#she has literally taken over my ENTIRE life actually

[basketobread]

have some pre-surface lunara sketches + one big forehead lunara (cuz i love her) + one cope moment of current lunara :)

[logansdoll]

jim beam

navigating life in a new universe was already a bit of a struggle for Logan... and Wade just had to make it worse (or far, far, far better) by giving him a "house-warming gift".

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, Wade is actually really hard to write for, Logan deserves the world, comfort, angst if you squint, etc.

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade loudly sang, kicking open the door to Logan's apartment with a dramatic flourish.

"Fuck me," Logan groaned from his spot on the couch, closing his eyes and allowing his head to lull back with annoyance.

This defeated the entire purpose of why he got his own apartment in the first place.

To avoid these types of interactions with the most persistently, consistently annoying asshole in the entire multiverse.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to the friend who's about to bring your long lost lover back from the dead?" Wade tutted, skipping into the living room, taking notice of the bottle of liquor resting in Logan's hand.

'So it's that kinda morning...'

"Jim Beam at 10 am on a Tuesday?" he noted, "Well, I guess it's five o'clock nowhere... so have at it."

"What did you just say?" Logan sat up straight, brows furrowed as he focused on Wade's previous statement.

"Alcoholics everywhere salute you for taking your liver where no organ has gone before."

"Wade."

"I'm honestly starting to believe you do it for the love of the game rather than the expositional, look how sad he is plot device the author is currently using... I mean, seriously? Can we skip past all this bullshit and get to the—"

Quickly, Logan grabbed him by the front of his suit, yanking him closer with an angrily confused expression.

"If anything besides a goddamn answer comes out of your mouth... I will stab you in the face," he growled, spelling out each syllable to further his point. "What the hell do you mean bring her back from the dead?"

To Logan, you were everything

The sun. The moon. The air. The clouds.

Despite seeing all the horrible thing he'd done, and knowing firsthand just how much of an asshole he could be, you still smiled at him.

No matter how many times he pushed you away, you were relentless.

Keeping his room together while he was away finding himself.

Making him meals when you noticed he he'd gone without eating.

Forcing him to take breathers after intense sessions in the Danger Room.

For the longest, he couldn't wrap his head around someone like you caring about a jackass like him.

Until he got fed up and just outright asked.

But, as if nothing, you answered:

"Your past makes think you don't deserve love, Logan," you started, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned up against the counter. "You storm around here with a rude ass attitude and a smart mouth hoping to convince me of that... but if anything, you're only making it worse for yourself."

You smiled, looking up at him with a glint in your eye that sent shocks running down his spine.

"Because in my heart of hearts I know you're a man who wants care and attention, just like everybody else."

With a chuckle, you rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"And I'll keep shovin' dinners down your throat until you realize that."

Despite having everyone else fooled, you saw right through him, and true to your word, you didn't give up.

With every made bed, every meal, every conversation, Logan felt himself falling deeper into your charm, and over a glass of Jim Beam did he finally realize that he was in love with you.

But, like everything else he cared about in this world, you were taken away from him.

Unable to find your body in the rubble of the mansion, he looked high and low, quite literally going to the ends of the Earth to find you.

But after years of searching with nothing to show for it, he returned to the bottle, drowning himself in sorrow and regret.

Or, at least... until now.

"Well, according to the manual, she's not exactly dead, but she is unconscious," Wade answered, matter-of-factly.

"Unconscious?" Logan's brows furrowed, still quite confused.

Freeing himself from the man's grip, Wade stood up, going back around the couch and pulling out a small tablet from his pocket.

"See, I've noticed your humble abode could use a little sprucing, so I went back to our buddies at the TVA and kindly reminded them that you saved the multiverse and, godammnit, you deserve a reward."

"Get to the fuckin' point, jackass," Logan spat, turning to face him.

"So they sent some men back to your universe and found your girl!" Wade cheered, opening up a portal and reaching his hand in, pulling out a cryo-chamber with you inside.

The moment Logan's eyes met your sleeping face, all color and vibrancy seemed to return to the world.

He was at a loss for words.

You were here... not some dream or hallucination of guilt... but actually, truly, physically here.

"Apparently, some science fuckers were keeping her in a black site and testing to see how long she could go without aging. I won't bore you with the details," Wade explained, pulling out a small knife from his boot. "Now, let's break this bad boy open and meet the future Mrs. Wolverine!"

Before Logan could stop him, Wade stabbed the keypad at the side of the chamber, opening the door and sending you falling forward.

In an instant, Logan dropped his bottle and leaped over the couch, catching you just before you could face-plant on the hardwood floor.

"Watch it!" Logan roared, less than happy that you'd only been there for about three minutes and Wade had already almost broken your nose.

"I am so sorry!" Wade gasped, his hands slapping his cheeks in shock. "I didn't think she'd actually fall out the chamber when they told me she'd fall out the chamber... Nice save, though, Romeo."

Turning you over, Logan cupped your cheek, the chill of your skin already beginning to warm.

But you were still out cold, limp in his grasp as he held you close to his chest.

"She's not waking up..." Logan noticed, brows furrowed. "Why the hell isn't she waking up?"

"Easy there, tiger. They told me how long it takes varies from person to person," Wade assured, shutting the portal. "Some take minutes, others hours. It could be a couple of days before she even opens her eyes."

An expression of solemnity slid over Logan's face as he gazed over yours, your skin still so flesh colored, it looked as if you were sleeping.

Just as soft and tender as he remembered.

And he had full intentions on keeping it that way.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he ghosted his hand over your cheek.

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd never leave you again.

He'd be a friend, a bodyguard, a lover, whatever you wanted, but no matter his title, anything that wanted to harm you would have to do so over his dead body.

And even then he'd force himself to get back up and fight.

This world was giving him a second chance at life, a second chance at a life with you, and he'd be damned if he let anything ruin it.

Suddenly, you took in an aggressive gasp, scaring the shit out of Wade as your eyes snapped open.

"Holy fucking shit nuggets!" he jolted, jumping from his spot across he room as Logan allowed his shoulders to sink, mumbling a quiet thanks to whatever god or deity brought you back to him.

Feeling a strong set of arms cradling you, you looked up, solace setting into your bones at the sight of the familiar man before you, who was unable to stop the few joyful tears escaping his eyes.

"Logan—"

Without a moment's hesitation, his lips were on yours, making up for what felt like a lifetime of loss by dumping all of his passion, all of his love, all of his devotion into one Earth shattering kiss.

You melted into it seamlessly, your hand finding home in his scruffy hair as he pulled you flush against him, clutching you with a death grip.

Donning a cheeky smile under his mask, Wade turned away to give you both a moment, thought not without making a crude sex gesture behind his back.

'I don't think Miss (Y/N)/Girl Sitting At Home Reading This is gonna be able to walk tomorrow...'

With a gasp, the two of you separated, Logan's hand raising to cup your cheek, relishing how easily you leaned into him.

"(y/n)... I thought I lost you," he panted, his eyes scouring over your face, committing every detail to memory.

"For a while, you did," you sighed with a grin, carding a hand through the few gray strands in his hair, before comparing them to your own. "Time looks good on you."

He chuckled, quietly relieved you still found him attractive after all these years.

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled the man into a bone crushing hug, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not really sure what happened... or how I'm alive..." you weakly laughed, starting to get choked up. "But I know that if you go out drinking without me ever again, I'm putting your head on a spike."

Instantly, Logan's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you reverently as if he let go for one moment, the powers that be would part him from you.

"I swear on my life... I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Five

“Robs!” Steve shouts through the apartment, toeing his shoes off at the door.

“Kitchen!”

Steve heads through, and he can’t help but notice something looks kind of off. It looks different in here but he can’t quite put his finger on it, “Robs, did you do something to your apartment?”

“Yeah, I cleaned it.”

“Oooh. Yeah,” Steve looks back through the kitchen doorway, “yeah, that’s what’s different.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, bitch.”

“Fuckface.”

Steve frowns, there’s a cookbook propped open and actual like, fresh ingredients on the chopping board, “what are you doing?”

“Is that a rhetorical question because-”

“Robs, I have literally never seen you cook anything more complicated than eggs and toaster waffles, what is this,” Steve goes over to be nosy, “chicken satay skewers and bang bang cauliflower- what the actual fuck. I didn’t even know you knew what recipe books were.”

“Fuck off. And it’s for Chrissy, she said it’s her favorite-”

“Oh my god. I’m dead. I’m dead aren’t I. I got into a crash on the way-”

“Steve.”

“Alternate dimension-”

“Jesus Christ-”

“Abducted by aliens?”

“Steve, I can cook a nice meal for my girlfriend, alright, it’s not, like, illegal-”

“Your what?!”

She stops and actually turns to look at him, she’s wearing her absolute dead serious face, “Steve. I like her. A lot.”

“So now you’re what, fucking pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen-”

“Steve! Look. She’s clever. She’s funny. She’s kind. She calls me out on my bullshit and she is extremely hot doing it. She plays volleyball Steve. Volleyball. Have you ever seen girls play volleyball? Not only is it insanely aggressive but the shorts are so tiny they’re on the verge of disappearing up her crack and it’s socially acceptable for me to go out and watch that Steve.”

“Yeah but- you don’t have to like, date her to get all of that-”

“I do. I do Steve. Because I want to. We can’t just do,” she gestures vaguely, “this for our entire lives.”

“But whyyyyy?” Steve whines.

“Because we have to grow up at some point.”

“Yeah but...now?” Steve knows he’s pouting.

“Good a time as any, anyway, aren’t you literally about to go to dinner at Eddie’s uncles place? Literally the only notable family member that he has? His only parental figure and therefore the most important person in his life-”

“You can stop now.”

“I’m just saying that sounds kind of serious-”

“I will throw myself off the roof to get out of this dinner. Don’t test me.”

Robin completely ignores him, “I’ve seen how Eddie looks at you,” Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Steve, that boy looks at you like he’d crawl a mile over broken glass to sniff your farts. Could you just like, appreciate that about him for thirty god damn seconds.”

Steve has a range of acceptable beer. He has picked up a six pack of something from uncomfortably near the bottom of that range. He takes a deep breath as he grabs it off the passenger seat.

Steve’s pretty sure he’s never been inside a trailer once in his damned life, and he has absolutely no idea what to expect. From the outside it looks...cramped. Steve’s certain his entire bedroom is bigger than this whole place.

Steve prepares himself to be polite about whatever he’s about to walk into.

Eddie fucking lights up when he opens the door, it makes Steve skin itchy while simultaneously something flaps about in his stomach, “oh wow, you bought the good beer!” Eddie looks thrilled as he takes it to put in the fridge.

Which he makes it to in about four steps because the kitchen is like, right there. And Steve’s taken one step in through the door and he’s already in the middle of the lounge, which is, efficient, he guesses.

“Here, come sit at the table, Wayne’s about done with dinner.”

“Errr...thanks.” Eddie indicates a place at a cramped little built in breakfast nook type thing, and Steve slides in just as Wayne appears from down the hall.

It was fucking awkward getting in, it’s even more awkward getting straight back out again so he can shake Wayne’s hand, “good to see you again Sir.”

Steve gets a firm handshake, and then not two minutes later he’s eating the first bite of what might be the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth. Wayne Muson makes a pot roast that should win a Michelin Star. Who could have fucking predicted that.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!

[intrepidacious]

❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

[edelfie]

#𝓣𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘! who’s that girl?

Y/N L/N is a nobody. well, maybe that’s a stretch, but it’s nothing compared to the other words the media uses to describe you. washed up, irrelevant, talentless—any cruel word or insult has or will be thrown your way. but 10 years in the game has forced you to grow thick skin, even if the supposed quality of your music doesn’t suit it. so why is it that today, of all the days, you awake to the worst news imaginable—worse than all the name-calling and jeers?

or, you open twitter. it doesn’t go well.

BLIND ITEMS! —

## this millionaire’s daughter influencer is known for buying many of her followers across all platforms. however, brands and colleagues ignore it because of the fat check lining her pockets.

## this one-of-a-duo A-list model is having business disputes with his other half and sibling. apparently, he wants more creative control over their projects despite having been in the industry for less time. it’s so serious that legal litigation is in the works. [revealed: lev haiba, alisa haiba]

## the not-so-indie band’s newest album is rumored to be about a controversial figure in the industry. this figure has already produced an album about the lead singer years ago, however it failed to garner any publicity.

## off-the-charts wannabe pop star is postponing her next album because her team knows her career is over if she doesn’t chart well. after nearly a decade in the industry and without a single long-lasting, cultural hit, she’s better off waiting tables than writing music. [revealed: Y/N L/N]

gracetheestallion. the haiba twins fighting ?? i can’t believe, like actually

colormeshocked. if y/n doesn’t clutch up rq then i’m gonna be so sad for her — underdawg. honestly, it’s just not fair how she’s treated by the industry — garagoesgaga. it’s “unfair”? she literally only makes trash songs and hooks up with men in relationships, girl bye — underdawg. your misogyny is showing, ugly <3 — garagoesgaga. wowwwww insults, so mature. average iq of a y/n fan

read more…

NOTES! —

Two posts in one day? It's more likely than you think! Anyways, today's fundraiser is for the family and sons of Reyna and Javier. Reyna and Javier lost their lives in a fatal crash, leaving their three sons without parents. Of their sons, one of them was dependent on their parents as he has been wheelchair bound all his life. In this brief period of time, he has lost both his parents and his primary caregivers. The entire family is feeling the financial strain of the sudden loss, so every help counts. Please consider donating here on GoFundMe or copy the link and share it online!

If you're new here, or even if you're not since I'm just starting to post again, I strive to bring attention to different fundraisers in all my posts. I primarily focus on sharing the stories of individuals in dire need, such as refugees in Gaza or those experiencing sudden homelessness, however there is no comparison between struggles, grief, and loss here! So I also take the time to share the stories of families such as Reyna and Javier's, and would deeply appreciate it if you could show them some much needed love as well.

I won't say too much, but as someone who has had the cards stacked against them (being a poc, nonbinary, queer, a religious minority, etc.) and has experienced my own share of loss, I can say that while the pain doesn't feel the same, the knife digs itself into you either way. My family was privileged enough to afford a funeral for my grandfather, who recently passed, but with many other family members getting older in age and being taken by the devil that is cancer, it does make me nervous as to how we will make it through. Regardless, I just hope that my plea and the stories I share will implore you to help others—not out of moral or societal obligation or to save face, but out of humanity and compassion <3

SEVEN EVIL EXES + MASTERLIST + NEXT

© all rights reserved—edelfie (2024) // do not plagiarize, modify, copy, use, translate, or repost my work on other sites without permission

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

what are your thoughts on the ministrife situation? imo literally the worst fate for eridan to be damned to tbh

i think he will eventually (after <5 minutes) just shoot cronus and leave. (CW for mentions of abuse and cronus's romantic grossness and stuff under the cut).

Ignoring the extremely creepy and gross fact that Hussie doesn't seem to have a problem with the age gap (it's There, we've acknowledged that it's creepy and weird, i personally think it highlights how immature the dancestors are despite their physical age, and it actually serves to hint at how trash they are, but it's still really uncomfortable in the moment and never gets properly called out. In any case we've talked about it critically, we can move on and talk about characterization now), he and cronus are actually kind of polar opposites. Given that Cronus, along with many of the dancestors, are riffing on what the fandom interpretation of their Alternian counterparts are, it's kind of a fascinating look at all the things Eridan ISN'T.

The fandom (especially at the time) had flattened Eridan down to "overdramatic Nice Guy hipster who won't stop hitting on people," with varying degrees of sympathy. In other words, they took all of Eridan's outward presentation - the narration calling his genuine anxiety and distress "overblown emotional theatrics," the fact that his being rejected was a running gag - entirely at face value, while also missing what sort of archetype he was actually supposed to represent.

At no point does Eridan ever actually mention a hipster interest, like vintage clothes or indie media. It's all entirely in his design and Karkat calling him a hipster (it's not even in his character introduction), so presumably, it IS a part of his character (Karkat knows him really well), but it's probably a part he keeps to himself, like his love of wizards.

Moreover, he isn't really a Nice Guy. The closest he gets is thinking Nepeta owes him a chance for saving her life, but as far as we can tell, he only ever asked her once, got rejected, accepted that rejection, and has never taken out that rejection on her. When he complains about it, he frames it as a bitter "I guess what I did wasn't enough," not "she's an unreasonable witch withholding romance from me even though I'm so nice to her." All other romance attempts are crimes of... just being way too forward.

He bursts into Kanaya's DMs demanding she auspicetisize with Vriska because... that's what she likes to do, right? The same happens to Terezi in [S] Karkat: Wake Up. He comes on strong in Rose's DMs and after getting a little annoyance back, goes "wow, we kinda have something," and does not realize her blowing up his computer is a rejection because she didn't explicitly tell him no and he's a dumbass. And even though he's nasty at Sollux because emotionally, he's still bitter about Sollux "stealing" Feferi from him, at least CONSCIOUSLY he's recognized the rejection on both fronts and has repeatedly told Feferi that he has no more interest in getting back together with her, in spite of her recognizing that he's emotionally not over her. And speaking of Feferi, his confession to her is entirely genuine and respectful toward her feelings. At no point does he indicate that he feels like she owes him a date.

These aren't Nice Guy actions, they're "I have 0 social skills or self-awareness" actions. And also a little bit "due to my trauma and anxiety and desensitization to murder, I struggle to care about other people" actions. He's not even actually casteist or genocidal - I spent an entire essay arguing that.

But regardless, that's what the fandom ran with, in large part because they didn't bother reading between the lines. Ironically, like Eridan, they just believed what he told them. I don't even necessarily blame the fandom - at least part of this obfuscation was intentional, and a clever trick on the part of the writing. By highlighting Eridan at his worst, and having the narration be complicit in his self-delusion and mockery, the story is able to put the audience in the same mindset as his in-universe bullies - Eridan is dumb weirdo whose emotional problems are worthy of ridicule, not sympathy. Let's all point and laugh!

This sets up his meltdown to be more of a twist - even though his literal introduction is him killing something and talking about genocide, the very real danger he poses is forgotten both by the audience and the other characters because they've gotten so used to dismissing his feelings that they ignore his cries for help and the warning signals he gives off. And it makes his character more relevant and meaningful, because this happens in real life all the time - I'm sure we either all either knew, or were, the friendless weirdo at school who, upon reflection, definitely had either some bad shit going on at home or severe and untreated mental illness (or both).

The reason I'm bringing up this fandom misinterpretation is because, like a couple other dancestors, Cronus is very much a riff on the fanon version of his Alternian counterpart. Unlike Eridan, who's not actually casteist, but desperately trying to act the part, Cronus IS a casteist sea dweller who thinks he's better than lowbloods and land dwellers. Unlike Eridan, who seeks emotional connections with others, and accepts rejections, Cronus is only looking for some action, and keeps trying even well after he knows he's been rejected. Unlike Eridan, who's so consumed by anxiety and trauma that he's pretty much unable to function properly, Cronus DOES exaggerate his problems and explicitly leverage them for attention and sympathy. And unlike Eridan, who feels crushed under the weight of duty and responsibility, and tends to blame himself when things go wrong, Cronus refuses to take responsibility for anything, immediately blaming anybody BUT himself.

They're practically exact opposites, and this is, again, a clever trick on the part of the writing. It's an excellent usage of a foil: though superficially similar, the differences between these two really serves to highlight just how much Eridan is NOT the things that Cronus IS.

And it's especially interesting given that Eridan spent his entire life trying to emulate Dualscar, to the point of modeling his outfit after the guy. To him, it was not only his duty, but his inevitable fate, to wind up as Dualscar's successor. And when he finally meets the guy in person, his opinion is "even I think you're trash."

If that isn't a form of rejecting the values his society has told him repeatedly that he has to uphold, maybe in the service of perhaps setting up some sort of redemption arc or something, I don't know what is.

I've seen people point to this moment as kind of a hee haw funny one-off joke, look at how little Hussie cares about Eridan, but that's not what it is to me. You don't really need to say anything more about their relationship to each other. Eridan thinks Cronus (and by extension, everything Cronus stands for - and everything Eridan has tried to be) is garbage, but is lonely and friendless and desperate enough that he feels pushed into accepting it anyway. It's extremely consistent with his characterization and character arc.

So uh, yeah. Join me next time for more deep dives on how this funny innocuous thing in Homestuck actually Means Something.

[tlouadditc]

hate to hate you.

enemies to lovers abby x reader.

a/n: this was an ask but i forgot to put this under it 😭 anyway thank u anon for asking!! this was so fun to write tbh and also i am not a nursing student so idk how any of this works .... hope you enjoy anyway :,) also might write a pt. 2 depending on how this one does!

warnings: 18+/MDNI, men dni either, mean!abby [kinda], super fem!reader, abby's a bully :,((, switch!abby, switch!reader, clothed grinding [?], oral [a!receiving], dirty talk ;), pussy slaps [?], rushed ending because im crocheting, probably more. NOT PROOFREAD AGAIN.

abby has been your rival since middle school. she was always making fun of you- could be how you had lower grades [by a couple points, to be specific], how you always dressed in pink and in skirts and were a "tryhard", literally anything. hell, when she found out you were interested in nursing, she made it a competition to see who could be the better doctor. eventually, the amount of taunting had gotten to you and you started dressing like everyone else and becoming a quieter person.

ever since then, there's been some silent tension between you two. it was stupid, of course, but neither of you made an effort to end the rivalry. every class you had together in high school was a competition to see who could participate the most, get the most praise from the teacher, highest grades- everything. but no matter what you did, you'd always be second to her. once senior year was over, you were free from this hell and decided to finally be your true self in college.

or so you thought.

it was your first day of freshman year. you were doing your makeup in your bathroom, trying to calm your nerves. you've done this multiple times before, you thought to yourself. why am i still nervous??

you were adding little finishes- a bit more blush, curling your lashes one more time, adding a bit of glitter to your inner corner, etc. you check the time: 8:03am. class starts in 20 minutes, and you have to walk! you quickly check your outfit, straightening out your pink skirt and grabbing your bag before leaving out.

the walk to class isn't bad; a little confusing, but there's staff around to help direct new students, so you easily find your class. you walk in as soon as the class starts. to your horror, all the seats in the front are taken. the professor stops her introduction and walks over to you to speak. "hi, you must be y/n? you're a tad late, but it is your first time here, so i'll let you have a pass. your seat is in the back corner next to ms. anderson."

anderson...? your smile fades as you look towards the seat the teacher is pointing at. there she is- sitting there with her smug smirk and her always-braided hair. fuck my life actually. you turn back to the teacher, crack a small smile, and nervously walk over to your seat.

"didn't think you'd see me, huh?" is the first thing that comes out of abby's mouth, her big smile growing wider after seeing the dread on your face. all you can do is glare at her and get your things out. as you rummage through your bag, you hear the professor say:

"the person you are currently sitting with will be your partner for the semester."

you've LITERALLY have to be joking. the girl who's been borderline bullying you for years is your partner for the rest of the semester?? you debate asking the teacher to change seats, but decide against it.

"can't believe im stuck with you," she mutters, mocking the disbelief on your face. "shut up, abby," you hiss, trying to keep your voice down.

this was gonna be quite a year, huh?

abby was unbearable the entire class. always asking useless fucking questions, moving her braid from one side to another- it all annoyed the fuck out of you. however, to pass this class, you had to work with her and put your feelings aside.

the first assignment was to study and review the human anatomy with your partner. the test on the subject was in a couple of days, making it the first grade of the semester. everyone else in the class was easily discussing plans for studying while you and abby made a horrible attempt for friendly small talk.

"so.. we have a test-"

"i heard."

"goddamnit, abby, i'm trying to pass this class. can you be nice for once?"

"stop staring at me like that and maybe i will."

"i wasn't even- [sigh] just give me your number so we can figure out a time and place. please."

and with that, you two later that night made the plan to meet up at your apartment and study there the next day.

the next day

you spent most of your morning doing your usual routine; cleaning, listening to your podcast, organizing your things- basically a mini-spa day. since abby was coming over, you didn't want to give her any reason to ridicule your space. you also debated on wearing some bland outfit to avoid the bicker, but ultimately decided you shouldn't care anymore. you settled on something casual; a floral tube top, a pink cardigan, and some comfy shorts to match the top. you also threw on some pink bunny slippers to match the ribbons in your hair.

as you finished the kitchen, the doorbell rang. must be abby. you walk to the door, slowly losing your happiness as you turned the doornob. upon opening the door, you see abby, leaning against your doorframe. she's dressed in a black wifebeater and gray sweats. she has a small tote bag and headphones around her neck.

as you study her look, she does the same to you. you suddenly feel small in comparison to her; almost feeling weak in her presence. if you were honest with yourself, in all the annoyance that you felt toward her, you could admit she was hot. she was your lesbian awakening, if you were 100% honest. but since she didn't like you, you suppressed all feelings.

"someone got dressed up," she teases, looking you up and down. "this is just how i dress," you say, rolling your eyes. "come in."

an hour later, you and abby are sitting on your couch, going over flashcards for the test. abby has her information down, of course- you keep missing the same two vocab words.

"you dumbass," she laughs, watching you pout over missing the same word for the 4th time in a row.

"this is so annoying," you say, burying your head in your hands. the frustration you feel is so intense, you feel tears well up in your eyes. you attempt to hide it as abby continues to laugh, but a sniffle gives you away.

"are you- there's no way you're crying right now," abby says, genuine disbelief in her voice. "don't be a crybaby, bun. you can get it."

bun.. ?? what the hell? she's being... nice? no fucking way.

you lift your head, tears running down your face, messing up your makeup as you wipe your face with your hands. abby analyzes your face before sitting back on the couch. she pats her thigh, "c'mere, let me help."

okay, this has to be a dream.

you hesitantly get off your side of the couch and sit on her lap. almost immediately, you feel the warmth radiating off her body, making you shiver a bit. she chuckles lightly, "what, are you scared or somethin'? just trying to help you since you clearly need it." you're still wiping your face, too busy to rebuttal.

she begins to explain. "so, these two are similar, but they aren't the same thing. y'know why? because this one.."

all you can focus on is the amount of contact you two have right now: her right hand slightly touching your inner thigh. her abs resting against your back. her voice, soothing and calming, in your ears. the scent of pine and clean laundry filling your nose. you knew it was wrong, but fuck, you were wet. there was probably a puddle under you by now.

"uh, y/n? you there?"

you snap out of your slutty daze, realizing you're supposed to be listening. "mm, what? can you explain that, uh, again, please?"

she laughs, putting the cards on the coffee table in front of you two. "i'm sitting right here, trying to teach you and you still can't focus that pretty little head on this? god, what am i gonna do with you?"

you turn slightly, face to face with abby. her piercing blue eyes study yours, searching for something. you don't know what comes over you, but you completely turn to face her, move your hands to the sides of her face, and kiss her.

she immediately kisses back, hands finding comfort on the top of your hips. she falls back on the couch, lips still connected as you straddle her lap. you can feel the passion, intent with every kiss you give her. her strong hands push your hips onto hers, grinding through her sweats. a soft moan leaves your lips, giving her the opportunity to insert her tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss.

you pull back, catching your breath as abby continues to make your hips roll onto hers. "you know how long- hah- i've wanted to do this to you?" she breathes, eyes moving from where you two meet to your flustered face.

you look at her, eyes wide. ".. what?"

"i've wanted to kiss you for forever. wanted to have you close like this. wanted to fuck you. everything." shes now completely focused of your face, trying to read your expression.

"i thought you hated me." you're so confused, you don't know whether to cry, smile, get angry, or whatever.

"fuck- i didn't mean to, i'm sorry," she's desperate, her hands moving to your cheeks to bring you back to her face. "let me make it up to you, yeah?"

after a while, she moves her hand to cup your throbbing cunt, earning a whimper from you. "you're so fucking wet, shit," she hisses, feeling the wet spot on your cotton pink shorts. "who's this for? hm?"

the embarrassment takes over you, making you pitifully whimper as you cover your face. she's quick to swat your hand away and ask in a more demanding voice, "who made you this wet, baby?"

"y-you," you manage to choke out, subconsciously grinding into her hand. she smirks, "good girl."

the praise catches you by surprise, not to mention the way her palm accidentally catches your clothed clit. a soft moan leaves your mouth, feeding into the power dynamic between you two. "oh, you like that name, huh?" she whispers, keeping eye contact with you as she rubs your clothed cunt. "you wanna be my good girl?"

"yes, oh my god-" you're chasing your high, overwhelmed by all the feelings you feel. she hums in response, clearly satisfied by your state. she moves a hand to your face, inserting a thumb into your mouth. you suck on her thumb, moaning around it as your hips stutter against her palm. "you gonna cum f'me, bun?" she coos, not slowing down at all. all you can do is nod, too caught up in the knots forming in your abdomen. "go ahead, pretty girl. cum for mommy."

the name pushes you over the edge, making you clench around nothing in your shorts. abby still has her hand over your cunt, feeling the wet spot grow as you pitifully moan. she talks you through your orgasm, mostly praising you for how good you are to her.

as you catch your breath, she removes her thumb from your mouth and peppers small kisses across your cheeks, releasing small praise in between. once you come to your senses, she's still under you, chuckling at your fucked out state. she mutters something along the lines of 'you're so cute' before you start to giggle with her.

you accidentally grind against her while laughing, making abby whine. you immediately realize you haven't helped her at all, making you guilty. you reach a hand down to her heat, feeling her warm cunt under her sweats. she hisses, hips bucking up onto your fingers. you get up and stand in front of her.

"sit up," you say, catching abby by surprise. she hesitantly sits up, looking suspiciously at you. "what for?" she questions, side eyeing you. you chuckle as you kneel in front of her, placing hands on her strong thighs. you reach a hand up to the band of her bottoms, signaling for them to come off. "m' gonna help you."

if her boxers weren't already soaked, they definitely were now. her face heats up as she shyly takes off her sweats, leaving her in just her wifebeater and undergarments. she puts her knees up to her chest, looking away as you assess the wet patch on her boxers.

"i make you this wet, abs?" you say quietly, pointer finger tracing her slit. she slightly gasps at the contact, slightly nodding to answer your question. "use your words. i know you can do it."

"you do, clearly. you've made me this horny for you for years, so yeah." she's being a brat, acting like she's in charge! you give her cunt a small slap, a small surprised moan leaving her lips.

"act like a brat, get treated like one." she stares at you, surprised that you went from such a submissive state to a dominant persona. you tease her, feeling her sensitive bud through her boxers. she whimpers, gripping onto the couch for any stability. "i think it's about time we get these off," you pull at the top of her boxers, "don't you think?"

she immediately gets up and takes them off, sitting back on the couch. she sits and moves her hips to the edge of the couch to reveal her cunt, glistening with slick. you study her sopping cunt, making her nervous under your gaze. "not so cocky now, hm?" you tease, making her face heat up as she huffs and puffs.

"please t-touch me," she almost whispers, barely able to be heard. you could've let up from here, but you don't.

"what was that? i'm gonna need you to be a bit louder, babe."

she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, swallowing her pride. "please touch me," she musters out.

she was such a pretty site to see, how could you possibly deny her? "okay, baby."

you spread her lips apart, revealing her swollen, sensitive clit. she shudders, cold air meeting her core. she's not sure what to expect until you dip your head down and place a flat tongue on her heat, making her gasp.

her reaction makes you smile; you quickly latch onto her clit and suck, still watching her reaction. she throws her head back, moaning loudly.

"oh, you like that," you say, quickly going back to placing kitten licks onto her cunt. she's overwhelmed with pleasure, loud moans and groans leaving her mouth. when you decide to insert your middle finger into her heat, she's going over the edge, babbling your name and please's. her hand comes down and grips the back of your head, pushing your face deeper into her pussy.

her sounds get you wet all over again, making you moan into her pussy. "s-shit, m' cumming- oh, fuck," she cries, gripping your hair and pulling you closer than ever to her as her heat clenches around your finger. tears are streaming down her face as you continue to lap up her juices. after she catches her breath, you pull her into a sloppy kiss, sharing her fluids in between you two.

"shit," she breathes, pulling away from the kiss, "i'm gonna have to fuck you harder next time."

"next time? oh, we're already making dates?"

"yeah, we're gonna have multiple assignments like this later."

you both laugh and get cleaned up before cuddling on your couch and sleeping in each others arms. :,)

taglist [if you're striked out, i can't tag you!!]: @ellabsweet @digit4lslut @macaroni676 @mostlyhornyandsad @yorlenybaires @Pigwideon

[sillygoblinantics]

I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

I’ve held my tongue for too long about my feelings on madhouse but fucking hell!

Unless by some fucking act of arceus or universe hands me the fucking concept art that went into this horrible webcomic- I got room to rip and tear!

This is:

Goblin’s Valid Autopsy of Lily Orchard’s PokéMadhouse

Before we go forward!

Hi. I’m Gobbo or Bri (pick ya poison), I’m a current student at Savannah College of Art and Design (as for campus I ain’t saying nothing) Im working on my bachelors in Animation and minoring in Creative Writing. My Concentration starting as 2d animation later switching it to Story and Concept in animation (back in 2021). I started in 2019 and it’s… 2024 now. Don’t judge me! I’ve been mentored by comic artist, storyboarders and many more in the industry! I’ve taken storyboarding and a plethora of writing classes to have enough qualifications under my belt to properly discuss the shit writing, lacking worldbuilding, disorganized plot hole ridden lore/arcs and horrible inconsistent art. So let’s not waste another moment and dive fucking in!

Story:

I’m not using Lily’s self review tvtropes to cover this. It’s disingenuous ego stroking at full blast.

We follow the highs and lows that are the “will they won’t they” relationship between the stated as sisters, Lily and her Gardevoir, G (yes that’s her fucking name). In a Sunday newspaper comic page esc structure. With bits and pieces of trivia and lore that rarely comes up if not to push and pull sympathy points for lilys self insert as she gets assaulted and violated in physical and mental ways. An arc being called “Violate” and later following the would be time span for gestation of a baby that would then become the labeled cryptid child.

I’m gonna be real there’s no point in reading it because the moment something big happens out of the blue there wasn’t a page missing to explain it which god fucking dammit Lily do I need to give you one of those brainframe sheets or outline templates if you decide to write a story? Because I’ll gladly provide them!

How do you consider yourself a fucking writer at all with your fundamental lack of care for lore and story like- for fucks sake woman it won’t kill you!

Characters

Lily

G

Mikayla

Marah

Bonnie

Mismagius

Other hardly seen or used Pokémon that get thrown away out of nowhere

Countless stolen ocs

And Dr Ponytail (yes that’s the fucking name of one of the “antagonists” and I’ve reread it so many times and found nothing!)

Lily has her “antagonists” being either ex friends or partners or someone who tries to call out bullshit! Fucking hell, the way Lily has g written it’s hard to not see HER AS ONE!

You have all these characters and you neglect so many of them to focus on making your favorite Dollies kiss and scissor or do nothing!

You don’t punish actual rapists either like legit what do you do when your Pokémon who’s been raised like a sister your whole life admits to mindfucking you in a weird soul bond type deal (that you wrote the explanation of yourself), then out of fear swaps dna of a Pokémon of her CRITICALLY ENDANGERED SPECIES can match with to save it with your own dna to baby lock you to staying together, what’s the thing you decide to write?

Case in point: stick an entire cactus up your urethra Lily.

I need a break from this… I’m moving on to the art misdirection.

Lily you are the one commissioning these panels from Mikayla. Meaning you are telling her how to draw these making you the literal art director of this shitty comic!

You want my advice?

USE MODEL SHEETS

Like holy shit. I need to copy paste my spiel about what it is one second:

Make a turnaround for your character(s)!

(Excluding front and back you need to make left and right versions of the rest!)

Front

Back

over-the-shoulder

3/4 view

profile

expression sheets

color pallet reference

(if it’s online/digital rgb if it’s for print it’s cmyk)

include the hexcodes for artists if it’s a small production!

lineup for height and scale for comparison to:

other characters

backgrounds

props

etc.

elements of the world + floor plan in small settings

action poses

hair guide (trust me it’s important)

these are the elements every artist who wants to tell a visual story be it animated or comic always needs:

✨A PITCH BIBLE✨

And Lily, if you’re making any story that is

A. Tied to an existing property

B. Has real world/geopolitical/historic relation

C. Needing a basic understanding to science

Do everyone and yourself a favor

AND DO YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH IN MLA FORMAT INSTEAD OF SOMEONE ELSES OPINIONS AND YOUR ASS OF HOLDING BULLSHIT!

Class

Dismissed

Your homework is to get these books:

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Sloppy Arackniss Redesign (?)

Before I get into this, clarifying, I SAY SLURS IN THIS!!! I CAN RECLAIM SAID SLURS!!! That is all thank you. I kiss boys and love men. Carry on.

Arackniss’s design is bound to change drastically sometime eventually but atm this is just what im doing. My main problem is how he just looks exactly like angel but black. I know thats originally what the whole thing is and they’re opposites but it’s just kinda boring now. Angel is an entirely different character at this point now and Arackniss’s design should accommodate the changes while still being a bit similar looking. I want him to still look very similar to Angel in specific ways like that stupidass headshape but not because of a sibling thing. Honestly when the two were alive they hardly looked anything alike I’m 100% sure of that. Antonio (Arackniss) had black hair and much broader features and was relatively tall and kind of bulky while Anthony & Molly had light blonde hair and more subtle and soft round features and basically one of the only ways to tell them apart aside from personality was Anthony having polycoria and having bloodshot eyes pretty often.

Arackniss hardly looks how he did when he was alive anymore and has taken on many more features of Angel because of his deep rooted rivalry with his brother. I assume hating your middle-child brother that literally got named after you only to have him overdose and kill himself before actually doing anything with his life is enough to stir up more than a little bit of inner turmoil. These guys probably beat each other up OFTEN. Antonio was the first born son and dealt with so much shit before these other guys even were born and when they did show up, Anthony was named after him because their parents honestly just got lazy, and even though Molly didn’t have the name Molly yet, she was still treated like a golden child even though she contributed next to nothing to the family business which yeah that helped her in the long run but to Antonio that’s his number one priority in life. Appeasing his family is what keeps his brain running. And with that, seeing this random kid show up, get named after you, and be treated so much more leniently than you were AND he’s practically your problem because youre 15 hes like fucking 3 years old and your parents are busy all of the goddamn time AND when you DIE you take on the traits of this stupid fucking kid. He has a horrid case of eldest child syndrome and probably some insane identity issues.

This isn’t to say his hatred is only directed at Anthony either, he definitely has his issues with Molly as well, but she kept more to herself and even if she followed Anthony nonstop she was copying what Anthony was doing instead of what he was doing. Copying is the highest form of flattery but flattery gets annoying when everyone cares about the younger “better behaved” version of you. This is one of the biggest reasons Arackniss berates Angel now and in the past. Even though they havent spoken in years, Arackniss still holds Angel to the status of “faggot” because that was practically the only thing he was “worse” than him at. It was the biggest dirt he had on Angel possible to the point that became a genuine used name for him as Anthony “the fag” Benetti. Finding out your angel of a brother is gay during a time where it’s heavily frowned upon, especially by your own family is like a gold mine.

Arackniss is NOT a good person if you couldn’t somehow tell already. He’s homophobic, has a masculinity and classism problem, has little to no regard for other’s well being, and a bunch of other shit. For as distressed as he was over Anthony’s death, a lot of it was because it left their family even more dysfunctional. To him it was Anthony abandoning everyone because they weren’t worth enough to keep him going and then in return he continues to be praised and talked about so wonderfully as if he never did anything wrong “just because he’s dead”.

Thats just BEFORE Arackniss died too! AFTER dying shit got even worse to the extent he ended up even getting disowned! How fun!! This part delves more into Husk and his backstory as well which I think I may save for another time, but these guys know each other and have a lot of beef and also simultaneously are kind of chill in an odd way? By the way, Angel also has the big neck puff, he just shaves it because he doesn’t like the look and like association from trauma

[ndjournal]

How’s your dream going?

it’s been a while since i’ve heard about you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Dearest anon, my dream is well and peaceful although I am indifferent to it either way now which is what makes it peaceful and effortless :)

I considered writing a post on my learnings but was a bit hesitant because it's just another version of an experience that's already been spoken/written about many times before and there's nothing particularly special about this one. However, since you've asked, I will share some things about my journey and what has helped me personally which might help other Vanessas/versions of me out there. Please only take what resonates, my journey is not a blueprint for all journeys however I have noticed some commonalities in truth seekers.

The biggest thing was quite literally giving up entirely. I actually wrote a post on giving up about 3 months ago when I was earlier into this 'journey' and I still agree of course with what I wrote however I would write it differently if I were to write it now (it would be a more expanded version); perhaps I will write a part 2 although this answer here can sort of be taken as a part 2. You see, this Vanessa's life was quite comfortable in general so when she started on the ND path, while she was very determined to "get it", I wasn't motivated or entirely willing to give her up. We spent a lot of time letting go of concepts and limitations (and that definitely helped later on so I'm not saying it's not helpful, do what resonates for you!) and Vanessa/the ego was becoming subtler and subtler but it was still something I held onto. There was still identification with not much motivation to give it up entirely - sure there had been desire and interest to 'materialize' things but when we gave that up too, there wasn't anything. I was still lost in Maya despite the dream not being all that captivating or enjoyable.

Then quite literally life circumstances all of a sudden threw some major curveballs and Vanessa was terrified despite all that she had learned - it felt like all knowledge had suddenly disappeared and she had absolutely nothing to hold onto. After trying various things and going round in circles trying to keep everything at bay, the only thing left that really resonated was to quite literally give up on everything - it felt like there was no other option for peace but to do so because she was so mentally exhausted and drained from caring about every single thing that it was so much more appealing to be nothing and no one, to just BE… oh just the thought of being nothing and no one was freeing.

4dbarbie's words here gave Vanessa a lot of strength and direction (although her answer there was for a new identity, I did not use it for that as it was exhausting to even think of a new identity. I just wanted to be nothing and no one, that was most peaceful)

Give UP: It is what it is and 'you' can't do anything about it. Just let it all happen, we all die one day and it's over anyway. Worrying, fearing, doubting, striving, searching, desiring - how tiring, you would much rather sleep a hundred years. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Expect nothing from your body or mind. Let them do whatever they want, cease caring. Literally dgaf, if life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. (Ever had a bully? They get bored when you stop reacting and they leave you alone. They may increase the strength of their punches at first, but so what? You're already getting bullied... you can do nothing about it but cease caring and let it happen.)

And also this from 4dbarbie helped me understand the indifference that I had to embody:

I did not fake a lack of disturbance, I just let things happen to 'me' painful or not, I did not try not to react, I just didn't get involved emotionally with what was going on because I was tired, completely, of both desiring and being scared. The emotions didn't interest me anymore, I became indifferent to whatever was happening, neutral. If 'I' got what I wanted, whatever, if I didn't whatever again. I didn't try to change anything, the events just passed without leaving a 'footprint', all the bad/unwanted things had no reverberations anymore, it was like they never existed. Then there comes the idea of: what if they never actually did? And you fiddle and play with that a little. It's just play because you don't really care anymore, it's a real feeling of being unaffected, it's not manufactured because you aren't trying to get anything, not even 'realization', you want nothing anymore. This detached feeling, of needing nothing - it brings a lot of power, try to at least reach that and worry about the rest later.

She knew she had to stop trying to fight life but she was afraid of what would happen if she did stop trying. Eventually she got exhausted and had nothing left. Then no longer wanting/searching/trying to make happen any particular outcome or caring anymore, just pure indifference being in the present moment with no conditions/labels/problems is what gave her peace and then things just starting to ease up on their own. Things even happening on their own with just a random thought without any particular input.

I realized all the practices that Vanessa did before the curveballs had a 'doing' intention, a 'purpose' behind them (quieting the mind, self-realization, dropping beliefs etc) while afterwards, the same 'practices' were engaged again but with the intention of just being with no labels, no agenda, just being nothing and no one and this made all the difference - when you are no longer doing anything - you are not the doer/body/ego/mind; you're just being with no identification and no longer care about anything. And the indifference here is not forced or pretend like she used to have before as a defense mechanism, its genuine true indifference and full acceptance of everything (see the second 4dbarbie excerpt above - understanding and experiencing this subtle difference will help a lot).

The reality only comes when you give up yourself, when you give up your ego, when you give up your needs, your wants, trying to make something happen, desires, when you give up trying to become self-realized, when you just give up. - Robert Adams

Life is just a giant mirror of your Self. When you stop fighting it, it will stop too. But you have to be the one to initiate it. It takes courage and faith for sure to take that leap.

It has no choice but to die. What you take to be reality is the same, take away your identification and it soon ceases to be. - 4dbarbie

It can be easy to get lost in the dream again if you get caught up in the 'materialization' aspect - it's all still a dream even if forms change. Lester also talked about this in No Attachments, No Aversions:

I knew these things were not to be latched on to. I knew that if I got interested in them, I'd stop progressing. I had seen by this time that this world is a mentation - a dream. So to get interested in the dream again through interest in powers would trap me back into what I was wanting to get out of. - Lester Levenson

Also remember these things happen on their own, it's not the ego that's doing any of this and Self doesn't 'do' - Self is just effortlessly being. There's no 'doing' involved. If there's effort, it's ego as Lester said.

Now when I read my past blog posts or read Lester or Robert, there's an entirely new level of understanding and resonance with their words from before. This excerpt from Silence of the Hearts speaks more on what I was experiencing as well.

Let go of everything. Do not hold on. Stand naked before God, without any crutches, without anything to hold on to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to stand naked before God. By standing naked I mean no scripture, no fancy words, no preconceived ideas, no spiritual intellectual knowledge. - Robert Adams

Perhaps without those curveballs, Vanessa would have continued to live in the illusion like an NPC in a Sims game until something like that happened to her and forced her to completely give up on everything and stand naked before God (her Self).

A day will come when you will long for the ending of the dream with all your heart and mind, and be willing to pay any price; the price will be dispassion and detachment and the loss of interest in the dream itself. Once you have seen that you are dreaming, you shall wake up. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Now I know all happens by itself and I am just witness to it all. To all Vanessas out there, I know you got this. Follow your heart and trust in what resonates! And remember not to compare yourself to others, we are all One. Everything will be okay 💜💜💜

[probably-impossible]

pls pls pls pls give us headcanons about the scara x katheryne crack ship or i will literally die bc i am a sucker for robot love too and i need this in my life :D

Okay so... I may have actually gotten way too invested in this and started writing a fic about it. 😅 But just in case that never comes to fruition, here's my more in-depth, canon-compliant(ish) thoughts:

The Katheryne in Sumeru was possessed by Nahida enough times that some of Irminsul's influence rubbed off on her and made her sentient. This only began to manifest after she was skewered by the Eremites, repaired, and then sent back to her normal Guild duties.

Scara visits the Adventurers' Guild for one reason or another and makes one of his usual snarky remarks, then is surprised when Katheryne briefly breaks character to snark back at him. Intrigued and slightly annoyed by the fact that a supposedly non-sentient "inferior" puppet has roasted him, he resolves to keep observing Katheryne and find out what's going on.

Meanwhile, Katheryne is new to this whole sentience thing and isn't quite sure what to do about it. She tries extra hard to go about her job as usual but finds that some weirdo in a big hat is always hanging around & disturbing her for some reason. She resolves to find out what his deal is and why he gives her pesky feelings in her chest sometimes.

Cue shenanigans, bonding over puppet troubles, themes of figuring out together how to make their own purpose in this world, etc. etc.

My headcanon for Katheryne's personality is that she has spent her entire existence working in customer service and has Seen Some Shit. As a result, she is usually unflappable, but can be taken aback by new or strong feelings. She's also very attached to / protective of the Adventurers' Guild and its members.

By contrast, Scara has the emotional fortitude of a wet paper bag, but he is technically more experienced with having feelings (and he has Nahida as his personal therapist). So he's able to help Katheryne adjust to being her own person & get her to explore the world a little more.

Also Scara's tsundere shit totally fails to land with Katheryne. He'll be like "Tch. As if I could ever do anything as embarrassing as spend time with you," and she'll just say "Okay, goodbye. :)"

I feel like Nahida would know exactly what's going on and would be bemused by it at first, then start actively trying to get them together. At some point she would definitely tell the Traveler to sub in for Katheryne at the Adventurers' Guild one day so Katheryne and Scara can hang out. (Of course the Traveler would be comedically overwhelmed and this arrangement would never happen again.)

If Katheryne gets a Vision in this version of events it would probably be Dendro. Her voice lines in combat would be variations on her standard canon dialogue, ex. "Compliments of the Adventurers' Guild!" or "Here is your reward!" while beating the living daylights out of some Hilichurl.

That's my take on it, anyway! There may or may not eventually be more from me on this because people seem to like it way more than I expected, ha ha 😂

[sgrplumditz]

Orange peel theory w/ Simon Riley

They had all been granted time off work for a couple weeks now. Being left uninterrupted by her typical life of briefings, debriefings, flights across the globe, and long days away from home only added to her restless nature and her seemingly effortless ability to grow bored --like any woman in her 20's would do to kill time she downloaded social media.

"What the fuck is the orange peel theory?" she spoke to herself as she tossed a piece of the mentioned fruit into her mouth. She continued scrolling through what appeared to be an endless supply of videos regarding the topic. Once she had grasped the concept she shut her phone off and only stared at the scraps of orange peel sitting on the table, a small "hm" leaving her lips as she wondered if that mindless social media trend held any real substance.

Can a person truly show how much they care about another by simply peeling an orange for them? Does peeling a fruit display the extent of their affection?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she stood up collecting her trash. "No wonder women today are insane..." she thought to herself as she found herself spiraling into deep thought over a fruit named after its color. The over-scrutinizing coming naturally.

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"Don't request to follow me, killer", said Simon in his typical stoic tone. Simon had always referred to her as “killer”, not because of her career choice, but simply because of the way her eyes sat on her face. When she was on duty she wore a balaclava — similar to Simon’s, but it was more precautionary. She actually had no interest in keeping her identity concealed, but being the only woman on the team meant that she would easily become a target if her identity and gender were to be revealed — hence Simon’s encouragement behind the wearing of a balaclava, which the entire team also agreed would be a good idea. However, when she wore the cloth that hid her features her eyes become even more prominent. The striking color only complimented by the sharp almond shape that seemed to drag at the ends. Because of that Simon then coined the nickname “Killer” for her Killer eyes, which she only accepted as a term of endearment.

“We are not friends, just co-workers". Simon had always been impressively kept to himself in the sense that his private life remained private -- if he truly had one outside of his job. He was good at being a literal ghost. Not many (if any) knew not even the smallest of details — like a hobby, or a favorite color. His name itself was also a privilege to know. She was always curious about him, but she never pushed boundaries on the man. What he revealed to her was what she accepted, a quality that he enjoyed about her, amongst others.

"Aw, c'mon! You let Soap follow you!" she replied with a slight chuckle leaving her mouth. She and Simon were sitting together in the living room of the house that all of Task Force 141 shared. It was convenient, close to the base, and it also meant nobody had to pay rent, but it was empty as of recently. Everyone but her and Simon had taken advantage of the break and decided to travel elsewhere for the remainder of their time off -- leaving only them two in the giant 7-bedroom house.

"He's my friend" he replied still holding the same disinterested tone, yet his body language displayed him to be seemingly intrigued by the conversation. That was one of his best qualities. Simon was not one to initiate an interaction himself unless he felt the need to assert himself, but that did not mean that he was not able to hold a conversation with substance.

"For someone who has social media you're not very social," she muttered as she slumped back on the couch in defeat. Her gaze lazily resting on him.

"Touché" was his only retort. At this point, he had also leaned back in his seat, his hips inching upward as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. How his body reacted to the movement made his abdominal muscles contract -- her eyes resting on the contracting anatomy. He also maintained his gaze on her, and for a second there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes as they softened knowing that he knew exactly how to get under her skin. With him being so quiet meant that he was always observing the others, learning their mannerisms and personalities. She couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear that she was fond of him — especially in the physical category, Simon easily embodies the definition of what it means to be a man. He is tall, muscular, handsome, and his personality was simply the cherry on top of the 6’3” sundae.

"I'm... social..." she reclaimed as she removed herself from her spiraling thoughts of him, her tone slightly defensive. Similarly to Simon, she was a homebody and actively avoided situations that required her to be out of her comfort zone for an extended period of time -- perhaps that is part of the reason why the two got along so well. "I just have.." she attempted to continue, but she was cut off by Simon finishing her predictable answer.

"... a social battery. Yeah, you've mentioned that before, Killer." his eyes narrowing slightly amused at her reply. He chuckled shaking his head and pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his gray sweat pants. He typed into the device’s screen for a few seconds before tossing it to his left side, “Happy?” He chuckled , her phone vibrating as he spoke. She obviously knew the notification was from him, so she didn’t even bother glancing at the device.

“I knew you’d come around. You can never say no to me” she smirked. The pair would often go back a forth with mildly flirtations comments, all of them being light hearted and mostly came from the fact that she was the only woman on the team. The playful banter merely came naturally — at least that is what she assumed. She never took Simon as the type to ever have a genuine interest in a woman due to obvious reasons.

“How could I ever say no to those eyes, Princess?” A teasing tone lingering on his tongue. Princess was the second nickname he had labeled her with. Again, being the only female of the team meant she got some sort of special treatment from everyone else. Soap would help her carry in her groceries — knowing she was more than capable, Price would always brew her some fresh coffee along with his own then place it in the fridge so that by the time she woke up she could easily make an iced coffee without having that watered down taste, and Gaz would often restock her feminine care products for her. Him calling her Princess was the most teasing variation of her nicknames. Although she was well aware of the meaning and the reasoning behind it she could not help but smile whenever he used it. Her full lips parted slightly as a soft grin appeared on them and oddly enough he returned it with a half grin.

He forced himself to stand up before he became completely engulfed in the moment, "I'm gonna make some lunch. Wanna join?" he prompted as he initiated his walk to the kitchen. With a slight nod of her head she also raised herself off the couch and followed closely behind him. God does he always smell good, she thought to herself as they walked.

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She sat on the kitchen island scrolling through her phone as Simon cooked them both lunch. The two had grown to be comfortable around each other, and their kindred personalities only added to their ability to sit in a peaceful silence. The aroma created by the mixing of spices and ingredients only made her stomach growl and rumble. The sound audible to both her and Simon and truthfully she could not wait to eat. She considered having a snack before just to ease her stomach -- before she could even set her phone down Simon had handed her a small bowl of fruit.

Specifically a bowl of oranges — peeled orange slices. She stared at the bowl in awe. Her gaze was unintentionally soft. As she shifted her gaze to him she noticed that he had gone back to cooking their lunch, as if the action itself was natural to him, something he didn’t think twice about doing for her. He had taken notice of her staring which made him quirk an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a piece of orange from the bowl that was sitting on her lap, close to her lower stomach, casually tossing the piece of fruit into his mouth. “I thought you liked oranges” he spoke with the assumption that she was disappointed in the contents of the bowl.

“I do.” she replied softly. He gave her a small wink prior to turning his attention back to their meal. The entire interaction being a sign of pure affection.

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Pic credit:

instagram/tiktok: takeoffurmaskghost

[heavyhitterheaux]

Heart's Desire

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You have the difficult task of telling your parents that you're moving to Atlanta with Jack and Urban and it becomes clear to you the desire to prove to them that you're making the right choice

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader (baby Jack and baby FL)

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The television was on a low volume as you and Jack were laying down in the bedroom with his arms wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest with him stealing kisses from you every few minutes.

It had been a long day of packing up your apartment to anticipate the move to Atlanta since Jack had gotten signed to Generation Now. The goal was for the two of you as well as Urban to move in the next three weeks. Some of your things had already been taken to your apartment in Atlanta in the hopes that you all wouldn't have to move so much at one time. There was just one problem.

The fact that you hadn't told your parents yet and Jack had no idea.

“Babe, you have to show me all your favorite spots once we get to Atlanta. Are you excited?” Jack asked as he looked down at you.

“Yes and I definitely will. Louisville has grown on me but I missed it so much. So I'm happy to be moving back.”

“We'll leave around 6 am or maybe earlier so I guess we can see our parents the day before. What did they say when you told them?”

“Umm, about that….” You started to say and then trailed off.

“What's wrong?” Jack asked as he played with the ends of your curly hair.

“I still haven't told them.” You mumbled into Jack’s chest and he couldn't make out what you had said.

“What was that? You have to speak up, baby.”

“I still haven't told them.” You said louder and Jack looked at you in disbelief.

“BABY! We are literally leaving in a matter of weeks. So, they're just going to come over one day to see our apartment empty and us missing?”

“I know! I know it's bad! But…. I just have a bad feeling.”

“About what? Us moving?” He asked, trying to get more information out of you.

“No, telling them about it. My mom really more so than my dad. I feel like he would be fine with it. She won't be.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I… it's just a feeling that I have. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know that she's not about to take it well.”

“But you need to tell them as soon as possible. You're technically an adult so it's not like they can really tell you no that you can't go and you're married, but they don't know that part yet.”

“And they're definitely not going to find out until we want them to know.” You replied while sitting up.

“Sooo, when are we doing this? Preferably sooner rather than later.” Jack asked as he sat up with you and rubbed your back.

“Tomorrow I guess. Just drop me off and if it goes to shit, I'm walking across the street to Maggie and Brian.”

“I don't think you're giving your mom enough credit.”

“Maybe you're right but we just have to wait and see. I want to be wrong about this whole thing, truly I do. But I don't know.”

“In the meantime, you need to get some sleep. Come here.” Jack said as he opened his arms so you could lay back down on his chest. He reached over to turn off the lamp that was perched on the bedside table while you grabbed the remote to turn off the tv.

“Baby?” You said after a few minutes of you two laying in silence.

“Hmm?”

“Your entire life is about to change.” You answered as you traced his features with your pointer finger.

“Correction. Our entire lives are about to change. You know wherever I go that you're coming with me. We're a package deal and we really are now that we have rings on our fingers.”

“I know I tell you this all the time, but I am so proud of you. I knew all of your hard work was going to pay off. Even when you didn't believe it yourself and at one point wanted to give up.”

“But I knew better because you wouldn't let me.”

“Because I knew how important this was to you and what it would mean when it actually happened.”

“If I'm honest, I'm actually nervous as hell.”

“Why?”

“I just want everything to play out how it's supposed to. I mean you hear stories of the industry and what can happen. If this doesn't work out what the hell am I going to do? I literally won't be able to support the both of us.” Jack confessed as his worries were now coming up to the surface.

“Okay, stop. You're making yourself upset. First off, we're not thinking like that because it will work out. They obviously see how talented you are and see your potential just like I do. It's going to work out and then we can look back and see that there was absolutely nothing for you to worry about. However, if the worst comes to worst and we come back here as long as I'm with you, we're going to make it work.”

“You really love me, huh?” Jack asked as he cuddled you closer to him and leaned down to kiss you.

“More than you could ever imagine. You mean the world to me and I will always be here for you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual.”

“There's just one thing that's going to suck when we do move.”

“What's that, babe?”

“Now we really can't wear our rings. I mean we barely wear them now, but it's going to be close to nonexistent. They have to market you to appeal to a certain audience and are going to push the single narrative.”

“Well they can forget that. You are my top priority and they'll just have to deal with it.”

“I know.” You said while laughing. One thing that Jack didn't play about was you and your well being. Wherever he went, you were going too.

“Okay, last thing and then we really need to go to sleep.”

“What's wrong pookie?”

“I'm going to headline Forecastle.”

“I'll do you one better. One day you're going to be headlining your own festival.”

“You really think so?”

“We've made it this far, right? So what's one more thing?”

It was 11 in the morning when you and Jack were sitting in his car outside your parents house. It was the fact that you had gotten there at 10:30 and still hadn't quite made your way inside. Jack was probably on his fifth pep talk at this point, but he didn't mind if it was going to help you feel better. He planned on dropping you off and coming back whenever he finished what he had to do.

“Baby girl, I'm not trying to rush you but…”

“I know. I'm going.” You said as you were fidgeting.

“Baby, you have said that for the past thirty minutes.” Jack quietly said while looking over at you.

“You're going to throw me to the wolves.”

“Baby, those are your parents that YOU lied to. Not me.”

All you did was sigh before responding to him.

“Promise to get lunch afterwards? If this goes to shit?”

“Of course sweetheart. Anything you want. But, you need to take off your ring. And if it doesn't take me too long, I'll just get pizza and bring it back here.”

You glanced down to see that you had forgotten to take it off before coming here and quickly slipped it off and handed it to Jack for safe keeping.

You sighed and Jack quickly cupped your face in his hands and gave you several kisses after putting your ring in a safe place.

“Whatever happens, it's you and me forever alright?”

You nodded your head as Jack kissed your nose and pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“Okay, here goes.”

Once inside, you were sitting across from your parents and they were waiting for an explanation from you ever since you said that you had something to tell them. When you had first gotten there, you made brownies with your mom as you all sat around the kitchen catching up. An hour and a half had passed and you figured that it was time to get it over with.

“Okay, Lil Bit, where's the fire?” Your dad asked as he laughed and you were looking everywhere but their eyes.

“Umm…”

“Baby girl, what's wrong?” Your mom asked and that was when you blurted it out, ripping off the bandaid.

Because it was either now or never.

“I'm moving back to Atlanta with Jack and Urban is coming with us.”

At that moment, Jack walked in the front door holding three pizzas and stopped in his tracks when he noticed that all eyes were on him and had a feeling that you had just told them.

“Umm, I'll put these in the kitchen.”

Your parents were quiet for a few minutes, but your dad was the first to speak as Jack came back and sat next to you.

“When?”

“In like a few weeks.”

“A heads up more than a few weeks before this was supposed to happen would have been nice.” Your dad told you as he looked confused.

“That's what I told her.” Jack quietly said and you eyed him.

“Wait, what are you two going to do to make money? And where are you going to live?” Your mom asked the both of you.

“I know, but I was nervous to tell you.”

“I already have a job lined up for when we get there. It's at Chick-fil-A.” Jack proudly said, but it didn't look like your parents were pleased.

“And how are both of you supposed to survive off of that? And wait, how did you even get approved for an apartment? Neither of you have credit.”

“Well Aunt Keisha signed for us since she knows the landlord of the apartment building.” You explained, but it looked like your parents were getting more pissed by the second.

“She what!?”

“Well you asked us what our plan was and we told you!”

All Jack did was look back and forth between you and your parents.

“Mom, Jack got signed to Generation Now. This is huge for him and I'm going to be supportive of this.”

“Being there is what got Danielle wrapped up in whatever she was doing and…”

“I'm not her so why compare me? It's not like I'll be there by myself. We have plenty of family there to look out for us.” She would tend to bring up Dani's past but would never go into details so you had no clue what she was referring to.

“That isn't the point, Y/N!”

“Why are you so against this?” You asked her and she took a deep breath before responding.

“Let's be serious for a second. Jack got signed, okay fine. But that does not guarantee anything. Jack, no offense.”

“Um, none taken.” Jack quietly said as he took your hand in order to try to get you to remain calm.

“Your college fund is literally just sitting there.”

“I'm not going! We already talked about this. Why don't you just give it to me so I can be able to pay for things when we move?”

“For you to blow through it and then come back begging for more when things don't work out?”

“Ivy….” Your dad started to say but all she could focus on was what you were telling her.

“Do you not have any confidence in me? That isn't going to happen. I write songs and produce music so it's not like I won't be doing anything.”

“And you know how the music industry is. I just want to protect you! And if it doesn't work out, what's the back up plan?”

“I am now an adult and I can make my own decisions. No matter what you say, I'm doing this. But, I would rather do it with you being supportive of me. And I haven't got a back up plan because this is going to work.”

All your mom did was scoff before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

It was at that moment that tears started to prick the corners of your eyes.

“You don't think we can do this, do you?”

“Hmm. It clearly doesn't matter what I think because your mind is made up, so there's nothing left for me to say. Jack please know that this isn't anything against you.” Your mom said as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, mom? Where are you going?” You asked as you lowkey started to panic.

“Have fun in Atlanta.”

“Mommy, I….”

“Like I said, have fun in Atlanta.”

Once she was out of earshot, your dad made his way over to you and brought you and Jack into a hug.

“Just give her some time. She'll come around. Make sure you two send me the address of the apartment and all the details. I know how important you are to each other so there was no talking you out of this. Even if I don't like the idea very much.”

“She's mad at me.”

“She's not. Reality is hitting her that her youngest is growing up and she doesn't quite know how to process all of it. But whatever you need, we'll give it to you without a second thought. And Jack, you better take care of my baby girl. I know you will, but I still have to threaten you.” Your dad said and let out a small laugh afterwards.

“You know I will and that she's not going to want for anything.”

Your dad nodded his head and when he glanced down at Jack’s left hand, he noticed that he was wearing a wedding band, and simply smiled to himself.

Deep down, he already had a feeling but wasn't going to say anything until you two did and made sure to keep this small observation to himself.

He figured that the two of you had been through enough with everything that had just happened.

Once everything was settled, you, your dad, and Jack sat around the kitchen and ate pizza while explaining your plans about what you two were going to do first when you got settled in Atlanta. Soon, it was around 3 in the afternoon and you two decided to see if Jack’s parents were home and knew that only Maggie's snickerdoodles were probably the only thing that could fix how you were feeling at the moment.

After saying goodbye to your dad, you and Jack went across the street when you saw that Maggie's car was in the driveway and knocked on the door because Jack had mysteriously lost his key again. Once she opened it and saw the look on your face, she moved to the side to let you in and all of you went and sat in the kitchen.

She poured both of you a glass of strawberry lemonade and sat a plate piled high with snickerdoodles in front of you and Jack and you slowly began eating as she asked you what was wrong since neither of you had said anything.

“Why are the two of you looking like that?” She asked, but all you did was stuff another cookie in your mouth as you waited for Jack to answer for the both of you.

“Umm, Y/N's mom isn't really happy with us moving to Atlanta and she's obviously upset by it.” He answered as he went to grab a cookie from the plate. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reaching for it with his left hand and quickly grabbed it and put it under the table and Jack looked at you confused.

“Hmm, she just sounds concerned and her feelings are valid. But it's not like you haven't lived there before.”

“She's not confident that I can make a name for myself.” You quietly said and you mouthed ‘take off your ring’ to Jack and his eyes suddenly went wide.

He slipped it in his pocket before going back to the plate to grab a snickerdoodle and was praying that Maggie hadn't noticed.

“She just wants for your future to be secure is what it sounds like. I know that it probably hurt to hear her say those things but whatever happens, we're all going to support you no matter what.”

“You don't think this is a mistake, do you?”

“I think that sometimes what I want for my children might not be what they desire in their heart to do. My job as a mother includes supporting you, even if I may not like the idea. But good thing that I do. You two are going to be just fine and I know it. I can't hold your hand forever.”

You started to play with the ends of your hair as you thought about what Maggie said and knew that she was probably right. That didn't mean that your feelings still weren't extremely hurt by what was said by your mother, but the best thing to do in the end was to prove her wrong.

Nothing was going to get in your way of making sure Jack became famous and was known all around the world and you wouldn't have to beg your parents for anything.

When the two of you were back in Jack’s car after visiting with Maggie, you let out a sigh before you heard Jack from beside you.

“Do you think she saw the ring?” He asked as he gave it to you to slip it back on his finger and he did the same thing with yours.

“I don't think so. I mean she would have definitely said something if she did.”

“That means I had it on at your parents house too. Fuck!” Jack exclaimed as he laid his head on the steering wheel.

“That wasn't even their focus so don't even worry about it. We have bigger things to deal with babe.” You told him as you rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

“I'm sorry they made you upset. I feel like I pushed you to tell them and now I feel bad about the entire thing.” He told you as he started driving back to your apartment.

“It had to happen sooner or later. And don't feel bad. I shouldn't have waited so long to do it.”

“But now I see why you did.”

“It's all going to work out in the end despite what may have happened.” You told him as you were doing your best to try not to cry.

The person that was always in your corner and was your biggest supporter ever since you could remember basically shot down your dreams and told you that she didn't have an ounce of confidence in you and what you could achieve.

As far as you were concerned nothing else needed to be said between you and your mother. That was the way she felt and you just had to accept it.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” Jack answered as he turned to look at you while the two of you were sitting at a stop light.

“Why wait to leave in three weeks? Let's leave now.”

“Wait, like now now!?” Jack asked as he looked at you in disbelief.

“The sooner, the better so I can get started on proving her wrong.”