairing: Camila Montes x Reader

Content warning: Car sex, semi-public sex, fingering, sex, G!P Camila, Scratching

Summary: Your car breaks down so you hire the local company when you realise you don't have enough cash

You sighed in anger. Your car had broken down again for the second time that week and you finally caved. You were going to take it to a mechanics. You only knew one close by and had heard good reviews so you gave it a chance. Calling Auto-Repair, a voice quickly picked up. “Hello, my name is Camila. How may I help you today?” the voicenasked, an obvious accent there. You admittedly got flustered at it but didn’t make it obvious, answering the girl.

��Hi. My car has broken down. I’m only 2 miles down the road,” you spoke, embarrassed at your predicament. “I’ll get my truck and tow you to my shop then,” the voice responded before it hung up. You sighed in relief before waiting for her, deciding to browse on your phone, a yawn slipping out of your mouth. 

That was when a big truck pulled up and a shorter girl walking out the car. “Alright, let’s get her towed up and then we can discuss prices, that ok?” the girl, Camila you assumed, asked. You nodded.

“Yep,” you spoke with a smile.

“Come. Join me in my truck,” she stated then walked away. You nodded before looking her up and down. She was wearing a pair of clearly old, blue jeans and an old top as well that was covered in oil. She was definitely working on cars as proven by that. Quickly following behind her, you watched as she had already hooked up your car while you admitted her. You hoped she didn’t notice you checking her out before you went into the passenger’s side. Relaxing, you let her drive and didn’t dare talk as a random Spanish song was playing. 

After 5 minutes you were at the shop. “Take a seat, I’ll be quick with your vehicle and give you an invoice quick. You are in no rush right?” she asked you. You shook your head.

“No. Was just going to get groceries but that can wait,” you spoke. She nodded and was quick to exit in the back. That’s when you realised you only brought enough money for groceries. You wondered how else you would pay and that made you nervous. How would you pay? Would she threaten you? You decided to not think about that at the time being as she went to work on your car. That’s when you went on your phone and just relaxed, listening to your favourite band.

An hour later, your shoulder was touched which caused you to jump. “Your car is ready, now we can talk payment,” the Latina spoke. You flushed red. “I um… only have enough for groceries,” you admitted, embarrassed. That’s when you saw a smirk appear on her face, making you embarrassed. You thought something was going to go wrong, until she shifted and sat down next to you. She seemed to be shuffling a lot however so you looked down… to be greeted with a dick straining against the jeans. “Why don’t you pay with your body?” she asked, humming. You blushed hard. “You do this to people often who don’t have money to pay?” you asked raising an eyebrow. Camila shook her head. “Nope, I give them an invoice usually. But you have caught my attention,” she admitted. You thought about it as you rubbed her thigh, leading to her dick. You noticed it twith as she gasped before you nodded.

“I always wanted to do it in a car,” you hummed out innocently enough. Camila was excited as she was nodding immediately then. “Yours or mine?” she asked. You just stood up and held her hand, leading her to your car. “I see,” she spoke as she was soon unlocking it. That’s when her confidence rise as she shoved you against the car gently enough to not hurt it before she was pressed up against you. “No one gets to dominate me,” she growled out. Whimpering, you nodded embarrassed as you felt her grind her bulge against your ass. “Now get in the car and be good,” she spoke. You immediately nodded, embarrassed as you let her dominate. You were in the back of your car, already stripping down as Camila joined after pulling her jeans down and pulling off her top revealing no bra. You gulped as you saw it, slowly getting more and more needy for the girl. Camila trailed her eyes up and down your body before she laid down on you and kissed you deep. 

Kissing back, you moaned when you felt her fingers rub at your clit, slowly making you wetter. You knew she was going to make you loose enough for her dick so you didn’t mind. You were a virgin after all. Slowly but surely she slowly entered entered a finger in, her thumb still rubbing your clit. Gasping and moaning, you threw your head back and closed your eyes due to pleasure as you opened your legs wider for her. Camila was seeing that as it was soon fully inside, just thrusting it in slowly but surely. She was being gentle as she was kissing your jaw down to your neck and was sucking gently. “Good girl,” she praised quietly as she was soon trying to enter a second one in. A whimper slipped out your mouth but she was kissing you after that to help distract… and it worked.

After a while she was done fingering you and was making sure you was loose enough for her. “Ready baby?” she asked. You nodded, eager. Immediately she entered in fully, soon letting you adjust as quick as she had entered. You whimpered, clenching onto her forearms before lifting your arms over onto her back and scratching it. Camila let out a grunt as she liked the scratching and was soon enoug bruising your lips. She was doing slow and gentle thrusts as she was holding your sides, her hand soon running up to your breast and groping it before her other hand also went down and rubbed at your clit. A whimper came out of your mouth, causing you to let out a small moan before moving with Camila’s movement. She was moaning louder as hse noticed that and was also getting more pleasure from that. She was soon starting to kiss you again, licking your bottom lip before you let her dominate your mouth. You gasped louder when she  hit your sweet spot, before you felt her smirk. That’s when she went rougher and faster.

You widened your eyes as a light moan slipped out and you had to open yor legs the widest they could go in the back of the car before you held her tighter, nails digging in and causing red scratches down the Latina’s back, who didn’t even care. She was just pounding into you, grabbing your breast and rubbing your clit. She was soon moving her hand on your clit to your ass and groped at it while having a better hold as she went deeper while hitting your sweet spot. You whimpered in pleasure before you couldn’t help but cum all over her dick. 

“Want me to cum inside or outside?” she asked, moaning out loud as she was going harder, riding out your high. 

“However you want,” you moaned out, not caring at all. That’s when you felt her tense up then she came inside you. You was panting as you soon held her closer, tired now. You held onto her for a while before she finally spoke. “Want to keep doing this? Also need food and water?” she asked with a smile. You nodded.

“Yeah, we can do this. We can have some takeout and cuddles after?” you offered. Camila nodded with a grin.

“Great, let’s go!” she spoke and was quickly changing you.

You felt happy.

[crimeronan]

@meltedmercury jokingly saying princess AU luz is a covid puppy made me DESPERATELY need to go make a Separation Anxiety Compilation, so:

princess luz the covid puppy, with some bonus polyamory....

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-

-

-

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and this one COULD be cut off after "this cannot be news to you," but i'm a Big Fan of whatever the fuck lumiter are doing here:

.....one of these days you three are gonna HAVE to DTR.

[bazaarwords]

thank you @why-does-it-matterr​! i think i got a little carried away, but i hope you enjoy!

cw: descriptions of injuries

-

There was a place she used to go to after the Order had days like these. Bad days. Ones that left her numb.

Historically, the place is both tangible and not—a lonely tower at the Cat’s Cradle, and once there, a few long moments of contemplation. But her old home is a long way away, and so Beatrice finds the part of her mind that needs this kind of treatment and sends it elsewhere. As for her body, she deigns to get to work instead of separating herself. The OCS may not be her world anymore, but there are wounded. People she cares for.

In the wreckage of their makeshift hideout, Beatrice wonders if maybe it’s never been the events of the day that seep the feeling from her. Maybe it’s always been this—this thing she must do to herself in order to succeed. Months of wandering have not divested her of the need to perform. The months have, however, been a reminder of all she’s lost.

She sets her feelings aside. There are things to do.

The first order of business: Camila’s shoulder is out of socket, and for all their collective expertise, Beatrice remains the best candidate to set it. Years ago, before the Order had swept her away, she’d spent a long summer volunteering in a hospital. It’s not the medical training she’d received afterwards, but the exposure was, at the very least, an advantage.

“Ready?” She asks, although she knows that Camila is always ready.

Camila, in the kind way she does all things, just smiles as if Beatrice is the one that needs the reassurance. She nods. “Go for it.”

Camila doesn’t flinch. She lets out a long, measured breath and she says, “ow” and she laughs at herself. Beatrice would like to take the time to laugh with her, but her joy is locked up in that faraway place. She squeezes Camila’s other shoulder, helps her into a sling made of a torn shirt, and moves on to the next.

Sister Dora has twisted her wrist. It’s discolored and swollen, but her bones are, thankfully, intact.

“A tarask,” she explains, “I thought it’d… well, I thought it’d kill me but…”

But she came back, Beatrice thinks to herself, searching the wreckage for wood to make a splint. She saved you.

She blinks that away—she has to. Sister Dora must notice her reticence. She doesn’t complete her thought. So Beatrice secures Sister Dora’s arm, and she moves on.

Yasmine has taken a glancing blow to the head, and Mother Superion has opted to stay up with her in the wake of the fight to monitor the damage.

“I’m okay,” Yasmine says when Beatrice comes by, holding up a placating hand. “I mean—I remember my name, so. So that’s good, right?”

Superion offers the smallest of smirks. It’s fond, not hard-won. “Yes, Yasmine,” she says, and rises up on unsteady footing. It’s not the new, halo-resurrected Superion.

“What happened?” Beatrice asks, firmer than she’d meant to. Emotions are nebulous when she settles into this way.

Superion shakes her head. “Nothing that should concern you. A few bruises.” She gives Beatrice a meaningful look—one she’s not present enough to catalogue. “There’s a cot in the back. Rest. We’re fine here.”

It sounds like an order, and even though she’s put the church behind her, she still respects Mother Superion. She can still recognize that she’s done all she can for the group, within reason. So she makes her way to the back room, feeling nothing. She sits on the edge of the cot, feeling nothing. She shrugs off her outer layers, feeling nothing.

Her mind has been in that faraway place, however, and as she returns to herself, everything sinks in.

While information comes in in pieces, on thing is for certain—there’s pain, everywhere. It would make the most sense to take stock of the worst places, the ones that need her immediate attention, but when feeling rushes back into her, the only thing she can think is that she needs to get out of this room and to wherever she’s gone—

There’s a jolt, razor sharp in the already excruciating throb of her abdomen. It’s quite obviously from when she’d been launched across a courtyard. The intensity winds her halfway to standing and her hip smarts as soon as she’s fallen back to the cot. She tells herself several times that she needs to get herself back in that empty place, that world where she feels nothing. Above all things, she needs to be there because she needs to find Ava.

A week prior, there had been a desperate call for help, a train from the small Finnish town she’d wandered into the month before, and Beatrice had found herself right back in the fray. Seeing the faces of her friends again after all their time apart had been bittersweet. When the fight had come to them, she’d remembered the last words Lilith had said to her. A holy war.

Despite her best efforts, she’s in the middle of it.

“Fuck,” she says, because she curses now. Because she knows that her knee is going to give out if she tries to stand. Because she’s effectively trapped herself in this room.

Frustration wells up in her like a lit fuse.

Assess the damage, she thinks, because what the hell else can she do?

The buttons of her shirt are slow work, her hands are weak from gripping her machine gun, her knives, the side of a building as she hoisted herself and Yasmine back to safety.

God is lost to her now, but it is a miracle that none of her injuries have drawn blood. A massive swath of skin along her side is purple and yellow but unbroken—it is the very worst of things. It hurts to draw breath, and hurts even more to bend and pull her pant leg up past her knee, to find the skin there in much the same condition. Upon further inspection, her hip, too, is a wild mess of bruises.

She’s a wreck, and what do they have to show for it? A few inches of ground? A few battered nuns, scrounging up whatever tools they can find?

Ava.

They have Ava. She just… doesn’t know where.

Beatrice had seen it happen as if in a dream.

The blinding light from above, the shockwave that had sent the tarasks flying in all directions, but hadn’t so much as nudged the sisters. When she’d looked, it was Ava’s form in the center of the light—Beatrice would know it anywhere, in any world—flickering in and out. She remembers shouting, desperate, stumbling through the wreckage. The details from there are hard to recollect. It’s when she’d been grabbed and thrown, it’s when the fight had resumed and she’d lost sight of Ava.

But she had seen her. That she’s certain of.

She closes her eyes, wincing as she tilts her head to the ceiling. The breath she tries to take is shallow and does nothing to steady herself.

“Beatrice?”

The pain of movement is forgotten, the voice like a ribbon of gold around her heart.

There’s Ava. There’s Ava.

The breath is gone in a rush, and Beatrice forgets the rest of the pain and she tries desperately to stand, to run, to move. Her leg gives out and Ava’s on her in a second, easing her back down.

“Ava,” she says, voice breaking, throat tight, “Ava.”

Ava kneels in front of her and she takes Ava’s face in her hands and she can’t look away. Suddenly, that place she goes—the one that is empty and lonely is filled with life. Filled with Ava. And she’s here, she’s real and alive and breathtaking in all the ways that Beatrice has loved. Loves. She feels nothing but it, looking at Ava.

“Bea,” Ava says, fingers wrapped around Beatrice’s wrists like they’ve been fused there. “Bea, you—you’re hurt.”

“You’re here,” Beatrice responds—nothing else matters. “Ava, you’re—“ She doesn’t have other words.

It should hurt to speak. It should hurt to lean forward, but then her lips are on Ava’s and nothing hurts, everything aches. Ava makes a small noise that lets loose something in Beatrice’s chest, and she wants to draw Ava closer, but her body betrays her, her whole side lighting up as if on fire. As if to remind her that respite is fleeting. But she doesn’t care, nothing else matters—

Ava notices her wince and pulls away. It hurts to try to pull her back, but still Beatrice tries. “Fuck,” Ava says, voice shaky, “Bea—hold on. You need—“

“I need you to not leave. I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m not—you’re not fine, your—oh, God, Bea your side—“

Another Beatrice might have taken modesty into consideration. Her shirt is wide open, her trousers undone, and Ava is knelt before her, a hand on her bare knee. She just—she just wants so keenly that the constant, painful reminders of her body’s journey through battle feel like they’re killing her. She wants to pull Ava up and on to her lap, she wants Ava’s mouth on hers again, she wants, she wants, she wants. And maybe it’s her pilgrimage and her seperation from the church that’s allowing her this clear revelation, or maybe it’s just the relief to be in the same room as the girl she loves. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been.

“Let me… shit, I don’t know how good I am at this yet.” Ava focuses down on Beatrice’s splotchy, wounded knee, and the dark room is slowly illuminated by the glow of the Halo.

It feels… itchy, at first. It’s not a scab, but the injury takes on the properties of one—Beatrice tamps down the overwhelming need to scratch or pat at it, but then—as soon as it began—it’s gone. Ava pulls her hand away and the skin is as normal as it’s ever been. An oblong scar where bone is closest to skin from one too many skinned knees, but other than that? Nothing.

“How did you…” Beatrice trails off, swinging her leg back and forth easily.

“I’d… you know, I’d really like to explain it, but, uh. I have no fucking idea.”

Beatrice can’t help it, she laughs, a little hysterical. And then she wants to throw up.

“Don’t—no laughing. Stop it,” Ava says with a worried smile. She sets the tips of her fingers at the massive bruise on Beatrice’s side, and Beatrice can’t tamp down the shiver that rockets through her at the feeling. “Sorry. Sorry, I just need to...” Ava says, her voice thick, “just let me…”

The Halo does its work again, scrubbing her pain from her, raw and red until it’s not anymore. Beatrice takes a breath, and there is no pain.

“Good?” Ava asks.

“Good,” Beatrice responds. She wants that to be the end of it, but when she tries to move in again—“I think there’s another…”

Herein lies the problem. Her hip.

Ava looks down, and they’re in the middle of a war, but Beatrice wonders if she closes her eyes for just a moment, maybe they’ll be back in the Alps. Maybe there, this touch is necessary for another reason. Maybe Ava is looking up at her like this and maybe nothing has ever been wrong.

But they’re in the blown-out remains of a church, and there are demons everywhere, and in her darkest moments she’d worried that this—her and Ava—was lost for good.

Ava hovers over her bruise, and Beatrice nods. Ava is delicate, fingers light over her hipbone. This is not the time to wish for another life, but still she does. And for the first time in months, the wish has legs. It climbs out of that place she goes and it smiles at her, and Ava smiles at her too, proud of her work.

Beatrice draws her in, and the war rages on, but there are no more lonely places.

She has Ava. It’s enough.

[withered-tears]

When Camila asked the kids about their favorite foods, she was just hoping to ask Luz for help to try and find any human substitute/equivalent to try and replicate it for them.

He was expecting to hear some bizarre names. (Seriously, fairy pie? What would one even use to substitute fairies? Shrimp, maybe?)

What she wasn't expecting was Hunter looking serious and focused enough as a man on the battlefield.

He was muttering to himself while tapping his finger to his lips, seemingly giving the question far more importance than Camila thought necessary.

He kept at it for a few seconds until finally, with a resolute nod to himself, he replied.

"Rootknot fruit."

Camila wasn't surprised when she didn't recognize the name. But she was a bit surprised to find that Amity, Gus, Luz, and Vee looked as lost as she did.

She was even more surprised at Willow's borderline offended look.

"Rootknot fruit? Really?"

Hunter perked up in the way he did every time he got to speak about a particular interest of his.

"Yeah! It grows all over the isles, and it's relatively easy to forage. The fruit is really dense, so a single bite can be enough to push away hunger for a whole day. Also, in case of emergency, if you chew the skin into a paste and use it as a salve between bandages, it makes any wound close faster to stop bleeding. It's a great food source to find in any mission."

Everyone blinked.

"Ah, that sounds great, mijo. And do you like the taste?"

"Oh no, it tastes awful. Like chewing on rotten wood. It's terrible."

Hunter was still smiling as he told her that his favorite food tasted terrible.

"Oh. Well, do you have any food from the demon realm you really like the taste of?"

Hunter now looked pensive. Apparently, taste never occurred to him as a factor when choosing a favorite food.

"Um. Gus once gave me a really good sandwich?"

[findmeinthefallair]

It's me again. The therapist/illustrator who can't stop squeaking and screaming about her beloved son Hunter.

I've been thinking nonstop about him finding the terrible grimwalker graveyard, imagining what would be going through my mind if I were him. Sifting through whatever moments, dialogue and frames that I can find from the existing material, along with references outside of the show, to formulate what an offscreen scene would've been like.. (And seeing if I can find editable and salvageable enough backgrounds so I could perhaps even depict this scene one day)

A soul like him who not only wants to help others, but also acquire knowledge:

heading back here to see the graveyard:

You can't tell me that this wouldn't still be on his mind, and he's even anxious while saying this below, scratching his face a little:

Whether he follows up on this or not, also depends on how he looks back on being shown this:

And is he just going to go cold turkey and totally drop these leads he was pursuing in the episodes before the finale? :

Three things prompted me to finally write this post:

@polyhexian's and @ashanimus's analyses of Hunter's fight scenes in Hunting Palismen and Eclipse Lake (links here and here, they're really cool to read!!), based on their years of experience with martial arts. Reading those was a revelation to me because learning about how high Hunter's skill level is, how in touch with his body he is by default, portrayed so well thanks to the crew...that allows me to make far more educated guesses about his mental health in the early stages of the pre-epilogue gap of about 4 years. Because he is so used to high activity and being on high alert, no thanks to having C-PTSD.

Observing how light and free Hunter's expressions are, and how transformed his demeanor became, in the epilogue sequence. That transformation is an indication to me of the magnitude of grief which had to be transformed within him. To be put back together, in order to be so radiant, generous and self-actualized in the epilogue...imagine how much had to be deconstructed and further broken beforehand. He wouldn't have room to fill his life up with all that amazing newness if the old isn't emptied out first.

This psychoeducational video by my fave author, also a practicing therapist, who specializes in traumatic grief: link. Hearing her address the topic of entering the second year after a bereavement vs. the first year, was interesting. Definitely confirms to me that Hunter wouldn't have carved Waffles until past the 2nd year of navigating his bereavement.

In the years that pass before the epilogue, Hunter will not be able to understand why the efforts he puts into all the rebuilding work, coordinating and leading others, and trying to have fun - only cycle back to him experiencing a mix of a restlessness and emptiness in the deepest layer of his mind. It'll exhaust his energy bit by bit. I bet he's going to generally look as tired as depressed Luz does below, even if he's had an acceptable hours of sleep per night:

That restlessness will be an awful psychological itch that he'll be unable to scratch, caused by losing Flapjack and now also Belos. This is the same as what happened with his anger in For the Future, except Belos was still alive back then. It will be harder to understand and messier to navigate the bereavement this time round. It'll be something gnawing into his soul which I really think only professional help can heal, especially since the show promotes that it's okay to not be okay, and more than okay to seek professional help (Steve and Lilith's conversation in Edge of the World).

He will be trying to claw his way out of that C-PTSD pit, but he'll be aware deep down that he simply cannot reach any emotional high points for long, and something will be blocking his feelings of connection with his loved ones. He won't feel nearly as free and easy the way he used to be in the human realm:

Having a routine like he used to in the Castle, and moving around a lot, was what helped him survive. However, he won't have the awareness that the shift resulting from Belos passing away has been at such a fundamental level: to the point that those old, supposedly tried-and-true methods no longer serve him in any positive way. At least, not until his mental health will be back in better shape.

As he puts in more and more effort to escape that restless emptiness, getting annoyed at himself because he doesn't know what's going on...he'll use up the rest of his strength and eventually crash. That itch won't be solved by going back to overworking tendencies, and like how it is with addiction cycles, he would need some kind of fix for the deep restlessness within. The answer? Productivity to feel useful, which we have seen even in his efforts to fix damaged clothing and well, making stuff in general.

Where the grimwalker graveyard comes in is...once he hears news about its existence, he will stubbornly insist to want to help in investigating it, saying he has already read a bunch of books about them, and can be useful, etc. Worse, if his offer to help to investigate is refused, he will do what he did in Eclipse Lake. Go to the location anyway, to fill that deep void within.

Old habits die hard.

I don't know if he may hear from King (who he'll be seeing fairly often, I think!), The Collector or even Kikimora about it. Since they were the three characters who went all the way down there in King's Tide, and The Collector already knew about these horrors for literal centuries. King and The Collector are also still young kids! Will they have the sensitivity and awareness about breaking this news to Hunter?!

On the other hand, I don't know how the timing will be with Darius, Raine and Eberwolf..Darius will want to get serious about investigating his mentor's disappearance. Once the searching and scouring extends to the location of the Head of the Titan, they will find the evidence staring them in the face. If they want to scour every inch of the Isles, there's also a high chance they'll find the godforsaken grimwalker lab.

Worst of all, Darius would be aware by then of how much Hunter loves to help out in operations like this to be productive. At the same time, Darius's own grief will surface even more, I'm not sure he'll be able to hide that, and Hunter is highly observant. If Darius is trying to hide his own priority of finding closure re: his mentor, I think Hunter will sense that.

Therefore I wonder if this will happen except it's Hunter with Darius:

and then this poor beloved skrunkly son of mine, who so famously said these words at the beginning of his arc:

is probably going to get reckless, and endanger his mental health...not unlike moments like this:

by venturing to the graveyard, whether stealthily or accompanying the grownups, because he'll rationalize it as "getting closure" and once again "being useful". Remember how used he is to moving around so much and being active, combined with growing up isolated so that asking for help can still be a foreign concept to him. He would be anxious about grinding to a halt, and he'd want to be on the move instead.

He may demand to see the graveyard, and holy Titan I'm not sure any dilemma will be as tricky for Camila and Darius to navigate as this one. Because preventing him from seeing something he already knows exists is, in a very twisted way, also an unhelpful form of avoidance. Avoidance is a hallmark criterion for diagnosing both PTSD and C-PTSD.

How far do they go in protecting him from himself? Where do they draw that line? They might reach a compromise where Camila and Darius accompany him there. Once he sees it, it'll hit harder than this:

Letting him see it means his new parents would have to fall with him, in the sense that they follow him to that emotional place: but while he figuratively does not have a safety harness when falling into this deep dark hole, Camila and Darius are equipped with harnesses a.k.a. higher maturity, less of a trauma history, and some tools to help him get better, navigate the trauma, and manage his symptoms.

Camila will have the warmth and sensitivity to catch and meet him as he falls (she interacts with animals in her profession, who don't have the capacity for human language, in a similar way to how serious trauma can't even be put into words at times: it makes you voiceless). Darius's shared past living in the Castle and grieving over his mentor will help Hunter not feel as alone once he has seen these horrors.

And because his heart generally became more open to receiving love and support,

I doubt he'll close himself off almost completely, the way he did in the first two-thirds of For the Future (god, remember these deleted storyboards??):

It wouldn't surprise me if he weeps and panics as soon as he sees the graveyard, and his parents give him maximum support through that breakdown. As complicated as it would be for Camila and Darius to give in to his desire to see the graveyard, a response like this from him - a child seeking attachment with proper timing - is a good sign of growing into healthy attachment with parental figures.

It is an arguably better response than one of the hardest aspects of C-PTSD: where the outpouring of grief only happens after a delay, sometimes a significant delay, at very inconvenient or strange times. Hell...if I were Hunter, I'd probably want Camila and Darius to just hold me close in wordless silence for half an hour until my initial distress and shock passes.

If I use King - a child who is securely attached to Eda, who's definitely had a more stable upbringing - as a control experiment here, he could have the appropriate response immediately in Echoes of the Past and expressed his emotional needs clearly enough:

Whereas this is what Hunter has to now learn, at twice King's age, as he settles in with new parents who take care of him instead of mistreating him the way Belos did. Hell, I can't imagine what kind of Belos punishment awaited him if he cried to demand attachment.

(I need to use more King scenes as a comparison to Hunter's upbringing in my next metas! I realize this can make my explanations clearer)

Anyway, what may happen next after he can't unsee the graveyard is...Hunter will then swing to the other extreme of high activity. I.e. being passive, physically inactive and psychologically crashing into depression, which may translate into habits such as oversleeping (catching up on all that lost sleep...but at what cost?). Supposedly sliding deeper into the C-PTSD pit. A place from which he has to express the desire to seek the forms of help he needs.

Remember that this kid has only known extremes for most of his life. Until he settles in properly with his found family and attends therapy, he has no clear reference point for more balanced approaches in living.

The trauma he went through is a quadruple whammy for a 16-year-old who just survived growing up in a cult. It would be so much. I can't see him not falling into months of deep dark depression, as unfortunate as this sounds.

Grieving over Flapjack, grieving over Belos, over his childhood/upbringing, and now a grisly memory of his predecessors who didn't make it (to add to what he saw in Belos's mindscape). I simply cannot see him handling a load like this without a highly-equipped and sensitive professional, paired with his support network of family, friends and even possibly the wider community at times. Especially now that we've seen him in action during the epilogue.

The epilogue sequence would've had a different feel (and in my opinion, a not-so-good feel) for me if Dana had established that the grimwalker graveyard was still untouched after those 3.5-4 years and if Hunter never found out about it. Something like that is different compared to Dana mentioning in the recent Post-Hoot that in the he does not know about Caleb and Evelyn, or that he is related to the Clawthornes. Mysteries like the Clawthorne heritage can remain an eerie secret that only us in the audience know about, but I wouldn't feel comfy if this were the case for the graveyard as well.

To quote @idlescree's video essay about Hunter's death (link), the show's writers didn't pull any punches when it came to Hunter's development arc. Which means they had to take his story to the "categorically appropriate place for him to overcome" his greatest challenges.

Something tells me that with respect to the grimwalker graveyard and the avoidance theme in C-PTSD recovery, Hunter would've had to put in more work to confront a number of terrifying foes even beyond his Thanks to Them speech. One of which was the graveyard containing the remains of his predecessors.

PS: This is a spontaneous post which branches out from my giant post-finale meta (link) that I pinned to my blog, I suppose.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Here's an idea that just came to me: There's this song by Peter Gabriel called "Come Talk To Me": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12xFB3zXBSg, which Gabriel said is about about the breakdown in communication between him and one of his daughters

So imagine either:

Beardo Philip singing the song to Luz because he wants to get along with her and show he's good enough for her mother.

or Redeemed Belos singing to Luz and Hunter because he wants to prove to them he has changed.

Aww, yes! ❤️

I heart both scenarios! 💖 🩷 💕 💟

@pokeycub and @talisman975 .

I'm not sure if it'll entirely resolve everything (the song), but it's certainly a promising start and could prompt Luz / Luz and Hunter to give Philip / Belos a genuine chance.

[just-a-soft-kid]

Thank you for 100 kudos on The Hand That Feeds You!! This lil series is becoming really important to me and it means a lot that people like it. So!!! I did a lil commemorative doodle ehehhehehe. <3333

If you haven't read it yet and you like fics about Hunter being a bundle of trauma and getting the help and love he deserves, you can read it here!!!

[meropegaaunt]

WEST COAST

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Summary: The love between two best friends toes the line between platonic and romantic.

Warnings: Kid on kid violence, fighting, angst, alcohol, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 2,359 words

© Meropegaaunt 2023

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): Growing up, Y/N and Billy were, like, best friends. I mean, God, they were close, so close you never saw one without the other.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You, Y/N L/N, grew up in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Said suburb was small, quaint, filled with red-brick houses and white picket fences. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The rich thrived, having two or three properties in their name and far too many zeros in their checking accounts, but the majority struggled to make ends meet, to even keep a roof over their heads. You were part of the majority, but your father, F/N L/N, did everything in his power to ensure that you lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the struggles that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. He had two jobs, one as a music teacher and one as a bar manager. Endless hours had been spent slaving away at those jobs in an attempt to ensure you were given every opportunity to succeed, and luckily, you were.

Truth be told, you had not the faintest idea of your dire living circumstances, because your father showered you in love and affection, making everything, even the most mundane tasks, seem like an adventure. He had a way with people, a way that he passed on to you, which was why at school, you got on well with your classmates. You got on best with Billy and Graham Dunne, though, two brothers that shared your true love: music.

(Your friendship did not have an easy beginning, though. Not by a long shot, because even at a young age, Billy had trouble letting people close. Your first encounter with him was in passing. Names had been exchanged, but there was no inkling of what would bloom between the two of you. That inkling did not come until a boy two years older than you and Billy and four years older than Graham came around looking to give Billy a hard time. He found Graham instead, who became his victim of circumstance. You happened upon the scene just in time to see the boy deliver a harsh kick to Graham’s ribs, and that sight alone was enough for you to see red and abandon all common sense. It mattered not that he was your superior in both age and size. All that mattered was that Graham, who had only ever shown you kindness and civility, was frightened and bleeding and needed help, which was why you threw caution to the wind, ran forward, and thundered, “Hey, that’s my friend you’re kicking!” In an instant, you two were on the ground, grappling violently atop the dirt path. The boy pawed at your face, pulling at your locks while you pressed on his throat. His efforts broke your skin and knocked your nose askew, yet your hold stayed firm, just as F/N had shown you. You hunched forward, pale with rage as he writhed about, trying futilely to get free. Each action made his throat tighter, though, so his attempts hastily slowed down. He gasped, his eyes growing hazy from the wild thrumming of the blood in his head. It was only after oxygen escaped him for a beat that you lessened your grip and retreated with Graham, though, your feet flying over the earth until you found Billy. That day, covered in blood and dirt, he deemed you all right.)

Seeing your love for music, your father found and salvaged an old guitar for you, a Gibson Les Paul that had seen far better days. It had suffered much hurt and misuse, but he searched out alternatives for each decaying piece, eventually returning it to its former glory. You basked in its glory, showing it off to the Dunne brothers with stars in your eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun in intensity. They had an old Silvertone guitar, so the three of you began learning how to play, going through much trial and error before discovering what worked and what did not.

Your musical range evolved as you entered your teenage years, especially when Billy and Graham’s mother, Marlene, bought them an old Strat. Armed with three guitars, you delved into songwriting, thus laying the foundation for what eventually became one of the world’s most beloved rock bands.

You were there at the nanscene of the Dunne Brothers band, long before its first additions — drummer Warren Rhodes, bassist Chuck Williams, and rhythm guitarist Eddie Roundtree — were brought on. You did not have a designated title, though. Instead, you played whatever part was needed, whether that be a singer, guitarist, or keyboardist. The band worked whatever gig it could, whether that be at house parties, seedy bars, or dance clubs.

Around that time, you had noticed that you had physically changed, had grown into your own. Your friends had, too, but you did not realize until one of the nights when the band had played at a seedy bar. There had been various acts of violence committed at said bar, but this particular night, a man who was out of his mind on drugs had started swinging. Hands had been thrown, landing hits upon bar attendants, but then, he had come for you . . . You had not seen it coming, too engrossed in your music, which was why there was no time for you to react, to defend yourself. Your eyes snapped up, catching sight of the fist flying your way, but it never made contact with your face. Before it could, Billy collided with the man, hitting him with enough force that he was sent crashing to the ground.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, pure, unfettered shock keeping you rooted in place. It was only when a warm, familiar hand landed upon your shoulder that you snapped out of it, the shock wearing off. “Thanks, Billy,” you breathed, your eyes rising to meet his emerald ones. “I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, a mischievous look flitting across his face. “Couldn’t let him take you out before I do.”

“Ah, that’s not happening,” you remarked, unable to conceal your amusement. He had tried to sweet talk you before, had even gone as far to use his go-to pick-up line: If you let me take you out I’ll write a song about you. The pick-up line had not worked, though, for you had shot back: No, thanks, Dunne. If I want there to be a song about me, I’ll write it myself. “The day we start dating bandmates is the day the Dunne Brothers is over.”

Perhaps if he was being serious, you would consider going on a date with him, but you truly believed that he was not, that he was simply being his typical coquettish self. Despite this, in the future, you will think that this perhaps was the moment when you first realized that you loved him, that you were in love with him . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): We got hired for this wedding. It was a big deal. A wedding meant we were gonna be heard by, you know, a hundred people. I think I was nineteen.

We had auditioned for this couple with our best song. It was this slower, folkier song Y/N and I had written called “Nevermore.” Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Truly. I was writing about the Catonsville Nine and things like that. I thought I was Dylan. But we got this gig.

And about halfway through our show at this wedding, this fifty-something guy catches Y/N on a water break and pulls them onto the dance floor. I see and think, Does this guy know what a creep he looks like? And then I realize it’s my dad.

GRAHAM: Our father was there, all over Y/N, completely unaware he was making them uncomfortable. I realized it before Billy, I think. Recognized him from the pictures our mom kept in the shoe box under her bed.

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I didn’t originally know it was Mr. Dunne that had pulled me onto the dance floor that night. I mean, plenty of older men go after younger people. It’s not great, it’s just how it is. Not wanting to start a scene, I danced with him until Billy came down off the stage and pulled me away. Afterward, he told me who he was, and it just . . . made me sick. Mr. Dunne looked right at Billy, his son, and didn’t recognize him. How is that possible? How is that fair?

BILLY: I couldn’t believe it. He’d been gone ten years by that point. And he was supposed to be in Georgia. The asshole was just standing in the middle of the dance floor, no idea his sons were up onstage or that he was dancing with their best friend. I put an end to that. I got off stage and pulled them apart. Y/N was confused as hell, but I explained who he was.

GRAHAM: Billy asked a few people at the wedding about him. Turns out our father had been living a few towns over. Friends with the bride or something. Y/N was furious, saying, “You know what, fuck him. You guys are the best. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.” They were right. He was a drunk asshole anyway. So good riddance to him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Seeing the response — or lack thereof — from Mr. Dunne infuriated you. He had laid eyes upon his sons for the first time in a decade, and there had been no recognition, no remorse. He had helped bring them into the world, had raised them for five and seven years respectively, but then, when given the opportunity to reconnect, he treated them like strangers, like they meant nothing.

Your father had loved you dearly, had done everything in his power to protect you, which was why such a poor excuse of a man was hard to wrap your head around. You tried, though, even going as far as to snag a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to lessen your inhibitions, to think outside of the box. Unfortunately, the whiskey did not offer any answers about Mr. Dunne, but it did cause your budding feelings for Billy to spill out, to make themselves known.

He too had taken in alcohol, had consumed beer after beer, but Billy, for a reason you did not know, held his alcohol better. That was why when you took a seat next to him with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, he looked relatively put together. You, on the other hand, looked simultaneously attractive and disheveled. It was paradoxical, but the sight of you, with your warm cheeks and wild hair, lit a fire within him, a fire whose flames threatened to consume him, to devour him whole.

“Billy,” you breathed his name, leaning through the dark so that your faces were mere millimeters apart, causing your breaths to mingle. “Your dad is a real prick, but I’m — I’m glad you’re not like him. You’re a real great guy. The best.”

“I’m not,” he refuted, knowing that your tongue had been loosened by the alcohol. When sober, you were generous with your words, but not like this. Not to this degree. “I’ve made some dumbass decisions. You know that better than anyone—“

“And yet, I still love you,” you cut him off, leaning impossibly closer. You had contemplated kissing him a handful of times since that night in the bar, but had yet to work up enough nerve to do so. Now, when you were feeling brazen, it would be so quick, so easy. All you had to do was bridge the gap between your faces . . . You made to do so, to press your lips to his, but he pulled away, moving out of your range. A mixture of hurt and confusion crossed your features then, followed by uncertainty. “Do you not want to—“

“Not like this,” he shook his head, because even though the flirtatious comments sent your way held truth, he would not allow you to make such a drastic move when drunk. Not with him. “If you remember this tomorrow, we can figure things out, Y/N.”

In a perfect world, you would remember this conversation the next day. You and Billy would communicate and sort out your feelings together, but this world was not perfect. In this world, you did not remember your advances on Billy, which was why when he met the foxy, dark-haired Camila Martinez, he pursued her . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

WARREN RHODES (drummer, The Six): In the summer and fall of ‘69, we were all really starting to get laid, man. And Billy was taking himself off the market. We’d all be with chicks and he’d be sitting there, smoking a joint, having a beer to keep himself busy. I came out of a girl’s room one time, zipping my pants up, and Billy was sitting on the sofa, watching Dick Cavett. I knew Y/N loved Billy. Hell, by that point, I think everyone except Billy knew. So I said, “Man, you gotta ditch that girlfriend.” Don’t get me wrong; we all liked Camila, she was foxy and she’d tell you your business right to your face, which I liked. But c’mon. Y/N isn’t the sort of person you want to miss out on an opportunity with.

Y/N: I wanted to hate Camila. It would have been easier that way, if she was terrible to Billy, if she made him unhappy, but she didn’t. She grounded him, made him a better version of himself, so there really was no choice but for me to take a step back, to put some distance between Billy and I.

GRAHAM: It killed Y/N to give Billy and Camila space, but they did. Because they loved him, and that . . . that took a lot of selflessness. I think, maybe, that might have been when I started falling in love with them.

[rye-bread08]

Finally finished my Gravity Falls OC

(If theres any questions about her, please do leave them in my inbox, I will do my best to answer them, since im practically crafting her story as I go, so things I say here might not be canon in later revisions)

And to my least favourite part writing: (TLDR; Childhood friends, Stan got kicked out, years passed they met again in Vegas, Dated, Stan 'died' in a Crash, 30 years later, met 3 & 4 in the woods, went to find Stan, reconnected)

Camila "Millie" Rosaline Garcia was born and raised in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. As a child, she spent nearly every day at the beach, this is where she met the Twins, Stan and Ford. Being just a year younger than the two, she naturally went along with them really well, and they quickly became friends.

Millie attended the same school as the twins and developed a deep infatuation for Ford. Her feelings were met with a rejection, as Ford was aware that his twin, Stan, had crush on her. Despite this, their friendship remained strong throughout high school. When Stan suddenly left without a word, Millie was understandably upset. Ford simply told her to not worry about it and to continue with life.

After Graduating, Mills pursued her passion and attended an art school neighboring Backupsmore University. Her and Ford interacted a lot in the beginning and almost started dating, but Ford prioritized his studies, and their interactions happen less and less. They eventually stopped talking and just focused on their own lives. After graduating from University, Millie traveled across America, seeking opportunities in the film and theater industries. She eventually settled in Las Vegas, where she sold paintings and worked as a background actor in films. To make ends meet, she also took a job at a local diner. One day, a familiar face randomly appeared. It was her childhood friend Stanley Pines. Despite the years apart, they hit it off almost instantly. Quite Little has changed, he's still the Big goof she knew since childhood, and still had his athletic physique and strong personality. But now, he's ever so slightly more charismatic? One thing led to another, and their renewed friendship soon turned into romance. Their relationship led them to create new memories together. For a year or two, their relationship seemed like a second chance at happiness. They enjoyed every bit of time they were together and found comfort with each other’s company.

However, their rekindled romance was short-lived. During a risky illegal venture involving Stan, he fled, leaving Millie to face legal trouble. She was arrested, and after being incarcirated, the atmosphere of their relationship drastically changed. Even after they parted ways following a heated argument, their true feelings for each other still remained.

-

Millie’s life was a mess after finding out about Stan’s tragic death in a horrible car crash. But she pushed through, throwing herself into her art, traveling across the Americas, selling her creations to fund her travels. Her journey took her to various countries, and she continued to support herself through her art for years.

Summer of 2012 While traveling through the Pacific Northwest, coming from British Columbia, Mills encountered two children taking refuge from the rain in a cave near her campsite. The two looked very identical. The only way you could be able to distinguish them from each other were the numbers in their cap, reading "3" and "4". The two, who introduced themselves as Tracey and Quattro, were visibly distressed and confused. She quickly took the two of them in. Providing them with raincoats and other necessities she bought at a nearby truck stop.

As she spent time with the two, their stories began to reveal hints of the supernatural. Millie was not estranged to the paranormal and the bizarre. Frankly, she had her own encounters throughout the years, and was very intrugued with the stories they told her.

tho, a familiar name surfaced in their tales: Stanford Pines? They havent talked ever since she graduated and left New Jersey. Mill figured that since shes still in the area, It would be nice to visit an old friend. With 3 and 4 guiding her, she drove to Gravity Falls, Oregon.

"Welcome to Gravity Falls" she read Driving through the town filled with debree and on going construction, It was clear that something happened ,any questions made were met with the same phrase "Never mind all that"

She finally drives up to the Mystery Shack, and saw Stanley? ... something something, insert plot, something, Im too lazy to right it now. Im going to bed. ... If you finished reading through that, Thank you. Im not usually the type to write, this alone took me a whole night to do and revise. I will definitely make more content of her in the future, interacting with other characters, writing more backstory, those sorts. For now If you have any questions feel free to ask and I will do my best to answer them.

[lunar-jewels]

I've just published my first fanfic!

It's a Vee-centric Owl House fic, set the day after Yesterday's Lie, 755 words. Here's a scene from it!

Check it out here! :)

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 14

Luz laid on the floor of her bedroom, coloring more of her drawing while kicking her feet up in the air.

"I have a sister who looks exactly like me~!" she sang. "I have a sister who's name is--"

"Luz?"

Luz looked away from her drawing and saw Camila poking her head into the room. "Hola, Mami!" Luz chirped. "Can I come down now?"

"Well, maybe, if you want," Camila said. "I just wanted to let you know that neither me or your father are in the mood to cook tonight, so Papi went out to pick something up for all of us."

"That's okay!"

"As for me, I'm going to try and focus on doing a bit more research on...things. So I need you to do something."

Camila then opened the door more, revealing Vee clinging to her leg. She's still human and wearing the yellow dress from Luz's drawing, but now Vee looked a lot less skittish than she she was before. She was still clinging to Camila like a lifeline, but seemed a lot lighter now, emotionally speaking. She still had Manny's jacket over her shoulders, though.

"Could you play with Vee for a bit?" Camila asked. "Keep her company while I work."

"Sure!" Luz excitedly said. Camila urged Vee to go inside and the disguised creature did her best, stumbling and wobbling her way over to Luz that made her chuckle a bit. "You're not good at walking."

Vee blushed. "Sorry..."

"It's okay, I can teach you!" Luz proudly stood up. "I've been doing this my entire life."

"I wish," Camila said with a grin. "It was a nightmare teaching you to walk. Anyways, have fun, girls. I'll just be in the other room if you need me."

She walks away, the door still wide open.

"Alright," Luz said to Vee. "Walking is simple. You just stick your foot out and put it back on the ground. Just a little further away from you. Like this!"

She tried demonstrating her walking by taking long strides, making a circle around Vee while practically stomping her feet.

"See? It's easy! You try!"

Vee stared at Luz for a bit longer and looked down at her own feet. Carefully, all while keeping her balance, Vee tried copying Luz's movements. And while she still stumbled a bit, she eventually started mimicking Luz's stride.

"Wow, you're a natural!" Luz exclaimed. "Soon, you'll be a walking champion!"

"Champion?"

"Cham! Pi! On!" Luz cheered.

Vee started to giggle a little bit, but was surprised by the noise as if she never made it before. Unfortunately, due to the shock, Vee tripped over her new feet, falling face first into Luz's drawings.

"Oh, my gosh, Vee!" Luz crouched down next to her, helping Vee up into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

Vee sniffed. "Sorry..."

"Oh, that's okay. You did great for a beginner. And I've been tripping my whole life too. Papi says it's because my brain moves faster than my body."

"What does that mean?"

Luz shrugged. "He also says it's good to recali...Recalla...Re...call...eee...brate? I don't know what he actually says. It's a big, big word. But whenever my dad says it, he has me do this."

Luz stood up and started shaking her body around. Her arms flailed, her head wobbled, and her legs kicked around for a bit. It freaked Vee out for a bit, but once Luz started making a funny noise as she let loose her tongue, it made her giggle some more.

"Come on," Luz told her. "You try."

"Um...Okay." Vee stood up and tried to do the exact same thing as Luz, even making the noise. They both kept this up for a few seconds longer before they started to wobble a bit. "Dizzy..." Vee groaned.

"That's how you know it's working...!"

They both plopped onto the floor with little "Oofs." After a while of staring up at the ceiling, Luz started to laugh, with Vee joining in with some more light giggles.

"That was fun!" Luz sat back up. "Now, with our brains recallalalala-tated, wanna color with me?"

"I don't know." Vee sat up too. "She didn't seem to like what I drew."

"Who?"

"The, uh, the big lady? With the glass on her face? Cami...Camill..."

"You mean Mami?" Luz asked, to which Vee nodded in response. "Yeah, Mami's happy face and fake happy face are two different things. She thinks they're not, but they are. Ooh, but if you need help learning how to color too, I can definitely do that too!"

She takes a crayon and a new piece of paper, already starting her next "masterpiece."

"Papi taught me how to draw, I can teach you what I know."

Vee hummed in thought and crawled over to sit next to Vee, looking over her shoulder as she drew. And once more, she felt that warmness in her heart as she did.