#people are like so your mother was a horrible person

[truths33k3r4]

(I got this idea from a few other artists I follow like @brightonstudios!! Thanks for the idea guys!)

Here's my own 2024 art recap. :)

This past year was... one of the hardest I've ever had in all honesty. There were so many things that happened- and they were a large mix of both good and bad. I had to face threats, physical ailments, almost losing my job, my family getting sick over and over again, my Memere and Pepere moving away to a different city, my anxiety was the worst it's ever been, (I didn't feel safe at my own church. I didn't want to leave my house. My anxiety worsened my fainting spells), and finally... I went through my first loss with the death of a friend.

God pulled me through. It wasn't easy and wasn't pretty. (Still isn't.) But He pulled me and my family through.

But not all changes this year were bad. I went on a couple of really fun trips with my sisters, mother, and friend. (One of the trips being a road trip all over the country!) I learned how to say no to things, (or people) that made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe. I started monetizing my videos and being able to pay rent again! I made so many wonderful friends here on Tumblr and Youtube. HECK- I MET someone in PERSON from Youtube and now we're close friends!! I've never had so much energy and excitement to create as I do now. God has used my comic dubs, my TMNT story, and my art to help others through their battles, just like He used their art, stories and friendship in mine.

And I'm so thankful. <3

This past year was one shell of a ride. I've never been in and seen so much pain, but those horrible valleys only gave light to really uplifting conversations and hugs between my friends and family. God used that darkness that surrounded me to really shine the many glow-in-the-dark stars that He has put in my life.

So thank you to all those stars that unknowingly helped me through this year <3 Whether it was through your art, your stories, or our conversations, God truly used you in my life.

@indieyuugure @allyheart707 @poetique823 @nyaboshi @exhaustedwriterartist @phoebepheebsphibs @howtotrainyourdragonprince @bowandbrush @brightonstudios @sarathrwizard @angelmichelangelo @imagionationstation @somerandomdudelmao @cokoweee @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast @pezhead @risebabyx2 @chaosborb @pinkiemachine @carrots-bear @trilobitepunch @boxfullaturtles @mrabubu @kathaynesart @heckitall @star-sparkler @2aceofspades @hatekawa @intotheelliwoods @abbeyofcyn @happyfoxx-art @disastertwins9000

Thank you, guys, for being such huge lights with your hilarious or beautiful art, your captivating and tense stories, or your overall kind and bright personalities. You helped me in ways I can't explain. :)

To God be the glory.

~ love, Melissa

[brotherwtf]

pls pls pls more fantasy au!

why of course anon, have some calm and casual fantasy clegan

----

"Tell me about yourself, darling," John whispers, tracing his fingertips up Gale's arm, curling his hand to brush his knuckles on Gale's shoulder.

Gale smiles a little lazily, turning to face John, the light from the fire bouncing off of his golden curls.

"You're a telepath, you can find out whatever you want if you just look," Gale says, voice a little grumbly from sleep.

John shrugs and keeps his knuckles moving up and down Gale's arm.

"I like hearing you talk, besides, it's boring just reading your thoughts to get all of your deepest, darkest, secrets," John says.

Gale smiles at him again, one of his hands coming up to rest on John's chest, tapping a lone finger on the firm muscle there.

"My mama was an elf, got knocked up by some ranger that was passing through, whom she fell in love with foolishly. He left, of course, left to do whatever rangers do, and left my mama with a child she wasn't sure she could bear. The pregnancy made her horribly sick, my father's mortal blood tainting her immortal, and she was terribly weak when she gave birth to me. She knew I was only half elf, but she gave me an elven name when she saw me, Kess,"

"The wind, much like your human name, Gale, just as strong and steadfast as your namesake," John whispers and Gale nods, hand creeping up to curl into John's hair.

"She raised me as best as she could in the elven forests, taught me to fight, to hunt, and to kill, taught me how to be an elf even as he strength was weakening,

"She finally died when I was seventeen, her body poisoned by my father's mortal blood, and at that point I had no idea what I was going to do without her. But the elves who befriended my mother did not show the same kindness to me. I once had the long and silken hair known to an elf, and they sheared it, cut it at the base with a sword and spat in my face, told me I was no elf, I was dirtied by human blood and could not stay there. So I ran, I didn't know what else to do," Gale says, hand clenching in John's hair as he squeezes his eyes shut.

John brings his hand up and cups Gale's cheek, swiping his thumb across his cheekbone.

"I turned to violence because there was nothing else I could do. I was lost, my people had abandoned me and I was an orphan. The only person to have ever shown me true kindness was you, John," Gale whispers, voice barely above a breath.

John can't help the smile that breaks across his face upon hearing the words. Gale, his sweet and beautiful Gale, who deserved every bit of kindness in the world. And John was going to be the one to give it to him. He leans forward and catches Gale's mouth in a kiss, a nice and slow one that causes his lips to recoil wetly back into place when he pulls away. Gale smiles lazily at him again, shuffling closer so he can tuck himself against John's chest.

"I'm glad I found you, Gale. God knows what I would have done without you," John confesses, and it feels oddly like a weight off of his shoulders, like something he needed to say to solidify whatever he had with Gale.

Gale tilts his head to catch John's lips in another kiss.

"I would have died in that cell a long time ago if it wasn't for you," Gale whispers, and tucks himself back into John's neck.

The fire slowly dies out as the night goes on, but John finds he doesn't need it's warmth when he has Gale in his arms.

[swanlakex]

Hi! New to tumblr! Got really bored one day and decided to write a beginning to a little regency slow burn enemies to lovers with Anakin Skywalker 😭 Lmk if you would be interested in some more! This isn’t super historical accurate, either. I’m just writing along.

(Also sorry for the horrible layout idk how to use this app)

CW: death

The sound of your mother’s weeping flooded the porcelain castle halls. The servants looked around in horror and apprehension, some full of grief, some in fear of the future of their land. A land without a king.

You stayed in the hallway outside of your father’s chambers. He had been sick for some time, and despite the endless remedies and dozens of medics and apothecaries, his condition only festered throughout his body. Now, at nineteen, you stand outside with your siblings, nauseous with grief, to say goodbye to your father. A man that was nothing but strong, wise, discerning, and loved. By all his people. By the rich, the poor, the nobles, subjects, jests- all.

Your baby sister, Therese, shrunk to the floor beside you. Her hands shook as she buried her face in her handkerchief. Your brother, Louis, who always stood with height and honor, placed himself in front of you and Therese. Trying to shield you all from the horrors of life without the direction of your father.

Suddenly, a guard opens the door from the room your mother and father shared throughout all these years. “Come in,” he speaks softly, a foil to his strict training and brash uniform. “His majesty is ready to see you all.” With that, he turns and marches away.

You help Therese up as Louis creeps in ahead. Behind him, you see your mother sat next to Father on the bed, acting as his shroud. On top of the covers, her dress spills around the mattress and its frame as she rests her hands upon his arms. He’s awake, sat up, yet pale. Weak.

“Oh, Father!” Therese yawps as she runs to his side of the bed, knees falling as she throws her arms around him. She cries into his tunic, face buried.

He gently embraces her, careful to keep his strength. “My Therese,” he calls. Again and again. Louis and you walk up to him. Uncertainty paints your faces blue. “My children. My beautiful children.” Father reaches a hand towards you and Louis, you take it as Louis kneels beside him. Leaving you- the eldest- the one standing at your father’s deathbed.

“I have done many, many things in this life of mine. I have served my duties as a soldier, and carried prospects in the fruition of my throne. I have brought this country through famine and war to a renaissance and a golden age of art, peace, and freedom. But I leave you all with this- the very best thing I have ever done in this world is you all. The most rewarding act I’ve received is loving each of you, watching you grow. Seeing the noblemen and women you have bloomed into. I am so very proud, my children- for you have cured all afflictions, and carried the whole of my triumphs. And I-“

His voice croaks at the effort of speaking. Your sister and mother sob. Louis winces, his eyes boring into his father’s, like he is trying to remember each and every detail of his father’s face. “…I love you. All. With each synapse and every vein in my person. Being your father has been the greatest blessing and shining achievement of my living.”

Tears pour down your face. What is a life without your father? A life of doom- you expect. Who will heed the family? Who will heed the country? You begin to brace yourself for a life of risk, uncertainty, and despair. You will have to be married off, Louis must take the throne. At fifteen- he will become the country’s youngest king. He’s strong, you think. But young. He’s just a boy. He knows not of death, of war. Of power. What will come of the kingdom? Of you?

Oh, Father. Please come back to us. You beg to an empty sky.

Chapter One: l’appariement

You stand in front of the looking glass, clasping a necklace around yourself. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the unrecognizable figure that stands before you. It is about to be the hardest day of your life since Father died- courting.

Of course, you detested the idea to your mother. To your siblings. To everyone in the castle that would listen, but you knew it had to be done. Despite being the eldest, A boy must rule. And that boy would be Louis. Before your father got sick, you put off the task of courting. I’m busy with my studies, Father. You would say. I’m too young now, we can always wait until next season. And he would. And the season after that. And the one after that, too. Because that’s the kind of father he was; he would support your education, even though it was labeled as taboo. He knew you were destined for something great.

But now, you knew it was time to stop putting it off. As much as you despised the idea, as the eldest, you had to honor your family. Especially now.

The least you could do is try.

So you inhale, you exhale. You make a point to think of your mother, your sister, your brother. And you leave your chambers, headed for the ballroom full of lousy, old suitors.

It’s not that you weren’t pretty. On the contrary, you had been told from a very young age that you were striking, graceful, captivating. No, your suitors were only so unfortunate because you made the decision of books at a young age instead of boys. In your culture, it’s customary for a royal daughter to begin seeking for a hand in marriage at fifteen. And here you were, nearly twenty years of age, five years late. All the so-called “distinguished, promising” men had snatched up the younger girls.

You always thought of it disgusting, the age gap of men to girls in your country. Girls- not women. It made your skin crawl. It’s unnatural, predatory. You almost were grateful that those kinds of men had already been wed, yet here you were, presenting yourself for.. let’s face it.. divorcées, the unfortunate looking, or distant , poor, far-off dukes who probably didn’t even speak the same language as you. You wanted to kick yourself at first, but you take pride in your intelligence, as you know it’s the most powerful weapon a woman can use.

To get to the ballroom, you first walk through the sitting room. There’s a few men in there already, and all conversation lulls as you cascade down, your gown slightly trailing behind you. Heads turn, but you keep your eyes down and quickly make your way to the ballroom doors. You only see shoes of men. Some tapping, some spread while sitting on chaises and loveseats, even some pacing in suspense. You finally slip out the door, and you are met with your family, your father’s army general, and your maid, Esme.

“You’re late.” Your mother scolds. “We’ve been waiting for almost ten minutes.” You just shake your head and look down as you sit at the head of the room. “Forgive me mother, I’m not exactly giddy for these sorts of arrangements.” Therese giggles at your boldness. “Hold your tongue, dear. We will see how today goes.” You look over to your brother next to you, he looks bored out of his mind, but he sits up straight and tries to appear respectful. He will make a fine king one day. You just worry. Then, the orchestra begins. You and your family rise in anticipation for the first suitor.

A man of you assume the age of 45 comes in, holding an array of flowers.

“Good morning, Your highness. My name is Philip Artemis Sissone XI.” Esme takes the flowers from him and sets them on a long table, the gift table you assume. This will take all day. “I have many aspects that will be of use to you- one including the gift of song.” He chirps. Oh God, you think. Before you can stop him, Philip reaches behind himself and pulls out a fiddle. He immediately plays with relentless vigor and passion, so much so that his tongue sticks out and his knees bend to the melody. With Philip lost in his own trance, you look over to Louis. He’s holding back a laugh. You both chuckle once you make eye contact, but your mother’s sharp look makes you stifle your laughter.

Suitor after suitor, this goes on for hours. By the end of the day, the gift table is so flooded that Esme had to start adding gifts underneath it, flowers and various spices spilling across the floor. Finally, the last man finishes his “gift”, a poem about your eyes. Was it good? No. But the sentiment is appreciated, you try to think.

You start to stand up, believing that this torture is over, but your mother’s voice interrupts you. “Y/N, we have one more. Please have patience.” You groan, slipping back into your seat. You straighten up as the doors open, and what meets your eyes almost rocks you to your core. A man, one who only must be a couple years older than you, dressed in a military uniform. Medals and badges adorn his chest and shoulders, and as you inspect him closer, he is striking. Beautiful, even. In his hand, he holds a small, singular lily. You stand, and he bows. “Your highness, My name is Anakin Skywalker.” He addresses himself incorrectly. Informally. You know by his uniform he is a war general, probably a royal one at that. He hands you the lily and you curtsy, thanking him. Despite his captivating face, his eyes are cold and distant. He tries to avoid eye contact with you, and when he does look at you, his eyebrows furrow. He speaks again. “I am sorry for the loss of your father. He was a great man. I, like many others, looked up to him. We mourn with you all.”

He gestures to your family behind you. You’re thrown off, he was the first man to even mention your father today. A wave of grief washes up against you. Just the act makes you want to tear up, but you push the feeling down into yourself. “Thank you, Sir Skywalker.” Your mother calls from behind you. He nods, his lips forming a thin line. There’s a moment of silence hanging in the air, and he breaks it. “Well, thank you for your time, your highness. Good day, Miss Y/N.” He says coldly as he bows again, and turns around to leave. You watch as he slips out of the door, frozen with confusion, yet also his beauty. You twist the stem of the lily in your hands, turning back to your family.

“How strange,” Therese says. “He barely even looked at you!”

“Marie Therese!” Mother calls out. “Leave her be.”

Later that night, relegated to your room, you stare out the windowsill. Esme had packed up and done away with most of the gifts, but you kept the lone flower on your armoire. You were confused by the man’s distant behavior. Just my luck, the only agreeable man I meet wants nothing to do with me. You sigh as you fall back onto your bed. You worry for the future, and for when you must actually pick someone’s hand. It will be quicker than you think, and your head spins at the responsibility you hold for your family. If only Father were here..

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 118 (The Calm Before)

Life continued for Heather and Conrad after their eventful trip to the city. Conrad couldn't be the one to canvas his old apartment building in San Myshuno, but he made arrangements with his partner, Detective Spangler, before he, Heather, and Ash had even returned to Brindleton Bay.

He believed they would find Ximena there, but they had to be discreet, and his team worked with San Myshuno PD to watch the Arts Quarter and confirm their suspicions.

They felt life at home might soon return to normal, so Heather started to think about that wedding and kept up her workouts. Spring would come soon enough, and she'd be able to go for jogs with Gord once the weather warmed, too. Gord couldn't wait for that, either.

Conrad would be able to turn his focus to Rafa and George Brindleton without the threat of Ximena breathing down their necks. While officers worked behind the scenes, the Nesbitt-Gordon household buzzed with contentment.

With the family always happy to see him, River paid a visit to talk with Hazel about her break up. Heather wanted to help, but she had to admit to herself that she was disappointed in Hazel for cheating.

Only 'Old Man River' could find the right words to express disappointment without a hint of judgment, and when he walked into the bedroom, Heather got up to make herself scarce.

River glanced at his younger sister with concern. He could see she was beating herself up and wanted to hear her side of things.

"Why didn't you leave your wife before you called Suri again?"

"I think a part of me wanted to hurt Nicola for how she treated me," admitted Hazel. "I know how terrible that is, but she made me dread coming home some nights, and we kept talking about trying to make it work, but we never did. She was too high maintenance and trying to meet her needs was costing my sanity. I think, more than anything, I was just mad at her, but I feel sick about how much I hurt her. I left town, but she's stuck there trying not to hear everyone whispering about her."

"I wouldn't worry about Nic," River said. "I ran into her mother at the Crumpleclones' flower stall yesterday. She took a sabbatical from the school and Mike's class will have a substitute teacher until she's back. If she comes back. I guess she's going on a show called Dating Deanna that starts filming in Tartosa soon."

Hazel reeled. "Nicola?! On a dating show? Does she know they usually put contestants through their paces and people...people cheat?"

"Maybe she thought her usual ways weren't really working for her anymore."

Hazel considered this with a nod. It was suddenly all too clear why he'd come to see her. "I hope Nic finds someone who makes her happy."

"And is Suri a rebound? Or are you really interested in her?"

"I don't know. I really like her and we have more in common than Nic and I did." Hazel shrugged. "I hope it's real, but we're giving each other space right now, after everything fell apart so publicly."

"That might not be the worst idea, but don't punish yourself and miss out on something that might be really good. You made a mistake and you have to learn from it; it's really that simple, but you're not a horrible person." River offered his little sister a hug, and Hazel accepted it willingly. "Maybe one day you and Nic can get closure for the way everything broke down, but you're on different journeys now, and you both have a chance to find happiness and really discover who you are. That's what really matters."

"Thanks, big bro. I know I'd deserve it if you were all mad at me."

He shook his head with a warm smile. "No you wouldn't. You didn't do anything to us. Just Nic. Maybe Suri, if you dragged her into this for nothing."

He stayed for dinner before heading home, leaving Heather dancing to the aerobics channel on his way out.

Lavender loved to be outside, and if her mom focused too long on her exercising, she'd usually sneak outside with her coat on to play around in the snow. One evening, she found a snowman Ash had built and promptly destroyed it - much to Ash's chagrin.

"I worked hard on that snowman!" he cried, pulling a frightening face to try to scare his little sister. Lavender peeled back in surprise.

"I sowwy, Ashy."

Ash scowled, but he couldn't stay mad at her, and immediately pulled her in for an autonomous hug. "It's okay, Lava. Just try not to do it anymore."

"I'll twy."

The next day, Ash invited his friend Arron Kalani over after school, excited to show off his brilliant new invention. "It's a remote control that will melt the snow!"

He pressed a button. Arron glanced outside the sliding patio doors in the living room and frowned at the white powder that had coated the town since the start of winter. "I don't think it works."

"It's solar powered. When the sun returns in the spring it should power up easier."

Arron turned up his nose in confusion. "What's the point of it working in the spring when the snow will be melted already?"

Lavender sat on the couch and giggled happily. "Ashy took ice-chippy!" she tattled.

Arron chuckled as Ash laughed at his oversight. "It's still pretty cool," Arron insisted. "I bet your next model will work better."

Life was always good, but the Nesbitt-Gordons couldn't help but feel as though things had never been better. For once, they weren't afraid to be hopeful. Heather kept working hard at Buttercup Pet Clinic, and Conrad focused on some other cases at work.

He had just finished looking over Officer Adler's notes on the recent Mercury Gratz assault case when the text they'd all been waiting for came in from Detective Spangler.

"We got her, Lieutenant. She was booked at San Myshuno PD first thing this morning." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Arron is the son of Zoe Patel and Mitchell Kalani, and he has younger twin siblings Isabelle and Xavier.

Thought I'd end the year on a high note with Ximena behind bars! The second batch of year-end favourite screenies comes tomorrow before the story continues on New Year's Day, but the last one could rival any of the last 25, in my opinion.

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)

[anglerflsh]

i feel bad for your mom...

She had me exorcised before, like, twice, so I don't particularly feel bad for her, but I suppose someone has to

[asklesbianonceler]

I have not posted any of my analysis to reddit yet and I think I might just post it and ghost it. I've already spent too much time looking at other people's threads on there to feel any way good about interacting with folks.

I already went in an added the "I know you're going to bring this up let me save you the time" section which is exclusively touching on the frequent topics of:

"well what about the fingerprint nostrum and finger mimics? He is clearly just a crackpot"

And

"it's definitely some weird elaborate sacrifice to Metyr thing"

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Endeavor is almost a perfect allegory for what the society in the mha universe does to people who can't be heroes or use their quirks in a way to benefit society, which is cast them aside or pass them over without over giving them a second glance until uh-oh! Suddenly they're worth being noticed because they're a threat.

He apologizes to his family, which is good! If you're a bad person and did terrible things, the first step in your own transformation and atonement should be to acknowledge what you've done and to apologize to those you've wronged. Great!

Thing is, Endeavor set off a chain reaction with his abusive, neglectful and downright irresponsible choices that it damaged everyone in his family for life.

I don't think someone who causes one of their own children to literally go up in flames, crying because they're finally getting attention from their father and family in the very end, ever deserves to be forgiven.

[pocketramblr]

Really dark topic, but what do you think would it take for Enji (pre-AM retirement, obviously) to threaten to, or legit kill Rei, mindcontrolling quirks aside?

mind-controlling quirks aside... i don't think he would threaten to kill her. he'd basically never have something to gain from killing her that he couldn't get some other far easier and less risky way. If she was able to prevent him from abusing Shoto, or threatened to take him/all the kids away, Enji could very much threaten divorce, institutionalization, maybe even arrest, but he can stop her from doing that without threatening to kill her.

If Enji were to kill her, which could happen, i don't think it'd be premeditated. But he has hit her before, and Rei isn't exactly going to do great with heat or flame, so if she intervened at the wrong time in the dojo... it's plausible enough i'd accept it as a fic premise.

[widevibratobitch]

.

[hecksupremechips]

I’m pretty thankful for the fact that the letter has never been too popular cuz I know if it was I’d have to see the absolute worst takes about Luke Wright

[kavehater]

Even logging in here makes me feel sick whatttt

[bean-pronounced-bawn]

The closer it gets to Normal People Are Okay With Eating A Lot season (i.e. thanksgiving and chrimus), the more grating my mother is becoming because she's got fucking issues and loves controlling other people's diets, and it's genuinely starting to push me towards the edge. It's one thing to be a health freak and not eat anything that doesn't fit in your narrow and tragic category of Okay To Eat, it's a whole nother thing to get on someone else's ass for eating A Cookie -- cookies that she fucking bought for us to eat because she has no self control and would rather self flagellate over buying/eating Evil Foods than sticking to her own stupid fucking morals and Not Buy them in the first goddamn place. You'd think that November - December she'd reel herself in a bit because this is literally Eating Season, but she has somehow become more irritating because instead of just Not Allowing Bad Foods in the house, she buys them and then gets mad at me for eating them after explicitly saying I could eat them. And that's not even touching on the fact that she thinks that there are limited Normal Times to eat and gets mad at anyone who eats outside of Her established breakfast lunch and dinner times, but that's not how my body fucking works and I tend to eat 4-5 small meals a day and I always get hungry around 10pm, but she gets mad at me for not eating enough at Normal Times even though I've explained to her that her Normal Dinnertime is right between my Body Gets Hungry times, so of course I'm not eating a lot cause I'm not fucking hungry regardless of what I've eaten today. And then she makes some snide fucking comment about my weight when I actually Do Get Hungry later and grab myself something to eat and acts like I've downed ten thousand fucking calories when I most likely haven't even had two full meals. I'm so fucking done with her, and I'm pissed because living alone the past two years finally allowed me to work on having a healthy relationship with food, and now not only am I backtracking on all of that cause I have to adhere to my mom's stupid fucking arbitrary bible, but I'm starting to do shit I never did before moving out like sneaking food when I'm out of the house and stashing candy to snack on at night and I know it's bad and it's pissing me off that I feel like I have to fucking do it. I've reached the point where little comments are making my fucking blood boil and I know that means I'm gonna start snapping soon and I don't have the ability to move out now or anytime in the near future. Fuck.

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh�� You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[jellybeanium124]

if you'll allow me to flaunt my psych minor for a second, I'd like to talk about epigenetics. there's studies that show that if you shock a rat when you let them taste a certain flavor, they will immediately become averse to that flavor. not surprising. what is surprising is that the rat's grandchildren, who have never been shocked when given that flavor, will also be averse to it and afraid of it and avoid it. there's also correlational evidence to suggest that the descendants of people who suffered through famine are more likely to put on weight and keep it on easier, even if they have never been through a famine themself.

trauma gets passed down. the kinds of trauma your parents, grandparents, and so-on lived through is still living in you. even if your parents were the most well-off, loving, best parents in the world, their trauma is still in you.

now if you'll allow me to take a slight turn here: there's a wild rabbit inside every jew.

my dad grew up being called "jew-boy." my mother had a coworker throw pennies at her at her job in the 2010s. and that's just two examples. they both grew up being harassed for being jewish. I wasn't. I'm incredibly lucky. the amount of antisemitism I've experienced in real life has been incredibly minimal. I didn't even hear anyone make an antisemitic joke in front of me until college.

and none of us were seriously persecuted. none of my grandparents were seriously persecuted. but even though nobody's broken my windows, nobody's beaten me in the streets, and I haven't been at any of those horrible protests in person, the fear is there. this deep seated, blood-pumping fear of the ancient jewish rabbit in me telling me to run. to run for dear life, to run as far as my legs can get me, as long as my heart keeps pumping and my lungs keep breathing.

we all feel this.

everyone feels this.

I called my mother yesterday. when I brought up this feeling she paused, and the silence said everything. she told me I wasn't alone. she feels it. my dad feels it. my brother feels it. my nana and grampa feel it. every jew you know, online, in real life, hell, even the famous ones, they feel it. the rabbit is inside us all, and the rabbit knows, because its brothers who didn't flee in the past were slaughtered.

the rabbit is leaping around my chest, all of our chests, chanting run run run run run run run.

I don't know if I can explain it to gentiles. I don't know if this makes sense to you. I don't know how to get across how crystal clear and deep and primal this fear is, and how much all of us are feeling the exact same fear, despite our different lives and different histories and the fact we're different people.

part of me wishes it didn't matter. that I didn't feel like I needed to get goyim to understand my specific cultural and ethnic experiences. because I don't feel like I need to deeply understand everyone else's. I am a white passing ashkenazi american jew, and I will never fully understand what it is like to be anything else. that doesn't dissolve my responsibility to educate myself and practice empathy, but it's ok. idk, maybe other people do desperately wish they could get people not in their specific group to deeply understand what it's like to be them. I imagine that feeling is universal. I guess, it's just like, the left is unified that everyone is a person, everyone is equal, everyone is human, except the jews. nobody is left out but the jews. everyone's word is believed, but the jews. and it makes me feel like I have to beg and plead with people to understand what being jewish means, because we're not included with everyone else. we're the enemy. and I want people to see we're not the enemy.

epigenetics.

[smokesandsonatas]

among the twst cast, who do you think will be the best in-laws? just asking out of curiosity, cuz i personally think that trappola fam will be chill, also i imagine them doting on their grandbabies, or like crying at your wedding day xd

- I go crazy when I receive asks like this, djsjhs. I included everyone and how I think their actions will be justified as to whether their families will be good or 'bad' in-laws.

Reader is termed as "wife" and as a normal human. -

Right off the bat, let’s start with Riddle. You and Riddle’s mother will never get along. She and her son have much to discuss anyway, and we know how Riddle even mentioned that the Queen of Hearts has a lovely relationship his parents could learn from. If Mrs. Rosehearts is strict with her own child, imagine how much more she’d be with you! She probably has a list of acceptable spouses for Riddle, so just imagine her shock when he brings you home—shock that quickly turns to rage when she realizes you’re magicless. She will be a horrible mother-in-law. Mr. Rosehearts, however, will most likely be courteous about your relationship with his son. In fact, I can see him helping you and Riddle move somewhere away from their house in the Queendom of Roses. He’ll probably attend your wedding, but Mrs. Rosehearts? Probably not. It will take a long time before Mrs. Rosehearts can accept you wholeheartedly, and when she does, tears will be shed.

The Diamond family is harder to gauge. Mr. and Mrs. Diamond would likely respect your relationship enough to make sure you’re comfortable. Cater’s sisters, on the other hand, might urge you to become their new doll—though not as extreme as they did with him. Overall, they will accept you as part of their family. And if Cater doesn’t want to attend family reunions, they’ll accept that, though they can’t help but feel a little hurt and neglected. Maybe they’ll even start to reflect on how they’ve treated their son.

The Clover family are lovely people! When Trey introduces you to his parents, they’ll erupt into cheers, baking you pastries and a personalized cake tailored to your tastes. They won’t care if you’re magicless; as long as you make their son happy, that’s all that matters. Mr. and Mrs. Clover will even offer you and Trey the chance to manage their bakery. It’ll be up to you both whether to accept. Overall, they’ll be great in-laws, and they might even make wonderful grandparents.

Deuce’s mom, Dylla, is such a girlboss! As a mother-in-law, she’ll be the cool type, letting you hang out with her at car races, driving trucks, or doing anything outdoorsy. She might even suggest that you, she, and Deuce get matching small tattoos. She’s very chill and will always welcome you with open arms. You’ll have no trouble getting along with Deuce’s mom—sometimes, Deuce even wonders if his mom loves you more than him.

Ace’s family will welcome you with open arms—and with a bunch of pranks! Mr. Trappola is a normal human, so he won’t hold your magicless status against you. Ace’s older brother, however, will endlessly tease him with some good old brotherly banter. Mr. and Mrs. Trappola will probably shed tears on your wedding day, making it a fun, sentimental, and most of all, enjoyable occasion.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The Kingscholars are royalty, so let’s be realistic: they’ll most likely not approve of Leona, their youngest son and second prince, marrying a normal human, especially a magicless one. They probably have plans to arrange a marriage with a fellow beastman from another noble or elite family, and your relationship could cause a scandal. But if Leona insists, then a wedding will happen. It will take a lot of convincing for the Kingscholars to accept you, especially since Mr. Kingscholar is ill. Falena will most likely be the first to accept you, either out of love for his brother or perhaps because he sees you as a key to fixing his strained relationship with Leona. Cheka, on the other hand, will love you! In fact, he might prefer your company over his lioness mother’s, though he won’t admit it.

Grandma Bucchi will shed tears of joy when Ruggie brings you home and introduces you as his lover. She’ll feel relieved that Ruggie has found someone who’ll take care of him—a lifelong companion, since she’s not as strong as she used to be. Prepare for a deep heart-to-heart with Grandma Bucchi, who will also show you pictures of baby Ruggie! She may even drop hints that she wants a grandchild from the two of you. Yes, she takes care of the other beast children in the neighborhood, but it wouldn’t hurt to give her a mini Ruggie.

The Howl family will accept you wholeheartedly. They believe that wolf beastmen like them have only one soulmate, and if Jack has found that in you, who are they to oppose? They’re not overly bearing, but they might occasionally ask whether you and Jack plan to have little Howl children. Jack’s siblings will adore you!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The Ashengrotto family will welcome you! Azul is their baby, so whoever Azul loves, it’s guaranteed that they’ll accept you too. It probably won’t matter if you’re a human or magicless. Azul has a way with words and will have nothing but praises for you in front of his family. Mrs. Ashengrotto might sulk a little if Azul chooses to live on land and start a family with you there rather than in the sea, but the compromise is that you’ll build a house near the seaside. Mr. Ashengrotto will likely insist on having both a sea and land wedding, though Azul probably planned on that anyway. They won’t be toxic as in-laws and will likely dote on you, but they’ll definitely want to take care of any little Ashengrotto babies you have. Sometimes, you might wonder if they’re a bit too attached to their grandchildren…

The Leech family will also welcome you. If you decide to marry one of the Leech sons—or both of them (polygamy isn’t unheard of in the sea; hey, different customs)—they’ll make sure you feel at ease. Mr. Leech, who reminds you so much of Floyd, might ask if you know self-defense. When you say no, he’ll laugh and assure you that his sons will protect you anyway. He finds it amusing that Floyd calls you Shrimpy, though there’s a certain air of intimidation when he speaks... Mrs. Leech, who reminds you of Jade, is beautiful and speaks just like her other son. She’ll ask you questions like, “My dear, how can you protect yourself when you are magicless?” with a smile on her face. At one party dedicated to your arrival into the Leech family, you saw firsthand how Mr. Leech made everyone sign...something. When you asked the twins about it, they dismissed your concerns and assured you not to worry. They’ll be cool in-laws, but they won’t disclose any personal business with you—only with their sons. No matter how much you ask about their family business, because you want to help, you’ll get nowhere (it's for your safety, they say). The Leech family will dote on you, but there’s always an underlying sense that you’ve been inducted into something much larger and deeper than just a family of merfolk eels. Sometimes they have unexpected visits to your house in land, and you had a feeling that Mrs. Leech might dote on you only so she can spend time with her Leech grandbabies...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The Al-Asims are so supportive of Kalim! There’s a certain sense of relief that you’re not associated with anything in their world, because they might worry that whoever is with Kalim, one of the richest men on earth, would take advantage of his kindness. But you don’t. Mr. Al-Asim will provide anything you ask for and will probably give you and Kalim a bunch of mansions, cars, and luxuries everywhere. Though they likely have a list of potential spouses for Kalim, the Al-Asims are glad he chose you. However, they’d be delighted if Kalim produces an heir one day. If Kalim chooses to be monogamous, they’ll accept it.

The Viper family will be glad to welcome you. Although they belong to the servant class under the Al-Asims, they won’t force you to serve them too. You think Jamil might have something to do with this… Anyway, they really like you, and they see how genuinely you admire their son—a mere servant in their eyes, but so much more to you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Mr. Schoenheit will adore you! Because Vil is his precious, beautiful child, that love will extend to you too. He’s a different man as Eric Venue on set and as Vil’s dad in personal life. He’s quite strict, or so you’ve heard from the actual staff on a movie he’s co-producing, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The Schoenheits are hardworking, perfectionist people—not in a bad way, of course. When news breaks that you and Vil are expecting a child, either Eric Venue or Vil will put out a statement asking for your privacy to be respected. Overall, Eric will be a good in-law and a great grandfather. Imagine how cool it is to have a famous celebrity as an in-law and imagine being surrounded by a literal DILF and the most beautiful man in Twisted Wonderland. Damn. It’s a guarantee your child will be as beautiful as their father. Sometimes, though, Vil gets a little pouty when you stare at his father for a little too long…

You know the feeling of a family getting together for the first time in years despite their busy schedules to enjoy days full of celebration? That’s how Rook introduced you to his family. It is lively! The Hunt family likes you! The first thing they ask you and Rook is how the family planning is going. They’re quite a big family with six children, so they expect the same for you and Rook. Mr. and Mrs. Hunt are adoring in-laws, but when you ask about their family business, they’ll merrily dodge the questions, much like Rook does, telling you not to worry. When Rook leaves for long periods of time due to work, he’ll vehemently update you every hour. In the meantime, you and Mrs. Hunt, along with Rook’s sisters-in-law—the wives of his brothers—will go on pampering girls’ days! They’ll make sure you never feel lonely or left out, even when Rook’s away.

The Felmier family threw a celebration in your name when Epel introduced you. Grandma Marja cried, seeing how much her grandson has grown. Mr. and Mrs. Felmier hugged you tightly and thanked you for being with their lovely son, and you swore you felt a tear trickle down your cheek too. They will be loving in-laws, with a tight-knit family that supports each other. Once news breaks that you and Epel are expecting a child, another celebration will be held to welcome the new apple of their eye. They’ll likely insist on a traditional apple-themed baby shower, and they’ll spoil you and Epel with home-cooked meals, ensuring you’re both well cared for.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The Shrouds, especially Mrs. Shroud, will be ecstatic once Idia introduces you to them. Mr. Shroud, while less outwardly emotional, will be overjoyed in his own way. Over time, you’ll notice just how much he and Idia resemble each other. It won’t matter if you’re not as tech-savvy as they are; Idia already has S.T.Y.X.’s management covered. Mr. and Mrs. Shroud will show their affection in small but meaningful ways, or surprising you with thoughtful gifts—your own helmet. If any negative comments about you and Idia pop up online, they’ll be blocked faster than you can blink. Kidding—mostly. They’ll likely expect a little Shroud or two in the next few years, and they’ll gently remind you of this as they’re getting older and eager for grandchildren. Despite their eccentricities, they’ll make you feel like a cherished member of their family, though you’ll need to adjust to their unique ways of showing love and the way of their work, ergo taking care of S.T.Y.X and their various shady businesses.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The Draconias, especially Grandmother Maleficia, will formally welcome you into the family. However, the atmosphere might feel a bit too formal for your liking. A relationship with Malleus is one thing, but marriage is a whole different story. The Senate will likely oppose the union, with Grandmother Maleficia caught between keeping her beloved grandson happy and appeasing the increasingly vocal pressures from the Senate and close-minded fae who cannot accept a human—especially a magicless human—as their future queen. The weight of these expectations will hang over your relationship, adding tension to an otherwise loving bond. The prospect of Malleus Draconia marrying a human would be met with significant resistance within the Briar Valley. The fae population, steeped in centuries of tradition and wary of outsiders, would likely view such a union as a potential threat to their way of life. Some might even call for extreme measures, such as political unrest or, in the worst-case scenario, a war to prevent the marriage from taking place. However, Malleus will stand by you, determined to weather the storm together. Over time, and with Malleus’s formidable power and influence, even the most skeptical fae could be convinced that this union could bring about a new era of understanding and unity between their worlds. As for Grandmother Maleficia, though she may seem distant at first, she’ll eventually warm up to you, especially when she sees how happy you make Malleus. And should the two of you have children (the Draconias badly needed predecessors), she’ll be the first to dote on her great-grandchildren as long as she is alive, ensuring they’re raised with both love and the proud traditions of the Draconia family.

The Zigvolt family is not new to interspecies relationships, with Mama Zigvolt being a fae and Papa Zigvolt a normal human dentist. She will support you! Her fiery nature as a fae will come in handy, while Papa Zigvolt's kindness will help balance out her energy. Overall, they will be happy for you and Sebek. Grandfather Baur, on the other hand, might accept you more easily than you thought—he is not a close-minded fae anymore. He is at a point of contentment, so whoever Sebek or any of his grandchildren chooses, he will be eager to accept them. Also, he might—or might not—visit you every afternoon (he's just concerned, not excited... he says as he hands you a crocheted baby comforter) once he hears you're expecting a mini Sebek Zigvolt.

Silver’s relationship with his father, Lilia, is central to his life, so naturally, Lilia’s opinion of you will weigh heavily on him. Fortunately, Lilia err Mr. Vanrouge is likely to be one of the most supportive and understanding in-laws you could ask for. His playful and easygoing nature means he’ll probably tease you a bit, but it’s all in good fun. Lilia will genuinely be happy for Silver, and he’ll go out of his way to make you feel welcome in their home. Expect to be roped into all sorts of whimsical activities—like trying out new (and sometimes questionable) recipes, or being part of his elaborate pranks. Lilia will also be very protective of both you and Silver, always looking out for your well-being. And if you have another baby addition to the Vanrouge family, Lillia will be the happiest Fae alive.

Lilia Vanrouge is an ancient and enigmatic Fae, while appearing child-like he possesses a kind heart and incredible wisdom. While traditional in-law doesn't apply to him (seeing as he is the in-law himself), he does need someone who can stand beside him as a parental figure, particularly for Silver and by extent Malleus. Lilia’s “family” may be unconventional, but his close bonds with Silver, Sebek, and Malleus make them feel like one. He’ll cherish every moment with you, appreciating the little things that come with mortal life, and your companionship will be a light in his long existence. Your role isn’t just as a partner to Lilia, but as someone who can guide and protect Silver alongside him, offering the same wisdom, kindness, and love that Lilia has given. If you and Lilia have children, they will grow up surrounded by love, knowledge, and a deep sense of wonder, with Lilia ensuring they never lose their sense of playfulness and joy. Should it end like that then Lilia can say that he has lived it all, and he can go on to the stars wholeheartedly. He lived his life surrounded with the people he loves, finding contentment at the end of his days.