#i just. I read the book of bill and i am not the same man i was before

[kate-bot]

billford comic i made while i was hungry >:3

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Four: Depression

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: With some comforting words from Sarah and Daniel, you and Joel work things out.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, soft!joel, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, lil size kink, unprotected piv sex, feelings, therapy

WC: 8.3K

Series Masterlist

Daniel's office was always the hardest room to spend any amount of time in since his death, but the hurt compounded even more when you were reminded of the first time you kissed Joel on the green couch in the corner.

You weren't even sure what you were doing. The idea of moving out of town wasn't concrete, per se, but you still found yourself packing up Daniel's office. What started simple enough with taping up open boxes of books turned into almost two hours of scrutinizing every single item in his desk. Business cards, scribbled notes, old bills, and a few pictures of the two of you filled his junk drawer. Half used pens, a calculator, an old pair of glasses and the medal his university granted him when he went back to give a commencement speech three years prior filled another. But what ultimately drew your attention was a yellow legal pad shoved underneath his laptop. Pages and pages and pages of notes filled a decent chunk of it. From what you could tell, it was an outline for the next book he was in the middle of writing, the very same manuscript you had given to Ellie. Most of it didn't make sense to you, but you read it anyway. Your fingertips traced over his familiar, elegant handwriting. It was one of the things you loved about Daniel when you first met. He didn't have terrible chicken scratch like most men you knew. He took his time when he wrote. He savored every letter. Each word was a beautiful mix of print and cursive that was so uniquely him.

Your eyes grew a little misty as you admired each page of notes, but you weren't sad. On the contrary, you felt happy. You felt connected to him again, if only just for a brief few minutes. But when you got to the last page, what you read stole your breath and destroyed the resolve you managed to build up.

To the love of my life. My better half. My biggest fan and toughest critic.

I can't wait to marry you, my love. I look forward to lazy Sunday mornings with your homemade waffles and my terrible coffee for the rest of our lives. You deserve the world. Someone to worship at your feet and be there for you when you're feeling weak. I've got no idea why you've chosen me, but every day I wake up eternally grateful you did. Just know you will make me happy until my dying breath, and I hope I am able to do the same for you.

The only thing I ever want in this life is to see you happy.

Tears streamed down your face. You had to shove the pad of paper away before drops fell on the page and ruined Daniel's last message to you. Swiveling around, you opened a few drawers until you found a box of tissues, then you buried your face in your hands and wept. Wept for the life you could have had with Daniel and for the one you foolishly threw away with Joel. Shockingly, his words managed to ease the guilt that had settled heavy in your chest for the past week. While he had been talking about himself being the one to make you happy in his dedication, you knew Daniel. He wasn't a selfish man. He was caring and sweet and kind. And he wouldn't want you to be miserable and lonely for the rest of your life. He truly was always happy whenever you were happy.

Joel was like that, too. He was so different from Daniel in many ways, but at their core, they were the same. They were soft and trusting and loving. They cared so deeply for you and wanted to make you happy. Both were so gentle and careful with you, patient and funny. It was no wonder you found yourself drawn to Joel in the first place.

Your doorbell chimed unexpectedly downstairs, followed by an urgent rap on the door. You frowned and snatched up a new tissue so you could dab at your cheeks while you made your way down the steps. Glancing out the window on the bottom stair, you saw a small, unfamiliar sedan in your driveway. You hesitated for just a moment with your hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering who it could be. Not many people stopped by your house. The paranoid part of you wondered if it was a reporter, the trauma from being harassed after Daniel's passing still living somewhere deep inside. But then a young girl's voice drifted through from the other side, startling you.

"Hey, please open up. It's Sarah," she said, then paused before adding, "Joel's daughter."

You shakily unlocked the door and swung it open. She appeared slightly disheveled, like she was in a hurry. Or maybe you were just reading her energy because she certainly came off rushed.

"Is everything okay?" you asked her. Visions of Joel at a job site pinned under some heavy beams flashed through your mind, an unexpected knee jerk reaction that was no doubt trauma from the car accident with Daniel.

"Yeah, everything's fine - sorry," she said immediately when she realized how it must have looked to show up at your door out of the blue. "I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah," you said, glancing over your shoulder before opening your door wider for her. "Come on in."

You watched her slide off her sneakers and you closed the door before pointing towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have-"

"No, thank you. I don't think I have a ton of time, actually," she said, worrying her lower lip as she glanced out the front window towards your driveway.

"Well, alright. Here, have a seat," you replied, ushering her into the sitting room. She sunk down onto your sofa and you paused for a moment before choosing to sit in the soft leather chair across from her. Sarah's hands fidgeted in her lap as her eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail of the old Victorian home before letting her gaze linger on a few framed photos of you and Daniel on the mantle.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, tearing her eyes away to look at you. "I'm so fucking sorry. I was rude and I had no right to treat you the way I did. I know it's not an excuse but I was just... surprised. I guess when I thought my dad was ready to move on, he would have dated someone closer to his age." Sarah took a steadying breath while you remained silent, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Then I realized it wasn't really about the age thing. I don't think it would have mattered who he dated. It was just... weird, I guess."

Sarah shamefully stared down at her fingers tangled in her lap, waiting for you to wrap your head around her apology.

"Uh, wow. Well... thank you. That means a lot to me," you told her with a soft sniffle. "Your dad always spoke so much about you, it felt like I knew you, in a way. After everything the two of you had been through, I don't blame you one bit."

She risked a glance up at you, eyes all wide and watery.

"Really? Just like that?"

You smiled and nodded.

"Of course. I'm not going to hold it against you," you shrugged. "We weren't really trying to keep it a secret from you, just so you know. It was more like we were taking it slow and seeing where things went." Your eyes drifted to a photo of you and Daniel on the wall and your chest tightened. "It wasn't - it was hard for us both."

Sarah followed your gaze and felt the guilt creep back up.

"I know. My dad told me about your fiancé. I'm so sorry," she said, turning to look at you. "I loved his books. He was so creative. Like, the worlds he built up were so incredible and beautiful. He was one of my favorite authors." Then she remembered the gift you had given Joel and she added, "Thank you for those books. The ones you gave my dad. They're absolutely stunning and I promise to take good care of them, I know those are rare editions."

Your face lit up. "You're welcome. He would have wanted someone like you to have them. He was so appreciative of his readers for giving him a platform to live his dream."

"He sounded like a really great guy," she said sympathetically.

"He was," you replied softly. "After the accident, I could hardly get out of bed for weeks. I thought my life was over. I know how dramatic that sounds but I never thought I'd be able to move on, until-"

You cut yourself off, but Sarah knew what you were going to say. She inched forward on the couch with her eyebrows knit together.

"Could you please give him another chance?" she pleaded. "I don't want to see him lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. And, shit... you were getting him to actually exercise and eat vegetables!"

You laughed and shook your head.

"I didn't ask him to do that."

"But he was doing it because of you," she protested. "I've been trying to get him to eat better for years and he knows you a few weeks and suddenly he's chopping up peppers for dinner. It's definitely you."

You felt your cheeks warm as you let your eyes wander aimlessly around the room, surrounded by the memories of your first true love while sitting across from the extension of your second.

"Okay. I'll give him a call," you relented. When your eyes found hers again, she was looking out your window.

"I don't think that's necessary," she said, standing up. The corner of her mouth twitched and when you heard a car door slam in your driveway, you jumped up from your chair. You had barely made it three steps before you heard Joel rapping loudly on your front door.

"Ugh, Dad, you're filthy," Sarah scolded when she swung open the door with a frown.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, wild eyes glancing over her shoulder. "Where's-"

He stopped short when you stepped into view behind her, giving him a shy wave. Sarah shifted to the side with a sly smile, eyes darting back and forth between you and Joel. Neither of you spoke. There was so much to say but you had no idea how to start. Then your gaze drifted down his frame, taking in his dusty jeans, boots, and black work tshirt. Memories of the day you visited him at work for lunch flashed through your mind and you swallowed tightly.

"O-okay," Sarah said, slowly drawing the word out when she bent over to slide her sneakers back on. "My work is done here. I'll leave you to it."

Joel blinked and tore his eyes away from you to look at his daughter, who was in the process of squeezing past him.

"What'dya mean?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to clear the air. Rest is up to you, old man," she teased, poking him in the shoulder. She gave you a friendly wave goodbye before skipping down the porch steps and back towards her car.

Joel's head swiveled back and forth between you and his daughter, still confused and trying to figure out what to do but when Sarah backed out of your driveway and disappeared down the street with a playful honk of her horn, his choice was made.

He turned back to look at you. Now that Sarah was gone and the initial bewilderment wore off, Joel's nerves began to make his heart thump faster and sweat collect under his collar.

"Do you, um," you glanced into your home over your shoulder before meeting his eye again. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes," he replied far too eagerly, making you smile when you held the door open for him. He toed off his boots and cringed. "Sorry for the mess. Was just gettin' home from work and found them two stirrin' shit up so I just raced on over."

"That's alright, I don't mi- wait, two?"

Joel nodded and followed you into your kitchen.

"Ellie came by lookin' for me 'n found Sarah," he explained, delicately sitting down at the kitchen table and praying he didn't leave a trail of dust behind him. The thought of sullying your beautiful home, the place where you found peace, irked him.

"Ellie?" you repeated, voice laced with surprise as you scooped coffee grounds into the filter. "Why did Ellie stop by?"

"To tell me you're skippin' town," he replied bluntly.

Your finger froze on the button of the coffee maker. Shit.

"That's not entirely true," you replied feebly. You turned around, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed protectively over your chest. Fuck, why did he have to look so good? Sitting there in your kitchen after a long day at work watching you mill around had your mind wandering, wondering what it would be like to have him come home to you just like that every single day.

"It was something I was considering," you continued. "My parents have been hounding me to move back home."

"Thought you wanted to stay in Texas," he said softly. You watched his finger anxiously dig into the side of your table.

"I did. I mean, I do. It's just..." you trailed off and looked around the room. Your throat grew tight when you said, "I can't live in this house anymore, Joel. I love it, but... I don't - I can't-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the floor, not noticing when Joel stood up and crossed the room until you smelled the familiar scent of sawdust and peppermint right in front of you.

You didn't even allow yourself to think. You just stepped forward, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you let the tears silently fall while he held you close, murmuring into your hair that you were going to be alright.

"Don't go," he whispered when your tears had slowed and the coffee pot pinged, alerting you it was finished brewing. Your fingers tightly gripped at his shirt.

"Joel-"

"Please," he begged, pulling back just far enough so you could see the vulnerability etched across his face. "I'm sorry I didn't make you stay that night. I'm sorry I didn't run after you. When I met you, you took me by surprise, darlin', and I'm way outta my area of expertise here, but I-"

Your mouth crashed against his, silencing him with your answer. In an instant, his hands flew up to cup your face, cradling you gently, carefully, yet you still felt his strength wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

"Sweetheart," Joel gasped, pulling away from your kiss but still pressing his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you go. "I don't think I can survive losin' someone again," he told you selfishly, voice trembling as your fingers fanned across his cheek. Fresh tears stung your eyes as your lips found the underside of his jaw and he sighed, dropping his arms to wrap around you tightly.

You weren't sure exactly what it was, but something shifted. Maybe it had been enough to hear from Sarah directly that she was okay with you and her dad being together. Maybe it was the note you found in Daniel's desk. Maybe it was the beautiful reminder that so many people cared enough about you to drop what they were doing to fight for you to stay in their lives. Whatever it was, it had you feeling at finally peace after losing Daniel. The heaviness in your chest was replaced with warmth and hope. It made you believe it was okay to move on and let go.

Your hand that was pressed against his cheek fell to his chest and slowly trailed down his stomach until you felt the cool metal of his belt buckle against your fingertips. Beneath your lips, you felt his neck muscles tense and his pulse skyrocket.

"Wh-what're you doin'?" Joel murmured. His throat bobbed when your fingers hooked around the buckle, pinky slowly sliding the leather from the clasp.

"Do you want me to stop?" you whispered. You opened your eyes to gaze up at him, lips hovering over a red mark you had left just above his collarbone. His skin tasted salty from his dried sweat after working hard all day and it had your mind going a little fuzzy.

Joel shook his head and closed his eyes. You took it as your invitation to continue leaving kisses down the column of his throat while your hand resumed its work on his belt.

"I didn't get a chance to clean up," he rasped when his belt opened loose around his hips. He felt his hands begin to tremble from the nerves and anticipation, so he took a deep breath.

"That's okay. I like you like this," you mumbled. You began to tug on his shirt, pulling the hem from his pants. You were working with urgency, fearful that your guilt might pop up out of nowhere and ruin the moment.

Joel chuckled, pushing his own insecurities aside when he felt your palms slide across his too-soft stomach.

"Why the hell would you like me filthy from a job site all day?" he found himself asking, more so to just calm his nerves a bit as you continued to blindly explore his upper half underneath his shirt.

You nipped playfully at his skin before you said, "Because it's a reminder of how hard you work. And how much you deserve to be taken care of," you explained, pushing him so he began to walk backwards out of your kitchen.

Joel's breath caught in his throat. Unknowingly, you had said the very words he longed to hear and it sent a rush of blood between his legs. He hadn't been taken care of by anybody in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to have someone else help carry the burden of his daily responsibilities. Someone else to lean on when he felt weak and someone else to turn to when he wanted to share in his happiness.

"You- you sure 'bout this?" he stammered when his heels knocked into the bottom step. You pulled away and grabbed his hand. With a firm nod, you began to lead him up the stairs, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

On the way to your bedroom, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. His face was flushed, hair dusty and unkempt. His shirt looked messier than usual after you had been tugging on it and he cringed when he noticed the hole at the collar he must have missed earlier that morning when he was getting ready. But even with all that, he still felt giddy. He had a smile stretched so wide it practically hurt his cheeks. And although he looked a mess, his pants half undone with his cock already straining against the denim, he didn't feel foolish or out of place. He felt like a teenager sneaking up to a girl's room while her parents slept. He felt excited and happy and hopeful not only for what was waiting for him in your bedroom, but for what the future held. And just like that, any remaining reservations about his age or physique disappeared when he crossed the threshold into your bedroom for the first time.

His eyes bounced eagerly around the room in the few moments he had before you tugged him down to your level, pressing your mouth feverishly against his while you worked to undo your own pants. The first thing he had noticed was your room was very you. Girly colors and light furniture decorated every square inch. The paintings on the walls were of flowers and some inspirational quote he didn't have time to read. Your bed had a canopy. Sheer white curtains were tied to your headboard and it made him smile when he thought of you waking up every morning in such a beautiful room.

He would find out later you had completely redecorated after Daniel passed away. Top to bottom, new paint and furniture. It made sense. You didn't want to be haunted by your past, turn to look at something he built or picked out. Didn't want to think about the intimate moments you had with him and never would again every time you went to sleep.

Joel didn't have much to even consider any of that in the moment because you had fallen back onto your bed, jeans abandoned on the floor while sweetly reaching out for him to join you.

"Christ," he muttered, unable to stop his eyes from flickering down your body and over your bare legs before pausing on the lacy panties hugging your hips.

Ten years. It had been ten fucking years since he had sex. And you were so goddamn beautiful and perfect, spread out for him with your chest heaving and lust filling your eyes as you waited for him to snap out of it and come join you.

His gaze met yours and something unspoken passed between you. You both had your respective baggage and you each knew it, yet you trusted one another with the most sensitive pieces of your souls. And that had to mean something. That had to mean what you had was special.

He bent forward, fists pressing into the mattress on either side of you, and began to pepper kisses up your legs. He could hear your breath grow heavy the closer he got to the apex of your thighs and it made him smile to hear someone so perfect as you become so affected by his touch. He had hardly done anything and already you were wiggling and offering him soft little moans when you felt his exhale fan over your clothed sex.

There was no way he was going to last. Ten years. He wasn't even sure he still remembered his old moves. Even if he did, he wanted you so badly he probably wouldn't have enough time before he came.

But there was one thing he did remember how to do, and if his memory served him well, he was pretty damn good at it.

"Can I take these off, honey?" he asked with his fingers looped around the sides of your panties. His voice came out deeper than he expected, making a shiver shoot down your spine.

"Mhmm," was all you could manage, then you squeezed your legs together and lifted your hips, giving him what he needed to gently pull your underwear down your legs then tossed them onto the floor.

He inhaled sharply when your legs fell open, revealing the wetness that had already collected, all slick and shiny and just for him.

"Goddamn, you're perfect," he said breathlessly. His hands spread wide over your soft thighs, moving slowly to curve around and hold you open. When his knees hit the carpeted floor and he settled his shoulders between your legs, he heard your breath quicken. His cock twitched, still stuck in the restricting confines of his jeans, when he saw a fresh drip of arousal roll through your slit, and he couldn't hold back. He lunged forward, tongue curling to catch it with a groan, not even registering the surprised noise you made. His eyes fluttered closed as he went back for more, lips suctioning around your folds and tongue diving inside for another taste.

"O-oh my god, Joel," you moaned, fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets. His chest swelled with pride, your broken voice only serving to encourage him further.

Your mind went blissfully blank as he expertly dragged his tongue up and down, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it eagerly. His jaw worked steadily, widening his mouth with each messy kiss against your cunt. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, every suck of his lips exquisite. He had you trembling under his grasp in a matter of minutes, completely forgetting that it had been a long time since you had last been touched, as well.

When your hands grabbed roughly at his hair, he grunted but never faltered. The slight pain prickling his scalp from the sharp tugs on his greying curls kept him focused and in the moment. It made him pay attention to every sound and thrust of your hips, memorizing what made you come undone. But when his tongue was flooded with another wave of arousal, all thick and sweet and musky, it had his head swimming and his own hips bucking pathetically against the side of your bed.

He forgot how much he fucking loved this. How enjoyable it was to have a gorgeous woman become a writhing mess from his mouth. To hear his name like a song inbetween heavy gasps of air. To run his tongue over the softest and warmest place imaginable. To hear the high pitched whines when he finally scraped his teeth over that swollen bud he always saved for last.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out when his lips wrapped around your clit. "Fuck! Joel- ohmygod - Joel... please d-don't stop, please..." you begged, his cock swelling painfully in his jeans at the sound. He groaned loudly in response, refusing to remove his mouth even for a second. You tasted too good and sounded even better, he just couldn't get enough.

You were chanting curses mixed with his name, hips rocking against his face in rhythm with every swirl of his tongue around your clit. Under his fingers, your thighs tensed and he smiled to himself before he scraped his teeth gently over your bundle of nerves once again.

His timing was perfect. You shouted his name, voice raspy and broken. Your legs clamped around his head when you came with one more wave of slick coating his tongue. He lapped at your center like an animal, groaning and licking and sucking until you couldn't handle it any more. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, pulled him off you with a gasp, too sensitive to allow him to continue.

"You got a dirty mouth, baby," he teased with a wet, crooked grin. You laughed, face and neck covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"That's rich, considering what you just did with your mouth."

Joel chuckled as he finished undoing his jeans. He let them rest on the floor next to yours, no longer caring how dirty his clothes were, but he found himself hesitating for just a moment when his fingers found the hem of his shirt. You might have noticed, he couldn't be sure, because you sat up on your knees, inching forward til you were at the edge of the bed. Your hands replaced his and you slowly raised his shirt over his head, eyes instantly falling to take him in.

Running and eating better had made his middle a little less soft, but he still had twenty years on you and his body simply wasn't what it used to be. He worried for weeks what you would think of him but as it turned out, you didn't even give him a chance to wonder when you finally laid eyes on him.

"So handsome," you murmured, running your palms over his broad shoulders and down his pecs. That insecure part of himself normally wouldn't have believed you, but when he saw the heady look in your eye, all doubt was erased from his mind.

"Your turn," he said, fingers plucking at your tshirt. He wanted to get the attention off him but he also desperately wanted to see the rest of you.

You lifted your arms above your head so he could peel your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He might have been rusty, but he certainly remembered how to remove a bra, doing it with lightning fast speed that had you giggling until his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, melting your laugh into a moan.

Joel flattened his tongue over the hardening bud, his mouth warm against the soft skin of your breast. Your breath stuttered and your fingers flew up to grab onto his shoulders when the tip of his tongue flicked against your nipple before biting and sucking at your soft flesh.

"Perfect," he groaned before releasing your breast just to give the same attention to the other. Your head tipped back, a wrecked moan shuddering through you under his attentive care. "You're so perfect, baby," he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss between your breasts, right over your heart.

Your cheeks flared with heat at his compliment but you took it in stride. Swallowing tightly, you leaned back out of his hold, crawling backwards up the bed and grinning when Joel followed like a moth to a flame.

Hovering over you, his eyes danced over your now bare body with a look of awe. His obvious appreciation and adoration made you feel like a goddess, which was fitting considering he had just been on his knees for you.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world, y'know that?" he whispered while one rough hand brushed lovingly over your stomach and down your hip. You ignored his question, instead focusing on pushing down the band of his boxers, the final barrier between you both. When he kicked them off, his gaze still pinned to your body, your jaw dropped in surprise.

You had never been one to really care much about size when it came to men, your only concern was that they knew how to use it. But when you saw Joel's thick, heavy cock bobbing between you as he shifted his weight, all you could think about was how delicious that stretch would feel when he first entered you.

"Looks like I'm the lucky one," you joked. His eyes found yours again and you saw his cheeks flush with a bashful shake of his head. "It's true," you insisted when he settled onto his elbows. You tried to ignore his cock prodding at your stomach so you could tell him sincerely, "I think we're both lucky."

He smiled wide at that, his eyes squinting and causing the creases next to them to deepen. You smiled back, tracing one of the wrinkles with your fingertip before pushing his hair back behind his ear. Then you curled your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down the rest of the way so you could press your mouth against his.

His tongue dipped slowly into your mouth, giving you the faint taste of yourself while he lifted his hips ever so slightly to blindly line himself up with your entrance. With the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, he mumbled are you ready? into your lips, and you nodded.

Joel tried to kiss you again at the same time he pushed inside you, but your head immediately tipped back with a sharp gasp, so instead he placed sweet kisses against your throat while slowly feeding you his cock, inch by inch, until finally bottoming out with a rough groan.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, hot breath fanning across your even hotter skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to move. "Y'feel so good. Shit - so fuckin'..."

He couldn't even finish his thought. The way you fit around him so perfectly had him spiraling. You were so tight, so velvety soft and warm that he was fearful if he moved, he would come embarrassingly fast. Fortunately, it seemed you needed some time to adjust, as well. Your breath was shallow and fast, fingers digging harshly into his skin as you desperately tried to ground yourself.

"God, Joel..." you finally moaned, the sound causing goosebumps to flash across his arms. "You're so... fucking big," you added breathlessly. Joel felt his cock twitch and you gasped.

"Can't talk like that, baby."

"I can't help it," you whined, wiggling underneath him as your body slowly became used to his girth. "You feel so good, I feel so full-"

Joel cut you off, crashing his mouth hungrily against yours. You made a little surprised noise in the back of your throat then moaned into his mouth when his hips drew back slowly. You almost complained, almost begged him for more but then he sunk back inside you, stretching your walls and bringing tears to your eyes. He made it a few minutes, slowly rolling his hips, cock splitting you open while searching for that spot he knew would make you scream, but another sign of his age cropped up at the worst time, making him wince and stall mid thrust.

"What's wrong?" you panted, immediately sensing his discomfort.

Joel grunted and let his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "My goddamn back-"

"Lay down," you commanded, pushing him by the shoulders. He frowned and leaned up to look at you.

"I'll do all the work," you told him sweetly, pecking at his lips before giving him another push, but he didn't budge.

"Sweetheart-"

"I said I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" you challenged with a quirked eyebrow. "And so far, you're the one taking care of me."

He smirked and rolled his eyes but did as you asked, pulling out of you and earning a huff from you both.

Joel didn't love the idea of not being able to give you what you needed. He didn't want you to work for anything. He wanted to take care of you as much as you wanted to take care of him. But when you straddled his lap and positioned yourself to sink down on his cock, the sight alone made him forget all about the somewhat humiliating disturbance because you looked so goddamn gorgeous fucking yourself on top of him.

"Oh, shit, honey, look at you," he sighed. You whimpered, fingers digging into his chest for leverage as you bounced up and down on his lap. His hands found your waist, helping you move and steady yourself as you chased your high. "Yeah, that's it. Take what you want. Take it," he said through clenched teeth. Your breasts bounced and swayed, taunting him just out reach, but the visual made him pulse inside you, already dangerously close to his climax.

"Fuck, you're so deep," you moaned. Joel's eyes slid shut, trying his best to stave off his orgasm. He racked his brain to remember what made you fall apart for him before, but he could hardly think straight. The tension was pulling tight in his stomach each time to dropped yourself down on his cock. His skin tingled hearing every breathy moan tumble from your lips, all because of him.

And it was all too much.

"Touch yourself," he grunted, fingers digging harder into your waist. "C'mon, baby, touch yourself f'me. Can't -" He groaned when you started to roll your hips, your soaked cunt gripping him beautifully. "Can't last much longer," he finally was able to say.

You did as you were told, two fingers pressing desperately against your clit as you continued to ride him. Your face was slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head once you found a rhythm you liked. You looked absolutely breathtaking like that, spread out and full of him with your face contorted in pleasure. He had never seen you like that before. It was filthy and raw and desperate.

"Goddamnit," Joel growled, lifting his hips to match your pace. Each time he buried himself deep inside you, he let out a harsh grunt. The intensity and desperation was sending you both quickly over the edge. "I'm gonna come, darlin', 'm sorry," he murmured.

"Please," you begged, fingers working fast over your clit. You inhaled sharply and your movements stuttered. "Please come for me, Joel," you whispered with your eyes closed.

When he felt that familiar heat licking its way up his spine, he went to pull you off his lap, but your thighs clenched around him, keeping you in place.

"It- it's o-okay," you stammered. He had no time to ask you to elaborate. With a loud groan he finally let go, pumping you full of his spend. His orgasm was so intense, he swore his vision blacked out for a second. He blinked rapidly until you appeared before him again, just in time to watch you come on his cock with a strangled moan.

"That's it," he cooed, fighting for air like he had just run a fucking marathon. Your eyebrows pinched together and your mouth hung open as you ground down on his lap, riding out your high. When your cunt clenched around him, he felt one last burst of release paint your walls, the sheer force from the last several minutes making him lightheaded.

Your arms began to shake and a moment later, you collapsed onto his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh. He could feel your heart racing with his while you held each other, gasping for air until you each calmed down and your breathing returned to normal.

"I got a, uh," you began, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice. You pointed weakly towards your stomach. "A- a thing. An implant."

"Oh," he whispered, "good. Okay."

His arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you against his sweaty chest. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing in deep while you planted lazy kisses against his collarbone. He was still inside you but he could feel himself beginning to finally soften, so he gently rolled you onto your side while simultaneously slipping out of your clutch with a hiss.

He couldn't help himself. He glanced down and spotted the pearly trail of his seed leaking from between your legs and it sparked something inside of him.

"I made a mess of you, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gravelly with desire as he continued to stare. You followed his gaze down and grinned.

"Guess we're both dirty now," you teased. He chuckled and rolled on top of you, lips latching onto your throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this needy. High school? Maybe in his very early twenties? All he knew was he wanted you in every way imaginable. He felt like a man on the verge of death in the middle of the desert who stumbled across an oasis.

"Joel," you moaned when his hand dropped to cup your breast and his cock, by some goddamn miracle, began to slowly stiffen once again.

"Hmm?"

"I - I need a break," you admitted sheepishly, fingers combing gently through his hair. "And maybe a shower."

He grinned and stopped running the pad of his thumb over your nipple so he could lean up on his elbows to look at you.

"Want some company with that shower?"

You giggled and nodded. "But nothing funny! This is a business shower, okay?"

"Business shower?" he repeated with his dark eyes sparkling. He was so happy he could burst.

"Yes. A business shower. Nothing ... sexy," you said with a wave of your hand. You gave his shoulder a shove and he rolled off you long enough for you to wiggle out from underneath him, heading in the direction of your bathroom. His eyes immediately locked on your naked body and he flung himself out of bed, back pain long forgotten.

"Ain't possible to not have a sexy shower if you're in there," he joked as he followed you. You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Smooth."

You only made it ten minutes into your business shower before you caved. But with your front pressed against the cool tile wall and Joel's cock sliding effortlessly back inside you, you were having trouble remembering why you ever cared in the first place.

"You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you," Ryan said when you sat down on the soft leather couch across from him. You smiled and placed your purse next to you.

"A lot's changed since then."

"Yeah? Let's hear it," he urged, clicking his pen and scribbling something at the top of his legal pad.

"Well, for starters I'm not moving."

He grinned. "That's fantastic news. What's changed?"

You felt your cheeks warm up when you said, "I worked things out with that guy I was seeing."

"Wonderful! And you mentioned his... daughter, I believe? Had an issue with her father dating?" Ryan questioned while writing some notes on the paper.

"She surprised me and stopped by my house. She apologized for what happened and insisted she wants her dad to be happy," you explained, still finding it difficult to believe just two weeks later. "But I am going to sell my house. I need to move somewhere new. Some place that's all mine. I keep seeing Daniel everywhere I turn and I think it's been making it difficult to move on."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and set down his pen. "Good for you. That shows incredible growth and promise to be able to recognize when something is holding you back. That decision couldn't have been easy, either. You should be proud of yourself," he said warmly, making you smile.

"It wasn't easy, you're right. But it's for the best. My... boyfriend, I guess?" you said, the word sounding strange on your tongue. "Sorry. I'm not used to that. He's in construction and knows some people. It's an old house. Daniel and I put a lot of work into it and it would break my heart if it fell into the wrong hands. Joel - sorry, Joel's my boyfriend," you said, shifting your weight on the couch. "He's going to ask around and see if anyone he trusts can find a buyer for the house."

"It sounds like Joel is a great guy."

You smiled and nodded excitedly. "We met at group, actually."

Ryan's face broke out into a huge grin and he clapped his hands together. "What a beautiful coincidence. Two people with the same wound meeting and working to heal one another. That's so powerful," he said before picking his pen back up.

"It's still early but... it feels right. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be," you admitted.

"Easy in what way?"

You pursed your lips and began to fiddle with your bracelet.

"Easy in that I didn't feel... guilty when we, you know..." you trailed off, praying Ryan didn't make you finish your sentence.

"When you were intimate together?" he offered, putting a pretty little bow on the filthy things you and Joel had been doing for the past couple weeks.

"Yes."

You paused and cleared your throat before forcing yourself to meet Ryan's eye.

"I thought I would compare them, or, like, I don't know," you rambled nervously, "maybe I wouldn't like it because it wasn't what I was used to or something."

"And you didn't?"

You shook your head, feeling the tip of your nose sting when tears began to crop up in your eyes.

"And I thought... I always thought it would feel like a betrayal. Like I was cheating on Daniel. But it didn't," you said, blinking away your tears.

"And it shouldn't," Ryan said gently, setting his pen back down to give you his full attention. "I didn't know Daniel but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life alone and unhappy."

"No, he wouldn't," you agreed, then smiled to yourself when you added, "I think he would have really liked Joel."

"I'll bet he would, too," Ryan said. He flipped open another page on his legal pad and read something before asking, "And how are the legal issues going?"

Your face fell a little bit and you shrugged.

"My lawyer thinks he'll have things wrapped up soon but it just breaks my heart that it came to this. They were always so kind to me when Daniel was alive, I never expected them to be so... selfish and cruel."

"Not to make excuses for them, but people process trauma and grief in very different ways. Unfortunately, it can bring out the worst in people, but perhaps with time, you'll be able to mend that relationship if that was something you wished to do," Ryan said with a sympathetic smile.

You nodded silently and fiddled with the zipper on your purse. Ryan had gotten used to the way you processed information after only two sessions and knew you were ruminating, so he patiently gave you the time you needed to collect your thoughts.

"My parents were upset when I told them I wasn't moving back to Portland."

Ryan remained quiet, giving you the space you needed to speak.

"They think I'm crazy for 'shacking up' with a guy who is old enough to have gone to school with my dad," you explained. "Said I'm making a big mistake and I'm emotionally distraught."

Ryan's eyebrows pinched together. "Do you think you're emotionally distraught?"

"No," you replied. "I'm the best I've felt since Daniel passed away."

"And Joel? Is he in a good place for a relationship?"

"I think so," you sighed. "He lost his wife ten years ago. He's had more time to process his grief but this is the first relationship he's had since she passed, same as me."

"Well then, sounds to me like you are both doing just fine," he said warmly. "Parents always tend to think they know what's best for their children, no matter how old they are. And I'm sure their hearts are in the right place. But they don't see you every day, do they? They don't witness the progress and growth you've made. They certainly don't see how happy you are together. Perhaps with time, they will accept your decisions, but for now I think it's best to reinforce your boundaries and remind them of how well you are doing if the topic gets brought up again."

"Thanks. It's just tough to hear sometimes," you said solemnly. You pursed your lips together and tried not to dwell too much on your mother's negative reaction to your news, the wound still too fresh, but it ultimately only made you happier that you found Joel. He was such a strong and supportive presence in your life, despite the chaos, and you were always so grateful for him.

"Alright, let's switch gears," Ryan suggested when he sensed your sullen mood. "Where are you looking to move? Is the plan to move in with Joel?"

You laughed and shook your head. "That's a little too soon, I think," you said. "I'm looking to rent a small house. I found a few not too far from his neighborhood, though. We're going to check them out together this weekend."

"That's great," Ryan said as he scribbled down a few more notes. "And the job hunt? Last we spoke, you mentioned you had been looking for work but weren't getting much traction."

"Yeah, that hasn't been going great. But I've been toying with this idea, and I know it sounds crazy-"

Ryan laughed. "I'm sure it's not."

"Well... Joel and I were talking. He asked me what I really liked to do and what my dream job would be, and the first thing I thought of was cooking. I absolutely love cooking and baking."

"So you want to open a restaurant?" he guessed.

"No, not quite. Actually, I was thinking of a food truck."

You braced yourself for Ryan's strong opinion, expecting him to tell you it was a terrible idea and that the profits would be minimal, but instead he just smiled wide and sat back in his chair.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Really?" you asked, eyes sparkling. He nodded.

"I think it suits you very well. And it sounds like fun. I say if you have the means and motivation, do it. Hell, I'll be your first customer."

You laughed, feeling your chest lighten a bit when you received his approval. You had been so used to your family or Daniel's judging every little decision you made that it came as a great relief to hear someone besides Joel be so supportive.

"Well, it's just a baby of an idea. Maybe once the legal stuff is settled and don't have to worry about that anymore, I'll look into it more seriously."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Ryan said before standing up. You glanced at the clock, surprised your hour was already up, and began to collect your things. Admittedly when you started therapy, you weren't sure how much you would get out of it. But in the two short sessions you had with Ryan, you realized how nice it was to have a neutral third party shed some light on your problems without feeling judged.

"Same time next week?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hoping you'll come back with some good news about a house."

"Me, too," you said with a smile. Ryan walked you back out to the lobby and wished you a good rest of the day. You gave him a quick wave before stepping back outside and took a deep, calming breath.

The seasons were beginning to change, you could smell it. The air wasn't as humid and the breeze was just a little sharper.

You welcomed it, hopeful that the shift into autumn would usher in a new and exciting chapter of your life.

A/N: apologies if I've used the term 'business shower' before. I feel like I have in other fics but I can't be sure.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[kalegreeneyes]

Oct. 22 - apple - 665 words - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin is sitting on a slightly uncomfortable wooden bench in a slightly too cold park, his fingertips slowly going numb as he mindlessly thumbs through the pages of his favorite book, staring at the words but not taking any of them in.

He was doing this same thing at home, but his parents started arguing about his medical bills again and he just couldn’t stick around to listen to it, so he got his coat and his book and walked to the park near his house. He would very much like to be actually reading so he could have something to take his mind off of the fight, but his mind won’t let him. It’s bad enough being in his mid-20s and still living at home, and worse still for his parents to still be arguing about him. He sighs, closing his book and leaning back on the bench to tilt his head up towards the sky. He starts to go over the fight again, and—

“Ow, what the fuck?” he mutters, rubbing the side of his head where an…apple? just hit him. He stares at the red and orange fruit on the ground, completely perplexed.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t throw that at you on purpose, I was trying to throw it to my friend James and I saw you over here and got distracted and I am so, so sorry— are you okay?”

Remus follows the sound of the voice frantically apologizing for hitting him in the head with a fucking apple, and when he sees who did it, all thoughts of the pain in his head and the fight between his parents vanish. In front of him, with a very cute knit in his brow, is a gorgeous man in a leather jacket and fingerless gloves. He has long, black hair (Just like Lady Stardust, Remus notes. His favorite Bowie song.) and his nose is pink from the cold, complimenting the pink of his lips perfectly. Remus is absolutely transfixed.

“Oh god, are you okay? Did I give you a concussion?” he asks, and Remus shakes his head.

“No, I’m fine,” he swallows. “I’m Remus.” His eyes trail down to the rainbow pin affixed to the collar of the man’s leather jacket.

“Oh,” he sighs out in relief. “Thank fuck, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.” Dramatic. Endearing. “I’m Sirius. I…well, you’ve got every right to say no, seeing as I’m a stranger who just hit you in the head with an apple, but could I sit with you? I’ve just been watching you for a while— not in a creepy way, God,” Sirius drags a hand over his face. “This is not going well. My mate told me to shoot my shot, but I’m afraid I’ve missed entirely. I’ll just go; I’m so sorry again for hitting you with an apple,” he shakes his head, cheeks blazing red now to match his lips and the tip of his nose.

Remus is a little stunned. Maybe the apple did hit him harder than he thought, or maybe it’s just the whole interaction. Probably the latter. “You can sit with me,” he says while Sirius stoops to pick the apple up off of the ground.

Sirius looks up like a deer caught in headlights, completely surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus scoots over to make room and pats the empty space beside him. It doesn’t stay empty for long; Sirius drops himself clumsily into it and brushes his apple off on his pants before pulling a pocket knife out of his jacket.

“Wanna share?” he asks with a wide smile, and Remus doesn’t even like apples that much, but he nods anyway. It’s a lovely way to pass the time.

He doesn’t think about his parents arguing very much after that at all, not even when he gets home. He still can’t focus on his book, but he’s got something much better to be distracted by now.

[floppnopikka]

୨⎯”STANLEY PINES DATING HEADCANONS”⎯୧

He would call you nicknames like 'sweet cheeks' 'sugar pie' 'honey crackers' 'hot stuff'

When you ever feel like you're in your lowest moments this man doesn't know what to do to comfort you BUT he will try his very best to cheer you up. In the Book of Bill, his life has been in his lowest moments and there was no one to comfort him except for his mom, Jimmy Snakes (probably) and Stanford. Taking you to dinner (his treat ofc but only because he hates seeing you all depressed) go fishing and getting a free souvenir from his Mystery Shack.

This man is STRONG, never doubt his strength, he can punch, kick, and punch again. All his fats are his muscles so if you ever have anything heavy to carry just let him do it or if you got a sprained ankle because of your clumsiness, expect this man to insult you first before carrying you like you weigh nothing, ok he might struggle BUT JUST FOR A LITTLE BIT.

Needs constant reassurance, this man has always been looked down and stepped on in his whole life only for himself to stand up again without anyone's help. If you happen to get in a relationship with him, he will ask and look at you for support and words for him to keep going. He can get a bit dependent on you but not always, he knows how to stand up for himself after decades of insults from others and your praise may seem skeptical for him but knew better than to trust your words.

This man cannot read without his glasses, if you see him without his glasses and he's trying to read something on his news paper or watching TV, you can see him squinting his eyes in a verge of closing them.

If someone harasses you or talks bad about you, this man will definitely talk shit to someone and punch them so hard they will end up in the hospital.

He's prideful and won't back down to any teasing you call him (in a playful manner) but when it's serious moments, he'll have a hard time expressing his feelings because it always turns to anger or walking out but when he does something wrong, it'll take him a few minutes to apologize because he was never one to apologize or people would just ignore his apology.

Stanley isn't a fan of those cheesy romantic things like, giving flowers, chocolates, writing poems and stuff like that. Unless it's valentine's day or your birthday, he'll ask Mabel and Dipper for help on how to greet you, set you up with him. Just because he's not that type of man doesn't mean he's not showing his love and affection for you.

When you're not around, he would fr brag you to anyone 'Have you seen Y/N? well, bad luck for you buddy, you literally missed a sight for sore eyes. Which happens to be my significant other!' and then he would laugh at the child or 'Look here buddy, Y/N is someone who's very passionate on anything they do, I mean look at them! don't you feel the raging flames of passion they're putting there?' he pointed the direction where you stood and then it's just you arguing with a karen in the grocery store while he grins lazily as he sips his soda 'Yup, very passionate'

When you two got into an argument and didn't end well, he would stay up all night thinking about it, tossing and turning on the bed with a groan. He will apologize but it's messy because he doesn't know how or it's too hard for him to do say it. "Look, I made a mistake and I... I know what I did was wrong and I just wanna say..." long pause "...m'sorry..." in the most quiet yet audible apology you'll ever hear but if that didn't budge you he'll try even more "Ok! ok! I really... am! I'm sorry, ok? what I did to you was wrong, I'll give you space if you need it and... I'm sorry, again, really" but you can't stay mad at him for long so you forgive him in an instant.

Overall, a patient and understanding partner is what he needs perhaps someone who has the same ego as him would be fun, an adventurous partner would be his cup of coffee since he is the most wanted criminal in America, you two would be partners in crime >:)

A/N: hope y'all like it, might be ooc of Stanley Pines

[rat-rambles]

I'm gona explain to yall why I think Stanley is the one that's ace aro in cannon and not Ford or Bill. (Yes all head cannons are vaild blah blah I love acearo people I am one don't kill me)

So basically it comes down to if stan wanted some he could. Young stan seems to be considered relatively conventional attractive (not like ugly men don't mange to hook up but still) and even as a "ugly" old man he is the hottest old person in town befor Ford shows up and. Once he gets over his social awkwardness he is actually able to date he just isn't about that life. "What about Stanley's ex wife's" I hear you scream at your screens well thanks to Bill I have notes.

Thank you bill now could be lieing yes but frankly I don't think his god Alex would let that happen for something like this. Especially becuse it's way funnier if it's all cannon. Now I think 2 of them can be considered legitimate and there not exactly romantic are they. Stanley is well known to care more about money than any romantic relationship witch dosnt sound like some one who's not aro to me. I'll give that there are a couple jokes pokeing wholes in my theroy however personaly any atemps at straightness by stan just feel very performative to me. Like there's something a whole easy to about how stans masculinity is just a reaction to incurity but all I'll say for now is stan is despite to prove he's not a failure and part of growing up in the 80s and not being a failure is geting bitches. And yet he can't comit to a relationship for more than a few days and it's not for commitment isues bitch comited to a fucking portal for 30 years AFTER NEARLY FAILING HIGHSCHOOL. As I said if he wanted to he would.

Now I'm going to go on a long rant about Bill and Ford so if you don't want that stop now

Ok for the record staring off bill and ford are both unreliable narrators.

Ford (my first victim)

We've seen him get rejected twice in the show when he trying to flirt with girls the more famous one being when he gets punch thrown on him. Ford is a very scentive guy he can't handle rejection obvouly he's gona wax poetic about how it's not that he can't get any he's just you know so very busy. Funny how he's not busy when Bill comes into his life or fiddleford for that matter it's almost like that's not the problem

Now I can see how you can read this qa acearo core but all I hear is the autism talking. There is something intently funny to me about the idea that he stright up was dating a male sided demon and is like but am I gay. It's very conservative up bring of him very relatable. But seriously if he was ace aro he'd just lean into being superior not what ever this is.

Bill ( he wouldn't escape me)

Same thing yeah he wax poetic about chemicals witch yeah is something ace aros do but also like incels.

He literally is just asking dear not to ask him out a real problem when every freak reading this book wants to make out with him sorry Bill your hot shit.

The book is shaking you by the shoulders begging you to tell that he's lieing for clout. Bill is also begging you to take him seriously and he can't be serious if he can't even get any becuse he's a unlikeable losser.

Like I'm sorry guys the text just dosnt suport these 2 being acearo this is not the show for ace aro rep I'm sorry. This show is actually really really really obsessed with romantic relationships it's a well Alex keeps going back to witch is why I'm so sure about stanly becuse he's like the one character who actively rejects dating instead of just saying he's into into it. ITS GRAVITY FALLS EVERYONES A FUCKING LIAR.

[pompadourpink]

It's a new beginning!

Hello children,

September is coming, school too for some of you - often a great moment for a bit of decluttering and a few new good resolutions. Here am I, offering myself as one of them!

As you hopefully know, I started this blog in 2016 and have been a private tutor since the beginning of the pandemic. I have room at the moment for several new students, so here is what I offer:

Classes, obviously - the typical schedule is one hour a week, sometimes one and a half, or one every two weeks, or two every two weeks; typically same day same time (I'm always happy to make adjustments if you work shifts)

Homework, if you can make the time for it. I typically prefer it to be finished by the middle of the week so that I have time to take a look and correct it, giving you the opportunity to give it a second try before class!

Depending on your preferences, either just a few activities so we can take our time, especially if you are a beginner, or something a bit more dynamic consisting in five to ten minute long activities to keep you motivated and alert (which seems to be a crowd's favourite as most of my students are neurodivergent).

Talking activities are typically answering series of questions I share from my Notion, talking about your week, summarising a book or a movie, making me guess a word or a person, or a concept I call "alien talk" where you explain something (like a vaccine or insurance) from scratch to a little red man.

Writing activities are often fictional (I have students create a little character on a website and we write an update about their life regularly), they can also be an overview of your month, a letter to quit your horrible job or convince Snoop Dog to marry you because you are a gold digger.

Transcribing activities, especially at the beginning, are either me reading very easy sentences so you can write them down and memorise the way things sound, then it's episodes from young children's shows, extracts from very famous movies, then we hit harder and turn to gameshows or podcasts.

Translating activities, from one language to another, are a written translation of the first page of a novel (I did the Secret History recently), or a newspapers article (we are working on this one at the moment); or an oral translation of songs lyrics, fairytales, children's books, muted captioned playthroughs of your favourite games on Youtube, etc.

Finally, a few games: silly quizzes, crosswords, Wordle and even Quordle, hangman, and sometimes we even sing if you're comfortable with that.

Here is the link of my website where you will find reviews and a list of what to send me to get the process started. A few things to know:

I try to make the activities fit your preferences: get me a list of what you like and that is what we will work on. If your first language is not English, I am happy to include it, I'm always eager to learn (I've been reviewing my Spanish this way!)

I work without cameras. I don't need to see your face, I just need a voice and a good Internet connection. All students are welcome, no matter if you have an accent, a stutter, or disabilities. Do not be afraid of being judged, there is none of that here.

I ask for your contact information to be able to do my billing, no one else sees it and no one will know if you give me the address of a building in your area if you feel more comfortable this way. If you prefer to have a lesson first and decide that you want to continue before sending me your info, that's also an option.

I have a student and a regular rate, depending on what you can afford, and we can make different arrangements if your country's rate makes it too difficult, I've done it before.

Please comment if you have a question!

Much love,

Rose

[lywinis]

I'm begging people to understand that I was THE demographic for Harry Potter when that shit hit the shelves. I had just turned 11, the book released about a month before my birthday. I was a shy, introverted bookworm who loved to escape into fiction (and frequently did with other series as well). The Deathly Hallows was my 21st birthday gift.

I grew up reading Harry Potter, just like you. I grew up with the movies and the merch and the whole world talking about it, just like you.

I'm also trans. I'm a trans man currently unable to transition because I live in a deeply red state in the United States, and now I'm watching my trans siblings in the UK face the same hurdles I am. We're not people to these folks. They don't care that we're suffering. The cruelty is the POINT for them.

JK R*wling is a transphobe. There's no squirreling around it, no weaseling out of it. She has stated, multiple times, that she does not believe trans women are women. Trans men, to her and all her TERF friends, are just confused women who want 'equality' and so we transitioned to get it. We're gender traitors.

She is not your friend. She's not your nanny, who reads you stories and just happens to have outdated views. She is a billionaire with gobs of money to throw at her cause, and she won a big concession today. She got her way because she threw her considerable financial weight behind a bill that cuts off trans rights. There was no trans representation at this hearing, by the way.

This was all bought and sold with the money that you all spent on Harry Potter. She wouldn't have this money without that IP.

She wouldn't be able to do it without your support.

I grew up with it too. I know. It's a magical world.

But we live here, in the real world. It's full of villains we have to fight in real time. We're not alone. We have the power to stone wall her.

You have to be willing to put the same effort into avoiding the IP that you did embracing it, though. Pull your Hogwarts House from your bio. Cancel your tickets to the play. Don't stream the movies or the new show. Don't buy the video game. No more merch, especially official merch.

Don't give her an ounce more of your hard earned money.

This shit can be hard, but it is not unable to be done. You simply...stop. You put the books away. You take down your merch, wrap it in paper, and box it up. If you can't donate it, or want to keep it for nostalgia reasons, fine. Box it up. Maybe someday, when these laws are a nasty memory annotated in the history books, you can pull it out, reminisce.

But for now--read the room.

Trans rights are human rights, and fictional characters are never more important than real people.

[garbinge]

Jane Austen and a New York bench

Jess Mariano x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff, light bickering/back and forth. Typical Jess angsty-ness. Summary: After school shenanigans with Jess in NY. Word Count: 1k All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics A/N: Never wrote for Gilmore Girls before but fun fact is actually one of my favorite shows!! I've watched it at least 10 times through. I am team Jess always and forever. Enjoy this light and fluffy (as fluffy as Jess can be while still being Jess) fic!

“I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type.” You plopped down on the bench next to Jess. 

“I never said I don’t like Jane Austen.” His voice was littered with frustration as he set the book down on his lap. 

“True, but I’ve never seen you read anything by her.” You tucked your legs up on the bench so you were now facing Jess, your side now resting against the back of the bench. 

“Until now.” He lifted the book up and dipped his head as he shook the book. 

“Until now.” You agreed, nodding your head. 

“Where you coming from?” Jess asked, adjusting himself so he could look at you, resting his arm along the back of the bench behind your shoulder. 

“You know, there’s this establishment, institution some may call, that provide these spaces for learning and education and they’re usually in session from the morning to the afternoon.” You sarcastically explained. 

“I must look into this fine establishment you speak of.” Jess responded. 

“You know the more you miss the more you’ll have to make up for.” You leveled with your best friend. 

“I’m caught up.” Jess’s voice raised in defense even though he still had a slacker attitude that was always impossible for him to lose. 

“Yea, thanks to me.” You pulled away to grab books and notes from your bag to hand over to him. 

He grabbed them and started filtering through them. “You know, your capital letters are always hard to read, it’s like a drop cap every start of a sentence.” 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Mariano. If you don’t like my notes, now hear me out," you paused for a few seconds as your eyebrows raised, "maybe you could go to school and take your own.” You faked a shock face like what you said was ground-breaking.

“But then we wouldn’t get to share these moments, that I cherish so deeply, with each other.” 

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on Jess’ arm and closed your eyes. 

For a moment you both sat there, you were soaking in the relaxation from a long day. Jess was taking the time to stare at you, taking in your features, his hand was beginning to get tangled in the fur of your coat as he lightly rubbed your shoulder. 

“You hungry?” Jess asked at more of a whisper than he was speaking before in case you had began to fade to sleep. 

“You buying?” You mumbled back to him, eyes still closed. 

You felt his breath hit your face as he chuckled from your response. “Sure, hot dog?” 

“With everything on it.” You pouted and thought if you wanted anything else. “And a soda, ginger ale–no, coke.” 

He let out another laugh. “I’ll get a ginger ale and you get a coke, we’ll share.” 

“You’re wasting that brilliant mind not coming to school, Mariano.” You were already off the bench and starting to walk down the busy New York street as you yelled back to him. 

Jess was still smiling as he gathered his things quickly before catching up with you. 

“Maybe I’m too brilliant for school.” 

“I change my mind that statement proves you have no brain cells.” You teased him as you approached the hot dog cart and began ordering. 

As Jess handed the man a $20 bill, you were beginning to balance the drinks and hot dogs and finding another bench in the same park you were just in. 

Jess was close behind you and wafted a paper tray of french fries in your face before plopping down next to you. 

“Okay, that earns you TWO braincells.” You spoke with a mouth full of hot dog, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the half chewed food.

“French fries have to earn me at least 4 and the salt pepper combo another 2. So I should be at like 10.” He argued as he unwrapped his hot dog. 

“You should be at zero again, you can’t do simple addition.” You teased. 

His smile grew and he was grabbing something from behind his back and before you could question anything the plastic cup filled with liquid gold was shining in front of your eyes like the angels from above had presented it to you. 

“Melted cheese?” You took a deep breath in shock and happiness all at once. 

“Melted cheese.” Jess repeated your question as a statement and held it out further for you to take.

“But you haaaate getting the side order of cheese, you say its a rip off.” You were quick to remove the cap off the plastic container and dip a french fry in it pretty immediately. As you ate the cheese dipped fry you dropped your shoulders in an act to show how great it tasted. 

“I’m not oblivious to the greatness of a hot dog cart melted cheese cup, I just think $2.00 for a tiny cup of cheese is ridiculous.” He argued as he was making his way to dip his own fry in the sauce. 

“But yet you did it this time.” You were pointing at him with a french fry while your other hand was bringing up your soda to drink, eyes slightly frowning trying to figure him out. 

“Because you like it, and I like when you’re happy.” It was a short sentence but for someone like Jess who grunted or rarely spoke about anything emotional in more than two syllables it might has well have been a novelized love letter. 

You paused and looked up at him, he had spoken the sentence so nonchalant as he was switching sodas with you, again another action to prove his thoughtfulness. 

“Jess, the romantic.” It was a playful comment but there was truth behind it when you spoke it. 

He smiled at the comment snd continued to pick through the food that was spread along the bench. 

“What can I say it’s all that Jane Austen.” 

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ GRAVEYARD SHIFT SHENANIGANS ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn (the spot) x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. y/n is strapped, johnny gives second hand embarrassment

: ̗̀➛ note. if you were the one getting robbed instead, i didn’t proof read this so if you saw a typo no you didn’t

only the restless and the crazies are awake at 3 am, and the only thing that those have in common are that they both have nothing better to do with their time. what does that make you?

The streets were quiet.

If you were lucky, every so often you’d hear the sounds of a car speeding down the road (likely well above the speed limit) or groups of people shouting and ranting while searching for a cab or an Uber after a long night at the bar across the street. It was rare, however, and you were more often than not left alone with your own thoughts to drown out the sounds of the fluorescent lights above you buzzing unnecessarily loud and the quiet pop songs playing on repeat from the speakers mounted in the ceilings.

Anyone else would run from the idea of being left in such a dull and lacking environment, but for you the nights spent sitting idly behind the counter waiting for the rare human interaction was necessary to keep your lights on and your ass out of the streets.

When you’d first heard the corner store was looking for a new employee to work the graveyard shift after the last worker quit due to a recent attack from a rouge villain that left him too paranoid to run the store alone, you were heavily against the idea despite your friend’s insistence that it was good money and she knew you needed it after hearing your previous complaints about your current job not being enough to cover both your bills and your meals. Knowing how prevalent crime could be, especially considering the part of town you lived in, who in their right mind would accept that job offer?

Luckily for you, you didn’t seem to be in your right mind. After a few convincing words and a quick interview with the grouchy owner of the store, you were welcomed with somewhat open arms and after two weeks of half assed training, you were successfully spending nearly all of your nights running the corner store after the sun went down.

Now it’s been two years, and as much as you love the security you feel knowing that you’re good at what you do, it can tend to get a bit boring on quiet nights.

You’d take the silence over the nights where you’d get visits from shady men coming in to withdraw a questionable amount of money and drug addicts who’d harass you for a few dollars to get a fix or were just completely off their rocker.

To make up for the lack of entertainment, you popped in an earbud and put on a podcast to drown out your thoughts, mindlessly flipping through the same magazines you’d been looking through for the last 4 hours of your shift. At some point celebrity drama had become more boring than the silence so you resulted to working on the puzzles and mind games on the back, so consumed in a sudoku game that you almost didn’t notice the sound of the scratching of metal and the small rusted bell jingling as the door to your store creaked open. As soon as it registered, you set the book down, sitting up, alert and ready as you eyed the new customer who had the pleasure of gaining your attention for the next few minutes they’d been in.

If there was one thing your shitty training had taught you it was to keep an eye out and be observant, more often than not the creeps came out at night and the last thing you wanted was to end up on the news with a bad id picture because you didn’t notice a man entering the store with a gun cocked and ready.

As a result, you’d gotten pretty good at profiling some of your customers and taking note of things that most people normally would pay no mind too. This man was no different.

Your alarms went off the moment he walked in, but you weren’t exactly sure which red flag set it off. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, in a big blue brown coat covering most of his upper half with the collar popped to hide his neck, topping it off with a brown bucket had covering most of his hat and what you thought were sunglasses. Maybe it was how you couldn’t tell what the glasses were due to his head being tilted down and his gaze locked on the floor and his own two feet. Or it could’ve been how you couldn’t get a good look at his bottom half aside from what you believed were black spotted white pants due to how quickly he scurried to the counter, his entire body tilting under your gaze as he seemed to be really shifty and refused to meet your eyes.

The only physical feature you could really make out about the person was that they were really, really pale and just from your angle you could tell he was a decently tall man.

“How can I help you?” Were the first words you chose to utter to him, trying to get an idea of what he wanted and why he seemed to be so nervous and fidgety, outlined by the way his hands messed with the hem of his coat.

“I- um,” he cleared his through, and you could sense the nervousness in his voice. His tone was light but held weight like he was hiding something or was guilty of something worse, “where is your restroom?”

What were the odds that he actually had to go? You’d had your fair share of people with the same mannerisms asking for the same thing and majority of the time they were using in the restroom, leaving you to pick up after the mess of tissue and needles, or worse, they’d leave behind, but something in your gut told you that wasn’t the case, and you couldn’t refuse him service based on a hunch.

Reaching behind you without taking your eyes off the man, you opened a drawer and pulled out a rusted keychain, clearing your throat and holding it out for him. “In the back, first door on your left, try not to make a mess,” you instructed and nodded your head towards the open corner in the back of the store.

With a small thank you, the unknown man quickly snatched the key from your grasp and made his way to the back with haste, though not without you notice the strange texture of his skin for the brief moment your fingers touched, and not without him eyeing the ATM machine he passed on his way back.

What was his deal?

A few minutes had gone by since he went to the back. You’d paused your podcast and sat silently, your gaze constantly shifting from the front doors to the back as you waited for him to reappear. Your negative attitude might have been uncalled for, he may have just been a regular guy who stopped at the first place that had an available bathroom, but you knew better than to be that hopefully. Moments later after you’d returned to your magazine, you heard a door open and footsteps, followed up by buttons clicking and pointed beeping noises. When you looked back, he was out and standing in front of the ATM, hesitantly pushing buttons.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make himself seem busy on the machine or was really anxious about pulling money. It could’ve been the case that he was taking out a lot for something that wasn’t exactly legal. Drugs, a sex worker maybe? It was none of your business, so long as he kept it out of your store.

You turned back to your magazine to avoid him noticing your constant staring, but about a minute later you perked up at the sound of a loud screech, silent curses and the sound of loud banging. Your senses heightened as you turned around again in your chair, and it took a moment to process the sight in front of you. The man had managed to climb on top of the machine, or at least that’s how you assumed he got up there, jumping up and down on the machine in a hurry. It was hard to piece together until you realized that the machine was now halfway through the ground, courtesy of a large black gaping hole that you were certain wasn’t there before. What the hell?

Your hand reached for the drawer under your register faster than you could process, being far too use to this drill. Your hands searched the drawer without your eyes leaving him before pushing it closed after discreetly pulling out your weapon. It wasn’t often that you needed the gun, but it’s better safe than sorry.

Quietly, you stood up from your chair and left from behind the counter, sneaking up on the man by tiptoeing through the aisles. Assuming he was a criminal, he wasn’t very good at keeping an eye out as he hadn’t noticed you creeping up on him from behind until you were mere feet away and turned off the safety, raising your arms with it pointed at his head. Unnecessary? Maybe, but you weren’t dumb enough I charge unarmed, not if he could be a serious threat.

“Freeze!” Yikes, maybe that was too officer-ey? Your tone was assertive, but your assumption that he could be a hero deflated and was thrown out the window as he reacted far too slow, turning around nearly jumping out of his (pants?), letting out a scream that could put a little girl at Disneyland to shame. His arms flailed and he lost his footing on the ATM, falling over only for another portal to open on the ground and swallowing him whole. He reappeared in a portal on the ceiling behind you and you jumped, turning around just in time to see him fall through, his torso hitting the top of a shelf and sending all of the condiments falling before he hit the ground. You couldn’t help but wince, that had to hurt, but kept your grip on the gun firm as he struggled to his feet.

Leaning against a display to pull himself off, he mistakenly put too much faith in the rickety stand and it toppled over, bags of snacks matching the other items scattered on the ground. He let out a groan of pain and when he stood, somewhat fully as he seemed to have bad posture, you watched the now broken sunglasses fall off of his face, or rather lack thereof, his hat falling to the ground.

He had no face. Where it should’ve been, there was a large, black gaping hole with no way to see anything inside. In fact, it wasn’t just his face, as you soon came to realize that he wasn’t wearing pants, those dots were his skin. He had no human distinguishable features, what you had assumed to be pale skin was actually paper white, decorated with black hopes all across his legs, seemingly his entire body. His coat still remained, but you were willing to bet that his torso was covered in the same holes as the rest of his body. If not for the humanoid figure, voice, and his clumsy personality you wouldn’t have known he was human, assuming he was.

“Wait wait wait! Please- pLEASE don’t shoot! I’m not dangerous I swear I’m a good guy, well I’m not because I’m robbing you but I’m not really robbing you-” as he seemed to start to ramble on, the confusion started contorting your face and he seemed to notice, laughing nervously with his hands still raised as he took a step back. “See, I’m not really a criminal but because I look like this now no one will hire me and I have to resort to robbing stores to support myself, you know?” As he spoke he attempted to shake an empty can that his foot lodged itself in, leaning down to pull it off while keeping a hand up which reminded you that you still held him at gun point.

While you were still only beginning to process what the hell was going on, you hypothesized that the more stressed or worked up he seemed to be, the more out of control his holes became, as the seemed to shift and swirl on his body more and more as he continued to rant. “I’m kind of like my own Robin Hood, you know the whole steal from the rich give to the poor? Except I kind of am the poor, at least I am now. I used to have a good job at Alchemax before they turned me into this, but I can thank Spider-Man for that too-” Alongside that, they popped up far more often, proven by how he suddenly toppled into another, emerging from the wall next to you and hitting the floor head first, wincing as he stood up, this time without the can, it instead falling from a different hole that appeared next to his head, hitting him square in the face before disappearing into another hole.

Without realized it, your arms slightly lowered and you resulted to watching the poor man’s sad attempts at controlling his mutation/power, finding it both pitiful and amusing. “But that’s besides the point! You really shouldn’t shoot me I swear I’ll be out of your hair, which looks great- by the way, as soon as I can I really don’t mean any harm!”

Pulling his arm out of a half closed hole, he suddenly straightened up, managing to stand in one place without being thrown around like a rag doll. Silence remained as you seemingly stood still and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds before you pursed your lips, looking down as a hand came up to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“What- what are you doing?” He questioned you, and while there was no expression on his face you had a feeling he was looking at you with a puzzled look, only for his question to be answered when you suddenly doubled over, the muffled snicker turning into chuckles, which lead to giggles up until you were howling with laughter, hardly able to catch your breath. You left him standing there thinking you must’ve lost your mind. “Why are you laughing?!” You could only respond with more cackling, leaning against a wall and inhaling deeply to make up for the lack of air you could consume.

“What’s so funny?! This isn’t a joke!” He sounded both surprised and slightly offended, which you felt slightly bad for but given his methods you couldn’t help it, and by the time you started to calm down as he stupidly stood there, the pieces seemed to finally click on everything he was telling you, from what you knew anyway.

“Are you sure?” Were the first words that left your mouth, and he seemed baffled by your reaction. “Yes I’m sure! What’s your deal? I’ll have you know I spent a lot of time planning this out!” You highly doubted that.

The holes were definitely hard to get your mind behind, but as your brain tried to process you suddenly reminded the can while a portal, unbeknownst to you, opened up behind you. Where did it go?

BANG!

A sharp pain raced through the back of your head and the man’s hands went up to where his mouth would’ve, or rather should’ve, been. “Ohmygosh I am SO sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, I figured!”

Reaching up to feel the back of your head, a throbbing pain settled in, but luckily no blood so you deemed it safe. You didn’t have to see it to hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and after that entire fiasco you could only feel bad for the poor guy. He clearly hadn’t been built for a life of crime, but unfortunately decided that it was his path.

“Listen,” you got his attention by showing off you lowering the weapon, before nodding your head up towards the ceiling and giving a pointed look to two corners of the store. “The cameras in here are really old, they don’t have audio and the video quality is horrible. I can edit the footage to an extent before I leave, but if the time gap between the frames is too long it might get suspicious and I’m not losing my job over you.”

You slowly raised your weapon as you looked back at him, turning the safety back on. “I’m going to act like I’m holding you at gunpoint and threatening to call the cops, all you have to do is snatch the gun when I ‘accidentally’ drop it, kind of switch the roles around, you get me? I can get you some money from the safe before I call the cops but you have to be quick-”

“Wait, hold on, you’re helping me?” He asked incredulously, his shoulders falling as he pointed at his chest. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I am, you honestly don’t seem like a bad guy and it’s not coming out of my paycheck, so long as next time you try to pull this you don’t do it here.”

If he had one, his jaw surely would’ve been on the floor. “I can’t even begin to thank you, you’re a saint! Is this a trick? I can’t repay you for this-” he started on again, but you cut him off be gesturing towards the weapon again to remind him of your words before dropping it.

Luckily for you, he was able to catch on pretty quickly and took the gun. His acting was mediocre at best, but you doubted anyone would look at the footage closely enough to notice how amateur he seemed as he pointed it at you, he hadn’t even turned the safety off. He demanded you take him to the safe before you reminded him that the cameras couldn’t hear him and there wasn’t a need for the menacing voice, to which he sheepishly apologized. After letting him stuff his pockets with as many of the bills as he could fit, you yelled to stop him before he could race out the door.

“The gun. I need it back.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” he chuckled and left it on the counter, taking a few awkward steps back. Your curiosity got the better of you and you leaned forward from behind the counter. “You did a whole lot of talking but I never got your name.”

Flustered, he seemed to point at himself as if he were confused on why you were asking him, but replied, “I am…the Spot.”

The same feeling bubbling up in your chest as you eyed his stance and the sudden voice change, you brought a hand up to your mouth, and his shoulders fell yet again.

“You’re seriously laughing? Again?!”

“No! No, I’m not,” you tried to defend, but the giggle you let out before clearing your throat and biting back a smile said otherwise. Luckily you were able to control it this time. “It’s just- what kind of awful parents have the honors of giving you that name?”

“It’s my villain name! Not my real one!” He hissed.

“Then what’s your real name?”

He looked at you puzzled, possibly wondering why you wanted to know so much, but at the same time it’d been a while since anyone had shown genuine interest in him so he obliged.

“Johnathan.”

“Johnathan,” you repeated slowly, as if you were resting out the name in your mouth, making his stomach warm up with an indescribably annoying feeling. “Alright, Johnny. Have a good night. You might want to get lost before the cops show up.”

He turned around as if to leave before pausing yet again, turning his head back. “Wait, I never got your name?”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to come back another time to find out.” Bold, and completely not your style, but something told you that you and Johnathan were going to get along nicely. “Preferably not to rob me though, and without making a big mess I have to inevitably clean.”

You gestured to the mess of food and other miscellaneous items that had fallen off of mostly toppled shelves, and Johnathan gave a sheepish apology. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He disappeared into the night, or rather a black portal that opened under his feet once he stepped outside, and you were once again left sitting behind the counter and alone with your thoughts, the sounds of distant sirens getting louder every second, only this time you had something to look forward too the next time you clocked in and the Spot had a new motivation for his newfound criminal activity.

[alvoskia]

i'd love to know how you go about writing neurodivergence in a fantasy/not modern setting. thinking specifically of how you describe ally's experience as allegorical whereas flames's autism is canon. how do you differentiate between the two in a world where the vocabulary and contexts are different? (hope that makes sense!)

Thank you!!

I think a lot of it depends on how far immersion wise you want to go, in some ways. Most fantasy worlds still use the twelve month Gregorian Calendar system, for example (even in LOTR, though Tolkien is technically writing it as a translation) or terms for sexuality/gender. In Vita's Land, they actually use an 8 month calendar system with one month associated with an Infran respectively, though I kept each month at 6 weeks for a 52ish week year for my own sanity. I've been debating whether I want to go full throttle of having unique sexuality/gender terms as well, especially because I think the world operates on a much more "you are a woman or not-woman" dichotomy as opposed to a (cis) man or (cis) woman binary, but I digress.

I think some of why Ally's experience feels allegorical to me / to my experience with autism is because I started really writing and understanding her and her story when I was around 16, and that's also when I think my neurodivergency was sticking out to me more; at the time, I chalked it up to be questioning in my sexuality (specifically for asexuality) as gender wasn't a thought in my head yet, and so I was kind of crafting her story at the same time.

Her story is also growing up feeling Other'd for a variety of reasons — an Infran but powerless; a human being raised among non-humans; being Asian when conversations around race tend to be heavily focused on black and white issues somewhat literally; being asexual within the broader allosexual/alloromantic queer community; feeling left behind / struggling within the 'school' system or within societal expectations since not every autistic person is 'Gifted' — so while she's not canonically autistic to me, growing up with "everyone around me knows I'm different (derogatory) somehow and won't tell me how/why so I'm just stumbling around in the dark" is absolutely a core aspect of her book one story in particular and one I think other autistic / neurodiverse people could relate to (I've also considered BDP or NDP for her, tbh). I don't honestly know if I can write a 100% not autistic character from an OC standpoint, anyway.

The end of her book one story is therefore reminiscent of how I felt learning there was a Reason I felt the way I did (ie. my therapist was like "I think you're autistic"), that there were reasons for how my brain worked, and that it wasn't something wrong with me and that my friends loved me/wanted to and could indeed help me just as I was. It's not quite the unconditional "you never have to work on your behaviour or yourself to meet people in the middle" because that's just not always true, but it is true that you can meet people and be met in the middle and receive unconditional love and support on your way to the middle, or wherever people are able to meet you (sometimes, again, right where you are as is).

Flames, meanwhile, I realized I'd been writing as canonically autistic the whole time without realizing, because she is one of the characters (alongside Bill) that I probably relate to the most in terms of like, how she thinks, feels, and responds to things. One of the cruxes of her and Ally's dynamic, written from Ally's POV of course, is Ally resenting her for her apparently effortless success/natural inclinations. I have had people academically or aggressively compete with me my whole life much to my own confusion and despite dislike of competition, and having people read superiority complexes onto me like, has always sucked ass, and has always been untrue. It's especially frustrating because it then makes their insecurity my problem when I am truly just trying to chill/exist/have a good time. None of this is to say that Flames isn't at fault at all either, she's not perfect nor am I, but being misunderstood and having people fooled by your mask / being a good performer is something I related to a lot in her, specifically from an autistic experience.

Now onto what you were actually asking, worldbuilding wise:

I'm fairly certain the in-universe term for autism is known as being wide minded, and it's seen as a neutral/positive leaning thing. The name, I think, captures both the reality of autism as a wide spectrum, and in the idea of it being 'far reaching' — knowing a lot of information (hyperfocus, special interest) / needing a lot of information (to plan, to understand, etc) as two sides of operation. So Flames is wise minded / autistic TM and Ally's remains allegorical, even if I'm not opposed to it also being literal later and/or anything else

I think there's probably a lot more grace / understanding for neurodiversity and disabilities (it's decently common for sighted people to learn braille, for example) since their school system is different too (some form of homeschooling until age 7, then formal schooling for 9ish years) and like... more wide minded Infrans in the past to help generate and push for understanding/acceptance in society that the current Infrans somewhat get to reap the rewards from.

Other things I want to interweave is:

I'm fairly certain Rayan is also wide minded (autistic)

George and Jamie both have ADHD, though I'm not sure yet what it'd be called in-universe. ADHD's current naming scheme in the real world isn't very useful or descriptive, so... we shall see!

[inkyearnings]

and the boy down the street, from my youth, sold his soul to the devil so he could see it all.

i wasn’t very bright at that age, and wondered why he needed to see more when his eyes were like oiled wood at sunset, and his sharp tooth that stuck out inspired me charm. you didn’t need to see more when you saw it all here and it was beautiful, right?

my neighbours worried that he had brought a curse upon the town, but after a few weeks, a few rains and a few storms, few still cared or discussed about the boy down the street. i was too young to understand or watch how his parents wept for him, the notion far away from me and the notion never on my parents and friends’ lips.

“look what happened to the neighbours down the street,” my neighbour shook his head. he was trimming his hedge, as if his comments were merely an afterthought. “that kid was bad news from birth, i tell you.”

i hadn’t seen him in a long time, before word came back of him. speaking of lands where he’d been seen, far away, minds he had graced, help he had given.

outrage he had sparked, just like he did long ago.

a man against science. or, a man of science. i wasn’t sure. i didn’t have time to think about him, just as i didn’t have time back then.

not my problem, nor my friend nina’s problem. we had god knows how many assignments due, laundry to be done, bills to be paid. texts from my parents, who still lived on the same street after all these years, that i should answer.

that’s when i saw him. the boy who was from down the street, standing in the hallway. i still recognized him, although he didn’t quite look the same. he had grown, that much was sensible, his traits sharpened and devoid of childish rounder, and a poise i didn't quite understand. and he smiled at me as i remembered the hide and seek we played with the other kids on the street, and how the neighbours had thought the worst of him for a while. i wondered if they still did.

i didn’t know what to thinkof him now. and turns out, i didn’t need to think of anything.

he wasn’t here for me, but for all of us, he said. he just wanted to help, and now i’m back to my youth and i remember his deal with the devil. what deal had he made? to see it all for... what? in exchange of what?

had he seen his parents again, after leaving them to be destroyed?

who am i kidding, though? if he ran away, or rather got chased away, it wasn’t his fault for his parents’ hurt. he was a kid, and his parents hadn’t cared enough for him. the responsibility was on the parents, on the village.

the kid, now a man in an elegant suit and friendly smile, sharp tooth always sticking out but dulled.

some people called him a buffoon, some couldn’t care less of him, some, from my hometown, were happy to see him. he was here to stay, for a while.

but what was a while, in college? i was busy, and i never noticed when some of my professors had started listening to him, my peers charmed by him even before that. it was a tuesday, when my last essay of the semester was due, and i had to write it on one of the man’s books. a streak of genius, a collaborative effort, the book that was the culmination of humanity.

collaborative with who?

nina hadn’t even read it, just happy that the class was done after this last essay.

the man had written this, but wasn’t he busy conquering hearts and minds across the land, helping others? perhaps the devil had help him see more, be more. “the culmination of humanity”

and, from the book, it was clear he had seen it all. accounts of lands far and wide, stories i’d only ever heard a wisp of before. and there was merit to it. i’ve only ever imagined how the fisher on the west coast felt like at sunrise, the ceo at bankruptcy when an angel, the man himself this time, came to whisper solutions to him. even a chapter on the boy down the street’s parents when they lost their child.

but there is no essay worth to be written on this story. i hate these stories he published but i can’t help but love them and feel like the boy down the street who wrote this book spat on my face.

it was truly all that had ever existed, and that was the problem. it was as if me and the boy down the street and everyone i had ever known or not had spoken in this book. all the flourish and pain and emotion as we might’ve wrote it. it touched me, even at the fictional parts. a combination of the best that could be seen today, and nothing more.

it was unnatural.

and he could’ve picked only a few stories to share instead of all he’d seen, but it wouldn’t have fixed it. nothing would have fixed it.

that is, unless the boy with the crooked tooth had wrote it. and then he might’ve wrote "neighbour" as “neighbor” because it felt more american that way, and it might’ve been about an underdog superhero because those were the stories that he’d loved growing up, and he might've wrote in a cat that added nothing to the plot but was inspired by his lover’s cat, and it might’ve been fictional or not or both, but at least it would have meant something. it could’ve been shit, or perfect, or just alright, but it would have meant something.

that week i watch the man leave, while his deal with the devil stayed with us all.

and i realize i haven’t seen the boy down the street in a long time, and i’m not sure what the deal he made with the devil created, but i’m sure that it destroyed him.

[art-of-a-ghostie]

Small (lie, it's a lot) things I wrote about the "Murder at Adelaide Manor" AU (?) from @brokenmercy as a training to writing scripts.

Careful, it's very very self-indulgent, long, and comedic.

INT. ENTRANCE OF THE ADELAIDE’S - MORNING

BEN is seen fixing his WORK uniform, consisting of a fancy and simple white shirt and black gilet, while scoffing and tapping his foot.

BEN: (Thinking) This job better be hilarious or pays enough.

He keeps glancing at the ENTRANCE DOOR, waiting for customers. His eyebrows raise as he sees his first one. It’s a tall blonde girl adorned with BELLS. 

Ben immediately recognizes her face from literally every single history book he read.

BEN: (Thinking)  Wait a sec, isn't that the magical girl gal? Like. The one who should save the world’s butt when the song musical ghost thingy will kill us all??

BLONDE GIRL: GASP!!

OHMYGOSHTHISPLACEISSOBIGANDWONDERFULILOVEITILOVEITILOVEI-

The blond girl bumps in front of the desk. 

She loses 3 HPs.

BLONDE GIRL: (Crying a bit) Ouch.

I am so sorry desk.

Ben stares at her with a fake but really judgemental smile glued on his face.

BEN: (Thinking) We are all doomed.

She immediately notices Ben.

BLONDE GIRL: OH! Greetings!

BEN: That's my line, kid. 

Welcome to Adelaide's.

BLONDE GIRL: Thank you!!! It looks absolutely beautiful!!! Even more than the brochure!!

BEN: Tell that to the architect, not me. 

Where are your parents? You didn't come here alone, didn't you?

BLONDE GIRL: Oh no!! I would never leave Dad behind! He is just chatting outside, he will come inside soon! 

In the meantime, in which direction can I see the paintings? I am so interested in the mansion’s history!

BEN: Uhh… There’s a gallery somewhere…

I think down to the left, follow the hallways, and you will find it.

BLONDE GIRL: Thank you, kind stranger. Here's a tip.

She hands Ben a FIVE-THOUSAND-dollar bill.

Ben’s eyes kinda pop out of his skull, looking more like a muppet rather than a human.

BEN:

(Thinking)

…

…

……………

THAT'S IT. I DON’T HATE KIDS ANYMORE.

The Blonde Girl leaves as she waves. Ben waves back.

BEN: HAVE A NICE DAY!!!

A big silver-haired man enters and immediately takes the bill out of Ben's hand.

BEN: HEY!!! THAT'S M-

Huhh…

Ben immediately looks at the man better. Maybe it's better not to mess with this one.

???: I apologize for my daughter.

Sometimes she can be a little overwhelming. Especially when it comes to money.

BEN: 

And how is it a bad thing???

….

I said that out loud, didn't I?

???: …

Yes.

BEN:

Ah. 

???: 

Where is she, by the way?

BEN: 

Through the hallways I think. But how do I know if you are her real father?

No offense, but if she is yours she took everything from her mother.

???: …

…

She did.

I apologize for how blue I am, you pressed quite a big button for me.

BEN: (Thinking) I did??

Geez and I thought I was the one who sucked showing emotions.

???: I will go and look for her now.

The man leaves, still not giving Ben his money back.

BEN: …

…

So no money? 

Damn it. 

(Thinking)

Maybe I should smile more next time.

A GREEN HAIRED MAN is next. Ben has the feeling he saw him before, but he can't put a finger on where.

Ben is now smiling and waving his hands.

BEN: GREETINGS TO THE ADELAIDE'S!! HOW CAN I HELP YOU?

The green-haired man is a bit startled by all the energy but smiles regardless.

GREEN HAIRED MAN: Huuh… 

Hello to you as well, mister.

BEN: (Thinking) Crap.

(Speaking)

Sorry, man. I am new at this stuff.

GREEN HAIRED MAN: Oh, I get it. You could say that we are on the same boat. Hehe!

BEN: Yeeeep.

GREEN HAIRED MAN: I apologize, it’s just not very usual for me to visit such marvelous places.

I prefer spending time reading rather than coming out and standing around the crowd.

BEN: Yeah I get that.

GREEN HAIRED MAN: Thank you for being so understanding. And good luck with your new job.

BEN: Heh, thanks.

Do you need directions or something?

GREEN HAIRED MAN: Oh! Don't worry about me, I will be alright! 

BEN: Alright, then. See ya.

The green-haired man leaves.

A short redhead woman in a black suit comes in. Ben gulps as she is carrying luggage twice her weight.

ECCENTRIC REDHEAD: Heyo! :3

BEN: ….

(Thinking)

Did she just say “exclamation mark, colon, three” out loud?!?

(Speaking)

Hi! Do you… huh… work here? 

ECCENTRIC REDHEAD: Nope!

But my boss came here earlier than me and I can ‘t find him.

BEN: What does your boss look like?

ECCENTRIC REDHEAD: …?

Ooohh!

You didn't understand me.

I wanna see where that dork went on my own. I don't like hints. It spoil all the fun.

BEN: But your boss might be in danger??

ECCENTRIC REDHEAD: Heh. He will walk it off.

BEN: …

Okay, I actually get it.

ECCENTRIC REDHEAD:

I know right, Ben? Your boss is much stronger than mine!

Mine is sooo weak, I can find him so fast!

BEN: 

Huuhh… Good luck?

Wait- What are you talking ab-

The redhead at the speed of light starts looking for him, shaking everything around her.

It's like she was never there in the first place.

Ben is now fearing for his life.

BEN: …

Help I Am Scared Now.

A new person joins. Wait, is that…

BEN: CRUSHER?!? Dude!!!

Crusher freaks out at first but is just happy as Ben.

CRUSHER: BEN!!

BEN: Did Spike snuffed an invite for you too??

CRUSHER: NO. JUST HERE WITH FAMILY.

BEN: Ah yeah. I forgot you are super rich.

CRUSHER: HOW’S THE JOB?

BEN: I think I just got doxxed.

Crusher raises his eyebrows unsure about what to feel.

CRUSHER: THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY.

NEED A TIP?

BEN: Nah, I don't accept charity.

CRUSHER: YOU ALWAYS ASK ME TO COVER YOU WHEN YOU BUY FOOD WHILE WE HANG OUT.

BEN: Yeah, but now, it's kinda a matter of pride. Say that I earned my first tip from my friend is lame.

CRUSHER: SAY THAT TO WHO?

Ben takes a second. He then furrows his eyebrows.

BEN: It doesn't matter. I just don't wanna get them from you.

Crusher stares at Ben, and then at the outside. He then takes a big breath.

CRUSHER: BOSS, THERE’S A STATUE OF A DINOSAUR AND IT’S SUPER SICK!!

GIOVANNI POTAGE burst in running.

BOSS: WHERE!?

He looks disappointed. 

BOSS: (On the brink of tears) Et tu Brutus?

Crusher hands Giovanni a ten-dollar bill.

CRUSHER: HONEY, GIVE THEM TO BEN.

BOSS: Oh, yeah sure thing dude.

Giovanni hands the money to Ben. Ben looks at Crusher like he could strangle him with his mind. Crusher is clueless.

BEN: This. is. even. worse.

CRUSHER: I LOVE YOU TOO.

Ben crosses his arms and stares at him. Giovanni looks at Ben like a disappointed mother.

BOSS: Don’t play the part of the grumpy teenager. I can feel that you are not actually mad at him.

Ben pouts. He hates when Giovanni is right.

BEN: Sigh… 

Me too, big guy.

The three wave at each other while they go away with their paths.

---

Also, extra things I wrote that I think are hilarious despite I doubt they could be "canon" (??). This is technically meant to happen during the murder.

---

A CLICK is heard, the lights go off and now everything is pitch black. The only visible things are the silhouette of Spike and Flametrowher' EYES, like those old cartoons.

They both freak out as they hear a SCREAM on the LEFT.

SPIKE: (Whispering) What was that??

FLAMETHROWER: (Whispering too) Don't worry, Spike. I totally know what to do.

He grabs his friend's hands and starts to walk to his RIGHT. 

SPIKE: Huh… What?

FLAMETHROWER: (Whispering) NEVER go toward the creepy sounds in the dark mansion.

SPIKE: Yeah, you are right. I don't think either of us is ‘final girl’ material enough to beat the crap out of horror monsters.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Hey. I'm the Anon who asked about the ROs falling into MC arms. To be honest I'm not sad that you reversed roles. I think it's funny. But I'm still curious about the reaction of the ROs falling into MC's arms!

I am so sorry! 😭

I completely miss-read it, but here is the proper response!

Cassandra: I can only imagine that she would fall if you guys were rock climbing, say she misjudged the integrity of a rock and lost her grip as it crumbles beneath her. She would still be attached to a rope but say she is only a few feet up when this happens, falling straight into MC's arms is a very welcomed outcome. She would be embarrassed that she fell but very happy to be in MC's strong arms, she unintentionally would swoon a bit before trying to collect herself. Trying to look and talk stoically but with a furious blush on her face. "Ah, thank you. That was a fortunate catch."

Valeria: This could happen in several different scenarios, but the outcome would always be the same. She would squeak as she lands in MC's arms and giggle hysterically once she sees MC's face at what happened. She would hug MC's neck and pretend to physically swoon in their arms, "Oh, my hero! You are so strong, look at these arms, what lovely muscles.~". Her tone is teasing but she really loves complementing MC because she loves to give them affirmation to just how much she loves them, and how she loves every aspect of them.

Tomás: Not sure how this would happen apart from maybe if he was fixing the roof and slipped, he would be SO irritated with himself for falling but absolutely mortified MC had caught him. He is grateful you broke his fall of course, but to be reminded of MC's strength compared to his own wounds his pride. He knows he isn't very light, so knowing MC had caught him, and making it look so easy too, it makes him very pouty. "....thanks."

-

Ludovica: I have little to no clue how this would happen since this woman is so paranoid she is usually practically glued to the ground. But say she does, she would be shocked MC caught her but then cue the romance music because this is straight out of a fairytale. She does physically swoon and looks up at MC with big doey eyes.

"... thank you, my dashing prince/princess..."

Aurelio: I am going to safely say this happened when he was drunk and doing something stupid. Aurelio is pretty tall so if MC caught him and made it look easy, that's a pretty impressive feat. Even while drunk he would be impressed, and I have said it before that is MC is a woman and stronger than him; he gets a little... heated, in the fun way. So while drunk, expect a few flirty jokes and suggestive comments, if MC is a man or a woman. He would just be a bit more down bad if MC is a woman lol. If he isn't drunk (somehow) then he would be less horny, he would instead just make jokes and thank MC for catching him, while asking MC how they get so strong?

Elio: I also can't really see how this would happen, apart if he fell from a ladder or something while getting a book. I think it would be kinda funny actually because while falling I feel like he would just make a "Oh." sound, completely calm and just accepting his fate. When MC catches him he would would just be mildly surprised but respond, "Hm, well that was unexpected. Excellent timing love. I do think we need to get this ladder replaced though, while falling isn't exactly ideal, I would have been fine if I had fell. I do not however, want this to happen to you. Let's put in an order for a stronger one, don't worry about the cost, I know someone who can foot the bill." He says while smirking.

[littleoneamanda]

GF: Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket

Alright, I think I'll just continue drawing in the original style. It's actually pretty fun xD The only difference is colored lines and maybe background. Hope you like it!

And here we go again to my thoughts on the book of bill, thisisnotawebsitedotcom and my thoughts on Fiddleford as a character. Or in this one is more like a summary of what information we have about him. Welcome to my second essay on 2D characters xD (SPOILERS)

Oh boy, where do I begin with this one? xD

Fiddleford, probably (imo) one of the most tragic character in this show. Going from once a brilliant inventor to a deranged hillbilly living at the dump. His life ruined by trauma, his fear of bad memories, and by his own invention.

College

Fidds is the first Mcgucket in the family to go to college. His first day starts off pretty rocky. The school's mascot "THE BMU B-", shoved him into a locker, got his mustache caught in a pencil sharperner (???) and getting laughed out by a whole class for trying to prove the universe was a giant hologram. While sitting in his room in tears, his room mate barge in the room. Confidently declared that his theory was plausible and was ready to not sleep until they have proved it accurate. Not only did they cracked it, but Fidds did something else that he thought was impossible: He made a friend, Stanford Pines.

This is pretty much (currently) the information we have about them in college. I really wish there were more. It seems both of them became friends very fast. Both being nerdy and outcasts for different things. Ford with his sixth finger and Fidds coming from a hog farm ( I relate so hard with Fidds on the farm background you have no idea I love it) However, while Ford is more of a socially awkward introvert, Fidds seems to be a little bit more extroverted.

After college

Fiddleford moved to Palo Alto, California. Around this time he met his wife Emma-May and they had their son Tate.  He starts up his own computer buisness "Fiddleford Computermajigs". It's unclear how the relationship between Fidds and his wife were, but the fact that he doesn't seem to hesitate to leave them behind to help an old college friend he haven't talked to in 6 years is a little weird. Six years is how long Ford had been in Gravity Falls before he contacted Fidds. (Source: Journal 3). Sure, if the whole project was a positive thing, it could be have been their big break in science and fame. But Fiddleford had a life in California. He had a family, but how good was the marriage? Maybe Fidds didn't get any other friends after college. So when Ford called for help, he didn't seem to hesitate to say yes and join him.

"Success! He has agreed to join me! With his assistance, I am confident we can complete the machine. He has already made several suggestions over the phone that I intend to incorporate into my revised designs."

-Stanford, Journal 3

Gravity Falls, Fiddleford is now Stanfords assistant/partner.

Some things Fiddleford brought with him: A vase/pot when he chews tobacco, a photo of his family, the banjo, floppy disks , two laptops which one of them is special designed for Fords extra finger. The other one is Fidds which has Fords name as password. And a Cubic's Cube that Ford scrambles when Fidds is not looking. Fidds solves it without a problem tho.

When seeing the blueprints for the portal for the first time, he asked Ford if he had any help with these plans because of complex they are. Ford describes Fidds as a suspicious man (pretty ironic knowing how Ford will become later).

During his time in Gravity falls we learn early that Fidds seems to have some trouble handeling his anxiety. Especially after some of the things they encountered. His knee starts bouncing when he's agitated or he starts pulling out his hair. Being Fords assistant turned out to be adventurous and scary at the same time. Reading Journal 3 you kinda wonder why he even stayed for so long with Ford. There was times he really got traumatized. It is now where the we get into the speculations and the hints of Fidds having a bit of stronger feelings for Ford than just a friend.

The gifts. Already in Journal 3, he gives Ford a special designed laptop with extra keys for his extra finger. He buys a pumpkin at the fair because it reminded him of Ford.

"He pulled it out of a barrel of "reject gourds" because he said it reminded him of me! (Suppose I did inherit my dad's nose.)

-Stanford, Journal 3

From the thisisnotawebsitedotcom, if you type in Oroborous, you will get two pages of when Fidds gave Ford an axolotl that Ford named it Frilliam.

"F said it's frills reminded him of my sideburns and he thought it could keep me company the next time he's out."

-Stanford, thisisnotawebsitedotcom, Code: Oroborous

I'm still pretty traumatized after Frilliam...that damn dorito asshole demon. Also...Ford drew a heart over the "i" in friend instead of the dot??

In the TBOB, Fiddleford gives Stanford a snow globe that HE MADE. And not only that! He gives Ford knitted a pair of six-fingered gloves that HE has KNITTED.

Fiddleford flies back home to visit his family for the holidays, but the reunion have not been exactly happy. Fidds and his wife had got in a massive fight when she realized he'd forgotten to buy her a Christmas Present...man. Look. I mean...I honestly do not know what to say to that. My guy gave gifts that he had made to his bestfriend that he might have some certain feelings for and just happen to forget he had a wife...that's normal right? xD

Let's talk a little bit about Ford cause I forgot to mention some other things as well. In journal 3, Ford talks in a certain way. It's more sterile and stiff. Keeping distance from emotions pretty much. Especially before the 30 years on the other side of the portal. In TBOB+ the pages from the website, these pages are more personal. Which is a whole new view of Ford that we didn't see before. This time we get to see what Fidds and Ford did when they weren't focused on the project. When they had a winter break from it. When Fidds tells Ford he's leaving to visit his family, you can kinda read between the lines that Ford seems very sad about that. His fear of being alone again. On that page, there are some blue stains which some believe are tears... :(

"Sixer was a lot better at science than he was at making friends, and he tended to rip out journal pages that had anything to do with his issues with others..."

-Bill, TBOB

After the massive fight between Fidds and his wife, he decides to return to Gravity Falls as soon as possible. When he reurns, he sees Ford being in trouble and saves him from the Krampus by hitting him with his banjo. They embraced. Fidds explains why he's back and Ford asks him if there is anything he could do to cheer him up. But Fidds feel pretty defeated by everything that has happen.

That night, Ford calls Fidds to come down to the lab for a portal update.

"I'll admit that it wasn't the most efficient use of our electricity, but the smile on his face proved I'd made the right choice."

-Stanford, TBOB

Ford later tells that it was time to drink nog until they didn't remember what a Krampus was. And they spent the rest of the night building snowmen and reminiscing about old times.

This is wholesome asf. Also, Ford said himself he's not really a drinker, but after that kareoke drunk thing, I wonder if he kinda wanted have a similar experience? Perhaps a stretch, but interesting in my opinion.

But all good things comes to an end. In Fiddlefords case, in a very tragic way. After some traumatic encounters (especially after the  Gremloblin), he invents the memory gun. He uses the gun multiple times on himself during his time with Ford. He have even used it on Ford at one point when Ford tries to talk him out of ever using it.

The night before the testing of the portal, Fiddleford expresses his concerns to Ford about the portal. He tries to talk him into publish his research as a thesis instead of the portal. Ford who has been ver manipulated at this point to believe Fiddleford has ill intentions, refused. And the next day...the portal incident that makes Fidds mental state go so south. Seeing the Nightmare realm and  predicting apocalyptic catastrophe that was about to be the consequences of the portal.

Now here is a interesting thing about the portal scene (this could be a stretch once again). Something i did notice while rewatching s2. When Ford tells the story about the portal, it seems pretty cut and clear of what happen. Fidds get dragged into the portal, traumatized, warns Ford, stands up and leaves. And Ford calls Stan. Which makes it look like everything happened in a very short time period. But when Ford talks about the portal incident again with Dipper, Ford has different clothes, sitting down and have Fidds in his lap. Now this could just be a mistake or something they choose for more dramatic effect. But seeing the difference how Ford talks in Journal 3 and TBOB, it is a interesting choice for that scene. Like, when he has the white shirt and black tie, there is a more serious tone and stiffnes. When he has his blue shirt and brown sweater vest he is more personal. In TBOB, it takes like around 2 days before he finally decides to contact Stan. He decides to do that after he found the 5 failed knitted prototypes for the perfect 6-fingered gloves and the ripped photo. When he realized he had lost Fiddleford.

Fiddleford's mental health keept getting worse. After quitting the project, he found himself still very haunted by everything he has seen. He started to use the memory gun even more and created an organization, The Blind Eye Society. Hoping this would help other people in the town to forget bad memories. Ford found this out and suspected Fidds to be behind it. Unfortunaly, Fidds started to use it as soon as he had seen something scary. The more he used it, the more he started to lose his mind and forgetting words. 618 days. It took around 1 year, 8 months, 1 week and 6 days. That is not really a long time. He used it so frequently, and knowing he had some trouble handling his anxiety from the start…this hurts. His body aged so fast during this time as well. And he's suppose to be around the same age as Ford, around or in his 30s.

Fiddleford before the portal: a very smart, brilliant inventor, sensitive and a very kind person.

After the portal: An old deranged hillbilly who lived at the dump with no memory of his past, but still haunted by what he saw in the portal.

He does starts to regain his memories in S2: Society of the Blind Eye. Finding out after 30 years who he really was.

"After all these years I finally know who I am. Maybe I messed up in the past, but now that I've seen what happened, I can begin to put myself together again."

-Fiddleford, S2, "Society of the Blind Eye"

When Ford and Fidds reunite in Weirdmaggedon, he forgives Ford for everything that led up to this. After Weirdmaggedon, Ford visits Fiddleford. Fidds was overjoyed to see Ford and they spent hours talking. Ford is feeling guilty for the things leading to Fidds causing losing his memories, but Fidds dismisses his attempts to apologize.

"Not only is this man's mind superior to mine, but he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen."

"Before I left, Fiddleford insisted that I listen to him play the banjo. I could have sworn that as he joyfully played, i could see the age lift off his face, and see the the Fiddleford who had been my friend so many years ago."

-Stanford. Journal 3

I swear a tear dropped from my eye while writing this quote. And I have an idea for a drawing for just that one.

And that's where I wanna leave this. A happy ending after all :)

I'm very sorry again if there are any grammar errors in this one. I have to go back and forth on the sources a lot here. The show, books, website and the wiki just to try understand the timeline and if there were any details missed. I did not intend for this one to be as long (maybe even longer) about Stanford. But I kinda wanted to put Fiddlefords story together and give some of my thoughts on it as well. Fiddlefords story is so sad in so many ways. He and Ford, Best friends and room mates in college. Both of them having no other friends than each other. He sacrifices a lot when he leaves his family to help Ford in Gravity Falls, Returns to Ford when the family reunion goes south. The fact that he could have done anything else, but he decides to go back to Ford. Maybe because he felt he didn't feel welcome there anymore and only has Ford left. Tate is probably the one I mostly feel sorry for in this situation. His father coming home for the Holidays and then leaves again to not come back. Fidds trying and wanting to help Ford, but get his concerns about a real danger ignored. Then Fidds trauma and fear of remembering bad things takes over so much he invents a memory gun that becomes his addiction. Ruined by his own invention.

Now, I'm someone who has NEVER done shipping art or not really expressing any thoughts about it. I'm pretty careful with that honestly and I have been with Ford and Fidds as well. But this time feel so different from the other times of speculations of what happend between them. It feels like it's right there. Especially with Fiddleford reading TBOB what he did for Stanford. Or maybe I'm just another person hoping a little bit too much xD It's just...the possibility of them having some kind of stronger feelings is there. Again, Especially when it's from Fiddleford. Stanford is kinda bit harder to read when it comes to his feelings. Kinda what I said before, he talks in two different tones. Probably depends on who he trusts to talk to.

Alright, That's all folks! I promise I won't do a essay like this for the other drawings xD But I just needed it to get out of my system. And I haven't really seen a post like this that sums up the information we have atm. So I wanted to contribute xD

Thanks for reading!

Next up is actually going to be a GF video🍃

[ziggyevenstar]

🔪🎀

🎠 been ordering a lot lately sa office

🎠 my copy of babel was delivered na hehehhehe

🎠 had lunch w jerrel this week— afterwards, he bought beyblade and i bought a book: bride. it’s by ali hazelwood. she wrote love hypothesis which i love mostly bec it’s so ao3 (and it’s actually from ao3, it started out as a reylo fic). so yes i love ali hazelwood our fanfic queen, sue me

🎠 yesterday we had a work thing— bowling. after office. i was so drained so i msged jerrel and asked him if pwede sya nalang magsundo saken so i can charge. sinundo nya ko and dinala sa sm pamp which isn’t really near where we were just bec he thought i needed some fully booked and sm pamp’s the only place around here where there’s fully booked. ayun. i bought acomaf HAHAHHAA. i used to be acotar’s number 1 hater. i judged it so much that i said to myself— i have to read this shit so the next time i talk shit about it they can’t say it’s uninformed. i take it all back. acotar’s so bad that sonehow it’s good???? i don’t know what’s in it but i have to know what happens. so yes i bought acomaf and i will buy the next books. it’s so liberating allowing myself to like something that’s not a literary masterpiece that i simply enjoy.

🎠 my dad had a tantrum again today. he threw stuff and threw in some extra curse words directed to us. it got so scary with the way my sister kept talking back. it’s always scary provoking an angry man. bec my dad doesn’t think when he’s angry. bec a rational person wouldn’t throw a pair of scissors to his daughter just bec he was angry and it was the first thing he could grab. a rational person wouldn’t grab the dog’s cage (with the dog still inside) and throw it, albeit lightly. but those things didn’t happen today— those are just some of the things he did that no matter what i do or how much time passes, i could still remember every detail of. i wonder what it’s like to have a dad who doesn’t call you the devil, bolang or bugok when he’s mad. i wonder what it’s like to have a dad who doesn’t yell at you, “nagtrabaho lang kayo…”— the same trabahos that take care of the bills. or tells you “wala kang mapagmamalaki saken”. with the level with which he got mad at us (he was fuming) you’d think he was mad over some big and important issue. there’s humor in that somewhere i’m sure.

but there’s a silver lining in here, i hope, and infinitesimal as it may be compared to my dad’s tantrum, i am so moved and grateful—minutes after dad’s tantrum, i asked jerrel to pick me and my sister up from the house even though we had a one-sided tampuhan last night (ako lang nagtampo over something so small, in retrospect) and he immediately called me to say he was on his way. would u look at that

[livingdeadmlm]

Since you are open to request, could you write something for Lenny? Since he couldn't appear in *You bring me closer to God* because the age difference between him and Father was abysmal. I don't particularly have anything in mind so feel free to do whatever

(I am sorry if it's not that understandable, English isn't my first language and I am far from being fluent in it lol)

Lenny Summers HCs!!

I adore Lenny, I love his character, but I'm always worried I won't portray him or any of the characters I write for well lol. But yes, he had to sit out. You bring me closer to god cause a 20-year age gap, and he's hardly 19, is woof, real bad. Maybe I'll do a separate harem fic down the road with him in it.

Also you're English is very good! I wouldn't have been able to tell you were good at it until you told me lol!

But here are some HCs and a Drabble!! I do love requests so send them in 😝😝

✰ Assuming you two are the same age, it's a lot of giggling and sneaking around.

✰ When you're on guard duty, he sits nearby and reads out loud to you. After each chapter, the two of you chat about symbolism and what little things mean.

✰ But if it's a philosophical book, be ready to hear Lenny ramble about different ethical theories cause he has a lot to say! (philosophy used to be my major before logic class kicked my ass)

✰ Grimshaw doesn't mind this during the day, but if either of you are working night shift guard duty, she will shoo the other away to go to bed.

Most of the camp was quiet as the cold air hit your face. You hated nighttime guard duty; nothing happened, and your boyfriend was just a few feet away. Tucked nice and cozy, all warm, you were sure. But you had to keep an eye out; the only interesting thing that ever happened when you were on night duty was when Arthur or some other man came back late from a job and would say hello to you.

You kicked around a rock as you stood. Maybe another hour or so and you’d get to toss the rifle to Bill and take place wrapped around your lover.

You shivered slightly. It was still like you all never entirely left those awful mountains. Remembering how determined Lenny was to keep watch as long as he could, always being first to jump up after Jaiver came back in, shivering his ass off to pass the shift, made you smile. He was always so ready to help and work, it was a great quality. Until it made you want to murder Dutch for sending him on so many jobs and away from your embrace.

Sure, you huffed. He wouldn’t let you stand with him because it was so cold, insisting you’d stay inside and keep the ratty cot you two shared warm, but that meant being stuck in a room with Micah and Bill for hours by yourself, which you were sure was hell on earth.

The cold air was like a punch to the stomach, your lips had never been so dry in your life as you practically waddled in the heavy snow your footsteps crunching. “Lenny, come back inside! You’ll die out here if you keep taking these shifts!” Your gloved hand reached for his shoulder, trying to pull him to the not-much-warmer cabin. “Come on (Name)! I’ll be alright.” The wind tousled the scarf you had on your head that Lenny was lovingly tightening for you.

“I’ll be back soon, then I'm all yours.” Lenny teased, his playful smile lighting up his face as he tugged gently on the knot of your scarf, drawing you in for a kiss. The chilly air of the evening was sharp, but in this bubble of intimacy, you were so so warm. The world around you was quiet, and it wasn't like you two could be seen from any windows.

Your hands instinctively cupped his warm, familiar face, gloved hands brushing against his stubble as you savored the kiss before reluctantly pulling back. “I wish you could be all mine! Damn, Micah won't stop with the comments about us sharing a damn bed,” you sighed, a mix of frustration and longing evident in your voice.

The teasing from Micah had become a constant reminder of the boundaries you wished didn’t exist. That even though true, the love you had for Lenny wasn't taken seriously by plenty of folks in the world. But they didn't matter right now.

Before you could voice your thoughts further, Lenny leaned in again, pressing a second, deeper kiss to your lips. The warmth of his breath and the taste of him lingered as he pulled away, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“When we get out of here, I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said earnestly, extending his pinky finger towards you. Though your fingers were encased in the bulky mittens borrowed from Karen, you struggled to intertwine your pinky with his

“You better! This long without a proper kiss is killing me,” you replied, a teasing smile breaking through your earlier frustration. Lenny chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the stillness around you, before you turned to head back to the cabin. The cold nipped at your skin as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

But it would be worth it when your human heater returned and pressed small kisses to your hands and head when others weren’t paying attention. And when nightfall fell, his arms held you so close that if you didn’t have so many layers of clothing, you were sure you’d fuse as one.

And hands wandered slowly once the night was its deepest, and Micah left for his 5th cigarette (bastard never slept you assumed.) Passing each layer before the cold would force either of you to stop.

There was a snap next to you, and up your rifle went. Starting past the brush, you called, “Who’s out there?!” You tried to sound firm like you weren’t scared someone would show up and try to get into the camp. But you had to defend and defend your will.

Your heart banged against your chest; all you could think of was if someone could get through you, they’d get to Lenny. And that would be over your dead body.

“Real threatening voice you got almost made me believe you weren’t scared!” Lenny laughed before stepping out of the heavily wooded area. You dropped the gun to your side with a big sigh.

“What are you even doing out here? Thought Mrs Grimshaw would’ve tucked you in by now!” Lenny groaned and leaned against the nearby boulder.

“What do you think of the book so far?” The soft pink cover contrasted with Lenny's hand, making his skin look vibrant and smooth.

“I think it’s just like all the other silly romances we borrow from Mary Beth! Utterly dreadful, but I can’t get enough.” You both laughed.

“They’re addicting to read; she likes the theme of forbidden romance.” You took your spot next to Lenny, leaning against the rock. “It’s always a story about royalty falling in love with common folk.”

Lenny turned to face you properly, an earnest look in his eyes. You felt a flutter of nervousness as his hands held your shoulders. “(Name), would you save me from a dragon-guarded tower?” Maintaining a serious expression, you bowed, placing the rifle barrel into the ground like a knight.

“Of course I would, my sweet prince.” You kissed his hand, trailing kisses towards his scarred fingers—evidence from too many rounds of five-finger filet against Arthur and Javier. The two of you giggled as you stood back up.