#personality swap earth

[marshmallowcat666]

I FINISHED EARTH’S PS AU REF :DDDDDDDDD

Not completely happy with the result but compared to old designs for the au I think it’s good enough. Earth is the more scientific one now with her own lab and everything!

Sun, Moon, Earth (here), Monty (wip), Killcode, Eclipse (wip), Lunar, Solar? (wip), ??? (wip), Ruin (wip), Gemini (wip)

[bastart13]

Some designs for an Avatar Legend of Korra/The Last Airbender generation swap AU!

Korra is now the 14 year old airbending Avatar, found a century after the Fire Nation started their war. She's found by Asami, a non-bending member of the Northern Water Tribe and together they set off to find Korra a way of mastering airbending, spirituality, and defeating the Fire Nation.

Bolin and Mako are children of the Fire Nation colonies, both forced to hide their bending (now firebending and earthbending respectively) and make whatever living they can as orphans until Bolin meets Korra and through hijinks, convinced Mako to let them accompany them.

Then Opal is the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, fiercely protected and hidden away by her family despite her desperation to use her skill to help people, and Prince Wu is the disgracefully soft Fire Nation Prince, banished for speaking out about the war and forbidden to return until he captures the Avatar and regains his honour.

[mechanichuntsman]

Late upload of a remake of this

[hikkokoro]

I feel like personality swap eclipse needs a stress ball or a few-

Earth tried giving him some

All of them popped

[the-casbah-way]

i suppose i owe it to myself to not die but also to stop talking myself out of things that might make me happier because i would be a much better person for everyone around me if i were able to navigate the world in the way i want to because insecurity and bitterness and constant suicidalness do just make you not as kind sometimes i think. i would like to be confident enough in myself to speak and be seen and therefore be as kind as i feel i am on the inside. i hold back so many things because i am scared of being perceived so maybe if i let myself do the things that will help me be ok with being perceived then i will put more good out into the world. i always get hung up on the fact that i so badly want to be good and kind and i care so so much about other people but as it stands currently most people would not really bother too much if i wasn't here anymore because i'm so cut off from everything emotionally and physically. someone send me c.300 quid so i can pay for therapy and you can stop being subjected to posts such as these, by the way.

[tenok]

While it's a great analysis, especially the part about Aziraphale being desperate for respect, recognition and validation from people he consider his authorities — which is somehow get painted as his moral failure in fandom and not an inherent human quality, — I want to disagree (or more like... look from other perspective?) on couple things.

First: I always took "bad guys" as face value and I don't get what's fandom problem with it. Yes, the wording might be better, but it's a shorthand for all party lines from both sides packed into two words and it works for this rushed conversation. The point with "bad guys" and "good guys" is that it's arbitrary sides, and Aziraphale and Crowley points it again and again, aren't they? It's not a morality question at this point: they just sides, sure, but they have *goals*. Heavens is the "good guys" that works toward ultimate good (in theory! We and Aziraphale know that it's not the case). So, if you correct this system toward the goal it supposed to achieve, it should start make "good". Now, hell is the "bad guys". Correcting it toward it goal, making it effective leads to making more "badness" (look at Crowley: he's bad at being that kind of demon that kills and tortures, but his innovations actually *effective* at making more people miserable and making bad decisions — it's brushed in series but was more pointed in book). So, yes, "of course you said no, you're the bad guys" there = "your goals as to 'not make people miserable' contradicts hells main goal, while making things good are technically heavens goal and we can work on it there, as you always wished" (yes, heavens actually don't give a shit about humanity, but Aziraphale plans to correct this! How far he will get with it is another goal) (arguably, Crowley also doesn't want to make humans lives better, he's perfectly fine with how they are — it's Aziraphale that loves to meddle, but it looks like he thinks that they align there, making leap from "don't want to kill innocent kids" to "actually wants to go out of my way to change things to the better"). Now, I *do* think that if Crowley told him that he plans to go into hell and become the new prince to make things *less bad*, make it *harder* to hell to gather souls, make it *easier* for people who get into hell because things are unfair and they stole some bread to eat, Aziraphale probably *would've* decided that it's very noble of him (and than he would put him in box and secure this box in a safe, because hell no you're not going lol he's overcompensating when it's the matters of Crowley safety), but it's probably not something he ever considered — which is part of him thinking in black and white, sure, but also like. He has no reason to think about how Crowley can reconstruct hell (again, I want to stress it: Crowley don't think about changing things, and all Aziraphale knows about hell Is from him and heavens propaganda, it's not his fault if he's left with impression that you can't make hell's better!) daydreamed for years about what he would've do as Supreme Archangel, so I think we can go easy on him there.

But what I absolutely don't see is him *wanting* angel Crowley back in any way aside from protection it'll give them and justice it'll bring to Crowley (in Aziraphale's mind), him wanting to change him in any way. Look. He was always accepting of Crowley from their first meeting as a demon, and he never shows any concerns towards him that's not based on fears that based on real possibilities (are you tempting me? Can someone there overhear that we were called friends? Are you lying? Etc). From immediately accepting his new looks and names, to always stating "you're a demon and I hang out with you", not "you're a demon and I hang out with you despite of this". More than that, he's ready to accept version of Crowley that much worse than he are, actually (notice how when he asks "are this your doing?" in Bastille or with nazis, he's not outraged, he's not disgusted, he's mildly irrated at worst! He's not pushing him away based on this! If Crowley will ask him to lend him a shovel he'll probably came ready to help to hide a body, he's that ride or die. Now, I think it's as important to the acceptance as "I know you, you'll never do X". Aziraphale ahowes again and again that there's no unforgivable with him, he will be ready to forgive and forget). And look at how he talks about Crowley to other angels — he can't imagine himself saying something about how bad he is even to beings that haven't heard any honest word from him for millennia, it's just not something he has in his mind. He uses an argument "you were an angel once" twice in this series, both time when people's lives were on stakes, and I can discuss it separately since it's already too long but it was it, just an argument he used with several others to try and persuade Crowley (and Aziraphale, being not really great with social skills, usually uses arguments that will work on him, so). I won't even touch the walls and car and color of Crowley eyes. It's not Starmaker eyes, we all already gushed about it, whatever. (And he wasn't made *uncomfortable* by Starmaker, aren't he? He immediately get *afraid* for him, which is integral part of this relationship. So I don't think he ever dreamed that making Crowley an angel again would make him any different, make him "proper" angel that would be easier to love. Notice how his offer is not going with "and you should promise to be on your best behavior", it's actually partnered with "now I'll be the one in power, so I will protect you from mistreatment").

Honestly I love fics where Aziraphale struggles with shame, but I can't see it as "I ashamed to be attracted to demon so I want to change him into angel" even way back, and definitely not at "six thousand years later" point (and I think it's important to remember that flashbacks are exactly this: flashbacks. Like, you can't hold against Aziraphale beliefs he already changed). I would've compare it to his love of food (sorry Crowley but you definitely a snack). See, Aziraphale ashamed of not being proper angel, but he's not showed to be ashamed of his love of food or to think that food is really a disgusting thing that sullied him. It's complicated feeling, but to love a demon and being ashamed of not being proper angel is not necessary means you ashamed of your attraction, or you ashamed of him being specifically demon, it's more like "I'm ashamed that I'm not ashamed" (forgive me for parallels, but: I'm a person with low empathy, I'm not ashamed of it, I for sure don't want to change it, I'm actually really glad that word tragedies are not affecting me in the same way it can affect my more empathetic friends, but sometimes I get ashamed *because* I like how I am and I don't want to change it, since I know that from many people's perspective it means I'm bad and also lazy. I think Aziraphale really showed it in his "I'm soft" and I think it corresponds well with how he feels about Crowley. Call it more the shame of wanting good things for himself, not the shame of wanting something bad; it goes nicely with Crowley tempting him into doing nice things for himself, aren't it? Ok, now I'm not sure I make sense whatsoever).

Now, sure, maybe he felt some joy about making things easier in his mind if Crowley would become an angel — sure, there'll be much less shades of gray than in relationships with demon. It's possible! But in the whole I'll argue that it's just a headcanon, and that in canon we have no indication of Aziraphale being ashamed of Crowley/attraction to Crowley or at least it being his motivation, partially or wholly, to make Crowley an angel (I can see him being ashamed *now*, because he made an offer and was rejected and now Crowley thinks that he's stupid for accepting and Metatron thinks he's stupid for offering and everyone around him thinks he's *not capable* — and look, aren't it funny how fandom latched on Crowley being the one in need of praise and reassurance, while it's Aziraphale the one that always gets belittled in canon and can't stand up for himself? Fascinating)

Anyway, I agree on some bits and I think that Aziraphale's beautiful brain is full on contradictions and denial, which is what that makes him interesting and unpredictable and what made Crowley fall in love with him in the first place. And I'll be a minority there, but I don't want him to change this, like, just give him information and let him build his best decisions on it I'm sure whatever happens would be FUN. But the part about shame is just not something I see in canon, and while maybe for the second there Crowley thought AHA SO YOU WANT ME TO CHANGE, I can't believe that he, having all proofs on his hands from the six thousand years of knowing Aziraphale and being his friend, can really think "ohhhh he never loved me like thiiis he would prefer an aaangel". Like. No? Like, I do think that they will (or actually that any competent adults on their place would've) resolve it with easy "hey, when you said X, it sounded like Y and I was really sad for a moment" (and let's not forget Crowley picking on Aziraphale being incapable and stupid, which is something he needs to apologize too and probably keep it in mind for their next fight, since it's something he tends to do when he's frustrated and angry/scared, as we saw in season 1). I think the things they need to discuss for more healthy relationship is much more boring, like what things we can do as unit, what we can do separately, how to communicate it clearly and how to not get defensive/attacking when we enter a disagreement. I also think that it's not really great for TV plot, so on screen we will get tearful confessions and a kiss, but whatever, I have my fanfiction for it.

I can go on, since there's a lot in original post to discuss about, but I already spend half-hour on this and I really need get back to work lol. Thanks for interesting points, and as usual, the most important part is that Aziraphale's really, truly good, even when he's being a bastard 😀

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

[nonasuch]

what if Harris announced her running mate and it was just. Biden again

like yes obviously this would never happen but what an opportunity to be the funniest fucking person on earth. just get up there at the press conference and with a completely straight face, “well you see, he really liked being vice president last time and he was pretty good at it, so we just decided to swap.”

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Three: Bargaining

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout of Sarah discovering your relationship.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, grief, mentions of OC deaths, mostly Joel POV but it swaps back and forth, super soft Joel, heartbreak, grief counseling

WC: 7.4K

Series Masterlist

Joel still smelled your perfume in his beard as he stood outside of Sarah's door, one hand propped on his hip, the other holding himself up against the frame. He stared at the locked door, the sound of some female pop singer blasting angrily through the speakers on her dresser.

This was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how he wanted his daughter to find out.

Even as his fist pummeled loudly against the door, wood rattling in its hinges as he shouted at Sarah to open up, he couldn't get the distressed look on your face out of his mind.

Coward. Asshole.

He had froze. He was too stunned and shocked that Sarah arrived a week early for a visit. He thought he would have had more time to conjure up what he would tell his daughter about the new and exciting woman in his life. The woman who made him happy, who cared for him, the woman he wanted to care for in return.

He vaguely remembered you fixing your bra underneath your shirt, skin red hot with embarrassment as Sarah's eyes bounced back and forth between her father and a much younger woman.

"Who the hell is this?" Sarah had spat with a look of distaste. You smoothed down your hair and looked at Joel, expecting him to say something, but he was still panicking. Immobilized. So you stood and gave her an awkward smile, offering your name and your apologies. His daughter scanned you up and down once and ignored your outstretched hand. Instead, she pinned all her energy and focus on Joel.

"Dad? W-what is this? What's going on?"

You slowly dropped your arm and looked back at Joel, both women waiting for him to act. To fucking do something. When it became clear Joel wasn't making a move and it became too uncomfortable to stand there any longer, you walked to the front door.

That's when he finally blinked and snapped out of it.

"Wait! Where're you goin'?" he had asked as you slipped your sneakers back on.

"Home. You guys should talk," you said without looking up.

"But-"

"It's fine, Joel," you had said once you straightened up. But when he saw the look in your eye, he could tell it was anything but fine. "We'll talk tomorrow. Or... whenever."

His heart lurched out of his chest. It felt like he was being split in two. He didn't want you to go. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to grab onto you, to not let you leave. But when he looked back at Sarah, at the hurt and confusion clouding her face, he knew you were right.

So as much as it killed him, he nodded tightly and softly promised you call you as soon as he could. After what he had expected to be a calm and rational conversation with his daughter. One hour later, and Sarah had yet to say a single word to him. Each passing minute made his blood boil even more.

"Sarah! Open the goddamn door!"

"No!" she shouted back from the other side. Joel groaned and turned around, then leaned up against the wall next to her door and closed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin.

He knew she wouldn't take the news well. Deep down, he always knew. Tommy tried to tell him otherwise, but Joel knew his daughter better than anyone on earth.

And he couldn't really blame her. It had been just the two of them for so long, to invite a new person into the fold was... a lot, to say the least.

"Sarah, will you please just - talk to me?" he yelled over the music.

He tipped his head to the side, waiting for her answer. An answer that never came.

"Sarah?"

"Leave me alone!" she cried out, then a moment later something soft hit the door. Joel imagined her angrily throwing her pillow and he rolled his eyes.

He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to remind her she was an adult now and what she was doing was immature, but he was exhausted. It had been a long day and any other time, he would have been asleep for almost three hours already. He glanced at his watch and pushed off the wall.

"When you're done with your damn tantrum, come find me," he said into the locked door, then trudged down the hall to his room and closed the door.

He collapsed into bed with a deep sigh, the bass from Sarah's room thumping against the walls, the noise matching the pounding headache he was quickly cultivating. With an exasperated groan, he dragged his palms down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes to dull some of the pain for a moment.

What a fucking mess.

He sighed and hauled himself to his feet, forced himself to go to his bathroom, and washed up. He popped two Tylenol, then flicked off the lights before shuffling to bed.

It was almost midnight. He stared at his cell phone, finger hovering over your name. It was late, but as he weighed his options, he decided it would be worse if he didn't call you.

Besides, selfishly... he really needed to hear your voice.

He dialed your number before he could overthink it.

"Hello?"

His chest ached at how tired you sounded.

"Hey."

He waited a beat before taking a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry. 'Bout earlier. She wasn't supposed to come home til next weekend."

He heard some movement on your end, some fabric rustling before you replied.

"It's okay. How - how did it go?"

His eyes drifted towards his closed door, music still thumping loudly from Sarah's room.

"She ain't talkin' to me."

You sighed heavily through the phone and he swallowed.

"She'll come 'round. I think it was just a shock. Never saw me so much as holdin' hands with another woman her whole life, let alone..." he trailed off and nervously scratched his beard.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, and a feeling of dread washed over him.

"Maybe it's for the best," you said, voice trembling like you were trying to fight the emotion from reaching through the phone.

"W-what'dya mean?" he stammered. Something didn't feel right.

"I mean -" he heard you sniffle and his heart began to race. "Maybe it's good she interrupted us. I mean, I don't mean - shit. Just that - maybe it was a sign, you know?"

Joel shook his head and straightened his spine, phone clutched so tightly in his hand he thought it might splinter.

"No, I don't know. A sign that... what?"

"A sign that..." your voice wobbled clearly now and he closed his eyes. "That we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why? Why would you think that?" he pleaded. His heart sunk in his chest and he could feel the tears burning the backs of his eyes as his world slowly crumbled around him.

"I-I don't know. I don't want to come between you and your daughter, Joel -"

"You ain't," he insisted, "Please don't think that. You ain't comin' between us. She just - she needs some time, is all."

"... and m-maybe I'm not as ready to move on as I thought."

Joel paused. It felt like, for one moment, the world stopped spinning. How could he argue with you about that? As much as it hurt him to hear, as much as the past few weeks told him otherwise, he couldn't tell you how to feel.

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"I'm sorry," you told him, voice soft and filled with sadness.

Joel sniffed and shook his head. He could feel his throat closing up. His head was still pounding but at least Sarah's music finally fucking stopped.

"Don't be sorry."

There was a long pause after that. A silence filled with despair as Joel struggled to find the right thing to say. His head was spinning. How did everything fall apart so quickly?

"I -" he began, then swallowed the lump in his throat when his voice came out broken. "I can wait. I'll ... I'll wait. Whatever it takes."

"Um," your voice bled through the phone, and this time he could tell for certain you had been silently crying. "It's getting late," you finally said with a shaky breath.

"Oh... okay," he replied thickly as two tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I'll... I'll see you around."

He nodded until he remembered you couldn't see him.

"Yeah. Okay."

The line went dead. Joel stared at his phone in his hand, vision blurring with tears. He tossed it onto the bed next to him and laid down, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tight, wondering how long it would take for the pain to go away that time.

Coffee didn't touch the migraine he woke up with the following morning. He tossed and turned all night, his muscles aching from the tension riddling his body. If he had to guess, he might have gotten three hours of sleep.

"Thought you told me you were running in the mornings?"

Joel looked up from his spot at the kitchen table, his third cup of coffee growing cold between his hands.

"Didn't feel like it today."

He dropped his gaze back to the table, pain blossoming once again in his chest when he remembered the look on your face, the tone of your voice, the shaky breaths through the phone.

He listened to Sarah move around the kitchen. Pulling a clean mug from the cupboard. Splashing her coffee with a bit of milk. The clink of the spoon around the ceramic.

Joel continued to stare down at his reflection in his coffee when she sat down across from him.

"Do you usually run with her?" Sarah asked, venom lacing her voice. Joel's hackles raised. She was looking for a fight and he was not in the fucking mood.

"No. I go too early," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarah huffed and took a loud slurp from her mug.

"So she just lays in your bed til you get back? Real supportive," she muttered dismissively. Joel's jaw clenched and his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee.

"Knock it off," he growled. Sarah's eyes flickered up to meet his over the rim of her mug. "You ain't got the first idea what you're talkin' 'bout."

She scowled at him. "Fine. Enlighten me, then. Tell me about her. What does she do?"

Joel took a stiff sip of coffee. "She ain't workin' at the moment. She's been applyin' places."

Sarah gave him a dry laugh and flopped her arms on top of the table, exasperated. "Dad. Come on. You gotta see what I'm seeing, right?"

Joel just shook his head and kept his eyes down, fighting back every instinct to fall into an argument with his daughter.

"Dad," Sarah said, her voice softer when she reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm. "She's young and she doesn't have a job. Do I need to spell it out for you? What she's doing?"

"She ain't doin' anythin'. Leave it alone," he barked before standing up to rinse out his mug. Sarah swiveled around in her chair to watch him at the sink.

"I don't blame you, Dad. This happens all the time. Girls take advantage of men going through a mid-life crisis or whatever-"

"What?" Joel hissed, dropping his mug in the sink so he could look at her. Sarah shrugged.

"You're fifty-one. It's the very definition of mid-life."

"Quit talkin' before you piss me off," he said, turning back to the sink.

"I'm just trying to look out for you!" Sarah protested, standing up so she could join him in the kitchen. "You can't see it but just try to take a second and think: why would a girl that young be into someone your age?"

"She's thirty-one, she's an adult," he replied, aggressively drying his mug with a towel. "And she's got plenty of money. More money than me. She ain't - this ain't - goddamnit," he cursed, recklessly shoving his mug back in the cupboard before turning around and folding his arms across his chest.

"She told you she's got money but she doesn't have a job?" Sarah asked suspiciously. "And how did she acquire this money?"

"She inherited it," Joel told her with a shake of his head. He wasn't even sure why he was entertaining Sarah's ridiculous theory. He knew it wasn't true but it didn't even matter now, anyway.

"Oh, god, Dad," Sarah whined sympathetically. "You didn't seriously believe that, did you? God, she really has done a number on you-"

"Hey!" he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. His face was flushed with anger and his head was still pounding, fueling the storm inside him. Sarah was a good kid. He could count on one hand how many times he had to punish her in her life, so he probably let that particular argument go on longer than he should have, but now he had reached his limit.

"Do I gotta remind you who you're talkin' to? I'm your father. You don't get to speak to me like I'm a goddamn child. I know what I'm doin', and you got no fuckin' clue what's been goin' on 'round here. I'm done talkin' 'bout it."

He brushed past Sarah, leaving her gobsmacked in the middle of the kitchen, eyes trialing after him as he stormed up the stairs to take a shower.

Some distance helped him cool off, but anger still simmered in his veins as he was getting dressed. At the last second, he snatched a pair of running shorts, deciding to go for a run after all. Maybe it would help blow off some steam.

He jogged down the stairs, feet landing a little louder than normal. He almost reached for his phone but then decided against it. The only person he wanted to hear from wouldn't be contacting him, anyway.

"Sarah? I'm goin'-"

Joel stopped short when he entered the living room to find Tommy sitting across from his daughter. It appeared he had interrupted their conversation, and by the looks of it, he could guess it was about him.

"I'm goin' for a run," he finished saying, tone flat.

"Okay," she replied, eyes flickering between the two brothers for a moment. One look at Tommy's face and Joel knew Sarah had filled him in on the past twelve hours. He turned towards the door and bent to tie his sneakers when Tommy stood.

"Hey, uh, sounds like everyone got off on the wrong foot last night," Tommy began. Joel kept his focus pinned on his shoes when his brother asked if he could give you a call to stop by, to maybe start fresh.

"No need. It's over."

Joel straightened up and reached for the door, but Tommy stopped him.

"Over?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Yep. She called it off. It's done."

Tommy's face fell but Joel didn't see it. Instead, he rushed out the front door before they could see the hurt in his eyes. It was too fresh. He needed some space to think things through. And he really couldn't stomach the pleased look Sarah likely had when she heard the news.

"The hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked, swirling around once Joel slammed the door shut behind him. "He's finally happy, finally gettin' back out there-"

"With someone twenty years younger than him, uncle Tommy!"

"Gimme a goddamn break, kid!" Tommy huffed, collapsing into the recliner and dragging his palm roughly down his face.

"Why couldn't he go for someone his age? He looks like a- a creep! She's closer to age with me than him!" she protested, but Tommy just shook his head.

"He tell you anythin' 'bout her? How they met? Who she is?"

Sarah slowly shook her head and leaned back into the couch. "Just that she's magically very rich without having a job."

"Yeah, 'cause her fiancé died a year ago. Some hotshot author. She moved down here 'cause he's from Austin, and now she's all alone. They met at that - that group we were tellin' him to go to."

Sarah was silent for a moment, staring down at her lap and picking mindlessly at her chipped nail polish.

"She gave your dad some books for you. For him, too, to read so he had somethin' to share with you." Tommy nodded towards the bookshelf that was adorned with trinkets and framed photos but now housed a stack of familiar looking books.

Sarah stood and tilted her head to the side, reading the titles with a frown.

"I love this series," she said softly, fingertip brushing gently along the binding. "She was married to Daniel Davis?"

"Engaged," Tommy corrected, "but, yeah. Died in that wreck on the forty-five. She was in the car."

Sarah swiveled around in surprise.

"I remember. I was devastated," she murmured, gaze dropping sadly to the floor. "He was supposed to do a bunch of book signings the following week. I was gonna ask Dad to take me."

"She ain't tryin' to take advantage of him," Tommy said once Sarah slumped back into the couch. "They have a lot in common, and she treats him good. Takes care of him. And I think she's the reason he's runnin' and eatin' better, but he won't admit it."

Sarah crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "But why does she have to be so young?"

Tommy looked at his niece for a moment, perplexed.

"Why do you..." then he trailed off when he saw Sarah's eyes flicker over to a photo above the fireplace. One of her, Joel and her mother on Christmas Eve. All fight left his body when he saw the look on her face.

"It ain't really 'bout the age, is it?" he asked softly.

Sarah shot him a look, narrowing her eyes in his direction before stubbornly gazing out the window.

"I ... I don't know."

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"No one's gonna replace your mom, kid. Y'know that, right?"

Sarah just shrugged and continued to stare blankly out the front window.

Tommy gave her a moment before trying again.

"He didn't have anyone 'cept us for ten years. He's lonely, baby girl. And he found someone who's just as lonely as him. Both of 'em tryin' to - hell, I dunno." Tommy raked his fingers through his hair and sat back with a sigh. "Tryin' to get a second crack at it. It's fuckin' scary, y'know? Took a lot for your dad to put himself out there and take a chance. Was real worried 'bout you, and at the time I didn't get it, but..." He trailed off and swiped his palm over his mouth. "You two've been through somethin' terrible, but so has she. I can't remember the last time I've seen him so happy. They're good for each other."

Sarah's eyes drifted back to his, now misty.

"I thought I was cool with the idea of him moving on," she said quietly. "But when I saw them, I just... it hurt. More than I thought."

Tommy nodded and leaned forward to gently tap on her knee.

"Tell 'em that. And apologize, for Christ's sakes."

Sarah dragged in a shaky breath and nodded before swiping casually at the corner of her eye.

"He probably hates me now. I ruined everything."

Tommy laughed. "He can't ever hate you, and you know it. Couples have bumps in the road. He can fix it. Just - cut him some slack, yeah?"

She gave Tommy a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

It was almost twenty minutes later when Joel came back from his run, his grey tshirt soaked with sweat. His ankles were already sending jolts of pain up to his knees and he hadn't even taken his sneakers off. He ran too hard, harder than usual. He pushed himself because he was angry and wanted to take his frustration out on the pavement. Now the rest of his afternoon was shaping up to be one filled with discomfort, but he took solace in the fact that it might help distract him.

"Where's your uncle?" Joel panted when he spotted Sarah in the living room, reading a book. He walked past her without waiting for an answer. Joel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge so he could chug it, too impatient to wait for his glass to fill up from the faucet.

"He left a few minutes ago," she said, trailing into the room after him. He was still greedily drinking down his ice cold water when his eyes locked onto the book in her hand. She noticed and looked down at the cover.

"I love these books."

Joel swiped his mouth with his forearm and nodded.

"I know."

"Did you - are you reading them?" she asked, peering up at him. Joel shrugged and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Tried to but fantasy ain't exactly my thing. Kept readin' the same page over and over tryin' to figure out what the hell was goin' on."

Sarah grinned and hopped up onto one of the barstools.

"Uncle Tommy told me where you got them," she said, her tone light. "Did you know I wanted to go to one of his book signings? He had a few scheduled right before he died."

Joel froze. His eyes flickered down to the book and back up to his daughter before shaking his head.

"She gave these to you? For free?" Sarah asked, tapping a finger on the cover. Joel nodded and he could feel his shoulders tightening, bracing for another argument.

"Did she tell you this particular set is, like, incredibly rare? I think there's only..." Sarah trailed off and pulled out her phone. She read something on her screen and looked back up at him. "There's less than five hundred with the leather covers. I mean, just one of these would go for a lot of money online."

Joel took a steadying breath and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"She just said she had boxes of books in his office. Didn't know what to do with 'em all. She found out you were a fan and said I could have 'em."

"Not only that," Sarah continued, ignoring him momentarily so she could flip back to the front of the book. She opened it up and lifted it from the table so she could show him the front page. Joel squinted, seeing something written inside, but he couldn't make it out.

"He signed them. He signed them all. This is a small fortune, Dad."

"Don't sell 'em. I'll give you money if you-"

"I wasn't gonna," she said, cutting him off and gently closing the book. "What I'm trying to say is... that was really nice of her. Like, super nice and generous."

Joel swallowed and nodded. "That's her, in a nutshell. Kind, sweet, generous. Caring. You woulda gotten along if you gave her a chance."

Guilt flashed across Sarah's face. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Joel looked confused at first, struggling to keep up with the change of tone. He was unsure how to respond, but luckily, he didn't have to.

"I'm really sorry, Dad. I was talking to uncle Tommy about everything and he made me realize what a jerk I was."

Sarah's lower lip quivered for a moment while Joel remained stock still, waiting for her to continue.

"I guess I thought I was ready to see you with someone else but when I actually saw it with my own eyes, it felt - well, it hurt. And I took it out on you guys. And I'm so, so sorry I ruined this for you."

She dropped her head when tears burned her eyes. Joel took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Sarah into a hug.

"It's alright, baby girl. I understand."

"But it's not alright. I ruined your first relationship in ten years. I'm fucking awful," she sobbed, clutching at his sweat stained shirt.

Joel chuckled sadly and kissed the top of her head.

"I still got you, don't I?"

Sarah leaned back, tears staining her cheeks as she frowned up at him.

"That's not enough! You need someone with you all the time. Someone to care for you when you're sick and someone to watch those shitty fisherman shows you like."

Joel grinned and pinched her chin before taking a step back.

"I'll manage just fine. I gotta shower, then we can do somethin' together. Wanna go to the movies? Or-"

"No, Dad! You need to get her back!" she exclaimed, her hand subconsciously falling to rest on the book. He must have looked conflicted because Sarah slid down from the barstool and darted around the kitchen island to grab his phone from the charger.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, reaching around her and quickly yanking his phone from her hand.

"You gotta try! Please? Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her it wasn't her fault-"

He looked at his phone. No missed calls or texts.

"I don't know..."

"Just try! Call her! Text her! Whatever you do - just please, try. For me?" Sarah begged with watery eyes. Joel sighed and scratched his beard.

"I'll give it a shot. But it wasn't just what happened last night. She said she's havin' mixed feelin's 'bout bein' ready for somethin' new."

Sarah shook her head. "Then change her mind. I want you to be happy, Dad. I want her to be happy."

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

"Okay. I'm - I'll give her a call."

You sat slumped in your chair next to Ellie, the two of you listening to a regular tell the group about reoccurring nightmares she was having about her sister, who she lost three months prior. Your phone buzzed again in your lap, so you looked down to find yet another text from Joel.

I didn't go to group today cuz I'm trying to give you space but please call me

Ellie watched from the corner of her eye when you slipped your phone into your purse without responding to the message.

"That Joel?"

You nodded and kept your eyes on the speaker.

"Where is he? Late?" Ellie whispered. You shook your head.

"Not coming," you whispered back.

She frowned and sat back in her chair. Something was going on. It was unlike him to not show up and your mood had been shitty all evening.

"Trouble in paradise?" she tried, meaning it as a joke until she saw the way your face pinched and her heart plummeted

"Fuck, I'm sorry. What did he do?" she whispered, then made a face at a woman a few seats down who frowned in her direction.

"Nothing. It was me. I ended it."

"What? Why?" she hissed, blatantly ignoring the looks she was getting for being disruptive.

You just cleared your throat and kept staring straight ahead, patiently waiting for the speaker to finish up. You could feel Ellie's eyes burning holes in the side of your head but you refused to meet her gaze. She would find out the answer to her question soon enough, anyway.

The young woman finished up, stepping away from the front of the room while swiping sadly at the corners of her eyes, then Ryan stood from his chair in the front row and addressed the room.

"Thank you for sharing, Vicky," he said, catching her eye after she sat down with an encouraging smile. He clasped his hands together as he scanned the room. "Is there anybody else who would like to share tonight?"

You bit your lip, heart racing a little when you slowly raised your hand. Ryan noticed the movement and looked slightly surprised, but he recovered well. He extended an arm in your direction and said your name for the group, then stepped to the side. You stood on shaky legs and inched past Ellie, who scrambled to get out of your way. Her wide eyes were glued to your back as you made your way past the rows of folding chairs to stand behind the wobbly podium you were fairly confident was abandoned by a music teacher at some point, then turned to face the group for the very first time.

"Hi," you began softly. You wet your lips nervously as your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the mostly familiar faces. Ryan sat back down in his chair and gave you an encouraging nod. "I lost my fiancé a year ago," you continued. "We were in a car wreck. He was driving. It was dark, we were on our way back from checking out a wedding venue-"

You felt your throat squeeze and you had take a moment. The room was quiet, respectfully and patiently waiting for you to go on.

"A truck hit us. Well, it hit Daniel's side. I was... fine. Mostly. I spent the last year living in our dream house, trying to settle legal issues while also trying to heal." You swallowed, dropping your gaze to your hands folded neatly across the podium. "I don't have anyone here. My family is from Portland and they keep telling me I need to sell the house and move back home. I... I think I've been waiting for a sign, you know? Like a sign to tell me what to do. Go home, or stay in Texas."

Your lower lip trembled when you said, "And then I met someone. Someone who made me happy. Someone who cared for me the same way Daniel cared for me. And I thought I had my sign."

You looked back up and your eyes briefly met Ellie's. Her expression was unreadable, but she was hanging on your every word.

"He's a little older than me. He has a daughter in college," you continued, dragging your eyes away from Ellie. "And he was going to tell her about us when she came home from school for a visit. But..." you trailed off, cheeks burning when you remembered the compromising position Sarah found you in. "She came home a week early to surprise him, I guess, and... well... she didn't exactly have a positive reaction when she walked in our date night."

You cleared your throat and shifted your weight, eager to move past that part of the story.

"The man I've been seeing lost his wife some time ago. His daughter's mother." You intentionally left out that Joel was part of the very same grief counseling group you were addressing, already feeling too exposed and embarrassed as it was. "It was the first time she saw her father with someone other than her mom. I don't blame her one bit," you added, raising your palms slightly in surrender. "But I couldn't help but wonder if I got my sign. If maybe..." you sniffled and dropped your hands back down, twisting your fingers together as you struggled to come up with the right words. "If maybe I was moving on too fast. If maybe I should grieve more." Your eyes flickered up quickly to Ellie when you said quietly, "If maybe I should listen to my parents and move back home."

Ellie stiffened in her chair but otherwise didn't give anything away.

"I feel so selfish," you whispered, staring back down at your hands again. "I already had the love of my life, and it was wonderful. How could I let myself think I deserved to have that again?"

You watched two teardrops fall and splatter across the podium, two perfect circles being absorbed by the wood, joining the countless tears that had been soaked in before you.

"Anyway, that's about it," you said, voice thick as you swiped at your eyes. "I have an appointment next week to meet with a realtor. It's going to be so hard to let go of that house, but I can't keep living there. I see him everywhere and it's just..." you trailed off again and forced your eyes back up. "It's just all too much, I think."

You gave the group a sad smile and stepped away, making to return to your chair when Ryan stood and placed a comforting hand on your arm.

"Hang back for a second after we wrap up, I would really like to talk," he said softly. You nodded and slipped out of his hold, solemnly heading back to your seat and slumping down next to Ellie. You felt like you had run a marathon. Your body was weak and you felt unbelievably tired.

"Dude-"

"I just need a minute," you told her, cutting Ellie off. You knew what she was going to say. She was going to try to convince you to stay and you were so fragile that you just might have let her convince you.

You were the last speaker. Ryan wrapped up the hour with his usual speech and a reminder he is always available to talk before dismissing the group. Everyone stood, hushed voices mingling with the sound of jackets being pulled on and zippers being done up.

"Can we grab a coffee or something?" Ellie tried again when you both stood. You caught Ryan's eye before giving her a tight smile.

"Maybe tomorrow? Ryan asked me to hang back."

She glanced over her shoulder, seeming to consider her options before you laughed softly and poked her in the arm.

"I'm not leaving tonight. I promise, we can talk."

She gave you a half smile before giving you a stern look.

"I'll hold you to it."

With a weak hand salute, you wished her good night, then headed towards the back of the room where Ryan stood by the door talking to an older gentleman holding a cup of coffee. When he spotted you coming, Ryan clapped the man on the shoulder and excused himself.

"Look, I'll get right to the point," he began. His forwardness took you off guard for a second. "You don't talk much here. I've seen you coming back week after week for months. And in my experience, when someone finally speaks up, it's because something is weighing on them so heavily that they have no where else to put it."

You felt frozen, surprised by how quickly he managed to clock you. Then again, it was his job, you supposed. He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I'm not sure if you are seeing a therapist but if you aren't, I would really like it if you would consider a few sessions with me." Ryan pulled out a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. You took it hesitantly.

"I'll even give you the first session on the house. I want to help you work through some of these feelings, and it's totally your choice. But one thing I need to make sure you hear is this: there is no expiration date on grief. And it is completely normal to feel guilty for moving on for the first time, but please, I beg you - do not make any rash decisions until you have had time to properly process everything."

When you dragged your eyes up to meet his, you found nothing but sincerity and kindness staring back at you. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him in the past. He was young, sure, and it was sometimes hard to look past that, but he seemed genuine and caring. Like he really wanted to help people.

"Okay. Yeah. I'll give your office a call," you finally agreed. Ryan smiled, looking relieved.

"Good. There's no need to suffer in silence when there's people around who want to help. And I'm sure I'm not the only one," he added. You couldn't be certain if he was referring to Joel or Ellie. Maybe both. But either way, he wasn't wrong.

You nodded and slipped his card into your purse with the promise again to call before heading back out into the parking lot.

It didn't take much for Ellie to figure out where Joel lived. Given his age, she assumed he would still be the type to have a landline but not only that, he was one of the few remaining people who listed their number and address in the fucking phone book. She gave him points for just listing his name as J. Miller, but she was still shaking her head on the drive over. She couldn't imagine any of her friends putting all their information out in public like that.

"Must be nice being a dude," she muttered under her breath when she pulled up to the curb and cut the engine.

Glancing at the driveway, all she saw was a small red sedan. Joel's truck was nowhere to be found, but she thought maybe it was inside the garage. She pushed the driver's door open and marched up to the front door with a determined look on her face, ready to give Joel a piece of her mind, but when she knocked loudly on the door just to be greeted by a girl her own age, she faltered.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked with a little frown. Ellie squared her jaw and stood up straight.

"Yeah. Is Joel home?"

Now the girl crossed her arms defensively and scowled, immediately picking up on the sharpness in Ellie's voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ellie. We met through a friend," Ellie explained, waving her hand in the air. The grief counseling group wasn't exactly anonymous but she still felt strange broadcasting it, so she chose not to elaborate further. "Something's going on and I need to talk to him. Is he here?"

The other girl still looked suspicious as she eyed Ellie up before finally replying, "No. He's at work but he should be home soon. Can I give him a message?"

Ellie sighed and scratched the back of her neck. She had been so preoccupied with what she was going to say that it didn't even dawn on her who the other girl was until a moment later.

"Wait... are you Joel's daughter?"

She nodded. "Sarah," she offered without extending her hand.

Ellie scoffed and crossed her own arms, mimicking Sarah's posture.

"Oh, so you're the one who caused all this."

Sarah made a face and pushed off the doorframe to stand a little taller.

"Excuse me?"

Then Ellie dropped your name as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Sarah's face slowly began to soften.

"You ran her out of here last weekend, remember? Now she's talking about moving back to fucking... Portland or wherever. And I need Joel to man the hell up and apologize before she does something stupid."

"I did not run her out of here," Sarah sneered. "I don't know who you think you are but you don't get to come here and-"

"She means a lot to me, okay?" Ellie exclaimed. Her eyes looked a little wild and desperate, causing the words to die on Sarah's tongue. "I can't - she can't leave. I don't have fucking any family and she's really... she's cool." Ellie raked her fingers anxiously through her short hair, heart pounding in her chest at the thought of losing someone close to her again. "She's always there when I need to talk to someone. I know she does the same for your dad. She's a decent person and she's hurting and I need to help make it right."

Sarah cut off Ellie's rambling with her palms held up in the air, signaling for her to stop.

"I apologized to my dad, like, the very next day. He said he would try to get ahold of her. He promised me he would try to fix it. I told him-"

Sarah turned around and bent over to slide on her sneakers. Ellie took a step back, reeling from how quickly the atmosphere between them changed from anger to something else.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go find her, don't I? I gotta apologize," Sarah said, grabbing her purse and locking the front door behind her. "What's her address?"

Ellie blinked, pausing for a moment before shaking herself out of her stupor to pull out her phone.

"I only went there once when she gave me an unpublished manuscript written by her dead fiancé," Ellie said before rattling off your address. "It's an old Victorian house and it's got a huge fucking garden out front. Sticks out, you can't miss it."

"Got it, thanks," Sarah mumbled after she tapped it into her phone.

"I have to admit, I really expected this conversation to go differently," Ellie said, following Sarah down the steps of the porch.

"What? You thought I was some cold-hearted bitch who didn't want her own dad to be happy?" Sarah shot back over her shoulder. Ellie shrugged.

"Yeah. Kinda."

"Well, you'd be wrong. I had a shitty first reaction but I think I'm allowed that. I've never seen my dad look twice at a woman that wasn't my mom for my entire life."

Sarah unlocked her car door and tossed her purse inside. She rested one arm on top of the hood and took a deep breath when she turned back to Ellie.

"When I fix this, you're gonna let me borrow that manuscript."

Ellie blinked, then grinned. "Deal."

Sarah hid her own smile and slid into the driver's seat before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Ellie slowly followed her car down the blacktop, pulling her keys out of her pocket when a horn beeped a friendly little sound just two doors down. Ellie looked up, immediately recognizing Joel's truck. She could see Joel behind the wheel watching Sarah quizzically as she zoomed past him in the opposite direction, then waited until he pulled into his driveway and got out of the car.

"The hell's goin' on? What're you doin' here?" he asked before his door was even open all the way.

"I'm here to knock some sense into you, old man," Ellie said, eyes drifting back towards the street where Sarah just disappeared. "But it turns out, your daughter is handling things for us, instead."

"Get to the point, Ellie," Joel scolded.

"Your girlfriend got up in front of group the other night and said she's gonna move back out west 'cause she feels like she's gotta beat herself up a little more over Daniel's death or something."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What?" he breathed. Panic gripped his throat. He dug his keys into his palm just to ground himself and stop his ears from ringing.

Ellie sighed dramatically. "She thinks she moved on too quickly with you but I personally think she just feels guilty about moving on at all. Then the way Sarah reacted sure as shit didn't help but hopefully she'll set that right-"

"Sarah's goin' over to her house?" Joel clarified in disbelief.

"Yeah. Like you should've done days ago."

"I- I was givin' her space! I was callin' an- and textin' her but she never answered! Goddamnit!"

Joel swiveled on his heel and jumped back into his truck.

"You're going there, too? The entire Miller army?" Ellie asked when Joel backed up past her with his window down.

"I can't let her leave thinkin' we don't want her here," he said, eyes pinned on his review mirror. Ellie jogged to the end of the driveway, watching as Joel backed out and shifted back into drive. His expression was one mixed with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Ellie called, and Joel slowed his truck to look at her. "Don't fuck it up this time, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes and pressed his foot on the gas, peeling down his street and leaving Ellie to slowly climb back into her own car with a triumphant smile.

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[herdivineama]

ㅤ        ㅤ             ⠀✣ ⠀۪⠀ ´ beloved ⠘ ✫

yandere jinx x love deprived! fem! reader ft. vi and caitlyn

very self indulgent , regular-ish jinx ( she would be a perfect yandere ) , topside! reader , model! reader , nsfw + sfw-ish , mentions of killing / bombing people , overprotective! stalker! jinx , mini series , self aware-ish! reader , mentions of stolen belongings , reader described to be obsessed with pastels ( pink & blue ) , reader being friends w vi + caitlyn , jealous!/possessive! jinx , pervert! jinx , mentions of manipulation , kidnapping , wlw ( duh )

i — ii

s.masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა masterlist

Another day, another item missing; your iconic poster of yourself. now the wall it was previous on was now empty and just a void of pink and blue stripes.

“caitlyn, i really don’t know.” your shoulders slump, already exhausted from these missing items; it started off small like from your lip glosses or nail polish to your panties and bra from your laundry basket then to your portraits and photos of yourself you hang up. “do you have security cameras?” vi asked her hand gripping her chin while looking around. “well i mean yes but they’re inactive right now.” caitlyn raised her eyebrow at you. “what do you mean, ‘inactive’?”

“i mean like i haven’t really put them up.” the pinkette and bluette girls stare at you in disbelief. “are you serious right now?” vi threw her arms up in the air. “honestly, we should just leave you to get more of your stuff stolen.” vi said, caitlyn sighed and pinches the bridge of her nose, “let’s put the cameras up.” you got out of bed, wrapping the sleeping robe around yourself, “finally someone isn’t judging me and is TRYING to help!” you glance over at vi as she rolled her eyes.

“another photo of my wife.” the girl muttered to herself, pulling the photo out of the stolen polaroid camera, a photo snapped of your back of your room, the way robe shaped your whole figure got her hypnotized, enchanted even. she shouldn’t even be here, not during the day at least. it’s too risky to be getting caught on the roof of a famous model and being a wanted criminal, but you have this invisible leash on her and she willingly follow you wherever. the only issue is them.

her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. vi and caitlyn, attached to you by the hip. it’s irritating. why do they get to be so close to you but she has to keep her distance? that’s not fair. you watches as the three of you living your bedroom. she thought about what if she just…sneak into your room and stay hidden like underneath your bed? it’s sure is big enough and the blankets spills over the bed and covers the sides so it wouldn’t be hard and you aren’t the most observant type of person.

“cameras in living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, closet, laundry room, and entrance.” caitlyn swaps on the tablet through the cameras as you make some breakfast, “anywhere else?” you shake your head no. “breakfast done.” you slide the rest of the food onto a plate for yourself and brings it to the kitchen island.

as vi and caitlyn chatted, you stayed in thought. you noticed how every time your stuff goes missing, the culprit always leaves sometime of note in messy handwriting. you haven’t shown your two friends, you don’t know why; maybe because she was swooned by the little love letters. just from the letters you can tell it’s a girl, even better.

“earth to y/n? hello???” vi snaps her fingers in your face, quite literally snapping you out of your thoughts, you blinked barely moving, looking over to the side with just your eyes. “yea? what’s up?” you picked up the warm bacon and egg together with your fork and puts the food in your mouth. “are you alright?” caitlyn asks, looking worried. you nodded. “don’t worry, we’ll find the person soon, they won’t get away with this.” you gave caitlyn a small smile, thanking her. “when’s your next model runaway?” you ate another place of food of your plate, “next…month?” vi looks at the time. “yea, thanks for breakfast y/n, me and caitlyn has to go now.”

caitlyn gets up and starts heading for the door with vi, “remember to give us VIP tickets, okay?” caitlyn joked. you let out a breathy laugh, “sure—later guys.” you watched as vi opens the door and locks back as they both exited and close the now locked door behind them. a faint sound of a breeze blowing inside made you turn around, your view landed on your bedroom.

you cautiously followed the sound and looks inside of the room, your window is open. odd. very odd. you always keep your windows closed, especially on lounge days. you quickly turn back and grabbed the tablet and looks through the cameras.

watching the footage from 30 minutes back, while walking to the shut the window. you were really debating on alerting vi and caitlyn, in the corner of your eye, on the tablet you noticed a slip of hot pink flash. you thought maybe it’s just the way your room illuminate light but you never have your big light on and living in dim lighting; so where did the pink come from?

now you’re really conflicted. you watch the pink light slip into your room but never out. so the whatever it is, is still in here. looking for it and calling the enforcers would be a rational move but you gotten curious and decided to just play along.

in all honesty, it’s way better than getting the enforcers, and the press involved with your personal life. so you’ll just stick around with this ‘game’ until you can uncover the truth yourself.

©︎ A M A T E R A S U. all rights reserved. please don't plazarize, copy, or steal any of my works without my permission, thank you !

lwk i ended earlier than i wanted but i need content for the next episodes so you’ll see soon dw

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Mix Sahaphap gets to perform (and has the performance chops to perform) in a style that I’ve never seen any other male actor get to embody. Mix gets to unironically play the #strongfemalecharacter. The Beatrice, the Elizabeth Bennett, the Jo March. Strong-willed, emotional, kind-hearted.

Not only do the plot points line up, but Mix, more than any BL actor I’ve seen, fully leans into the embodiment of this archetype. In his roles, he rolls his eyes, pouts, banters flirtatiously, softens his posture and expression at small details. He doesn’t over-exaggerate and imposition other characters but his face also doesn’t hold back his character’s thoughts and judgments. And when the moments arrive, he lets all the hurt and anguish pour out in shatters of tears and visible heartbreak—the star-counting scene, anyone????—in a way that harkens to the operatic emotionality of well-done melodramas, soap-operas, and their contemporary Thai equivalent of Lakorn. It’s only that these have never been men’s roles in those.

It’s no surprise that one of Mix’s roles—Cupid’s Last Wish—is explicitly a gender body-swap, and Tian in A Tale of Thousand Stars is (albeit explicitly denied within the show) heavily connected to gender body-swapping. What Mix specializes in as an actor, and does exceptionally well, has been defined as feminine. To depict a kind of queer expression in this style is novel because it’s not camp, it’s not okama, it’s not a soft or femboy, it’s not a BL twink (Mix has been mostly excluded from the schoolyards and quads of the BL universe except for a role as a senior crush in Fish Upon the Sky). It’s too sincere and too adult for any of that.

In Moonlight Chicken we get to see, without the pretense of gendered mysticism, this performance style’s seduction, warmth, wit, and explosiveness within the framework of a general gay form of expression. It says that this kind of femininity might just be a gay thing. Not all gay men exhibit it, obviously—queer men aren’t a monolith. Still, it gives us something to consider about how we observe performance of queerness on screen, especially in front of an audience that puts so much more emphasis on ships, heat, and pairing chemistry to assess how well they perform a BL role. Could we look for other features to judge performance of queerness instead of how well they kiss?

Seme and uke roles would be the major performance style categories loyal BL fans assess actors with, yet even within the archetype his character’s fill within BL narratives, Mix’s performances differ from the typical uke depiction in BL because he really doesn’t perform them as passive. Rather, Mix’s characters and his portrayal of them are dynamic and demanding. It certainly fits certain stereotypes of ukes (Gilbert!) and their gay stereotype equivalent of bottoms as pillow princesses and brats. Mix’s characters, though, have more drive, agency, and compassion than that, and he plays them with all of those currents running underneath.

We certainly have openly gay writer/director Aof Noppharnach to thank for writing this kind of queer character for Mix to play in Tian and Wen. But for Mix’s specific commitment to the performance starting off with his (debut!?) role in ATOTS, we first have Earth to thank for believing in Mix’s ability and recommending him to portray the role of Tian, and then Aof’s acceptance despite his differing initial expectations for the character. Mix, Earth, and Aof have all been open about how Mix in his personal life and nature holds a lot of similarities to both his role as Tian in ATOTS and Wen in Moonlight Chicken. Some people might knock points off his performances because he’s like them. But his relationship to the characters, rather than dampening my enthusiasm for Mix’s performances, helps me appreciate his willingness to give an authentic performance in a style that hasn’t been encouraged on screens previously. It’s made more impactful that he chose to risk vulnerability to bring something personal that had previously been excluded from screens because of its gender deviance (and in broader society explicitly condemned). This doesn’t make a claim on Mix’s actual identity, but simply shows his willingness to understand and perform the expressions of his queer characters with an effort at empathy that many other actors would feel challenged to bring.

Some actors are chameleons, but some actors have a gift of a type within which they can explore depths and range that no one else can best. For me, that’s what Mix does in his work when directors and casting understands his talent. There’s a BTS video of Mix actually fainting during a scene while in Earth/Phupa’s embrace on the mountain that immediately brought to mind the wildly famous final scene in the film Camille where Greta Garbo as Marguerite dies in her lover’s arms.

For Mix, it was a serious incident due to regrettably extreme conditions and requiring the on-set paramedics, but these levels of theatrics, for me, are emblematic of what Mix is capable of as a performer, as well. After all, he had to faint in Phupa’s arms multiple times on purpose. It’s the kinds of Old Hollywood and heightened sentimental romance realms Mix takes his performances to! Then he can turn around and make it look easy to take that same character into grounded quips or dedicated everyday tasks. It only takes writers, directors, and audiences willing to see that men can feel this way and act this way. Mix has paved the way.

[roanofarcc]

A PIPE DREAM

Pairing. boone x reader

Summary. storm chasing was all fun and games until you started crushing on one of your team members. and boone had a bad habit of falling hard. 

Warnings. alleged one-sided feelings, mentions of a small injury, fluff

A/N. big thanks to the person who requested a boone fic bc I love that Arkansas hillbilly

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

Besides the epic tornados, Boone's favorite thing about storm chasing was the sense of community, oddly enough. Sure, everything was a competition between storm chasers, but when night fell, you’d find everyone gathered in some shitty little motel, tailgating in the parking lot. 

The Wrangled arrived as other teams were passing out cans of beer and greasy burgers they bought from the diner just across the road. Boone was eager to swap stories and relax after another exciting chase, but he couldn’t ignore the painful burn across his upper arm, which dulled his mood a little. 

He wanted to get a good shot of the tornado for the viewers but overestimated the amount of debris the storm had picked up. Tyler urged him to stay in the car, so Boone thought hanging out of the window was just as safe until a flying tree branch from god-only-knew where sliced his arm real good. He didn’t drop his phone, thankfully, but he did ruin his shirt. Tyler had bandaged it up before they headed off again, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

He hopped out of the truck and glanced at his wrapped arm, cursing when he realized he’d bled through the gauze. 

“Boone!” Your voice sounded from behind him, happy and full of energy despite the long day. You loved tailgating almost as much as he did. The two of you had a tradition that started with shot-gunning a beer and ended with you both being the last to turn in for the night. “Look what I got!” You held up two cans of beer with a bright smile on your face, but you stopped short in front of him, your smiling fell quickly as your eyes landed on his bloodied arm. 

“Shit, Boone,” you said, grasping his arm just below the bandage. Your fingers were cold from the beers, but he felt himself flush under your touch. It was stupid, he thought, his crush on you. He knew it was a pipe dream, but he couldn’t help himself. The second you joined the Wranglers, with an insane amount of knowledge of storms and a certain sweetness that could make even the meanest assholes crack a smile, he knew he was done for. It didn’t help that you were too nice. He sometimes wished you were a little meaner, then maybe he’d be able to shift his affection somewhere else, but you didn’t seem to have a mean bone in your body. 

He cleared his throat and shot you a reassuring smile. “It’s just a little scratch.”

Your frown deepened as you examined the bloodied gauze under the dim light in the parking lot. “Looks like a little more than that.” You tugged on his elbow gently as you said, “Come on. I’ll change the bandage.” 

A part of Boone wanted to decline your offer, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you guided him toward the building and away from the rowdy crowd in the parking lot. 

You led him into your motel room, switching on the lights and grabbing a first aid kit you always kept stocked for moments like that one. Boone stood, shifting in his shoes as he felt himself start to panic. It was one thing being with you and the rest of the team; they, unknowingly, acted as a sort of buffer between him and his feelings. But being alone with you was a whole different ball game. He knew it was all in his head, one-sided longing that he wished would go away but refused to. 

“Earth to Boone,” you called out, patting the edge of the bed beside where you sat. He sat down, only to have you scoot closer and grab his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Carefully, you unwrapped the bandage and revealed the cut; it looked worse than he thought it had been, but that explained why his whole arm ached each time he moved it. “A little scratch,” you huffed under your breath. “How’d you even manage this?” 

Boone ducked his head sheepishly. “I wanted a good shot.” 

You gazed at him for a moment, closer to his face than he was sure you’d ever been before. He could see the little flecks in your eyes and the pretty line of your face. A small smile curled on your lips, and you asked, “Did you at least get it?” 

He copied your smile. “Hell yeah.” 

As you rummaged around in the first aid kit, you hummed. “Then at least it was somewhat worth it. But you should be careful.” The smell of alcohol filled his nose. “This gonna hurt, okay? But here,” you held out your opposite hand toward him and he stared at you, confused. “Squeeze my hand. It’ll help, a little.” 

His face felt on fire. He was a grown man, but he felt back in grade school, harboring a school-boy crush on his friend. Maybe it was a little pathic, but he grasped your hand because it was probably the only time he’d have an excuse to. You weren’t lying about it hurting. He hissed through his teeth and squeezed your hand as you cleaned off the cut with the alcohol pad. 

When you were done, you pulled your hand away, and he tried not to let his disappointment show. It only took you a minute or two to re-wrap his arm; you’d done it a million times between the rest of the crew when they sustained little injuries here and there. 

“There,” you said, running your finger across the bandage softly until you trailed up his arm to where his sleeve sat on his shoulder. You fixed it back into place before smiling sweety once more. “Better?” Boone’s breath caught in his throat, so he nodded. 

After that, you two rejoined the Wranglers and the other storm chasers outside. You continued your tradition, shot-gunning beers before you both tossed them to the ground with heavy laughs and a high five. Only when Boone’s hand met yours, you wrapped your fingers around his for just a moment, giving his hand a light squeeze as you grinned in the moonlight. Boone felt his heart quicken in his chest. 

You lingered beside him the whole time, which wasn’t unheard of but for some reason, to Boone, it felt different. He thought maybe he was too much in his head, reading into every little thing too closely. 

Gradually, everyone petered out and retreated to their rooms to get a couple hours of shut-eye before they met another day of chasing the brewing storm cells. But you and Boone remained seated on the tailgate of the rig, nursing another beer and watching the stars that emerged after a day full of cloud cover. You had your head tilted upwards, mouth slightly parted in awe, which is how you looked every time you saw the stars. Boone thought it was cute, how something you saw nearly every night still captured your attention like that. 

He found himself watching you more than stars, finding you more stunning. But he didn’t realize you had caught him until you cleared your throat and his eye widened almost comically. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, a light, teasing tone in your voice. 

Boone fumbled for a response but managed to say, “You look nice. Pretty.” 

A softness rolled across your features that made him feel even more out of his league. He was worried he overstepped; did friends call each other pretty? Was he just overthinking it? 

You turned your body towards him, you knee bumping against his thigh as you leaned just a little bit closer to him with a smile. “You look pretty too,” you said, earning a light chuckle from Boone. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious!” 

“Sure you are,” he said, brushing you off as he fiddled with the tab of his beer can. He expected you to drop it, switch the subject because you had no idea of the feelings that bombarded his heart and brain, but you did the last thing he expected.

You grasped the side of his face with one hand, gently but with just enough force to get him to meet your gaze. He felt hot and confused, looking at you almost nose to nose. Boone swore his heart was about to beat right out of his chest and land at your feet. 

“I can prove it,” you whispered, low and slow.

Boone’s brain short-circuited; he was surely dreaming. Maybe the tree branch that sliced his arm really knocked him in the head and he was in some comma. 

Whether it was real or not, he didn’t move for fear of messing it up or breaking the dream he was surely having. Your thumb brushed across his cheek and your eyes searched his for something, sparkling in the starlight. Slowly you leaned forward, and his body moved without help from his mind, meeting you halfway. 

The kiss was light, sweet just as you were. Boone wasn’t sure there were words to properly describe his feelings in that moment. All he knew was that he needed you, and he had you. His hands found your waist as you brought your other hand up to cup his face, deepening the kiss just slightly. He could have stayed like that forever, forgoing breathing, but you pulled back just slightly and smiled widely. 

“Wow,” he whistled. 

 “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” you admitted. 

Boone still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he was going along with it. “Really?” You nodded. “Me too,” he said, suddenly a lot braver than he had been. He closed the small gap between you two again, kissing you like he’d thought about since he first lied his eyes on you.

[just-some-user-hunny]

The Cannibal dragon headcanons ...

(art credit for middle image, ig: dracalyss)

. Cannibal is a huge dragon, the largest of all wild-dragons, but I can't see him being any larger than Vhagar- let alone Balerian the black dread. I imagine he'd be a tad bit smaller than Vhagar- just about. His build is bulky and scarred, a thick neck of scarred obsidian scales, a set of jagged jet-black spikes that run along his spine, and covered in thick taut muscle and hardened flesh. His eyes are a blazing emerald green, teeth sharp and jagged like a shark.

. I also love the idea of him having this 'grinning' look on his face, like a crocodile or the indoraptor from Jurassic world. (His personality screams indoraptor to me, just a mean guy with a nasty lil goblin grin). And with his torn jaw and exposed teeth, it makes him look even creepier and menacing. There's something way too...human about it. Expressive in both his grin and mannerisms.

He's definitely a stare-er too. Something about a monstrously big dragon being unnervingly quiet and observing is uncomfortable, which is exactly the vibes he gives off.

. I like to visualize him as a very 'wild' looking dragon, like how'd you imagine a stray feral cat. His scales are rough and weather-worn, covered in large claw-like scars from fighting and hunting other dragons throughout his life. There's also fanart of him missing a huge chunk of flesh around his jaw and mouth, baring his teeth, which I think looks really cool :) as a young dragon he probably picked off the small and easy dragons, ones that wouldn't put up much of a fight. But as he grew in age and size, he would probably grow cocky and try his luck with larger prey. Due to him being an absolute monster, I'd imagine he'd often come up on top- but not without earning a few disfiguring scars in return.

. Despite never being bonded to a rider before, nor being ridden before in his life (he'd scoff at the mere thought of some little measly human thinking that they could climb upon his back and treat him like a pony), once he bonded with you it was like an instant connection. He is still a little edgy and unpredictable, but there is one thing for certain and that is he is always as gentle as possible with you. He'll press his body into the dirt if it allows you to climb on and off safely, craning his claws and jaw for you to step upon.

. He wouldn't wear a saddle, so you'd have to learn to ride him bareback. Thankfully he has many jagged scales and spikes to cling onto, but to be on the safe side, you'd have special riding gear to wear to help cling on. Rougher gloves and boots and trousers, it certainly helps, even if it's just a little. If anything the fact you ride bareback is a testament of your bond, showing how close and in sync you both are.

. The biggest issue with him would be his... diet, and how he'd have to adapt once he begins to hang around dragonstone more often. I'd imagine he wouldn't eat much, adding to the unpredictability of him and when he would hunt, but as his rider you'd have to supply him at least livestock every week to keep him happy and saturated. Cows, horses, large livestock due to his sheer size.

. He flies quite similar to Vhagar. His form is heavy, and although strong, he is lumbering.

Although at his age now he'd be a rather ancient dragon, he wouldn't really show his age besides a few moments where he just wants to curl up in his little cave upon his ✨private island ✨ to take a nap. In his youth he was most likely a very quick dragon, like a stalking panther striking upon his food. (Being younger dragons and hatchlings). I've seen someone write about him being a silent hunter (I'll reblog and credit once I find them), but that's such a neat idea for his character! He's survived from hunting his own kind, so he's going to hunt differently. Smarter.

. His fire in the books is described as green, and that's just too cool to swap it out with normal fire. Blazing emerald flames that engulf earth and prey, unnatural and mystical. It'd be very distinctive as well, whoever finds their fields or flocks of trees burning and crackling in a blaze of green fire, they'd know that the cannibal had just been there.

. Personality wise, I feel like he'd be cruel and sadistic, but wise and grumpy. Probably cocky as well, for having survived on his for so long and through unconventional means.

He's not a hardheaded bully, he's very tactical when it comes to facing challenges, but at this point he's such a huge threat he may be blinded by his own ego and emotions. If something were to happen to his rider, he'd make sure you'd get avenged. He's ride or die, quite literally. He'll burn everything down for you, because he feels strongly for the one human he feels he can trust. His grief is not silent or tearful, it's angry.

[waitingonher]

ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]

author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying

dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.

in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭 

when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs 

but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though 

chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!

jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE. 

since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you. 

jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it! 

if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about. 

you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called. 

rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…

jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones. 

after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3 

your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning. 

he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day. 

it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go. 

if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help

i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook. 

one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good??? 

JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking. 

one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3 

he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal! 

this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls

tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg. 

he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side. 

expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it! 

i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot 

or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out. 

ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw

[verdantwyrm]

On the topic of Mouthwashing though, I really do wish we got more time as Curly's POV to get a better understanding of the rest of the crew and their personalities.

Jimmy's pov he views Anya as weak, constantly fawning, a nervous wreck, incapable of thinking for herself. He views Swansea as this drunken, fat oaf who's never spent a day in his life being successful at anything other than one bottle down the drain away from complete spiral. He views Daisuke as his rich boy who's never had to work a day in his life and has absolutely everything— including the internship, handed to him on a silver platter. And he views Curly as this absolute. A thing to idolise, a thing to destroy, a stepping stone but also a helping hand. He utterly loves hating Curly, and he loves the hate that comes from it.

Jimmy rarely talks bad about Curly, only ever swapping the blame off himself but he never once talks badly about him the same way he does to the other crew members. Curly is his paragon, something he spent years and years of chasing, being so far and yet so close to, and when he finally feels like he could finally surpass him, or even simply be equals for once, Curly gets the opportunity of a lifetime at a job he hates. How selfish, how utterly pathetic and selfish for Curly to hate a job that makes Jimmy feel powerful. He likes it there, he is in control. And that resentment starts to truly build when Jimmy realises how selfish Curly is for wanting to escape from something that enables Jimmy so much.

But when we finally see through Curly's eyes, Anya is fun, she is enthusiastic, she loves to make jokes, she loves to draw, read, and even has what seems to be an budding relationship with Curly himself, taking to his comment about being fit to fly in her eyes like it's a common exchange of flirting between the both of them. She is at ease around him, her walls have dropped, and she feels safe to talk to him, and even attempts to try and get him to open up more to her.

Daisuke is capable, he is enthusiastic, a hard working Intern who really enjoys what he does, engineering. Curly is receptive of this, and isn't even the one to reprimanded him when he sets off the sealant foam because he can see the good in him, because he can see that he was genuinely trying to help. He never once comments about him being stupid, or lacking, or in any light that could implicate that he hasn't worked hard to get where he is, even if he did have assistance from his parents, he still met that mark of passing for internship.

And although not much is expressed with Swansea, we know that they're capable of being honest with eachother, and allow themselves to joke between the both of them. And when Curly does have to step in and act like a Captain, he even goes as far to trust the axe directly to Swansea himself. In a ship where absolutely everything has to go through him, everything needs clearance and everything needs to be triple double checked, he trusts Swansea with the axe.

And onto Jimmy, Curly can see his faults, the cracks and the damage Jimmy has on the surface, but insists on seeing something deeper within him too. Constantly reminding him that "They'll figure it out" and just to take "One day at a time" because he is genuinely reaching out to Jimmy and attempting to give him support. Despite the ugliness, he is looking at Jimmy with a lens of the bigger picture, his overall achievement of being his co-pilot, his friend. Curly was genuinely proud of Jimmy for accomplishing what he has, and acknowledges that it wouldn't have been wasted considering he has had it rough back on earth.

We can see both of their stark personalities in also how we see the ship itself. Everytime we are through Jimmy's perspective, the ship is destroyed, blanketed in a red hue constantly, it is crowded, suffocating, rusting and breaking apart at the seams. Even right before the ship is actually crashed, it is not long before his entire senses are overloaded with the red flashing lights of an emergency warning. He lives in that sunset, in that firey essence of destruction and death.

But through Curly's eyes? We see sun, clouds, happiness, warmth, we see the moon, the twinkling stars. The beauty of a lived space, the calmness and the comfort of the Tulpar. Celebrating birthdays, playing board games, reading books, enjoying life to their fullest on the ship. We know he enjoys simple food, trucker food. That caffeine keeps him up, that he refers to Polle with joy, referring to the statue as "Ponyboy", mentioning that he loves Anya's and Swansea's music choices on the radio.

And then suddenly his whole life is utterly consumed by that red, firey inferno. Constantly blaring in his eyes, burning away at his skin and even more constant reminder of the white, hot death that awaits him.

Everything in this game is through the lense of a cynical, self absorbed unreliable narrator who sees kindness as a weakness and lashes out accordingly. I would kill to have seen and experienced more as Curly, but I think the lack thereof is intentional. A nod to just how truly empty and vulnerable he has become, stripped away of all things that made him, him. Both in appearance and personality, all taken from him by the one person he thought he could trust.

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!