#if you have stories i'd love to hear them!

[chongoblog]

You mentioned in a post a while ago an RPG maker game that was so bad it inspired you to start a project that could execute some of its ideas better (iirc), I read the post and immediately recognized the game you were talking about. It's always occupied a weird space in my mind as an oddity of a game that didn't really have any reason to exist, so if you don't mind i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on it.

The project has been on hold (like my 132476 other projects) but yeah!

So first of all I won't be sharing the name of this game because I don't wanna send unnecessary hate its way. Like, making a game and putting it out there is huge, and I'd hate to send a bunch of negativity towards it, and if I find that one of my followers went to it and review-bombed it, then I hold more contempt for that person than the people who made this game.

That said, the crux of the game was you were controlling the main character of the game, but the main character was aware of the fact that you are controlling their actions and as communicating with you about what you need to do. Not a bad concept. I really liked it! The problem came with execution.

There's a lot of specific parts of it that I could point to, but it can really be summed up by the opening. The girl wakes up and does the standard "whoa! what? why did I stand up like this? I-I didn't do that!!" and then a text box appears and responds to her saying "yeah, that was me". Then when you try to leave the hospital, the mc says "wait a minute, maybe we should inspect These Three Spots first!" and then the game turns you around, followed by the text box responding "ugh...fine....".

There are two big problems here in my mind. First of all, this powerful idea of you controlling the main character and the main character being aware creates this sort of connection between the player and the main character (one that I think we'll see more of as Toby releases more of Deltarune, although this game came out a few years earlier), and the issue is that when the game itself gives the player dialogue, that really undercuts it. Like, later in the story, the player dialogue flirts with the mc, which is something I know I wouldn't do as a player. So it's not so much that you're a player controlling the main character who is aware, but you're a player controlling a ghost that is controlling the main character, and the main character is aware of the ghost, but the ghost is not the player.

The second big issue is a lot more understandable because you have to tell a story, but it's very silly to have the main character go "oh my god you have control over my every action!!" and then when you try to leave an area early, the main characters says "no don't do that yet" and then disallows you from leaving the area.

Just to gush about my ideas for this, my project idea was to make all verbal communication be one-way, while finding other ways to communicate. For example, when the main character first wakes up, they realize "oh shit I'm not controlling my body!!" and then he says "alright, well weird ghost controlling me...I don't know what to call you....so tell you what, walk me over to that desk. There's a pen and paper. Use my body to write your name" which determines the name on your file.

But here's the fun part. Let's say you decide "no, I'm not gonna do that". You can just walk out of the room. If you do, the main character just goes "um...okay? Fine then. I'm gonna call you 'Jerkface'" and the name on your file is "Jerkface", and he calls you Jerkface for the rest of the game. (And maybe if you go back, he goes "oh? what's the matter? don't like being called Jerkface? what? does that seem kinda rude? impolite maybe? almost as impolite as just TAKING CONTROL OF MY BODY WITHOUT TELLING ME YOUR NAME FIRST????")

Needless to say, I have a lot of ideas for this, I just need to execute them, and for all my complaints towards this game, I absolutely respect that they made it happen.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

So, I was waiting until I had some time to really focus on this, because I didn’t want for that to get poor attention and my distracted or hasty reading.

Anyway, at least I got to the end of the first part so here we gooooo.

I really like this little world you've created, I can smell it, taste it, hear it, and I can almost feel the dust clouding my eyes.

The tension between them is so damn intense, oh my God 🥵 And she's like me in many ways I have to say, more than I'd like to admit LOL she's proud, fierce, she never wants to ask anyone for help and may God strike her down if she makes the first move AHAHAHAHAH fuck that, grumble to herself endlessly is so much better, of course, it makes perfect sense 😂😂😂 and I hate, I hate being belittled and treated like I'm stupid that doesn’t notice things as much as she does. She's me, that's it. we’re such dickheads lol reader, I love you and I feel you babe 🫂

Joel is no exception, however, we are all in bad shape when it comes to communication skills 🥲

I loved how she hates it when he treats her like a little girl, the constant teasing, him pretending not to be jealous when in fact he wants nothing more than to possess her.

It’s so good 🥵

I love the way you drew Joel, he's so sexy I could explode and even though the world of cowboys is so far away from me and I don't understand anything about it (a damn thing, really) I found myself immersed in this story and oh my God, the angry way they do it 🥵🥵🥵

I was biting my lip so hard haaaaaa oh god please I need this big sweaty man to fuck me until I feel like putting my pride away Jesus if there's one thing I'm a world champion at it's ignoring people who ignore me for the rest of my life and beyond lol

I also love her father (in my opinion he is more aware than he seems, this man is not telling me the truth heheheheh) and Tommy so boastful and seducer, he’s so damn irresistible🤭

Can’t wait to read the second part, sorry if it takes me longer than expected but it's the holidays and I'm Italian and my relatives are always in the middle 🙄

Until then: you 👏🏻 did 👏🏻 so 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 great 👏🏻 my 👏🏻 dear 👏🏻

I’m in awe, really and I love that ♥️

right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part one

wc: 12.5k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART TWO HERE

summary: rebuilding your life, chasing cans, and hitchin’ a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

to my pedrostories secret santa recipient @katiexpunk: this was a challenge for ya gurl to be srs (and it’s not a tentacle gangbang, i lied in ur asks babe i’m srry) i hope i hit the mark on a handful of the prompts though, i had high hopes that i could really challenge myself and deliver some breeding kink cowboy but i fear it’s more of a creampie kink—i hope that still hits, i have horse knowledge, but only rodeo adjacent experience so if any rodeo queens find glaring mistakes pls forgive me — but happy holidays bb, i really hope you enjoy-- EDIT: I MADE IT TOO GIRTHY (or something?? sorry!!) and had to split it into two parts, the second part will be up and linked as asap as possible, and i'll add the full text to ao3 so it'll be in one spot

tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, guilty yearnful joel, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin’ that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta–mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am 

thanks: to @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, ideas, etc.

The sun beats down on the gravel driveway as you pull your truck toward the old house. It looks almost the same as it did the summers you spent here as a kid when it was your grandparents–the peeling white paint on the porch railing, and the barn standing sturdy, but weathered further down the driveway. The fields stretched on as you rolled down the driveway, dotted with occasional wildflowers and critters dashing into the denser brush. 

The air blows warm through the window, same as you remember, but the weight of the memories feels different now. The summers used to feel endless here, the fields seemed endless, as did the sky. It all used to feel so liberating. It’s not an endless summer now. Everything looks smaller and more weathered. 

Except for the shiny white PVC fences on the other side of the driveway and the modern-looking house and barn built on the same soil you used to spend hours patrolling with your pony, Clover. She’d search for the best bits of grass as you laid across her back coming up with stories—some days you were an old-timey cowgirl traveling west or Clover was a wild horse you were training or you were on a quest to a magical kingdom together. 

But now it’s a new home for whoever bought up the parceled land your dad sold to cover the updates on the house when he inherited it. Someone with enough money for a fancy barn and shiny truck. You pull to a stop and hop out of the cab, still scanning the neighbor's property, making your first impression. 

Your dad emerges from the barn, wiping his hands on a faded rag. He gives you a smile and a nod. “About time you showed up,” he calls, his voice warm and teasing. “Thought maybe you had changed your mind.” 

You shake your head softly, rolling your eyes. “Nope. Nothing worth staying in that city for.” 

The gravel crunches under your boots as you round the bed to grab one of your boxes. All your belongings fit into a few boxes. At least, everything that mattered to you, everything that was still you. “Where do you want this?” You wonder how you’re going to manage living in the same house with your dad now that you’re an adult. 

“Just set it inside,” he said, gesturing to the house. “We’ll get you sorted after we have something to eat.” 

As you followed him toward the house, the outline of the neighbor's property loomed large. The barn caught your eye. It was close. A pair of horses stood in the near pasture, swishing their tails in the afternoon heat. The contrast was stark. Where your dad’s place still carried the scrapes and scuffs of decades–theirs looked new and polished. Smug even. Can a house be smug? 

“The neighbors are closer than I thought.” You cross the porch, the nostalgic screen door squeaking as your dad ushers you inside. 

“Don’t mind it. We look out for each other.” He points to the room you stayed in as a kid. “He damn near built the place by himself, and helped me with the new roof on this place.” 

You shoot him a sharp look. “You said you were gonna hire roofers instead of climbing around up there at your age.” He shrugs you off. Always stubborn. Convinced he can do it better and cheaper. Despite the toll on his body. 

“Paid him to help,” he argues, “wasn’t up there by myself. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.” 

You set your box down at the end of the twin-size bed, the room falling quiet for a moment. Your dad stays planted in the doorway, but his brows pinch and lips purse briefly before he lets out a breath. You scan the room, gaze landing on the floorboards, waiting. 

Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, he says, “You hungry?” 

You grin at that, letting out a shaky breath. Your father’s daughter, neither of you likes to dig into your feelings. He taught you to show love through actions, like keeping you fed, taking on hard labor jobs without a complaint, or changing your windshield wipers before the rainy season starts and you’re cursing yours out. 

“Yeah,” you say, brushing past the knot in your chest. “Starving.” 

The rumble of a diesel engine jolts you awake the next morning, the deep growly sound reverberating through the walls like thunder on an otherwise quiet morning. You groaned, stretching and blinking blearily at the pale light filtering in through the old curtains. It was barely dawn yet, which explains the dull headache you’ve got. 

Sleep had been restless. Tangled thoughts, ruminating on what you’d left behind. A failed engagement, the job you hated, the mix of excuses you had rehearsed for why you’d come back. You’d hoped coming here would ease the ache, but just when you were finally falling back asleep—the truck from hell pulled up to the house. 

The engine is already cut off, but now you can hear voices on the porch. Your dad’s, low and steady, just a hum, and another unfamiliar drawl. Whoever it is, they’re carrying on like the rest of the world wasn’t still trying to wake up. 

You drag yourself out of bed, wearing your soft sleep shorts and a thin shirt. The worn fabric clings to your body in places it shouldn’t, but you’re not thinking about being presentable, you aren’t really thinking at all yet. You drag your feet crossing to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee, for a brief moment you miss the coffee shop you used to stop at on the way to your old job, but the familiar roast your dad’s been loyal to has its charm. Like the free coffee at an AA meeting. It’s there and you need something to keep you going. 

You push past the squeaky screen door, stepping out onto the porch. Your dad sits on the worn bench, coffee in hand. Next to him, leaning casually against the railing is a man you don’t recognize. His black Stetson gives him a classic cowboy silhouette, the morning sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw and the scruff on his cheeks. His plaid shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, his jeans are worn and dusty in a way that speaks to more than just appearances. 

He straightens when he sees you, pulling his hat off with one hand in a fluid, effortless motion. “Mornin’,” he says, voice low and rich. “You must be the daughter. Joel Miller.” 

You take a sip of your coffee. “Morning,” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. “You always roll up this early, or is today special?” 

Your dad shoots a look at you, but Joel just chuckles softly. 

“Guessin’ you’re not a morning person?”

Your eyes are narrow, defensive. “I’m just fine in the mornings,” you say in a clipped tone that doesn’t support your statement. “Just not when I’m woken up by a jet engine at the asscrack of dawn.” The chill in the brisk morning air causes you to shiver for a moment somehow making you look more irritated. 

Joel glances at your dad with a faint smirk before tipping his hat to you. “Noted.” 

Your dad laughs. “Should’ve heard her when she was ten,” he says leaning back. “Wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Still doesn’t take shit from anyone I guess.” 

“I’m right here,” you mutter, glaring at him.

“Just sayin’,” your dad replies, raising his mug in mock surrender. He turns back to Joel and they resume their conversation about fence posts or something equally riveting. You let your eyes roam as you wake up, drinking the rest of your coffee, tuning in and out of their conversation about their plans for the day. 

The easy camaraderie between the two of them was clear. Like a friendship forged through shared labor and quiet mornings. They flow between their plans for work and that subtle gossiping that men do–convinced it isn’t really gossip–as they share updates about other folks in town and a few of the local businesses. 

“What about you?” Joel asks, turning to you and pulling you out of the fog. “You’re back for a while then?”  

It’s an innocent question, but it grates at you anyway. You stiffen. “Yeah, just taking some time,” you say vaguely. 

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push for a real answer. You can feel the weight of his curiosity in the air between you. He looks to your dad, who doesn’t elaborate, letting something unspoken pass between them. 

“Well,” Joel drawls, “good timing. Lot of work to do this time of year. If you’re up for it.” 

The comment makes you pull a face. “I’m familiar with hard work,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. 

Joel’s lips quirk again, into something like a smirk this time. “I’m sure you are,” he says with the faintest edge of a challenge. 

He takes a long swig from his stainless steel travel mug, trying to fix his eyes on the horizon. But damn, if it isn’t a challenge to see you standing there, looking every bit like you’d just rolled out of bed. In a shirt too damn thin for a morning like this, leaving too little to the imagination. 

He knew he shouldn’t be noticing something like that, shouldn’t look at you like that–especially not while you’re standing next to your dad. Hell, he shouldn’t want to look at all, but his eyes betray him. Darting for just a moment to your soft curves and the evidence of the chill in the air–the impression of your stiff nipples protruding in the soft fabric. 

Christ. He swallows hard, landing his eyes back on the scowl you wear on your face. You’re his friend's daughter. It just ain’t right. Sweet young thing like you. He battles the devil on his shoulder that reminds him you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman. A grown woman with your own life and clearly your share of grit, if the sharpness in your voice was anything to go by. 

He shifts on his feet, forcing his attention back to your dad who was still chuckling softly at something. Joel didn’t catch the joke, head too full of thoughts about you–or how to not think about you. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, unsettling him in front of your dad. 

You and him made loose plans for the day while Joel’s mind continued to wander. He shouldn’t have asked about why you were back. Your answer was vague, brushing him off like it was a privilege he hadn’t earned. For some reason that lodged it in his head further. He wanted to know more, even if he shouldn’t. 

Your dad stood up, stretching and declaring that all of you have work to do. You take that as your cue to head back inside, leaving the screen door swinging behind you. Joel lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns back to your dad. 

“She’s a spitfire,” Joel comments, keeping his tone neutral.  

“She is,” your dad agrees, adjusting his hat. “Good to have her back.”  

Joel huffs a small laugh, “S’pose we could use a strong woman around here. Keep us in line.” 

“No doubt she will,” your dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. The whole exchange stuck with Joel though. Something under that edge of yours, something unpolished that has him curious in a way he isn’t used to. He shakes his head knowing it isn’t his place to go digging. 

Your dad starts down the front steps. “Let’s get moving, then.” Joel moves mechanically, boots falling in line with your dad’s, but his mind is half on you—in that t-shirt, with that scowl on your face, and that faraway look that he’d like to unravel. 

You were used to hard work but your muscles weren’t exactly dialed in for the functional conditioning. It was humbling as you found yourself aching and exhausted by the end of the night. However, the fatigue did make it easier to fall asleep once your head hit the pillow instead of spiraling on about your failures until the birds started chirping. 

The next few days gave you a jump start into the rural routine. In bed early, up before the sun. Hot showers before dinner to wash away the layer of sweat and sweet-smelling dust from the pine shavings and hay. You found yourself looking forward to the strong coffee and the cool morning air before you started with your day. 

Your dad, and Joel, learned quickly to let you wake up rather than ask questions as they caught up on their plans before heading out together or splitting up. You didn’t mind listening, but you could feel Joel’s eyes lingering on you now and then. It made your spine straighten, determined to hide the sore muscles in your shoulders from him. If he was waiting to hear a complaint from you it was never gonna come. 

Despite getting more rest and having an endless list of labor to keep you moving–you often found yourself working solo and in silence during the day. A silence that your mind was more than happy to fill. You rehashed memories and dissected those little moments from your relationship with your ex-fiance that you wish you had seen more clearly at the time. 

You’re deep in one of those memories, mindlessly stacking bales of hay onto the trailer for a delivery your dad is making tomorrow when Joel enters the other end of the barn. He leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you work. The warm scent of hay fills the air, grounding and everpresent in his life. 

It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a common chore he’d do without thinking twice. But watching you was a whole different story. Your shirt was damp with sweat as you leaned into the work like you’d done it your whole life. You climb up a stack of bales and toss down some from the top of the next row, unaware of his presence. 

He is mesmerized by you. The sharp look on your face like you were mulling over an argument, the fluid movements as you worked, and the determination radiating off of you as you worked at an urgent pace. 

His gaze drifts lower as you climb down and bend to heave another bale onto the flatbed trailer. The muscles in his jaw tense as he lingers on the curve of your back as you bend to grab another. The way your legs shift as you work. The outline of your body in that shirt, the soft grunt you let out as you hoist another bale had him thinking indecent thoughts before he could stop himself. 

Joel drags his hand over his face, fingers brushing his scruffy jaw. Heat burning within him that has nothing to do with the Texas sun transforms into irritation. He was considering copping out and disappearing before you even noticed him when he was outed by the damn barn cats. 

The orange cat comes sprinting towards him, but it’s the black and white one meow-yelling at him down the aisle that catches your attention. A dull thud echoes through the barn as you drop another bale and watch as Joel squats down to give the cats the attention they demand. You watch, catching your breath. He’s gentle with them, murmuring something you can’t hear before he stands and strolls toward you. 

“Afternoon,” he greets you in his deep baritone voice. Joel grabs the two-string bale of hay in front of you and drops it on the trailer with ease, grabbing another before you can interject. 

“I can handle it.” You huff as you resume your task. 

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies smoothly, setting another down. “Thought it’d go faster with two sets of hands.” 

“I wasn’t in a hurry.” You eye him warily for a moment before slipping into a coordinated dance like it was natural. Tossing the rest that needed to be loaded up into the aisle for him to grab. You work in silence, just the sounds of hay shifting and boots scuffing against the barn floor. 

You break the silence first. “Dad says you and your brother hit the rodeo circuit in the summer. That true?” 

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “True.”

“You compete?”

“Team roping,” he says, his voice warming slightly. “Me and Tommy hit most of the circuits within a day's drive from here. Keeps us outta trouble.”

You roll your eyes. “Hard to picture you in trouble, cowboy.”

Joel’s smirk returned, faint but there. “You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” He matches your playful tone. 

His words linger as you work, stirring something you don’t quite know what to do with. Your mind drifts to the idea of rodeoing, the adrenaline of it, the discipline it demands. You forgot how much you missed it, how much you gave up chasing a life that didn’t pan out the way you hoped. 

Joel shifts beside you, the faint scrape of his boots pulling you back to the present. You glance at him, catching the way his shirt clung slightly to his back, the easy strength in the way he moves.

For a moment, the quiet feels comfortable. Easy. The steady rhythm fills the space. But eventually, Joel speaks again. 

“Your dad said you used to spend summers out here,” he says, in a low and easy tone. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little out of breath from the exertion. “When I was a kid.”

Joel brushes some loose hay off of his shirt. “Guessin’ it’s different now.” 

“Everything’s different now,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. 

His brow furrows slightly. “What brought you back?” 

You hesitate, not looking him in the eye. You’re searching for an answer in the dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. “Just needed time to…rebuild.” It’s still vague. 

“You runnin’ from something?” 

You tense at that, before covering it in sarcasm. “I’m not an outlaw,” you jest, earning you a small smile. He doesn’t press further, but you feel his eyes on you, steady, and patient like he’s waiting in case you offer more. 

“It’s not as simple as people make it sound,” you say finally, the words slipping out before can stop them. “Starting over, that is.” You sit on a bale and pull your work gloves off, running the back of your hand over your forehead smearing sweat and dust in a most unsatisfying way. 

“No, it ain’t,” he adds quietly. 

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten, but you ignore the sensation. “What about you? How’d you end up here?” 

“Had to start over myself, I reckon,” he muses, dusting off his hands before sitting down next to you. The words hang in the air, heavier than you expected. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he watches the cats play with a piece of baling twine. “This place made it easier—focusing on getting the house built and getting the business running. Your dad helped too.” 

That catches you off guard. “My dad?” 

Joel nods, finally meeting your eyes. “Just seemed to understand, I guess.” 

You stare at him. You’re disarmed by the softness in his tone. Like there’s more beneath the surface if you ask for it. 

Joel feels the air thicken. He takes in the way your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. For a split second, an image flashes in his mind—your chest heaving for a very different reason, your skin flushed and shining. His throat tightens, and he looks away quickly, cursing himself for letting his thoughts slip. 

The cats weave between your legs, easing the silence. But the air between you still feels charged. Your thighs are nearly touching. The proximity feels overwhelming for some reason and you're suddenly caught up in the details of his profile as he stares down at the floor. The lines at the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips.

He clears his throat and slaps a palm on his thigh. “Well,” he starts, standing up rather abruptly. “Just came by to check-in. See how you’re settling in.” 

“What?” You frown. You miss the grimace that flashes on his face, your eyes drawn to the cats darting away from the two of you. “How I’m settling in?” 

“Yeah, you know…” he gestures vaguely around the barn and your brows furrow and your eyes sharpen at him. Irritation flickers behind your eyes. 

“I told you I’m not afraid of hard work,” you snap, jumping to your feet in front of him. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, like you’re misunderstanding him. 

“Did my dad send you to ‘check in’ on me? Or did you want to see if I could keep up?” 

“It ain’t like that.” He says lowly. 

“Right.” You cut, crossing your arms. You’re over this rollercoaster of a conversation. Your eyes catch on the deep crease between his brows and the glint in his dark eyes. Something flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s indignation or something else entirely. “Then what is it?”

His jaw tightens, gaze locked with yours. Something unspoken flickers in his expression. But instead of answering, he straightens, stepping back. “Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly. 

Your stomach twists at the coolness of his tone, the connection you just felt snapping like a wire. 

“This was a mistake,” Joel mutters to himself. 

“What was?” you asked, your voice deadly quiet. 

Joel only shakes his head before striding toward the far door. His boots echo on the floor and the cats follow after him like shadows, their tails swishing as they dart out into the sun. Joel pauses in the doorway, glancing back with a look you don’t understand. 

“Don’t work too hard now.” His voice carries easily before he stalks off.

Your thoughts have you spinning. “The fuck is his problem?” you wonder out loud, sharp in the warm air. In the space he left. 

But deep down, you can feel the edge of something else. Something more than frustration, curling low and unwelcome in your chest. The weight of his gaze was still lingering, and try as you might, you can’t ignore the way his presence had pressed into every corner of the barn, or the faint scent of leather and bourbon that still hangs in the air. 

Your routine locks into place, and the days begin to pass in a blur. Joel stops by for coffee and acts like the conversation you had in the barn never happened. The stoic, gruff cowboy thing works just fine with you. Except for the moments you catch him staring at you like he’s trying to find an answer to something he never asked.

If you’re honest, though, despite your hostility, you seem to catch yourself studying him with the same frequency and intensity. You’re loath to admit you catch yourself hung up on his obnoxiously broad shoulders, his arms sculpted from the physically demanding work, and that gravelly morning voice he has before he finishes his coffee.

Aside from whatever Joel’s problem with you is, everything else seems to be falling into place. You catch up on your dad’s list of projects. You pick up a part-time job at the feed store in town, keeping yourself too busy to have idle time and too tired to dwell on the past or the future. You get to know folks in the town while you work at the register.

The town seems smaller than it was when you were a kid, but there’s also a charm in the simplicity that you find comfort in. The regulars keep you up to date on the town gossip, and you’re laughing loudly with your boss, Linda, one day over a joke she’d never admit to teaching you when your neighbor struts up to you with a list in hand for a bulk feed order.

You’re cordial to him and the man at his side who gives you a flirty wink that has you raising your eyebrows in disbelief for a moment before you put it together. “You must be Tommy?”

He grins brightly and offers his hand. “And you must be the neighbor?” You give him your name and a polite smile. Your eyes flick to Joel, taking in his neutral expression. His hands rest in his pockets, but his posture is loose, his broad shoulders back in a way that draws your eye before you can stop yourself.

As you enter the details of their order into the prehistoric computer, Linda chats both of the men up, asking them about their horses and when their next rodeo is.

You give Joel his total and take his payment, trying not to roll your eyes when he doesn’t make eye contact with you. You’re ready for the interaction with him to be over when Linda puts you on the spot.

“This one’s been talking about looking for a project horse of her own.” She nods her head toward you. “You boys have any leads for her?”

You can feel your face heating up as they both look at you. It’s not like it was a secret, but you weren’t planning on making Joel privy to your plans. You still haven’t forgotten the way he said this was a mistake after having one conversation with you. Or the way he is always looking at you. Like you don’t belong here or something.

“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy says. “We’ve got a couple of colts just getting started under saddle. They could use the miles, and they’re real sweet-tempered if you wanna come by during the week.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You give him a genuine smile. “I’m actually going to take a look at one that’s got potential this weekend. Marilyn from the post office said her cousin’s got a six-year-old quarter horse she’d sell for a steal.”

Joel lets out a dismissive laugh under his breath. “You mean that Hancock gelding? The blue roan?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, slowly growing more confused by the reactions on all of their faces. “Why?”

Linda’s mouth is hanging open like you said the devil was gonna sell you his horse. Tommy gives you a modest smile like you’ve told him two plus two equals eight, but he’s too polite to correct you. Joel’s expression remains unreadable, but the crease between his brows deepens.

“Am I missing something?” you ask, hoping for an explanation. You do not like feeling like you’re being played for a fool. 

“She’d sell that horse for a dime and a handshake,” Linda says. “Her cousin broke her jaw getting bucked off that horse. That’s why he’s been out to pasture ever since.”

You’re quiet for a beat before the familiar challenge and determination wrap around your heart. “Can’t hurt to look,” you say with a shrug.

“Hancocks are notoriously stubborn and broncy,” Joel adds, his tone low and edged with warning.

“They’re also incredibly smart, loyal, and full of try if you earn their trust and ask ‘em the right way,” you shoot back, meeting his eyes for just a moment too long. Why does it always feel like he thinks you’re out of your element? Does he think you’re incompetent? It only strengthens your desire to prove him wrong.

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line, but his gaze doesn’t waver, and it stirs something uncomfortable low in your chest.

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy cuts the tension simmering between you and Joel. “Offer still stands if he doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” You pointedly direct your appreciation to Tommy, not looking back at Joel. “We’ll give you a call when the order’s in.”

They take that as their signal to move along. You think that would be the end of the drama for the day, but Linda’s got one more tidbit in store after the door closes behind the two men.

“God, those two are so hot it’s unbearable,” she sighs. It catches you off guard, and you blink at her. “Too bad they’re cowboy Casanovas.”

“What?” You give her a scrupulous look, shifting on your feet as she leans against the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” Linda says with a knowing smirk. “Every buckle bunny in a three-county radius knows those two. I hear they have a sign-up sheet at the trailer.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, but the image comes unbidden—Joel, shirtless and panting, sweat glistening on his chest, his jeans slung low on his hips, every muscle taut as he leans over some woman. His gravelly drawl slides through your mind like warm honey as he murmurs something low and dirty, but you can’t make out the words. Your thought derails violently, and you scowl at yourself, heat rushing up your neck, but Linda’s still talking. 

“I’d stand in line for either of ‘em if I were single,” she adds with a shrug.

The image morphs into smug Joel tipping his hat, a self-satisfied grin on his face as some random woman climbs out of his bed. Your throat tightens unexpectedly, and you shove the thought away, scowling at the knot of irritation it leaves behind.

The trailer rocks faintly as you haul it slowly down the driveway toward the barn. Blue shifts inside, and the loud thud of him pawing at the floor, anxious to get out of the small space, echoes loudly in the driveway as you ease to a stop. You cut the engine and hop out of the cab, you can hear your dad’s boots on the porch steps before he’s striding toward you. “You actually brought him home, huh?” 

“You knew I would.” You grin. Your dad unlatches the trailer door and you slip past the divider to untie your new gelding and back him out of the trailer. Blue’s ears flick rapidly and he snorts like a dragon, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, but you steady him with a calm voice and wait for him to drop his head before coaxing him backward. 

His hooves hit the solid ground and he blows out a sharp breath, shaking his neck to de-stress. “He’s gonna be perfect,” you say, running a hand along his neck. “Just needs someone who knows what they’re doing.” 

Your dad gives you a look that says he knows he couldn’t change your mind if he tried. His gaze flicks over Blue’s body, taking in his confirmation and conditioning, the scar on his back leg, the brand on his flank, and the stocky ranch horse build. “Linda said he’s got a bad reputation.” 

“Linda says a lot of things,” you shoot back, leading Blue toward the barn. “He was misunderstood. Had a rough start, that’s all. That girl who got bucked off never shoulda had him to begin with—not after he’d been out to pasture for so long. She was scared, and he felt it.” 

Your dad hums, the kind of sound that tells you he’s skeptical but not enough to argue. “Well, he’s in good hands now.” 

“And we both know I like a challenge,” you say with a steady voice, edged with something sharper. 

The sound of boots on gravel draws your attention and you glance back to see Joel strolling over from the direction of his property. His hat tipped low as his dark eyes flick between you and Blue. 

“Afternoon,” he calls, steady and smooth. 

Your dad turns and gives him a nod. “Joel.” 

“That the Hancock gelding?” 

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, adjusting Blue’s halter. 

Joel steps closer, his expression unreadable as he studies the gelding. Blue swishes his tail before shifting his weight, resting one back leg like he’s already starting to relax. Joel walks a circle around Blue, before pausing next to your dad. “Well-built,” he comments. “Is he sound?” 

You can barely hold back your eye-roll. “I had Barb meet me at the farm for a pre-purchase exam. Passed with flying colors.” You swallow down your irritation. Once again Joel thinks you’re a fool? That you’d go off and pick up a horse without a vet inspection? Before you give Joel a piece of your mind you take a steadying breath, grounding yourself and whispering into Blue’s ear. “He might doubt both of us but he’ll be eating his fuckin’ words real quick once you and I get started.” With that, you turn away and lead Blue to the barn. 

Joel watches the two of you walk off, resting his hand on his hip. “She got a death wish or somethin’?” he grumbles.

Your dad crosses his arms, both men still watching the barn door where the two of you disappeared. “She’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got more patience than the two of us combined—for animals that is. Lord knows she’ll let us have it just for looking at her sideways.” 

Joel grunts, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you telling him off. “Hope you’re right.” 

“It’ll be good for her to have her own project. Haven’t seen that light in her eyes since she got here. S’about time she started moving on.” Your dad’s words eat at Joel. He still wants to know what you’re trying to rebuild from, but he doesn’t ask. Letting the silence stretch before your dad continues. 

“Plus, she’s got the right touch for it,” your dad drawls, tone laced with pride. “Always drawn to the ones that seem a little rough around the edges.” 

Joel doesn’t respond right away. His eyes narrow on the horizon, but his gaze flicks back to where you walked off, the sway of your hips lingering longer than it should. The deeply twisted interpretation of your dad’s words messing with his mind. 

In the barn, Blue seems less concerned about getting the lay of the land now that there’s food in front of him. He munches greedily, tearing hay out of the net tied in the stall. You’re buzzing with a mix of emotions, already imagining the next steps for the two of you. 

Your thoughts fall back on Joel and your dad, their low voices carrying faintly in the warm air. You can picture Joel still standing there, one hand on his hip, eyes fixed on you, that infuriatingly unreadable look expression he always has. 

Your chest tightens, heat rising in your cheeks as you lean against the stall door. You hate how Joel looks at you like that. Like he’s waiting for you to fuck up. To prove him right. Like he’s already decided you’re in over your head. 

“He doesn’t know me,” you mutter under your breath, “doesn’t know you,” you tell Blue, “doesn’t know shit.” 

Blue snorts softly, and you take that as his agreement, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Days blur into a steady rhythm—early mornings with Blue, afternoons at the feed store, and long evenings under the arena lights. Each ride sharpens your connection with him, his turns growing tighter, his strides more confident. Progress comes in small, steady victories, each one lighting a spark of hope in your chest.

One afternoon, when the sun hangs low in the sky, painting the fields with warm hues of orange and gold. From his spot near the fence of his own property, Joel leans one arm against the top rail, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes. Across the way, you’re working with Blue in the makeshift round pen. 

Joel can tell from the way you hold yourself that you’re tired. Your shoulders seem stiff and your jaw tense. But you don’t stop. Your voice carries in the breeze, warm and steady as you encourage Blue to make another pass. 

The horse resists, throwing his head and stomping at the ground, but you don’t flinch. You give him the space to settle before asking again. Joel’s lips twitch, with a hint of a smile. You’ve got grit. 

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re working off more than just the horse’s rough edges. You move with purpose and focus, but with a weight that doesn’t seem entirely about Blue. 

From where Joel stands, he can’t make out every detail, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lingering. You draw his attention with a pull that he can’t resist. Against his better judgment. He traces the line of your spine as you step forward, the way your hips shift when you pivot. He knows better than to look, knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself. 

Blue gives in, his steps evening out as he settles into a steady rhythm circling you. Joel watches as you slow him to a halt. The tension in your posture releases and you reach out with ease and satisfaction to stroke Blue’s neck. 

That invisible pull between you draws your eyes to where Joel is standing. Your face hardens when you catch him observing your training session. He gives you a nod before pushing off the rail and heading into the barn. 

He catches glimpses of you working together in the mornings and evenings. He tries to stop himself from watching, but it’s useless. He catches himself inadvertently timing out his schedule to be able to keep an eye on you. Tells himself he wants to be sure someone’s keeping an eye on you in case something goes wrong. Or that he’s curious about your progress. 

He can admit he admires your perseverance and the skill you have. He would never admit the way he finds himself waking up hard and aching thinking about you and what it’d feel like to have your hips rocking on his lap instead of a saddle, your tits bouncing in his face, and your sweet blissed out smile. And when trudges up the steps of your porch in the mornings to see if your dad needs anything from town—he prays neither of you can see the remnants of his sins in his eyes. 

He can’t stop himself from trying to talk to you, though. One morning he asks straight up, “How’s the project horse coming along?” He tries to sound casual, averting his eyes as he sips his coffee. 

Your smile flickers, equal parts excitement and hesitation flashing across your face. “Good,” you say after a beat, sitting on the wooden bench. “He learns quick, got good stamina and drive.” 

Joel hums, tilting his head slightly. “He give you any trouble?” 

Your jaw tenses, though you try to hide it. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply, tightly. 

Joel nods. “Good,” he says simply, but he still looks at you, like there’s something else weighing on his mind. 

Your dad clears his throat, breaking the tension. “She’s got him started on the pattern already.” 

“You gonna run barrels?” Joel asks, curiosity sneaking into his eyes. 

“That’s the plan.” 

Joel hums, taking a long pause. “You wanna run him in a real arena? Bring him over to get some practice in with the right kind of footing and see what he’s really got for a motor?” 

Your eyes narrow and your shoulders tighten, straining with disbelief. A real arena? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough for him. “We’re getting along just fine as is, thanks.” The words are dripping with venom as you slip back into the house letting the screendoor slam shut behind you. 

Joel’s brows furrow. “Didn’t mean no harm, by it,” he says to your dad. “My mistake,” he adds gruffly. 

Your dad looks a bit miffed at the sharpness of your rejection but gives Joel a shrug back. “She’s always gotta do it her own way.” 

The conversation with Joel sticks in your mind. You’re still chewing it over that evening as you run Blue through some drills, working on his lead changes and corners. When you finally bring him down to walk to cool down you hear the sound of hooves hitting the dirt across the field. Sharp and rhythmic. You walk Blue along the fence line. Pausing when you catch sight of Joel and Tommy in their outdoor arena. 

Their horses move like extensions of their bodies. You loosen the reins, letting Blue’s head sway with every step as you stay transfixed on the two men. Tommy’s bay gelding moves with a quick, snappy stride. His hindquarters tucked under him as he spins on a dime at Tommy’s commend. You can feel the thrill and see Tommy’s grin from where you sit. It’s infectious. You roll your eyes as he tosses his rope catching the dummy steer in a single fluid motion. 

You make another lap before you let yourself study Joel. 

He’s riding his big red mare, her muscles rippling in the sun as she powers forward at a lope. Joel’s hand is steady on the reins, his posture relaxed but exact. Every movement he makes is calculated, and deliberate, yet to an untrained eye seems completely natural and fluid. Like he and his horse were born to do it. He barely shifts to ask the mare to pivot. Her body arcs beautifully, bending around his leg as they make a sharp turn toward the roping dummy. 

You’ve seen good riders before, but there’s something different about the way works. He doesn’t just ride—he leads. Every muscle he moves is a quiet conversation between him and his horse. It’s seamless and controlled. And damn if it isn’t mesmerizing. 

He leans forward slightly, and your mouth goes dry watching his arm flexing as he tosses the rope with precision. His red mare halts instantly, kicking up dirt around her hooves. Joel adjusts his hat with a smooth motion, you can see the focus on his face. Serious and competitive.

You swallow hard as you change directions, still walking on a loose rein very aware that Blue’s sweat is long dried by now. You feel warmth burning in your core that has nothing to do with your tired muscles. He looks good out there. Too good. The kind of good that makes you think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your eyes drift, taking in the way his jeans hug his thighs, the line of his back as he shifts in the saddle. You imagine his hands, thick, precise fingers. Something coils hot and tight within you. You shake your head at yourself. You are not having those thoughts about Joel Miller who thinks you don’t know your ass from your elbow. You swing your leg over the back of the saddle dropping to your feet. Loosening your cinch and still trying to shake your thoughts out of your mind when you hear Tommy hollering at you. 

“Watch and learn, neighbor!” Tommy calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You glance up, cheeks burning as Tommy tips his hat your way with his charismatic grin. Joel follows his gaze, dark eyes locking on you for a moment. Tommy gives you a demonstration of his prowess with the rope–as if you hadn’t been watching–but, Joel says nothing before turning his mare and heading in the opposite direction. 

His cool look sends a shiver down your spine. 

You walk back to the barn, and the sound of their horses fades behind you, but that image of Joel sears into your mind. His commanding and maddeningly attractive exhibition just stoked a fire you’re desperate to ignore. 

You have the same stubborn streak as your father and you’d be damned if you’re gonna cave and ask Joel to use his facility. You find a summer barrel series in a nearby town with low entry fees that runs weekly. You start hauling Blue out to get some experience. At first, his runs are clumsy, but as you get your miles in, his turns get tighter, his confidence grows, and your times get quicker. And you quickly feel like the two of you are ready to enter your first rodeo. The air smells like dirt and livestock, as you unload your horse and tie him to the side of your trailer. There’s a hum from the generators, buzzing conversations, and the occasional whinny of a horse or thud as one paws at the dirt. You had made a point not to ask if Joel and Tommy would be attending, but you catch his familiar shoulders tapering to his slim waist, with one boot on the lowest rung of the fence a few yards ahead when you head toward the warmup pen before your division gets called. He isn’t even facing your direction but you instinctively square your shoulders and raise your chin. You wonder if he’s just here to see if you’re going to fail. Or maybe he’s just watching to earn some other woman’s favor. 

Something ugly simmers in your blood and your chest feels tight. You attribute it to irritation, refusing to acknowledge any alternate reasons. You’re going to prove him wrong. 

You’re still staring at him when he turns to say something to the man standing next to him. You grit your teeth. Superstitious–as every cowboy is–his usual salt and pepper scruff is neatly trimmed, he’s got on a pair of deep blue Wranglers–nicer than you figure he owned, and a crisp long-sleeve pearl snap. Dressed to earn Lady Luck’s favor. 

The devil on your shoulder whispers a thought in Linda’s teasing voice. He doesn’t need to do all that to get lucky. You take a deep breath and peel yourself away from the sight. You’re here to focus on Blue, not your asshole neighbor and his conquests. Despite trying to let go of your issues with Joel, a scowl stays plastered on your face throughout your warmup. Blue picks up on your distraction and he’s a little hot, as you head him toward the alleyway when it’s time for your run. Against your will, your eyes search for Joel. A wash of heat floods your veins when you find him already watching you. He mouths good luck at you and you can only manage a curt smile before you’re pushing Blue to a lope, making one tight circle before you cross the start. The sound of his hooves pounding into the dirt matches the blood pounding in your ears. The burst of adrenaline is instant. The run isn’t perfect. He breaks his stride around the second barrel and you lose time nudging him back into rhythm, but you finish the pattern without knocking anything over. The announcer calls your time as you slow to a trot, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It’s such a blur you don’t think to look for Joel. You don’t think about him at all until you’re untacking Blue at your trailer, brushing sweat marks from his coat when movement near another horse trailer catches your eye. Joel stands close to a woman with long, shiny dark hair. She flashes a wide smile, leaning toward him and resting a hand lightly on his arm. The sight makes you grimace. You shove down the feeling. “None of our business,” you mutter to Blue as you keep brushing. But, your eyes flick back despite yourself. She tilts her head, laughing at something he says, or doesn’t say, you can’t tell. He stands stiffly, hands in his pockets. You can’t see his face from your angle.

The woman reaches to touch him again, and you feel a headache brewing in the back of your skull. Joel glances away from her, landing in your direction for the shortest moment, before his weight shifts and he takes a small step back. You scowl again, tossing your brush back into the tack room shelf with more force than necessary making Blue toss his head. Your heart thuds louder than it should and you run a hand over Blue’s cheek, murmuring softly to calm both him and yourself. When you glance back, the woman is still talking, but Joel’s looking at you again. His dark eyes are sharp under the brim of his hat. He nods, barely noticeable, before turning away from the woman entirely. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to take another deep breath before loading Blue back into the trailer to head out. You weren’t sticking around to watch any of the other events. Especially not the team roping. 

You smile when you pull onto the highway though. You count the day as a success and feel ready to enter a bigger rodeo. The idea makes you glow. Finally feeling like you’re getting back to your true self. You feel like a new woman compared to the version of you that showed packed up her truck desperate to put miles between your ex-fiance and your corporate nightmare.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, crossing your arms as your dad leans against the truck with a skeptical look. “The hell it’s not,” he replies, gesturing toward the trailer. “That’s floor is one step away from dropping your horse onto the damn highway.” You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “I know,” you grumble lowly, disappointment sinking in your stomach. “I was just hoping you’d see something I didn’t.” “Sorry kid,” your dad says. “S’fine. I’ll figure something out. Or just eat the entry fees I paid.” “Or,” he says pointedly, “you could ask Joel.” You glare at him, fire burning in your chest. “I don’t need his charity.” “Ain’t charity,” he interrupts your sour attitude with a gruff tone. “He’s practically family. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your goals.” The words stick, heavy and uncomfortable. You’ve got half a mind to keep arguing. Joel might be your dad’s best friend, but he’s nothing like family to you. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re dragging yourself up the steps of Joel’s front porch. 

You realize as your boot hits the last step that you’ve never been to his place. He always offers to have you and your dad over for a whiskey or for a fire out back, but you always brush him off. You see why your dad takes him up on it though. It’s beautifully made with stunning wooden chairs and a bench for seating. You’d consider complimenting him on his craftsmanship if you weren’t already dreading what you’re about to say. Joel opens the door, his hat already in hand like he’d been expecting you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “Yeah,” you admit, trying not to hesitate. “Uh, trailer’s shot,” you point your thumb in the direction of your dad’s place. “Was wondering if you’d have room in your trailer to haul Blue with your horses.” 

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. The gleam in his eye makes you want to say never mind. You brace for a smart-ass remark. “‘Course,” he replies. You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “Of course?” 

He leans back into the house to grab something, then he’s handing you his keys. “Load your tack up tonight, and get your bags in the living quarters.” “No need,” you shake your head, leaving him holding the keys between you. “I’ve got the truck. And a tent.” 

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You pointedly avoid how his sleeves strain around his biceps. “You’re ridin’ with us. Not riskin’ that truck dyin’ on the highway.” You glare, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, you’ve got a trailer with a busted floor and a truck with more miles than you’d like to admit on it—while, Joel, has a shiny truck from this decade and a horse trailer with a tack room and living quarters. Probably has AC and everything. You catch the glint in his eye, realizing you’re the one asking for a favor and you steel yourself, reminding yourself to bite your tongue.

“Fine,” you grit out, holding your hand out for the keys.

The truck hums beneath you, the steady vibration doing nothing to ease the thick tension in the cab. Tommy’s passed out in the back seat, his hat tipped low over his face, leaving you alone with Joel and the steady drone of the country ballad playing through the speakers.

“You always listen to this?” you ask, breaking the silence as you reach toward the radio.

Joel glances at you, one hand resting casually on the wheel. “Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sad songs for sad cowboys’ kind of guy,” you mutter, flicking through stations before he can answer.

Joel doesn’t stop you, but when you pause on something irritatingly upbeat, his hand moves toward the knob just as yours does.

Your fingers brush his, and the contact jolts through you like a live wire.

You pull back instinctively, your breath catching as your heart slams against your ribs. Joel pauses for half a second before retreating, his knuckles tightening faintly on the wheel.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Joel stares ahead, his jaw clenching as his thoughts spiral. He knew telling you to ride with him was playing with fire. But he can’t stay away from the heat. You glance out the window, pretending the spark you felt wasn’t real. It’s just Joel, always better than you, always an ass. The charged silence stretches on though, every shift of his hand on the wheel drawing your attention. Every shallow breath reminds you of his proximity. 

“This’ll do,” you say tightly. Joel huffs softly, but says nothing, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead. Neither of you speaks again for the rest of the drive, but the weight of the accidental touch remains, thick and suffocating. The rodeo grounds are already alive with motion by the time you’re parked and unloading the horses. The evening sun casts an amber glow over the circus of trucks, tents, and trailers. You help get the portable fence set up and the horses settled before the three of you head off to check in at the visitor's tent and get your meal tickets. 

The smell of barbecue wafts through the air and you get in line to fill your plate. Folks chat eagerly. Tommy strikes up an easy conversation with a group of riders near the picnic tables. You watch as some folks head back to their campsites, hesitating on whether you want to do the same or find a table. Joel passes you and sits at a nearby table and before you can debate any longer a voice interrupts your thoughts. “Long travel day?” the wiry cowboy drawls, tipping his hat and gesturing to the bench next to him. “Take a seat.” 

You give him a quizzical look, but you’re hungry enough to take the opportunity to sit and eat. 

“Name’s Cody.” He introduces himself while you eat. He tells you he’s a bull rider. Asks if you’re runnin’ barrels tomorrow. He’s chatty with a smooth and easy voice and a playful look on his youthful face. You answer his questions, politely, suddenly keenly aware of Joel’s gaze boring into the back of your head. It makes your spine prickle with something you can’t name. The heat of his stare burns into you, fierce and unwavering, making every laugh at Cody’s jokes feel like defiance. Cody continues on and you find it easy to listen to his stories, but you can’t help feeling compelled to glance over your shoulder betraying the distraction you’re trying to ignore. Cody points out some of the other riders he knows and invites you to come hang out at their campsite and have a drink. You’re still searching for the right words when you catch sight of Joel walking swiftly past your table. He mutters something to Tommy–who seems to be proving Linda’s rumors true with a woman wrapped around his arm and batting her lashes at him–and stalks off. Your stomach twists as you watch him go, irritation flaring hot and fast. “The fuck is his problem?” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your plate. Cody shrugs, clearly oblivious. “Who knows? Anyway—” But you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes following the path Joel struts down before he disappears.

You joined Cody and his friend for one drink, hoping it would ease your nerves. He had a kind group, a little rough around the edges, but tough as nails like you’d expect bull riders to be. They kept your mind distracted with their wild stories, but you decided to head back to the trailer before anyone got drunk and stupid. The walk back to the trailer feels longer than it should, every step weighed down by something stirring within you, something that has you on edge. You check on the horses before pulling the door open and climbing into the living quarters. The cool night air hasn’t soothed the heat that’s been simmering within you since dinner—or since that moment in the truck if you’re honest. You toe off your boots before looking up to see Joel, leaning against the wall, his jaw set tight, and his eyes sharp as they snap to yours.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, realizing it’s just the two of you in the small space. “Reckon he’ll be out til the sun's up,” Joel says in a quiet, low tone. “Alright,” you nod. Another point goes to Linda for that one, you figure. Joel’s jaw remains set in that infuriatingly unreadable way that seems to be his signature look. The dim light in the trailer casts sharp shadows across his face that darken his gaze. “You enjoy yourself? With your new friend?” he asks, his voice raw, edged with something you can’t place. You stop short, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” He steps closer, reaching past you to hang his hat on the hook by the door. “Took your time gettin’ back.” He says, his eyes flick over you, dark and assessing. You’re acutely aware of the scent of the campfire on your shirt and beer on your lips. It swirls with his leather and bourbon musk like they were designed to enhance each other. His words sink in, cutting and daring. “What’s your point?” “Did you fuck him?” The bluntness of it knocks the breath out of you. Your mouth falls open. Shock and fury battling for control as you glare at him. “What did you just say to me?” “You heard me, sweetheart,” Joel says, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “Just wondering if that cowboy got what he was after.” It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. “What the fuck,” you hiss, stepping closer, your fists clenched at your sides, “makes you think you’ve got the right to ask me that, Joel?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, but his expression remains cold. “Lookin’ out for you. Your dad’d kill me if I didn’t.” You laugh bitterly. “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Silence fanning the flames within you. “You aren’t my dad,” you snap, voice trembling with rage. “And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t fuck.” Joel’s eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he steps even closer. “That’s not what I—” “Save it,” you cut him off, word sharp as a whip. “I don’t know why you think I’m so weak or clueless all the time. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I’m some kid you’ve gotta babysit.” 

Joel’s expression hardens, his dark eyes flash with something that looks like hurt beneath his anger. “That’s what you think I see?” his words come out like a dangerous growl. “That’s how you’ve acted toward me since day one,” you fire back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “If you don’t respect me, Joel, just stay out of my business.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath warm against your skin as the air between you thickens. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he barks, voice tight with frustration. “Explain it to me then,” you challenge. Shaking with the force of everything you’ve been holding back. “Or stay away from me if I’m such a thorn in your side.” He works his jaw, and for a moment you’re glued to the corded muscle in his neck and the exposed golden brown skin of his chest. He glares at you, making no move to back off. His voice drops sinfully low and quiet. “You really wanna know?” “Yeah,” you breathe, heart pounding like it’s trying to break through your ribcage. “I do.” His hand moves fast, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he accuses in a rough and uneven voice. You blink. “What?” “You heard me,” he rumbles, dark eyes locked on yours. “From the first day, you showed up here, lookin’ at me like you had somethin’ to prove.” Anger burns in your veins. “How does that make me your problem?” His grip tightens, his body presses closer. “You ain’t my problem,” he mutters. Guilt twists into his words, “Shouldn’t even be lookin’ at you like this. S’wrong.” He swallows thickly, only sharpening the edge in his voice. “But I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, and it’s pissin’ me off.” His confession hits you like a brick over the head. The trailer is silent, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, and your ragged exhale seems deafening. 

“Then stop,” you challenge, voice trembling with defiance. “If it’s so wrong, just leave me alone.” Joel’s eyes darken, his other hand settles on your hip, fingers digging into you. “Can’t,” he says,  voice so thick with frustration, it sounds like it hurts. “Don’t think I want to.” 

Silence stretches and time feels thick and warped. Your ragged breaths fill the space. His eyes search for a reason to stop, but he finds none. 

You don’t get a chance to reply before he drops your wrist to wrap a large hand around your jaw, pulling you into a feverish kiss. Nothing gentle about it. It’s raw and desperate, equal parts frustration and hunger. Your fingers curl into his shirt as if you could pull him any closer, even as your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, in a sharp, biting challenge that makes him groan low in his throat. He angles your face so he can kiss you deeper, harder, until your knees feel like they might give out. Your mind goes blank, flashing white with anger and need. All you can process is the hot slip of his tongue against yours and the sharp bristle of his facial hair against your tender lips. Your back hits the cool metal wall of the trailer before you realize your feet had even moved. Joel’s hips press into yours, pinning you against his body–solid and unrelenting. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, the edge of his teeth scraping at your skin. The rasp of his stubble sends sparks to your core, and you dig your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Pulling him toward you, needing him in a way that verges on painful. He lifts his mouth, breathing hotly against your damp neck. “This what you want?” he says, his tone matching the burning desperation coursing through you. “You want me to fuck it outta you? Til you can’t keep runnin’ your mouth at me?” “Shut up,” you snap, but the way your body arches into him betrays the hostility in your voice and the subtle stretch makes you keenly aware of how wet and needy you are already. He makes a low, guttural noise in his throat that makes your cunt throb. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it around his waist as he grinds into you. The hard ridge of his cock pressing into you makes you gasp. The sound you make sends heat ripping through him like wildfire. We can’t, he thinks, but the words die on his tongue. The thought of how wrong this is flashes in his mind, but it’s drowned out by the way you’re looking at him. The way your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull him closer, your breath hot and shaky against his cheek. He can’t think. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Not when you’re so soft and warm and furious beneath him. He’s helpless. His hand slips under your shirt, rough fingers brushing over soft skin, leaving a searing trail that grounds you as your mind spins. He pushes your shirt up, baring you to the dim light of the trailer. Time slips back into the warped, syrupy dimension as you absorb the unbidden lust and awe in his eyes. You’re the one exposed, but you feel like you’re seeing something just as naked in his face. Time catches up and you pull your shirt the rest of the way over your head, committing to sin wordlessly. You shiver at the sudden contrast between the heat radiating off of his body and the cool air hitting your flesh. “Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back as his mouth closes over your nipple like a wet furnace. His teeth graze the sensitive skin causing you to spew breathy curses over the top of his head. They only spur him on. He sucks hard enough that you tug him off you by his hair, but he only switches to your breast, delivering the same delicious punishment as his fingers roll and pinch at the wet, puffy, flesh he abandons. 

It’s like he can predict your needs before your mind can, biting down harshly enough to pull you away from the angry, hissing thoughts and keep you desperate to stay lost in the physical sensations. He palms the full weight of your tits, gliding his thumbs over both, slick and shining with his saliva. He presses them together before releasing them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, taken by the way they bounce more perfectly than he could’ve imagined. It’s wrong to have you topless and panting beneath him, but his name falls so sweetly from your lips that it doesn’t matter. The heavy-lidded look you have makes him feel confirmed. When you moan lowly as the pain melts into pleasure when he kneads your soft, slippery skin, his cock aches and weeps for you. He needs more. He needs everything. Needs to wreck you, to see you so fucked out the only thing you can say is his name. 

It’s an exquisite brand of torture. 

You hate how good this feels, how badly you want him to keep going. To show you every move he knows. To break you down with his hands and mouth. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off. But your body doesn’t want that. You don’t want that. You roll your hips against his, begging wordlessly for more, as you tug at his hair hard enough to pull a throaty groan from deep within him. The sound he makes nearly has you short-circuiting, but he doesn’t give you the respite to fall apart. His hands are everywhere, frenzied like he’s losing control. Hasn’t he already lost it? You wonder distantly. Slowly, you realize he’s littering dirty little threats and filthy promises into your warm flesh. You hate the way his words make you shiver, how much you crave every pledge he makes. “You’re gonna feel me for days, sweetheart,” he husks hotly, just behind your ear. It’s a commitment you unwittingly pray he keeps. Some part buried deep within you blooms at the idea of feeling every memory of his touch as you go about your day tomorrow. “Get to it then,” you snap, hands reaching for his belt with urgency. Joel doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slips between your legs, teasing you through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and the sound you make at the pressure—the breathless, needy, whimper—makes him forget how to breathe. All he knows is that he needs to hear it again while he fucks into your soft, warm cunt. 

He wrenches your jeans open and works them down your thighs as you tear at his shirt buttons. He’s barely able to let you go long enough to pull his shirt off; watching you kick your pants off the rest of the way makes him nearly trip over himself. 

The air between your naked chests is sticky and warm. He dips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, fingertips gliding over the soft hair on your mound making his eyes roll back. 

The edges of your vision blurs when he prods two big fingers between your slick lips, but you’re glued to the way his dark eyes are nearly black now. He looks every bit possessed by a beast, and fuck if you aren’t driven by the sick desire to make him snap. 

“You like having me touch you like this, don’t you?” His voice drips with need underscored by the slick sounds coming from between your legs. 

“No.” You rasp, as you grind your clit against his palm. He pumps two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to make you moan. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawls, thick like honey. You grip the muscle flexing in his arm to steady yourself. His concentration and competence makes your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“You’re gonna come for me, right here.” He declares. 

You shake your head. “I’m not—fuck—I won’t.” 

“You will,” he interrupts. Dark and calm. His pace quickens, fingers focused on the spot inside you that makes you a mindless wreck. His thumb draws circles around your clit. 

“Can feel how close you are.” Your hips rock and your muscles all pull taut. “If you’d quit fuckin’ fighting me.” He somehow crowds even closer to you. You feel like you’re about to snap when he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty and ragged. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, ain’t you?” 

“Joel,” you whine, angry and devastated. “I hate you.” 

You grip the back of his neck with one hand, and both of you watch as he finally takes himself out of his jeans. 

The view makes you salivate. 

Everything about Joel is rugged and masculine. The muscles carved into his arms and chest. The trail of dark hair leading down his stomach that thickens around his base. The deep flushed color of his thick cock. The ragged inhale he makes when he presses the blunt tip against the drenched fabric that clings to your swollen folds. 

“Say it,” he growls, rubbing along your barely clothed seam. 

“I hate you,” you whisper unconvincingly, digging your nails into the back of his neck and arching off of the wall. 

“Tell me you want it.” You can’t tell if it’s a remain or a plea. This strain in his voice and the muscles tensing across his broad frame make you tremble.

“I don’t.” You lie. You snake one hand down your body, peeling your ruined panties to the side so he can slot his tip at your dripping entrance. You tilt forward, impatiently, stretching around him just enough to override your filter. 

“Oh, fuck,” you start. Unable to stop the stream of whispered curses from rolling off your tongue. 

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, inching deeper inside of your tight, warm walls. He feeds himself into you slowly, the overwhelming fullness as you adjust makes your thighs shake. He pulls out and you whine, unable to say a word before he’s moving, dipping you onto the thin trailer mattress and slipping your underwear down your legs. 

“Gonna fuck you full,” he mutters. You spread your legs, making room for him to settle above you. He draws his cock back through your lips, coating himself in your arousal before driving into you with a powerful stroke. 

Your lips part, sucking in air as he sets a pace. He fills you deeper than you’ve ever felt, relentlessly making room for himself as he saws in and out of you. It’s powerful and primal, but refined by his athleticism. Fluid rolling hips and his strong core make you see stars as he fucks into you.

“That’s right,” he rasps above you, and you realize he’s responding to you. 

“So good,” you’re murmuring, “so full.” 

“Taking it like you were made for it,” he says to himself. The intensity of your tight, warm pussy coaxing him deeper makes him spill his thoughts. Unfiltered. 

He sets a pace, slow and deliberate at first, each stroke filling you completely before pulling back, leaving you desperate for more. The friction is maddening, plunging his length into your sensitive walls as he pins you beneath his hard body.   

“You feel that?” His breath is hot against your neck. “Feel how deep I am? How I’m splittin’ you open?”  

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as you whimper his name.  

Joel’s control falters at the sound of it, his hips snapping harder, faster, as his desperation takes over. “Thought about this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve thought about this too damn much. But you’re better than I ever imagined.”  

His confession sends a jolt through you, but you’re too far gone to process it, your body tightening around him as pleasure builds again, sharper and hotter than before.  

“Joel, please.”  

“Fuck,” he chokes the word out, his pace faltering for a split second before he slams into you harder, deeper. “Say that again.”  

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking as your release breaks through you, leaving you gasping and cursing.  

Joel’s hips snap erratically, pinning you into the mattress with a tight grip, as he buries his cock as deep as he can inside of you. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “Every drop, sweetheart.” Make you mine, he barely keeps the last thought in his head. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chant as your body jolts with each collision with his. 

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, cock driving deeper and swelling at your words. “That’s it. Take it all, sweetheart.”  

Your release hits again, your body trembling violently. Or maybe it never stopped—he only drew it out of you in waves. 

Joel curses low, his hips slamming into yours one last time before you feel him pulsing inside of you, hot and thick. 

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on the mess between your thighs. “Look at that,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent. His wide hands slide up the back of your thighs, bending your knees to your chest so he can watch the mix of your releases glistening and dripping from you. 

He takes one hand and drags it through the mess, pushing it back up inside of you. You squirm, sensitive to the touch, but fixated on whatever is burning behind his eyes. 

You wait for him to say something characteristically Joel. To dismiss you as naive, to rub it in that he broke you down. That he had you crying his name. That you shouldn’t have done that. 

But it never comes. You’re convinced he was trying to put you in your place. To give you another reminder that he thinks you’re useless and clueless. You’re too wrapped up in the thoughts to speak or move. He doesn’t say anything at all which nearly makes it worse. Instead, he pins you under a heavy arm, holding you against him until you both doze off. Succumbing to exhaustion.

-> PART TWO

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🤠🤎

tagging the usual babes in case you want some cowboy!joel for christmas too:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

[the-fab-fox]

Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

[pyrodolls]

HIII i loved your down bad hcs and figured i'd drop a request 👉👈

can i get some hcs for the lin kuei trio + kenshi w/ a gn!reader who's very clingy?

like someone who'll literally follow them wherever they go just for some physical affection and is very cuddly. bonus points if the reader is talkative too :]

LIN KUEI TRIO + KENSHI X CLINGY!READER HCS

WARNINGS: sfw, established relationship, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended, mk1 characters, mk1 spoilers, takes place after the story and before the khaos reigns dlc cuz i haven't played it yet lmfaoooo

A/N: hey... hey.... how y'all doing... erm it's been a while but here we go with another mortal kombat post!! the last time i posted about it was nearly a YEAR ago y'all i suckkkk i'm sorry. but as an apology and a late christmas gift, i'm posting 5 different reqs this week woohoooo *everyone cheers* and i'm sorry it took so long for me to write, i just didn't feel like it. but here we are! also apologies for making tomas and kenshi's hcs short, i just don't have a lot of writing experience for kenshi and tomas only has like 2 minutes of screentime ijbol

with BI-HAN, he'd hate for you to be clingy while he is working. he has an entire clan to take care of, and his stress was worsened after kuai liang and tomas's betrayal. even though you may be his spouse, his main goal will always remain with the lin kuei and taking control of earthrealm. but in private, you could be physically affectionate or talk to your heart's desire.

he's not going to reciprocate your affections, though. he's not used to the concept of romance, especially from someone as vulnerable as you. his entire life he was trained to be cold and ruthless. sure, he grew up with kind brothers, but he saw their friendly nature as weakness. he'll often criticize you for being open with your feelings, but that's only because that was what he was taught. he may behave as if he resents your attachment, but he secretly enjoys the domesticity. it delights him that you are so devoted to him. his hatred for his former brothers grows every day due to their betrayal, so having you around him softens his temper, as he requires reassurance that you aren't going to turn on him. (he'll never admit that, though.) he also doesn't mind when you follow him around as long as you do not disrupt his duties or make a fool out of him. keep your affections private, and you'll stay his. you wouldn't want him to punish you for misbehaving in front of the entire clan, would you?

KUAI LIANG is far more accepting of your behavior than his colder brother. he understands that you're clingy because you care about him, so he tries to make an effort to reciprocate your affections whenever he can. but he often worries for your safety as his spouse. he worries that the lin kuei could target you if they find out about your love. you're free to be clingy, but you must keep it private.

he believes your love is one of the last good things he has left in his life. after bi-han's betrayal, his life has been one of little to no rest. having you by his side keeps his anxieties at bay for a short amount of time. you can talk to him as much as you want, and he won't interrupt you unless it's important. he would listen to your thoughts without judgement. he may question you, but he'll never judge. he may not be as talkative as you are, because he tries to show you how he feels with actions rather than words. but he still manages to keep up with you because he loves you. he's grateful to have some happiness in his dangerous life. that happiness is you.

TOMAS is similar to his brothers as he does not wish for your affections to be public, for safety reasons. however, he makes it very clear that he is appreciative of your clingy nature and never fails to turn beet red when you hug him. while he is busy building the shirai ryu, he has much more free time than his brothers. he enjoys going on walks with you and hearing you talk for hours. he stays engaged and asks questions and laughs along at your jokes, even if they aren't funny. he isn't as energetic as you are, but he attempts to reciprocate your energy the best he can. he grew up with bi-han's harsh criticisms and kuai liang's gentle guidance, but he's never had someone always excited to see him like you. you never fail to put a smile on his face and brighten a dark day.

KENSHI is now a government agent, so he often comes home to you at different times every night. he feels guilty for making you wait for him so late at night, but his concerns wash away the moment you run to hug him. he has a dangerous job, and he can handle himself despite losing his vision, but it doesn't stop him from worrying about you every time he leaves the house. just like the lin kuei trio, he wants to keep your relationship private, so you aren't hunted down like he is. he feels bad that you can't have a normal relationship with him, and it has gotten you in a few arguments, since he believes you deserve better. but ultimately, it's always worked out in the end when you reassure him that you're happy with him and nobody else. he doesn't care that you're a bit clingy, he appreciates that you care about him. it breaks his heart when he has to push you away for his job, but he just wishes to protect you, since your relationship is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 27

Hobbies & Passion Projects

Hi Goddesses! After exploring all those personal development tools yesterday, let's talk about something that adds real color to our lives, hobbies and passion projects. You know, those things that make us lose track of time and bring a spark to our eyes when we talk about them.

Have you noticed how some of the happiest people you know have interests outside of their daily responsibilities? There's something magical about having activities in your life that you do simply because they bring you joy.

One of the most beautiful things about hobbies is that they don't need to be productive or perfect. They're just for you, for your joy, for that feeling of losing track of time while doing something you love.

Some ways to reconnect with what lights you up:

Think about what you loved doing as a child

Notice what makes you lose track of time

Pay attention to what YouTube videos or social media content you naturally gravitate toward

Remember activities that make you feel energized rather than drained

Think back to when you were younger, what did you love doing just for fun? Maybe you spent hours drawing, built elaborate LEGO creations, or wrote stories in your notebook. Somewhere along the way, many of us let these joyful activities slip away, telling ourselves we're "too busy" or that they're not "productive enough."

Let's change that! Here's how to rediscover or start a hobby that lights you up:

Start Small and Simple

Try one new activity for 15 minutes this week

Use materials you already have at home

Join a free online community or workshop

Watch tutorial videos for inspiration

Finding Your Passion Project

What topics do you love learning about?

Which activities make you forget to check your phone?

What did you dream of doing "someday"?

What skills would you like to develop just for fun?

Making Time for Fun

Schedule short, regular "play dates" with yourself

Keep supplies easily accessible

Join local groups or online communities

Share your progress (only if you want to!)

Hobbies and passion projects aren't just fun, they're good for you! They can:

Reduce stress and anxiety

Boost creativity

Improve work-life balance

Create opportunities for new connections

Build confidence through skill development

Here's a secret: hobbies don't need to be Instagram-worthy or turn into a side hustle. They're valuable simply because they bring you joy and help you unwind.

Quick action step: Pick one hobby or passion project you'd like to explore. It could be something brand new or an old interest you'd like to revisit. Start with just 15 minutes this week.

What hobby or passion project are you curious about? Let's share ideas and inspire each other! Drop a comment below, I'd love to hear from you.

See you tomorrow for Day 28! Remember, making time for activities that bring you joy isn't selfish, it's essential for becoming your best self.

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[thelunarfairy]

Index (continuation)

THEORIES:

Let's play again

Tsukasa's age

ANALYZES:

Hmmm……Tsunene?

The butterfly metaphor 🦋

You stopped to think that technically the Mitsuba who is in this reality never died, and if he never died, he wasn't "killed" again by Tsukasa and Mitsuba 2, the one who devoured number 3's heart, technically never existed

JSHK Chapter 116 – Brief Analysis.

YUGI TWINS:

That boy was still that boy

The same hole.

Sonnet of the Twins

All relationships have one law: never make the one you love feel alone, especially when you're there.

ASKS:

Do you have any ideas or theories about why Kou still has the seal on his weapon?

i just wanted to point out Nenes great character development in these few chapters(especially 115) where she changes from obsessing over any guy to just plainly admitting her love for Hanako . Obviously in this recent chapter we see this , and I just love it .

Tsukasa travels through time . Does this make the entity control him and change his form and age ? So hanako killed him and imprisoned him with the borders so that he would not change the timeline that I know , such as killing one of the mysteries and other things. Why is hanako unable to control him, and he is the yourishiro who created him??

Tsukasa, Sakura and Natsuhiko couldn't be frozen. Which one then?

I'm confused about the new chapter, where is hanako and did Kako benefit from Hanako's moment of collapse when he said Tsukasa is an imposter ? Any theories 😞

Do you have any theories about the extremely dangerous thing Hanako did to get sealed?

Hanako always says that he became a ghost to atone for his sin of killing tsukasa , but tsukasa became a yourishiro to impraison him and leave him . Where is the protection in this , of course, tsukasa will consider it hanako hates him ?

I wonder when Hanako finds out that Tsukasa is not fake but there is an entity inside him what he will do then ??

Do you think that the accident that the misterious hand mentions in the omen chapter could have something to do with what the clock keepers have changed in the new timeline??

Hi, it's been a while since I asked you anything, it's time to do it :) based on everything we've seen, from your perspective where do you think this arc is going and what can we expect?

What do you think we will see in the next chapter? Do you think we'll see Kou and Mistuba trying to survive Tsukasa? Or will the chapter be just about Yashiro? I honestly have no ideas. I know it's hard to predict Aida Iro's mind, but I'd love to hear your theories

For Sakura's part, who do you think she's holding hands with?

Hello! I recently read the novel or game Narisokonai Snow White by Aida and Iro and well it seemed curious to me that she also had twins in that story

most of the manga It's written from Nene's perspective, but there are some moments that are from Hanako-kun's perspective. Would you like to talk about them?

In the images of the injured Amane when he was alive you can see signs that he was tied up and honestly in almost all of Aida Iro's art Hanako has ropes. What I don't understand is why Tsukasa's need binds him, because at first it seems like a sign of obsession like "you're stuck with me", but we know that Tsukasa just wants to fulfill Amane's wish and doesn't want to be with him. , so why do you think he tied him up? I doubt Amane could resist if when Tsukasa hurt him then why the ropes?

In your opinion, what do you think of the mirror hell arc? But for me it was the part where everyone is on the borderline of no. 3 was as if Tsukasa and Hanako during their meeting were playing roles like Tsukasa being the villain and Hanako being the hero. As if it was all just a joke. Of course I may be rambling, but what do you think?

i want to ask you about Tsukasa's eyes here they were black throughout the chapter but here they have a little light. What does that mean 🤔??

Perhaps Hanako sealed the reason for not entering his border and seeing Tsukasa all that time , so he called him and did not hear him to cut off the connection between them and someone was able to free him??

In chapter 82 in the red house. What do you think Tsukasa meant by writing a letter to Yashiro and Kou? I didn't understand 😓

I've been rereading the "Hanako of Magic" AU from the Halloween special and I honestly didn't understand it. Can you explain?

Tsukasa continues to reject Hanako and he is yorishiro . What should hanako do to reach his feelings for tsukasa ? He did not even notice that his brother was crying for him .in your opinion how can hanako return tsukasa to normal??

I was reading your analysis about the Yugi twins and the super toxic relationship they have;)

Also, doesn't he suspect Sakura and Natsuhiko, because sometimes this feels like a duo or trio, clearly what are they going to use the wish for, Amane or Sakura?

what if this tsukasa is looking for amane to play with him and will not rest until he finds him so he takes advantage of the students and plays with them ?? What do you think

So i had a question about Tsukasa in the new timeline; in the new chapter, after saying "are we playing hide and seek, he says this

I didn't understand when Akane made that reflection about whether that boy was really Tsukasa Yugi. Can you explain?

i feel that amane was primarily responsible for the chaos in the manga from beginning if he had told tsukasa that he loved him but he did not and he made him Yourishiro and left him and ehen tsukasa was not affected by his words he felt sad and said that he hated him . I think about how he would feel when he saw tsukasa in this bad condition and he called him . What do you think??

ok, so i was reading the new tbhk manga chapter and realized that: "baby Tsukasa" has Amane's eyes, and "older Amane" has Tsukasa's eye, do you think the roles were switched and Tsukasa was the one who got sick now?

when kou became possessed what happened to Tsukasa ?

First of all they remind us that Hanako is a very stupid puberty no one understands a damn what he is referring to, l only understood that he really likes the touch XD

hi :3 what arcs do you think we'll get in season 2 of tbhk?

Second season of jibaku shounen hanako-kun I'm very happy. In the trailer you can see that we will have the clock keepers arc

every one knows hanako is a killer but they don't know who killed him ? Who do you explain that 🤔

They call hanako the killer but they don't know who the victim was that he killed was his little brother why don't they know tsukasa like they know hanako???

I wonder if Yashiro even went to Tsuchigomori... I mean, suddenly it's night and the festival is over.

what is the worst tbhk ship?

will hanako telling tsukasa that he is a fake affect their relationship from Yourishiro's perspective ?

when Kako revealed hanako wanted to do prevented things i would like to know hanako and tsukasa thoughts when they looked at each other???

I love these pictures when Akane conforms Hanako with his crime and we see Hanako's shock what were his thoughts at the moment ??

Here there are theories that sat tsukasa's hand is like a corpse . Here what are your ideas???

I'm really looking forward to the next chapter, but would Aida Iro continue to focus on Mistuba and Kou with Tsukasa at school or would they focus on Yashiro? Any idea? Or acahs that have the probability of Yashiro also appearing there alongside Kou and Mistuba just like Teru and Akane did?

If you could choose how the next chapter would unfold, what would it be? I love hearing your opinions

why didn't hanako know and feel tsukasa's exit from the boundaries as his Yourishiro??

hey, what chapter do you think TBHK will end?

why was amane shocked when he saw tsukasa alive like him in the picture perfect arc ? What were his thoughts at that moment?

what do you think of the theory that tsukasa gets stronger as the yourishiro is destroyed because hanako is sealed and the power is transferred to his yourishiro ??

What do you think could make Tsukasa cry? From the beginning of the series until now, he has never been seen to cry despite what happens to him, so I was curious to know what you think.

I think Kou is going to have his "villain arc" in this new timeline!

i forgot where i read this, about how tsukasa before his disappearance, had no fangs but then after it happened, right when he said to kunishige that his wish will come true, there we see he had them?

if amane saw tsukasa's hole from the beginning and lived with him and killed him and made him a yourishiro , didn't he see this hole again ? Then what is the meaning of his descring tsukasa as a fraud ??

Regarding what makes tsukasa cry is receiving love from someone he didn't receive from amane when he returned and even hanako made his yourishiro him isn't that a sign that he loves him??

I feel like Tsukasa experience in red house forced him to mentally mature cause I don't think that's how a 4 years old would act

im curious abt how hanako and no.6

there are images running through my mind and i wanted to o hear your theories about them 😊

the yorishiros are destroyed and the power returns to the entity which in this case is inside Tsukasa so he becomes stronger, but if Tsukasa is yorishiro when it is destroyed, who will the entity's powers go to?

Hanako wants his brother to always be close to him but when he sees him he treats him with disdain and never hugs him but does he think about what Tsukasa wants???

If Nene was in trouble and needed help, who do you think would help her? (aside from the most obvious ones like Hanako and Kou)

What do you think Teru feels about Nene? There is a theory that says that the person Teru actually likes is Nene. Do you think that is true?

Do you think tsukasa will be the last yourishiro ? If so tell me your thoughts on how things will be because hanako wants to protect him and sakura and natsuhiko want to destroy him . I know I'm exaggerating but I like your thoughts 👍

Helloooo i wonder, if teru believes that the seven mysteries system is keeping the balance of two worlds, why is he trying to exorcise them any chance they got? Is it because they mingle with humans freely like the time mitsuba tried to make friends with humans who could not see him? Or is it just the hatred he has for them? Have a nice day<3

Hii I was wondering how do you think Amane would react to Tsukasa crying considering the fact that Amane said that he doesn't know much about Tsukasa and I wonder how he would react seeing a new side of him.

Do you think the teacher asked Kou to deliver it was Tsughimori? Do you think we will see Hanako-kun in the next chapter opening the door for Kou and Mistuba?

I know the chapter just came out and I understand if you don't have theories or ideas, but if so, how do you imagine if it's Hanako who opens the door for Kou and Mistuba? How do you think the scene would play out?

Hii i dont know if you already answered this, but what does hanako mean when he said "I like it, humans like you are my favourite kind." to Akane?

If tsukasa is getting destroyed/removal of his seal. When do you think it will take place? The final arcs or way before that?

Hiii lunar, a question, in your opinion, what kind of difficult situation was Tsukasa stuck in that made a guy like him ask for help at Amane?

Do you think tsukasa would have been self-destructive even if he had had a normal life? (without evil entities or supernatural sacrifices)

maybe two more means they are the only ones amane needed to sacrifice to finally get what he wished for from the entity in the house??

What are your thoughts on the latest chapter?

I've been thinking about lately is the yugi parents

it is that true hanako remembers like his brother looking at the moon ? Why doesn't he try to save him ? He just make him suffer 😔?

i wander how hanako will be when they return to the real world and he told tsukasa that he hates him and is a fraud??

I am not ready to see tsukasa getting destroyed/disappear my heart will break into pieces 😭. While amane/hanako will probably? get a happy ending/get to be together with Nene in their own way like cult/lily ? 😭 Not fair 😭

Definitely mitsuba is an important piece in the puzzle, but I don't know how much sense it made at that moment to take him out (another time).

What if tsukasa was supposed to stay in the cove or the hole with kanji after death because he secirifed himself but hanako made him a yourishiro locked in the border?

Hii, in your opinion, what is radio for tsukasa? In my opinion for him it is more than the object from which they can spread rumors, considering that the radio in official art is almost always in contrast with the knife of hanako, idk.. what do you think?

Hello 🤗! Do you have any thoughts on how tbhk could end or what kind of conclusion amane/hanako's story will have? Or on how all of his relationships will end, like with characters like kou, Nene, tsukasa?

when hanako locked yashiro up she struggled to tell him that she didn't want to so he let her go and had fun with her but hanako knows thst tsukasa doesn't want to be locked up and stay with him yet he doesn't let him go , how long will he keep struggling ? Will he ever convince tsukasa?

what if tsukasa exploded with anger and told hanako that he did all this to make him hate him and remove his seal because he doesn't want to stay and continue with his brother and that he would rather disappear 😔

I was wondering why the sakura brooch was in the shape of a rhombus, and looking around I read that the rhombus is spiritually associated with the "the mysterious of the woman who created earthly life"

If amane convinces tsukasa to stay with him and not abandon him and the entity inside him will they separate because tsukasa found a reason to stay??

we noticed hanako's look when tsukasa wanted to remove his seal , what were his thoughts before he attacked him 🤔

Hii, Lunarfairy! Today come with a theory.

What do you think about the theory that Kou is/will become Mitsuba's yorishiro?

I wanted to ask about the human yorishiros.

I was surprised to learn that Nene was the protagonist and not hanako lol

Akane told Kako about Natsuhiko wanting to destroy the yourishiro but he said that Tsukasa is the source of the problem what does he mean? ?

RANDOM:

Let's talk about how Kou's staff STILL has the seal that Hanako put on it????

Isn't it funny that literally an exorcist became friends with a ghost?

The entity calling Kou to the house? Does it mean that Tsukasa is still inside him?

Okay, let's talk about something random

Omg, it's so embarrassing >.<

So, it's been a while since I created this account and I've already gained some followers, thank you all for that :3 (it means you like the crazy things I post)

So I wanted to talk a little about myself (even though I think no one cares XD)

Ok, I'm going to be serious now XDDD

I created this account because I really like JSHK and I wanted to talk about some crazy ideas or theories about the series and I felt welcomed here ^u^

I want you to know that a lot of things I post are just some crazy ideas that I occasionally have and that it's okay if you disagree, be kind S2 or if you agree I'll be happy if you want to talk to me about it :3

In fact, I hope you feel free to talk to me if you want, whether with an Ask or a message, I love talking about JSHK, if you also love and like crazy theories you can come talk to me if you want.

Don't take the things I say here too seriously, about the theories specifically, I may change my mind in the future or it's just crazy in my head, the most important thing for me is not to be right, but to have fun!

I'm trying to unravel the story in the most entertaining way I can, so it's okay with me if I'm wrong about the things I post (because no one other than Aidairo knows what's actually going to happen) XDD

Anyway, that's it.

Some other information that I don't know if you're interested in but I'll leave it here.

I am a girl

I'm Brazilian, I'd like to make that clear because if there are any Brazilians who also want to talk to me, feel free! (Sou brasileira, gostaria de deixar isso claro porque se tiver algum brasileiro que também queira falar comigo sinta-se a vontade!)

I speak English and Portuguese

I post randomly, but I usually post a lot because I tend to create theories and crazy ideas out of completely nothing.

Anyway, that's all, if you've read this far, thank you very much for giving me your attention :3

Bye bye~

Index

THEORIES:

Amane's Darkness

Could it be that in the time of Amane

Amane's past

The house and the fire

Hanako-kun's Big Puzzle

Predictions of the tragedy

These hands…

The Cursed Seal

ANALYZES:

The monster inside Hanako

One of the mysteries of the Yugi twins

Hands on the walls

The irony of life and Hanako's karma

The forecast

Did you notice?

When you remember that at some point, Hanako will have to say goodbye to Tsukasa again…

Amane's disease

"Red Thread of Fate"

Okay, let's talk about Mitsuba

Amane's possessiveness and insecurity

Natsuhiko and the mysterious door

The relationship between Tsukasa, Yashiro and Amane

Tsukasa's relationship with the red house

Yugi Tsukasa's mother

Sixth sense or predestined death?

Oh my, Yashiro is interested in a lot of boys

Yashiro and Tsukasa's Relationship

YUGI TWINS

The melancholy love of the Yugi twins

Did Tsukasa do this?

Hanako's mental age

I wish I could hear his voice

FINDINGS:

Hanako's boundary

Tsukasa's toys

ASKS:

About Yorishiro 1

Spelling errors and pronouns

Twin stars 1 || Twin stars 2

Tsukasa’s emotions 1 || Tsukasa's emotions 2

Tsukasa's parents

Sumire

Tsukasa's kiss

Hanako's feeling seeing tsukasa for the first time

Nene-chan and I are the same!

Could Hanako have done something to stop Tsukasa's kiss with Nene?

The mysterious hand 1 || The mysterious hand 2

Tsukasa image analysis

Tsukasa's behavior

Who do you think is gonna confess first? Hanako or nene?

Hanako's duty

HANENE:

A post about Hanene

Yashiro's wish and Hanako's self-control

Hanako's cute side

Nene ankles

She was exposed

Does Amane remember?

Hanako and Yashiro's tragic love

Reblog

Hanako-kun's jealous punishment

Hanako's look of desire and love

I still want to see this date, right Aidairo?

The insecurity

Hanene reblog

It was the first time a girl said she liked me, it made me happy…

The active Hanako and the passive Amane

Hanene reblog 2

The moment when Hanako fell in love with Yashiro

Details

But what about Amane and Yashiro's date?

Zombie Hanako and his wish

I know what you did here huh, Aidairo

Hanene reblog 3

This scene

RANDOM:

The invisible ghost

Yashiro Nene priorities

Natsuhiko's love potion

A compilation of jealous Hanako-kun

Tsunene reblog

Tsukasa reblog

Hanako reblog

Yugi twins

Okay, it's cute but

Just a compilation of random Hanene moments

Kou reblog

Just a compilation of random photos of Tsukasa

Just Tsukasa and Mitsuba being happy friends

Amane's Possessiveness reblog

Just a bunch of random photos of two idiots (Kou and Mitsuba)

Just Hanako-kun blushing or embarrassed

Nene and Aoi

A funny detail about the hamsters' space wars

Backstage 1

A tiny Tsukasa trying to put a birthday hat on top of his hat

Just a little ghost and an exorcist boy being best friends

Strangely similar….

"We're the same"

Karma

Hanako and Tsuchigomori

Just Tsukasa having his patience tested

I've been thinking (Tsukasa and Hanako)

[galwaygirl83]

This is just one of many incredible Polin edits by creators on TT and IG

💙💛

[bonebabbles]

TEQ: 11, 12, 13

Chapter 11,

Leafstar falls asleep during Kitescratch's vigil, in a way that suggests she was so tired she essentially passed out. Kite's mom, Reedclaw, has had enough of Leaf's inability to lead and calls the vote.

There's a bundle of fun little character moments. Ridgeglow tries to tell Birchfeather to vote to get rid of Leaf, but Hawkwing says no and Birch is VERY grateful. Medcats Fidgetflake and Frecklewish vote in lockstep. Fallowfern is the deciding vote and has to take a moment to figure out what the hell is going on because she can't hear.

Reedclaw's vote to oust Leafstar fails, but she vows that this isn't over.

Chapter 12,

Moonpaw's sinister voice is getting more malevolent.

It's agreed she can come to the Moonpool to figure out if she's capable of having visions or not. I like the way that Alder and Jay are giving her lots of chances to try out the duties before actively committing to it, I'd like to think it's because both of them had been forced into the role the moment they had difficulties as a warrior. They don't want that forced on her in a similar way.

She sees her dead sister in her reflection again, giving her an evil look, and tries to swat the water. SPLASH! INTO THE DRINK WITH YE!

Alder and Jay decide this counts as a vision.

Jayfeather: "Next time, do not try to attack your visions. This is not BB, you can't just do that, and even if it WAS BB only I'm cool enough to do that."

Moonpaw: "please. Bones doesn't even rewrite arcs until they're done"

As Moonpaw tries to fall asleep, the voice in her head calls her cringe and tells her to quit being a doctor. Moonpaw tells her to shut up because she's the one fronting. "BET!" the voice laughs maniacally.

Chapter 13,

Tigerheartstar is REALLY snappish and controlling.

Puddleshine is telling the story of how Moonpaw got dunk tanked, to everyone's delight, and then the conversation gets grim as it turns to human activity. There's worry that the Moonpool will be destroyed or the Clans will be forced to do another Great Journey.

Tigerheartstar asserts that what happened in the old territory was different. If the Moonpool is destroyed they will find a new way to connect to StarClan. He then angrily shuts the conversation down.

Tawnypelt then decides to go visit Birchfeather, and asks his parents if they want her to relay any messages. Dovewing is visibly sad, and is about to say something when Tigerheartstar interrupts her and snaps that they're exercising "tough love" and won't be acknowledging him until he comes home.

Jeez. THAT feels odd for him. It's going beyond "acting understandably unreasonable out of hurt" and crossing over into active control tactics.

Anyway, Tawnypelt goes to see her grandbaby. He shares news that he hasn't had any trials because the Clan voted to depose Leafstar. When asked why, he shares the secondhand story of the badger attack, leaving out major details because he (admittedly) wasn't there. Tawny says that anyone could have mistaken a cat for a badger. tawny, no.

[rubysephi]

This is my take on the Ithica saga, feel free to tell me your thoughts

The challenge: the song starts with the viola, which is Penelope motif. The challenge she prepared is a display of her annoyance to the suitors because she knows only ODYSSEUS can succeed, this challenge is to show the suitors they can never compare to Odysseus, to the true man of the house. Speaking of man of the house, it was a cut song from the musicals, in the original Homer Odyssey, Telemachus called himself the man of the house, however here, he is not, the suitors took too much space in the house. The suitors only want the power that comes with being the man of the house, the challenge is to buy time for Odysseus to come back because she saw the storm, the abnormal behavior of the sea, she knows or at least hope Odysseus is coming. “ I'd rather die then grow old without the best of you” oh she ain't talking to the suitors, she is talking about Odysseus, knowing the suitors won't succeed in stringing the bow and shooting through the axes. Waiting, waiting she was waiting for years and yet she still have to wait for a few moments, she is longing for her husband

Hold em down : ‘ thrown back to the end of legendary with the “ where is he “. The suitors not being able to string the bow, and antinous releasing penelope tricked them, to forever delay them. we can hear Odysseus in the background, he is hearing the suitors plan, ready to kill them. We can also hear the viola in the background when antinous speak about what he will do to Penelope, perhaps showing her lack of say in the matter because only her instrument is there and not her voice

Odysseus: Odysseus chorus being the same as Polyphemus showing he is no longer a man during this, he is the monster. Also he said enough just before killing the suitor, Jusy like how polyphemus said enough before killing his man .All he has been through as shown him mercy isn't the solution anymore. Normally through the other saga the “ open arms “ melody shows that Odysseus still hung on to his friend, polities, view on the world but now he abandoned it . The danger motif keep showing up cause Odysseus is the danger, nother suitors, the electric guitar is always present. He is aiming for the torches, just like Scylla did when she killed his man, taking another inspiration from another monster. He is not letting them threaten his family after Fighting so hard to get back to his island, his loves one. The Legendary motif and Athena motif mixing omg , Athena taking in Telemachus like she did to Odysseus, full circle moment. “ Hold him down “ thrown back to the previous song , but all to the end of legendary “ where is he “. “ Mercy ? Mercy!” His mercy has long since drowned, perhaps like how he nearly drowned in “ get into the water” ; it stayed underneath the way, only ruthlessness remained. Also Eurymachus's askinf for forgiveness just like how Odysseus asked for forgiveness to Poseidon, getting the same answer “not” he truly took something form every foe he fought. Unlike the suitors, his aim is true, the arrows flying right to the target without fail. The end of the song mimicking the end of “ Survive” with Polyphemus, the chorus singing Odysseus, showing how much he embraced the monster, also the screams of the suitors omg, perfect . Perhaps as well the Chorus saying “ ody sseus” is the the same as the chorus at the end of no longer you

I can't help but wonder: nylon or acoustic guitar playing at the beginning , this isn't the monster, this is Odysseus, he softened for his son, once the threat was dealt with. The reunion between Telemachus and Odysseus is so heartwarming, Telemachus kept hearing tales and stories about his father, making up his vision of Odysseus based on those. However Odysseus only saw Telemachus as an infant, he didn't have anything to imagine what he son would be like, other the image of the infant Telemachus once was ( also the infant imagine of Telemachus could be tainted by the fact that Odysseus had to kill infant astanyax). They only could wonder about each other for years, and now that they are faced with each other, they can answer those questions. Also as they start to sing together, we can hear Athena motif, showing she is there watching over them both. I think I can hear a chunk of “ I'm just a man “ guitar before Odysseus says “ show yourself” also a huge throwback to warrior of the mind, them finally meeting back after all these years. The character development of Athena is so massive, going from no feelings to wanting to have a better world where people could be more kind. When she speaks we can hear the piano notes from the end of “ my goodbye”. The clock from the deep dive in the hour Glass, mixing with the guitar, both theirs opinion co existing

Would you fall in love with me again: the viola and the guitar finally together. “ I'm not the man you fell in love with” he truly thinks he became the monster, that the prophecy Tiresias told was true “ I see your wife with a man who is hunting”. When Penelope asked what he did , the ruthlessness motif okay, then thunder wringer motif and then the Scylla motif, showing his journey of sacrifice, the man he lost. The guilt heavy to Carry for a man that wanted to make it home. Penelope didn't ask Odysseus to move the olive tree bed because she thought Odysseus wasn't her husband but because she knew he wouldn't do it, she asked him to make him realize he was still the same man who carved that bed from the tree they first met at. This was Penelope making him know that , no matter what he did, the trouble he went through, it's still him , the man she decided to love and cherish , the man she married and waited for . Perhaps it was also to reassure herself that her wait is finally over, that her husband is truly standing there, in arm reach. ( The olive tree is also a cut song ). Penelope says “ waiting” 8 times because she waited 8 sagas for her husband to come home, this section also last 20 seconds for the 20 years she waited for him . She is so faithful to him, no matter if he did horrible things to survive, he was just a man who tried to survive and make it home to his wife and son. The instrumental of “ just a man “ playing soon after Penelope said you, "Is so genius, because at the end of the day, he was not the monster he made himself to be, he is just a man, who traded the world ( his crew ) for his son and wife.

Perhaps I can also hear in the Instrumental “ just a man, who Finally made it home, after all the years away from what he knows, he's just a man , who has fought for his life, deep down , he traded the world for his Son and wife” also him not singing the lyrics over the instrumental because he made it home, he don't have to sing about going home anymore, just like dangerous where the crew didn't sing “ making back Alive to our homeland” because they died,

And the musicals ending with” I love you “ ,omg , it's was a journey about love and lost, a man doing everything for love and losing a lot during his journey

Also the constant acoustic guitar playing while Odysseus talk showing he is the man and not the monster

Edit : I just realized between challenge and wyfilwma, Penelope sings waiting 13 times (6 in challenge, 7 in wyfilwma) and Ody faced 13 obstacles to get home (cyclops, storm, giants, circe, Underworld, sirens, scylla, mutiny, zeus, calypso, charybdis, poseidon, suitors)

[1moreff-creator]

With the release of a thrilling and VERY shocking Chapter 1 for Project: Eden's Garden, I'd like to resubmit my "What would make them laugh?" inquiry, but for the P:EG cast instead.

Yeah, I feel like we kinda need that one after everything that happened over there :'D. I've been wanting to write for this fangan anyways, so this is as good a place to start as any! Let's go!

Spoilers for Eden's Garden CH1

(Also, is the "shocking" description a pun on the murder method? Very funny if so xD)

Cassidy: We know she enjoys extremely horrible puns and referential humor, and the strength of her laughter correlates to how much the people around her either groan or enjoy the jokes alongside her.

Damon: He'd never admit it, but he enjoys silly jokes about niche topics he's researched for debates, provided he remembers enough about them. He particularly enjoys deadpan and sarcasm, and teasing other people.

Desmond: With how chill he is, he enjoys sweet and wholesome jokes the most. He can chuckle at anything if he's in a large enough group where everyone is comfortable, though.

Diana: She enjoys watching her friends engage in goofy antics and have silly discussions. Anything that makes them laugh, will make her smile, at least, and she'll usually laugh along too.

Eloise: Very odd and awkward sense of humor that not everyone gets. However, if someone matches her energy, she can very easily become a giggling mess. Very into inside jokes.

Eva: She'd rather not admit it, but really nerdy jokes and overly convoluted wordplay amuse her more than anything else. She also enjoys teasing the very few people she can call friends, and laughs when they get flustered.

Grace: Making fun of people and sexual innuendo are the easiest way to get her to laugh. She really enjoys slapstick and silly misfortunes, and flustering people like Wolfgang with her innuendo.

Ingrid: Laughs whenever she finds something cute, and generally, she finds other people's laughter cute. In other words, she laughs when others laugh, so she tries to make that happen.

Jean: Will readily and heartily laugh whenever he's having fun with friends, no matter what that fun looks like. Particularly enjoys anything that reminds him of the sea, like puns about the ocean and the like.

Jett: Similarly to Jean, if he likes the people he's around, a quick laugh will always precede all his sentences. Other than that, high intensity bits where there's one joke after another in quick succession are the best ways to hear his laughter.

Kai: Internet memes, "brainrot" humor, references to popular media... Just the most "chronically online" sense of humor you can possibly imagine. Also likes teasing people occasionally.

Mark: He's the hardest to get to laugh in the entire cast, but the best way to do it would be catching him off guard with a really ironic or unexpected joke. Self-deprecating and generally depressing humor go over particularly well.

Toshiko: She really likes weirding people out with her odd stories and grandiloquence, because it makes her feel smarter than them. But when she's not teasing others, she can also be seen giggling at absurdist jokes she's embarrassed to admit she likes (finds them childish).

Ulysses: He enjoys smart history references, so his sense of humor can certainly be described as "nerdy as hell." Very big fan of deadpan humor, too.

Wenona: Also a big fan of deadpan, she and Ulysses have fun together. She also likes making fun of people, and finds it particularly funny when they fight back on whatever point she makes.

Wolfgang: Likes playing along with other people's antics, like Grace's. In other words, he laughs when someone is being super silly around him and he can "yes and" his way into a funny bit.

Tozu: Human suffering and overly dramatic puns.

Mara: Clinically unable to laugh, or so she says. Secretly loves cute animal videos.

Cara: I guess it depends on what theories you believe about her. However, I don't know the full range of theories around her, so I'll leave it at that :p

Hope that was good enough! Thanks for the ask, it's always fun to think about this! :D

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello 👋 as long as there is Colter content coming, I'm happy and thankful!

I'd love to do a three things ask though, since you're still doing that!

Colter Shaw + midnight, falling, tea

Thanks!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @Inlovewithcharmers @mckinleysbones @lou-bubbles @gatefleet

Companion piece to:

Stay (NSFW) - Colter can never ask for you to stay.

The Maybe Girl (NSFW) - Colter makes a mistake by revealing his feelings for you.

Snow - Colter makes a realisation when you end up staying the night in Nebraska.

It’s past midnight when Colter wakes up to find you absent from his bed, his palm runs over the sheets finding them cool to the touch. He sighs, thinking you’ve disappeared again but then he hears the crackle of wood outside, sees the orange glow of a fire peeking through the blinds.

He brings the blanket with him when he steps outside of the trailer. There’s a bite in the Nebraska air that causes goosebumps on his skin, he can see them on yours too as you sit out here in nothing but his t-shirt with a mug of tea clasped between your hands.

The scent of lavender reaches his nostrils, it’s infused with honey and camomile. Nightime tea, he realises, the exact same type his mom used to make when he was a kid.

“Bad dreams?” He questions as he drapes the blanket around your shoulders, squeezing them gently before he sits down alongside you.

“You think I’d be used to them by now.” You sigh, tucking yourself up against him.

“I don’t think it’s ever something you get used to.” He says softly, staring into the fire. “I still dream about the night my father died, finding him at the bottom of that cliff…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t like going back to that night, the guilt that’s associated with it. For the longest time he’d thought Russell was responsible, but then he ran into him again, looked into his eyes he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that his brother had killed their father.

“They say that PTSD changes your brain chemistry.” You tell him as you cradle the mug to your chest. “Mine must be seven shades of fucked up at this point.”

“I’d say we’re both a little fucked up.” Colter concedes as he gathers you up close, shielding you from the coldness of the night. “It’s probably why this works so well.”

A comfortable silence falls, the two of you watching the flames as they lick up towards the sky trying to chase away the darkness.

“How long do you think we can keep this up?” You ask quietly. “Living like this, off the grid?”

He reads the real question behind your words.

How long do you have him? How long do you have this shelter out here away from the rest of the world?

Colter, he never stays in one place too long, he gets itchy feet, he always has. It’s why he travels around the country seeking out reward jobs, why his father used to call him The Restless One. If it was any other circumstance he’d already be on route to God knows where but it isn’t any other circumstance. It’s you and Colter will always come through for you, no matter what the cost.

“There’s nowhere else I have to be.” He assures you, his lips brushing over your temple. “We can stay here for as long as you need.”

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[sapphanimates]

SapphAnimates Art Recap 2024!

Calling it a little bit early, but here's a quick recap of my art progress for the year ^^

JANUARY

My Alacrity AU designs for Team Chaotix! Espio was one of the new designs I was most proud of at the time (despite the fact I ended up slightly modifying it later on). Hence why I chose him to represent January!

FEBUARY

THIS IS IT. THE ORIGINS OF SASHA. A Sonadow fankid I originally made just for shits and giggles, as many other creators were making them at the time, has slowly evolved over the year to become a pseudo-face for the blog! I wouldn't be where I am right now if you guys hadn't loved her as much as I do, and I'm super grateful for all of your support! Stay tuned for more Doom's Child AU news!

MARCH

Warrior Cats designs! These are some Medicine Cat/Healer designs for fun, though it did push me into a short era of drawing a lot of warriors stuff. I think most of my March was dedicated to Warriors content, actually...

APRIL

I like garten of banban. I needed to share my concept for a darker, psychological horror type of banban story, with a hint of infection au in there as well. please forgive me.

MAY

The end of the Sasha's run in the Sonic Fankid Showdown hosted by @head---ache . She didn't last very long, but the support behind our campaign was insane. Same goes for Zayne's run in the second Showdown. Thank you all so much!

JUNE

I did a "Six Fanarts" Challenge, featuring a mix of Warriors and Sonic characters, this one in particular featuring Sonic, Tails, Shadow, Tangle, Yellowfang, and Breezepelt. Shadow was my favorite from the group, with the bright yellow moon in the background and new Doom Wings (the Doom Powers were recently announced at the time).

JULY

Drew some of the horror adjacent Tails designs from some of the zones in my Project Alacrity AU. Ojo, Maggie, and Tailtrap playing Operation together and failing miserably at it :]

AUGUST

Some scrapped art from an animated shorts compilation video I posted on my YouTube Channel! It features some of the main characters, namely Fallen Leaves from Warriors, a Floragato from Pokémon, and a Mimic and Blarret from My Singing Monsters. Please go check out the video if you haven't yet!

SEPTEMBER

September means school, and school means teachers. And I've never met a more wackjob teacher than my current Chemistry teacher. This picture was one I did as a "Get to Know You" project on the first day of school. Labcoat Sapph.

OCTOBER

My first self assigned school art project, and a photography one! A multimedia picnic, a clay frog, a paper doll coati, and a portrait of a ghostly cat-woman, all sharing a lovely shoo-fly pie. Each character was created in a different medium, and the final photo was taken in my grandmother's backyard.

NOVEMBER

Part of a community challenge spurred by @yourpalsalamander . Asha in Wonderland needed a high af caterpillar, and who better to fill the role than Sasha. Just uh... don't touch her shrooms.

DECEMBER

Mlp horror AUs have had a small comeback lately, mostly on TikTok, but I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and create new evil versions of the entire Mane 6. I haven't come up with a design and concept for Rarity yet, but I've had a great time developing the rest of them! I'd love to turn it into a video series if you guys are interested in hearing my thoughts.

See you all next year! Template is by @zontarzon

[wings-of-ink]

Hey Lunan, this ask will be a little different from the others because today I'm going to ask you to talk a little bit about yourself! (Of course, I'd love to hear you share the things you are most comfortable with sharing). For example I would love to hear your favorite color, name, number, scenes you enjoy writing the most, favorite character, which character you see yourself in the most, who would you like to have as a bestfriend among the ROs and who would you like to have as a hypothetical husband :3 did you have any inspirations when creating the characters and the world? if so who inspires you? I have given you many inputs to answer and I hope you will reply because the response interests me so much! Kind regards :3

Hello Nony! Sorry, I've dragged my feet on this one, lol. Some of these are a bit hard to answer....but, well, my name is of course Lunan (that one was at least easy)....

My favorite color is deep red. I don't know about a favorite number per se, but the number 9 tends to follow me around in strange ways. Like since I was a kid it just pops up enough to be noticeable.

The scenes I probably like the most to write are those big dramatic peaks. The cursed birthday moment, the landslide, and the dramatic entrance to Codrin have all been cooking in my head for a long time. There's probably one in each chapter that I drool over writing. (Soooo pumped for chapters 6 & 7 - sorry in advance, lol)

Hmm, my favorite character is a toughy. I find them all darling in different ways. Honestly, it might be the MC, especially since they're not really just one person and they're a bit flexible. I have a soft spot for characters that have just such a hard time, lol, even if the time in question is technically my own fault...

I think most writers sew pieces of themselves in all of their writing whether they are aware of it or not. For me, it depends on what side of myself I'm feeling. But there are times when I am a complete raccoon-goblin (mostly directed towards my spouse), and I tap into those moments when writing Duri, lol.

If I chose a bestie among the ROs, it would probably be Rune. Someone straightforward but still caring about your feelings, a giving person with an edge of humor once they're comfortable with you. Someone to share sweets and stories with.

Among the ROs, a hypothetical spouse would be a tough pick, but I think I'd go with "???" (hidden for spoilers, lol). All of them have layers to them and their love stories, but his chewy center in particular I find more appealing.

When creating the characters, I took inspiration from a lot of different things like my experiences and some of the people who have drifted in and out of my own life. I can't say that any one character is a spiritual successor of any of these people, but these characters have little quirks about them that I love. And I have simply woven things - characteristics that I find charming - into them.

My husband has given me some inspiration. Actually, some of Papa (Dov) emulates him. Is he THAT tall? No, lol. But he's quiet and kind with broad shoulders and an epic beard. Garza and Alondra from Chapter 5 are inspired by two of my friends who are actually married.

People in general are just inspiring. I particularly like little quirks (both in personality and physical traits) and foibles people have and I like to try and incorporate those.

I hope you enjoyed my answers, dear Nony. ^_^

[mirensiart]

I am so sorry if I might possibly be flooding your inbox with likes and reblogs. I just enjoy seeing your art of Key & Chain (haha keychain) and other art.

Do you have any headcanons or ideas about your ocs or anything else you want to share? I'd love to hear more! And give you a chance to ramble too.

First of all, I'm so sorry for the super late reply!!!!

And aaah!!! Don't apologize for that, it makes me so happy to see the notifs of people liking/reblogging my stuff 🥹💖

And it especially makes me happy when people go through my key&chain tag, like it still surprises me that people like them so much jfbdk 🙈💖

And ooh!

Ok so, I don't know if you saw that one post I wrote about the possible end game for their story (if I find it i'll link it later) but basically since the master sword is stuck at the bottom of the Great Sea (thanks to wind) they don't have time to retrieve before ganondorf comes back (he comes back wrong since the cult used another body for his soul and they didn't have key's blood for the correct ritual ) and thus chain restraints ganondorf with his chains (at this point key&chain are separated/free) and they realize they can't kill him without the master sword, so Key seals chain+ganondorf while she goes on to look for the master sword, so chain (when she unseals him+ganondorf later) can kill ganondorf with the master sword as it should be

Which means that in a gameplay wise way, the lat section of the game you play as Key on her own vs the dual character gameplay key&chain had going on the entire story, forcing key to fend for herself (she kicks ass)

So like, when I first created them, I'm saying like before I posted them here on tumblr, my OG idea was to kill off chain lmao

Like they fight without the master sword (cause botton of the great sea), but they fail, resulting in chain dying lol basically making him another fallen hero

And Key using chain's uh chains to restraint ganondorf herself and seal him off

But like, then people really REALLY liked keychain and also really liked chain so I was like, OK FINE....YOU CAN LIVE lmao

So basically y'all saved him cause I wanted to kill his ass

[taro-pdf]

I don't have a lot of the aro/ace experiences growing up. I was and am a creature of comfort, and things that made me uncomfortable I avoided; since my school was small, religious, and I had trusted adults, I never felt enough peer pressure to do stuff I didn't want.

I never realized I should have a crush. I only realized people actually had crushes in college.

I never realized sex was a thing people desired because it was discouraged. I only realized, again, in college.

I never realized how much kissing on screen really bothered me because I didn't continue watching shows that i didn't like. I only realized yesterday watching the bachelorette with my roommates.

... though I do remember crying when talking about my wedding night with my dad one time lol. (edit to add: assumed future wedding night)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

i wanna know more about svsss menopause

They synced their periods together too well. Now they are synced through their perimenopause years.