#so it was necessary. but now i wanna go back to part time bc my god i cannot keep this up oh my god

[be-good-to-bugs]

bleh im upset i burned myself out from work but alas i had no choice

[rosylix]

flower

짙은 어둠 속에 피어난, 한 송이 꽃처럼 𔓘

after practicing with felix, you try to go back to normal. unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want that for you.

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: two pining idiots, inexperienced reader, fluff! (but make it awkward), slight angst, smut?ish, only one bed trope kinda lol, wet dream (like kinda somno? not really but just in case), 'dude' is used gender neutrally. umm yea! college au

a/n: so i got a bit carried away and added way more plot than necessary here. woops. also made it a college au bc why not! kinda made them nerds sorry lol (they were always nerds.)

so this is the first segment of the final part. aka part 3 but there will be a part 4 [dizzy emoji].. for now i hope you enjoy this bit! 𖹭

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

A week passes, and contrary to your expectations, the two of you actually do go back to normal. At least, Felix seems to have, so even if your brain still feels a little funny around him you follow suit and pretend nothing happened.

Not that it's been easy. Especially when his neck was still covered in those stupid marks you left. Thankfully, he can cover them up pretty well (you know, considering the state you left him in) but it was still irritating as hell; seeing the shape of one just barely peeking out of his hoodie or the way you’d find your eyes instinctively drawn to his neck whenever you saw him throughout the week.

The marks have faded to the point of being barely visible, but they're permanently seared into your brain, along with the memory of him underneath you. But that’s all it is now, a memory. You make sure of it.

And it's fine. Mostly. It’s easy enough to ignore any lingering awkwardness by focusing on more important things. For instance, midterms are coming up, and Felix is losing his mind.

He’s sprawled out on the floor of his room, papers spread out around him and a pout on his lips. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to study all weekend,” he whines, throwing his pencil down in frustration. He’s been studying for hours and he’s already at the ‘pulling his hair out’ phase.

“Yeah…” you agree with a half sympathetic, half amused smile. He always gets like this around exam time. 

He lets his head fall onto the ground in front of him, narrowly avoiding the various papers, pencils, and textbooks littering the floor. "Why do they have to make these fucking tests so hard? It's not like the stuff we're learning is even relevant to anything. Oh my god. I'm gonna fail,” he says, voice muffled from under the carpet.

“You’re being dramatic,” you laugh as you toss the textbook you’d been reading for your own class aside.

Felix groans and (dramatically) turns over on his back. “I am not being dramatic. I’m suffering!” he exclaims, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I am dying. I’m a dead man and you don’t care. You're gonna have to plan my funeral after this.”

You roll your eyes. “Ohh nooo. You have to study over the weekend. It’s the end of the world.”

He peeks out from under his hands to glare at you. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you. You're supposed to be my best friend but you're doing nothing to help. Wow. I’ll haunt you when I'm dead after this.”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. This time, your eyes seem to catch on how his hoodie is pushed up above his waist a little from when he flopped onto the floor, showing a sliver of skin. 

...Seriously? Focus. Think about literally anything else right now.

Shaking your head, you slide off the bed and make your way to him, sitting down and crossing your legs next to his head. “Sit up and I’ll help you study,” you sigh.

"But I don't wannaaaa,” he whines, but he starts to sit up anyway. “I just wanna relax,” he pouts like a child, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes. “Help me procrastinate instead?”

You laugh in disbelief. “You've procrastinated enough. Shouldn't you focus?”

(You haven’t been very focused either, but that's besides the point.)

He shakes his head fervently and slumps against you with a groan. “Nooo. Stop being responsible. Let's take a break.”

You huff, choosing to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he leans against you. “You’re so annoying,” you say, trying to sound frustrated but you can’t help if it comes out a little fondly. “Alright, fine. We have been at it for a while,” you admit.

He pulls back and grins, all too familiar with your inability to deny him when he’s being a big baby like this. It's too effective. It’s actually a little infuriating how good he is at being cute, and how effective it is on you. You cave. Every time. Though, this time he looks particularly pleased with himself.

“See? Even you couldn’t be the responsible one for that long,” he snickers. “I knew you’d give in.”

You groan and look away, as if that will somehow counteract his point. “You're a bad influence.”

He laughs again, shifting backwards before flopping back down to the floor, but this time he lays his head in your lap, smiling up at you. The close proximity has your heart fluttering in your chest and you swear you can feel yourself overheating a little. Why is he like this?

This is normal. It’s normal. Chill.

He grins up at you, oblivious to your internal crisis, and he makes himself more comfortable in your lap, shifting his body a little. "There. See? Isn't this so much better than studying?"

You swallow. The warm weight of his head in your lap, the way he peers up at you through thick lashes, hair falling around him like a halo, some of it falling into his eyes... It's— it's something.

You clear your throat, gently pushing him off, ignoring his little frown as you do so. You stand up and extend your hand down to him and sigh. “Come on. Let's go procrastinate then.”

“Ugh, why—” he starts to protest but you grab his hand and help pull him up anyway. “What are you doing? I was comfy,” he pouts.

You give him a sly look. “So, you don't wanna make cookies with me?”

You have to resist the urge to laugh at the look on his face. “Wait, really?” He perks up instantly, eyes glowing.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” you smile.

He bounces on his feet. “Yes! Can we make the ones with the white chocolate chips? The store finally had them when I checked last time.”

You make a face of mock disgust as he starts pulling you towards the door. “No, we are not making the ones with white chocolate chips. They're atrocious.”

“What?!” he gasps, acting scandalized. “Fuck you. They're good!”

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls you into the kitchen. He’s still holding onto your hand. It should be normal, but since when has anything felt normal these past few days?

“White chocolate chips are fine! I don’t get why you don’t like them,” he continues with a pout, finally letting go of your hand to rummage through the kitchen cabinets.

“They're not even chocolate, Felix,” you point out, watching in amusement as he struggles to reach the top shelf.

“Okay? I'm failing to see your point," he replies, making a little noise of triumph when he finally reaches whatever he’s looking for.

You just shake your head. “Yeah, whatever…” You help him set some things on the counter before sighing. “You're so lucky your dorm has a kitchen. If I had one I swear I'd be baking stuff like every single day.”

“I guess I am lucky.” He laughs, grabbing the mixing bowl from the corner cabinet and placing it on the counter. “Isn't there a shared one for your floor or something?”

“Yeah, but it's…” you shudder.

“Ah. Yeah…” He pauses, pondering something, before raising an eyebrow. “So that's why you come over so much? For the kitchen?”

“Duh.”

"I knew it… You’re only using me for free oven access?” he teases. "I’m wounded.” He drapes his hand over his forehead in a dramatic flourish and slumps against the counter.

“Yep, you caught me,” you laugh. “You and Hannie keep it somewhat clean at least.”

“My own best friend… The betrayal…” he tries to pout but ends up giggling. Then, he seems to think of something and claps his hands excitedly. “You should move in with me!”

Whoa. “W-What?”

“You know how Jisung is always over at Minho's? He's gonna officially move in next year,” Felix explains. “Like, I'm happy for them but Sung's ditching me? What happened to the bro code? But, anyway,” he laughs. “There'll be an empty bedroom. You should totally take it!”

You blink at him, brain short-circuiting for a second. "You— you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he says casually, like he didn’t just propose something so life-altering. "It’ll be like a sleepover every night!” he exclaims, grinning widely.

You can’t help the way your heart thuds a little faster in your chest, a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Living together? With Felix?

The idea is tempting. Like, incredibly so. Your own place is small, the communal kitchen area is… horrific, and your roommate tends to ignore your existence. It's a bit less than ideal.

But… you know there's a big risk of things becoming very awkward very quickly. It sounds like a dream, and at the same time, it’s a recipe for disaster. Spending that much time together could either bring you closer or push you apart. And with your recent… weirdness.. about him… you’re not sure which one is worse.

You must be silent for too long because Felix glances at you and looks a little unsure, like he suddenly regrets saying it. “I mean— you don’t have to, of course! It was just an idea. I’m sure you’re comfortable in your place and all. I didn’t mean to, like, push that on you—”

You cut him off before he can go too far. “No! No, it’s—” you shake your head, trying to choose your words carefully. “I… I'll think about it.”

He looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that response. He lets out a breath, relief and a tentative excitement evident on his face. 

“Okay,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking into a big smile. “Uh, yeah, of course. No pressure,” he continues. “But, y'know, I'd be way happier to have you than some random new person. You practically live here already anyway. I think it'd be fun.”

Or it could ruin everything. But when Felix smiles at you, a hopeful look in his eyes… you can't bring yourself to shut down the idea completely.

“Yeah. It might be fun,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He grins, and a wave of excitement suddenly washes back over him. "We can bake all the time, and play games, and watch movies— Oh my god, it would be so fucking awesome.”

You laugh at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," you tap his head with a mixing spoon. “Shut up and grab the sugar. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yessir.”

—

You end up splitting the cookie dough and making half with normal chocolate chips and half with the ugly white sugar chips. They turned out better than they had any right to be, considering you and Felix goofed off a bit too much while making them. (Even the white chocolate ones are pretty good). The two of you munch on them as you return to studying. Felix doesn't argue, content having taken a long break and sugar in his system.

You work in comfortable silence, listening to the soft pitter patter of rain until the sun starts to set. With a yawn, you shut your laptop in front of you.

"I think I'm done for today," you say, standing up and stretching.

Felix glances up from his spot on the floor, chin in his hand, surrounded by a mess of books and papers. "Really?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

He sighs, leaning back and stretching. "I still have so much left to go through," he complains, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"That's your own fault for playing games all week instead of studying," you laugh softly.

He pouts at you. "I know, I know." Then he groans and falls backwards on the floor, throwing his arms over his face. "Man, I'm tired. I'm done too."

You giggle at the sight of him splayed out on the floor. “Alright, cool. I should be heading out anyway,” you say, starting to gather your things. Then, as if on cue, a loud rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Oh shit. You both glance at each other, then towards the window, where the rain you thought would have passed by now is quickly developing into a full-on storm. Great. The universe must be out to get you.

Felix gets up from the floor and walks to the window. "Damn, can you even go home in this? It looks pretty bad out there.”

You join him at the window and peer outside. The rain is coming down harder, droplets hitting against the windowpane incessantly. You grimace. Well, it's not that bad, but it still isn't something you'd like to walk through.

Oh well. You sigh. “It's.. it's alright. Could I borrow an umbrella?”

He doesn’t answer right away, continuing to peer out the window. A frown spreads across his face before he speaks. “Of course, but… are you sure? You can stay the night if you want.”

“Uh—”

Well… normally, you wouldn't mind. You've slept over tons of times before. But this time feels different, and suddenly the thought of staying is a bit nerve-wracking. 

"A little rain won't kill me,” you settle on saying. 

Felix glances back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looks like he's about to say something, but another crash of thunder interrupts him.

He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning against the frame of the window. It's undeniably attractive. “A little rain? I can't let you walk home in this, are you crazy? It's dangerous.”

“But—” you start to protest.

"Nope,” he cuts in. “You’re not risking it. It's getting dark too,” he points out. He looks outside, then back at your face, sighing. His face softens. “...Okay. If you really want to go, at least let me walk you.”

“You don't have to walk me, Felix.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Who knows what could happen to you? You could get struck by lightning! Or…” He gives you a once over. “You could, like, slip and bleed out in a puddle or something. Or die of hypothermia or some fucking thing. I don't know!” He throws his hands up.

You let out a breathless laugh. You don’t want to argue with him, but staying the night is definitely making you anxious to think about. You don't want to trouble him with walking back and forth in that weather either, but Felix seems stubborn on the matter. What's worse, the look on his face has you worrying he might think you're trying to get away from him or something.

(Which isn't… wrong. But Felix would misunderstand. It's not because you don't like him. It's…)

You exhale, looking outside one more time. With the rain getting worse by the minute, staying the night seems like the only reasonable choice. 

Felix taps his foot impatiently, observing the growing storm. “So?”

“Okay, fine. I'll stay… You're right, it's getting pretty bad out there," you concede.

He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, suddenly looking a bit unsure. He studies your face and you almost want to hide at how intently he's staring. Why, why is he staring like that? Like he can see right through you. Didn't you just say what he wanted? Did he change his mind about letting you stay?

But, the moment passes before you can do anything and he looks away. "Thank god,” he huffs. “I was really fighting off the mental images of your dead body in a ditch.”

You scoff. “I'm not that weak.”

“I know,” he says with a soft smile. Then he smirks, glancing back at you. "You're not weak. Just clumsy.” 

You shove him in response and he laughs, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The tension from earlier dissolves a bit and you can finally breathe again; the air starts to feel less awkward, comfortable.

“So,” he says, standing up straight. "Since you're staying, want some clothes to change into? I don’t think you wanna sleep in jeans.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already shuffling through his drawer and handing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants over to you.

You take them gingerly, trying to ignore how your nerves suddenly spike again. "Thanks," you murmur, clutching the soft fabric in your hands.

Maybe he senses something because he keeps his distance, eyes roaming over your face once more, curiosity and something else in his gaze. 

Then, he clears his throat. “You know the bathroom is all yours if you need,” he says, turning back to his mess of papers on the floor. “I'm gonna try to get a little more studying done. Maybe. I'm really fighting the urge to open League right now.” 

"Felix," you raise your eyebrows at him with a laugh, "If I find you mid ranked match in twenty minutes, I'm pouring water on your computer."

He purses his lips. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” you taunt and make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That was good. See? You can banter with him and everything like normal. There's nothing to be weird about. You can be normal about this.

You sigh. Yeah, right. This is so dumb. You’ve stayed over countless times before. You’ve worn his clothes before, shared a bed with him before. It's just Felix.

So why… Why is it so hard to be normal right now?

(You're not so stupid you don't know the answer to that. You're definitely in denial about… something, and you'll gladly stay that way for as long as you can help it. It's easier to not think about it.)

Your head hurts. God. Maybe a shower will clear your mind.

It does. You feel lighter and refreshed when you step out and you quickly change into the clothes Felix gave you; his scent envelopes you as you slip on the shirt and you instantly feel more at ease, comforted. You're good. Everything's cool.

When you step into Felix's bedroom, you find him exactly where you left him, leaning on a pile of pillows on the floor, hunched over a textbook. True to his word, he's trying to study again but he looks like he's seconds away from giving up.

"Hey,” you announce your entrance. “Successfully resisting the clutches of League?” you ask, giggling at the sight of him sprawled on the floor.

“Heyyy,” he drawls, not looking up from his book. “Proud of me? I'm actually studying. Not like I'll ever reach silver no matter how much I fucking—”

His words seem to die in his throat as he finally glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. His eyes widen instantly, scanning up and down your body, lips parted in shock.

"That's, um, um. That's—” he stutters, tongue tied all of a sudden. 

You frown a bit at his reaction, feeling self-conscious. Is your hair too flat? Are the clothes not right? You adjust the falling neckline of the shirt before taking a seat on the floor, trying to ignore the way he's still staring.

You swear you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and he quickly looks away as you sit next to him.

“...What?” you ask, trying not to assume the worst.

“You— uh, the,” he gestures to your outfit vaguely. “It fits, uh— better? Than it used to? Yeah. Looks nice.”

He sounds a bit strangled and now you're definitely convinced you look strange.

“Um, thanks…" you mutter, trying not to show how thrown off his reaction has you feeling. You toy with the hem of the soft material self-consciously. Obviously they don't fit properly, they’re Felix’s clothes after all. You’ve borrowed them before, why is he suddenly being so weird?

Felix fidgets with the corner of his textbook, avoiding eye contact as if the words on the pages are suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, anyway. I'm pretty much done. Was just waiting for you.” He closes the book and finally lifts his eyes to meet your gaze and he has a strange, shy smile plastered on his face. You open your mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he starts speaking again, barely giving you a moment to get a word in.

“I— Dude, I'm like— I'm honestly gonna fail this class,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Like, I'm actually just not built for academia. I’m gonna drop out and then start working at the… fucking convenience store or something.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or, y'know, I'll start streaming. That seems pretty nice. I could be, like, a huge streamer guy. Tons of people will watch. I'll be famous. You could be my manager.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the sudden topic change. 

“Uh, First of all,” you say, gently knocking his knee with your own, “You're smart as hell. You'll graduate just fine. Second, I highly doubt many people would suddenly start watching some nerd’s League streams.”

He whines and gives you a pouty look. “Why not?? I’m funny, I’d be great,” he protests, sitting up with a huff.

“Yeah, right. I’d be managing a streamer who can’t even get to gold rank. Embarrassing.”

He scoffs, acting offended. “Hey! I didn’t say I'd make League streams. I could be a variety streamer, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? So you can stream how fast you lose at every game?” you say, grinning at his sulky expression. You understand him, the way he teases you all the time. It's fun when you're not on the receiving end. 

He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Wow,” he deadpans. “Can’t believe you're attacking me like this in my time of despair.”

You grin a bit and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop being dramatic, you know I’m right. You need to get better if you want to start your streaming career.”

“Dude. I could get to gold if I wanted to. I just... choose not to. Bronze is a good rank, y’know. It’s like, the vibe.” The pout returns on his face. “Plus, my viewers wouldn’t care about that. They’ll be there for my personality.”

You arch a brow. “Your personality.”

“Yeah, my personality! Shut up. If League doesn't work, I could play like, Call of Duty, or… or like, Animal Crossing! Hey, I can't lose at Animal Crossing now, can I?”

“You might be onto something,” you muse.

“No…” he groans. “It’s never gonna happen. My dreams of becoming a famous streamer have to die because of… stupid calculus and… all these boring things.”

He drops his head on your shoulder, pouting at the thought of having to spend more time studying. You laugh and reach a hand up to pat his head, playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

"It's not that bad. You'll get through this," you say, trying to console him. "But seriously,” you continue, “I can’t believe you play so much League but never got past bronze. What are you even doing?”

He whines and buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about “bad teammates”.

The contact is familiar and comforting. He gets clingy like this often, especially when he's tired. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, its steady rhythm sending tingles down your spine. His hair is soft under your fingertips. And you are so, so normal. 

“Have you ever considered… that maybe you… are the bad teammate?” you can't help but tease.

“Heyyy,” he whines again, lifting his head to look at you with an offended expression.

You giggle at the sight of his disgruntled face and it seems to only make him sulk more, the pout on his face growing deeper. Cute.

“After all we've been through…” he breathes out. “After I’ve trusted you with my life. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own best friend… the absolute backstabbing…”

He's ridiculous. "You might wanna think of some new material, Mr. Variety Streamer,” you laugh. “The theatrics are getting a little old.”

He continues to pout, his gaze fixed on you. He’s so close, face just a few inches away from yours, and your heart jumps at the realization. Or maybe it jumps because of the way he’s looking at you; scrutinizing your face intently, his eyes flitting across your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. You shift around nervously. Something's off about how he's looking at you. You thought you’d seen a flash of… well, you don’t know what it was. But it makes you feel…

Warm and fluttering in your stomach, but in the worst, most uncomfortable way. You hate the way your body reacts so vividly to literally nothing. You really, really hate it.

Luckily (or unfortunately?), a particularly loud rumble of thunder echoes outside and he jumps.

He instantly leans away, as if he just realized himself how close you were. “Sorry, I— Geez, this weather sucks,” he complains, glancing toward the window. The storm outside is still raging, rain pelting against the window mercilessly.

“Yeah,” you say dumbly, feeling cold now that Felix has pulled away.

You push down the thoughts of how badly you want him to lean on you again, or how you wish he could hold you like he usually does. It’s easier to ignore whatever you’re feeling while he’s busy being all silly and clingy.

This is stupid. It's just so… frustrating, and you have no idea what to make of any of the thoughts that are running through your mind.

There’s a pause as he continues watching the rain outside, eyes following the raindrops dancing down the window panes. You try to study his expression; it’s pensive, almost contemplative, much like the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Are you tired?” he finally asks.

You blink. “Uh.” You realize that you are actually pretty tired. “Yeah, a little.”

The admission makes you yawn and Felix smiles in return, his expression softening. 

He pushes himself off the floor and looks at you for a moment, like he's about to say something — and then he doesn’t. Instead, he offers a hand to help you off the ground.

“Come on,” he says, hand extended. “We should get to sleep before the electricity inevitably goes out.”

You let him pull you up and he lets go of your hand quickly as he motions for you to get on the bed.

“I’ll go and— um,” he stumbles over his words, taking a few steps back. “I'll go shower real quick and then we can, uh… sleep.” 

He disappears before you can say anything and leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling more tense and awkward than earlier.

You release a long breath. Okay. Okay, everything's fine. Just the two of you, sleeping in the same bed. No big deal. That’s happened plenty of times before. You try to steady your breathing as you sit there on his bed, surrounded by his pillows, his blankets, his scent.

You run a hand through your hair and scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself. It’s going to be a long night.

When the door opens ten minutes later, you look up. Felix's hair is damp and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt with sweatpants, the material hanging low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the shower. He looks so soft and effortlessly pretty, you kind of want to scream.

“Hey,” he whispers as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, “You good?”

You nod, throat suddenly dry.

He clears his throat and walks towards the bed, standing there quietly. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute and you start to wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are, or if you’re overthinking everything and he’s fine.

“Well, let’s head to sleep then.” He breaks his gaze from the floor and turns to look at you again, a hint of worry on his face. “Uh, you can take the bed tonight, alright? I’ll just sleep on the floor or something.”

“What— Why?” you exclaim.

“I—” he blinks, taken aback, as if he didn't expect you to ask that. “I don't know? If, I mean, if you... like…” he trails off, looking away again. “The floor doesn't look that bad.”

It does. The cold, worn floor does look that bad. You must look worse. You're not an idiot, you can read in between the lines. He's uncomfortable sleeping next to you.

There’s no other reason for him to not want to sleep in the same bed as you. You've shared this bed with him countless times before. If he's not comfortable with you now…

Your mind is racing. Even if your awkwardness is because of your unbidden… lunacy towards him… he explicitly told you he doesn't see you like that. As much as you've been trying to repress everything and act normal like he's been… it hasn't worked. This is decidedly not normal.

There's a tense silence as you try to figure out what to say. The knot in your stomach tightens with every passing second and you try to push down the hurt that’s threatening to surface. You're making him uncomfortable. If you could just be normal about all this— Fuck. It's all your fault. 

"Shut up," you finally manage to mutter, starting to shuffle off the bed. “It's your bed. I'll take the floor."

“What— No, hey, stop—” he protests quickly, stepping forward to grab your arm. “Don’t— I couldn't let you do that. It's not— no.” he sputters.

You meet his eyes in confusion. He still has a grip on you, fingers warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says firmly, voice a bit lower than usual. “That's stupid. I just thought, maybe…” his grip on your arm tightens the tiniest bit.

“...What?” you ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, releasing your arm with a sigh.

You look at him, really look at him, the way his eyes won't meet yours, shoulders slumped, fingers tapping his thigh nervously. “Just,” you sigh. “You said it's stupid if I sleep there. Same for you. Just come here.”

He looks at you once more, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hopefully sounding more confident than you feel.

Your heart is pounding. You’re trying your best to ignore the tension in the room and act like everything’s fine. Like spending the night sleeping with your best friend when he clearly doesn’t want you to be close to him anymore isn’t breaking your heart. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you finally get under the blankets and lay on your side with your back towards him. 

Felix hesitantly climbs into bed next to you, keeping a fair distance. He doesn’t say anything at first. You think he’s just going to sleep and you’re both going to ignore whatever that was about. Cool, you can do that. You're great at doing that. Then, he huffs. 

"I’m so fucking tired," he mumbles as he shifts beside you and you hum in agreement.

“Yeah, now imagine sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Um… sorry for being weird.”

You don't know what to say to that. “...You’re always weird,” you manage quietly.

He lets out a low chuckle and you feel some of the tension leave your body. It’s a familiar banter, one you’ve done with him for ages, so you grasp onto it, desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says seriously. “I’m kind of an idiot, you know.” 

“...Yeah, I know.”

“I— wow,” he laughs softly. “Chat, what did I do to deserve this?”

You mirror his laugh and turn on your back to face him. 

His hair has gotten longer. The messy locks are fanned around his head on the pillow. His eyes are wide underneath his bangs, studying your face with an expression you can’t quite pin down. 

He’s so pretty. You wonder how you ever thought you could act normal after everything that's happened.

“Is the chat in the room with us?” you ask around a smirk, and pray your voice doesn't sound too breathless.

He snorts and you swear you can almost see the pout on his face. Yeah, he’s fine. He’s back to his regular self. You should be, too. 

“Shut up,” he pokes your shoulder weakly. 

Your heart does something stupid in your chest at the contact and you press your face further into the pillow to hide the flush that’s undoubtedly on your face right now. 

A few moments pass in silence and you close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and end this mess of a night. You don’t know how much time passes. Felix is silent and you feel yourself drifting off, sleep tugging at your consciousness, when you hear him whispering in the dark.

“Hey,” he says your name quietly. “You awake?”

You hum in response and reluctantly blink your eyes open. His face swims into view and you realize he's closer than before. Now only a few inches separate you from him.

“Sorry… um, I'm cold. Can… can I...?” He hesitates, leaving the question unfinished as his eyes search your face.

His breath ghosts your cheek and you freeze, trying to keep your breathing even as your body stiffens.

“Yeah,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

A flash of relief fills his face before he moves even closer to you. He lays next to you, resting his head on your collarbone and draping one arm over your waist carefully. You hold your breath.

“Is this alright?” he mumbles.

You’re not sure if you can speak without sounding like a goddamn idiot, so you just nod in reply.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Felix being Felix: the most physically clingy person on Earth. Also your best friend who you definitely do not have untoward feelings for.

That would be really, really bad.

Especially in a situation like this, where Felix’s nose is pressed in your neck, and his arm is around your waist, his leg tangled with yours at some point and his hair is tickling your chin. He’s everywhere. It's entirely overwhelming.

And he's so warm. You didn't even realize you were cold until he pressed against you. Warmth seeps deep into your bones as he sighs and pulls your body further against his. It's cozy and familiar and you try to focus on the comfort of the action instead of the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments as he settles against you and you try to relax, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to even out beside you, signaling he’s fallen asleep.

Instead, he shifts and you feel his lips brush against your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. Oh.

“Hey,” he murmurs in that low, low voice of his that only really comes out when he's sleepy. “Hey, I… um.” 

You can feel the vibrations from his voice against your neck as he speaks. Oh. You’ve definitely thought about this in a much different context before.

He’s silent for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. But he just sighs, pulling his head away slightly. “Nevermind… Um, good night.”

“Night,” you manage weakly.

It’s silent again. The only sounds that fill the room are the incessant beating of raindrops against the windows and Felix's soft breathing by your ear, drowning out the occasional faint rumble of thunder.

—

You wake to the sound of groaning.

Unsticking your eyelids, you attempt to get a look at your surroundings. It’s still dark, but the room slowly comes into focus as you blink slowly, trying to discern what woke you up. 

The first thing you notice is that it's warm. Hot, even. The air is thick and heavy in your lungs and there's a warm weight pressed against you.

It takes a few moments before you become aware of your current predicament — Right, you're at Felix's place, sleeping in his bed. His body is completely pressed against yours, his chest to your back, his head nuzzled in the nook of your neck. You’re practically spooning. There’s a leg thrown over yours and an arm wrapped snugly around your middle, making it virtually impossible to move.

And — it's not that unusual. It's not far off from the position you fell asleep in and Felix's clinginess is really quite endearing, even if your fragile heart can't handle it anymore. No, what's unusual are the sounds coming from him.

He’s making small noises as he fidgets against you, like he's in pain. He's probably having a bad dream. You start to turn over in order to wake him up, but his grip on you tightens and his breath hitches and—

You freeze.

That was definitely not the sound of someone having a nightmare. 

It was more like… like… Quiet, soft, and breathless; little sounds caught in his throat that spill into your ear.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his body is moving — restless, shifting against you. His hips moving minutely. It takes your sleepy mind a second to put it all together.

Holy… Holy shit. Is he…?

You're suddenly very awake, fogginess replaced by a white hot rush of panic and disbelief.

He’s— Oh no.

Felix is asleep. He's definitely sleeping but— He must be… having some sort of… dream and… What the fuck are you supposed to do? Wake him up? Absolutely not. You literally— You'd rather die than face him like this. Not to mention how mortifying it would be for both of you. You would actually rather choose death.

He twitches slightly, his hips pushing up against your body. A low groan leaves him as he pulls you closer, completely against his body now, the thin material of his clothes doing nothing to hide his—

You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my god you are going to die right now. You're seriously going to pass away for real this time. This— this is—

“Mmmn…” he moans, low and needy and right by your ear and wow, that’s… wow.

You have to be dreaming… this is just some very fucked up dream, the sane part of you implores. The rest of you is ignited in flames. 

It's not a dream.

Another little sound slips out and he presses even closer to you, his body flush against yours, like he’s trying to get as much contact as possible. His hips move against yours with a subtle roll and you feel shameful sparks of heat pooling in your gut.

This is so bad. This is so, so bad, fuck. Fuck.

He’s grinding against you in tiny movements, little gasps and moans escaping out of his mouth every few seconds and your entire body is burning. His arm is tight around your waist, his whole body pressed flush against your back. You don’t even dare to breathe as he rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, his nose nuzzling your neck as he lets out a soft whine. It takes everything you have to keep your own whimper at bay, suddenly desperate to grind back against him but— Christ. Are you insane?

You’re frozen. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to be feeling this, you really should wake him up, this is so wrong, yet you’re still frozen like an idiot. You can't think. Your brain is made of cherry slushy. The heat death of the universe is imminent. 

Your mind is completely blank but your body is overstimulated and you’re just trying your best to figure out how not to die in this situation. Not easy when Felix is moaning into your neck and it sounds so good and he’s shifting and his body is impossibly warm and he’s—

His breath stutters abruptly in the midst of a long moan and he goes completely still around you. All you hear is heavy breathing for a few moments.

Shit, shit, shit. Is he awake? You're caught between relief and something like disappointment but aren't left enough time to dwell on that thought before you hear a shaky whispered, “F-Fuck.”

You hold your breath. 

Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, body buzzing with tension, but you do your best to stay completely still. The air is so thick. You almost can’t believe what just happened, but the evidence is pressing into your back as Felix lets out another quiet swear.

His grip on you tenses for a moment before releasing you entirely. He untangles himself from you and pulls his body away from yours so suddenly that you nearly think you hallucinated the whole thing. 

His breathing is ragged and you don’t dare move a muscle. You keep your back resolutely facing him, try to relax, and you are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You repeat it like a mantra. 

You don’t know if he believes your act, your eyes pressed shut, as you try to keep your breaths even and slow.

The sheets rustle a bit. You stay motionless, heart pounding in your ears. He’s sitting up now, you can feel the weight shifting beside you. It’s completely silent for a few seconds before he whispers your name in question.

You are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You pray he believes it.

“...Thank god,” he breathes. You hear more rustling, sheets moving, and he's getting up.

Only when you hear the door shut do you allow yourself to breathe, wondering how the hell you made it out of that situation alive. What the fuck. 

Like, what the fuck.

You stare at the wall in shock, eyes wide and heart hammering hard in your chest.

He doesn’t know you were awake. You’re alive. You survived.

You bury your face in the pillow and try to collect yourself, shaking slightly in the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened. The heat of his body is still surrounding you, his presence lingering on your skin and you can’t help the traitorous part of your brain that wishes for him to crawl back into the bed and hold you again. That wishes you were brave enough to do something other than lie there.

You push the thought away with a quiet groan. You can’t think about that. You can’t. You're barely holding onto the last threads of your sanity as it is. 

But you can’t fall back asleep.

Of course you can’t. After what just happened, your brain will probably never be fully operational again. You press your hands to your face and let out a pathetic whine, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment. You're sure this is what a heart attack feels like. It's a wonder you're still breathing. 

This is so much worse than last time, when you got too into practicing. At least that was mutually agreed on and Felix made light of it pretty easily. But this? How are you supposed to act normal after this? That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to know what it feels like to have his body up against yours, to hear him moaning in your ear. And you pretended to be asleep instead of stopping him. So he doesn't even know… It's so wrong on so many levels.

You sigh. Felix doesn't know you were awake, so he doesn't know you know and maybe, maybe you can get away with pretending it didn't happen. You'll have to play it cool, of course. Or even better, you can forget about this entirely, convince yourself it was all a fever dream.

Maybe.

—

a/n: AHHH. so it really wasnt meant to be a cliffhanger here lol but then i ended up splitting it so... sorry. the next (and final for REALL THIS TIME) part will be out very soon! nothing like the 3 month long wait for this (ty SO MUCH for ur patience) andd yeah! i hope this is at least somewhat living up to expectations so far, tysm for reading!!

[hypnoneghoul]

Hey hyp, how's things?

Just thought I'd ask how you feel about swisstom fisting bc I am unwell and need to share 💝

Swiss was very pleased to learn that Phantom being stretchy also means he is stretchy.

This quality of his put together with his raging size kink makes him a perfect candidate for something Swiss wanted to try for a while. He never really told Phantom what it was about, but he discussed the idea in as explicit detail as possible without really revealing it and acquired the quintessence ghoul’s consent.

And the truth is that Phantom absolutely does not care what gets put inside him, only that it is big enough.

Swiss’ fist most certainly is big enough.

“More, Swiss, more,” Phantom begs into the pillow, arching his back even further. He’s face down, ass up, just how Swiss likes it.

He likes to watch from up close.

The multi ghoul hums in acknowledgement and obliges, sliding a fourth finger into his tight hole. Phantom shudders as he’s filled some more; though it is still not enough.

They haven’t been at it for long considering Swiss already has most of his hand buried in the slight ghoul’s ass, but that’s the point. The prep is a necessary evil so as not to cause actual damage; they’d skip it entirely if they could. Maybe someday they will.

Phantom wants to feel the stretch and Swiss want to see his pink hole get puffy.

It’s nasty.

“You’re sucking me in, bug,” the multi ghoul rumbles behind him as he palms at his cock with his free hand. “You and your little hole are so greedy, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Phantom moans, drooling more onto the pillow he’s got his face shoved into. “I need–I need more…need all of it, want to be–wanna be so full.”

“Oh, you will be,” Swiss laughs cruelly. “You will be.”

The quintessence ghoul lets out a dry sob as Swiss rubs a thumb over his stretched rim. It’s pulled so taut, the delicate skin around looks like it could rip at any second. It’s an addicting sight.

“Swiss, please,” he cries out, “put it in, put it all in.”

“Patience, bug,” the multi ghoul sighs, but he doesn’t have much of it himself. He wants to shove his hand into him up to his fucking elbow and he wants it now. Only his love for Phantom is keeping him back from going for it with no regard to his safety.

Still, he deems it safe enough to work his thumb in alongside the rest of his fingers. Even despite all the lube he’s spilled over his hand already, he spits on Phantom’s ass for good measure and spreads it around, twisting his hand to stretch him some more.

The quintessence ghoul whimpers and whines, tail swishing wildly in the air—nearly smacking the other in the face multiple times—and Swiss finally pushes his thumb into him.

Phantom’s breath hitches as he’s being stretched even more and he can’t even imagine how gloriously it will feel once it’s all in. He can’t wait.

Swiss swears under his breath, hypnotized by what his packmate’s body is capable of. What he is capable of. It’s amazing and he needs to see what else he can do, right now.

The multi ghoul doesn’t even blink as he crowds his fingers close together and presses in. He’s pushing and pushing and the widest part of his hand disappears, then the bones of his wrist and before he knows it half of his forearm is inside Phantom.

He can’t breathe and it’s not him that’s stuffed full.

“Oh, Lucifer, fuck, that’s–fuck, you’re amazing, bug, oh my lord…” Swiss babbles in awe. His hand is squeezed so tight by Phantom’s hot, velvety insides and he can’t help but wiggle his fingers to really feel it.

“Swiss, I–I’m–”

“You good?” concern breaks through his horny haze.

“Yes,” the quintessence ghoul moans wantonly, “more.”

Swiss swallows the spit that’s pooled in his mouth and curls his fingers into a fist inside him. Phantom cries out in pleasure and the multi ghoul can only assume how good it feels; maybe they should switch places next time.

He squeezes and releases his fist, flexing his arm and he drools from his open mouth and down his chin as he watches the muscles under his skin twitch and spread Phantom’s ass even further. He’s going to gape so wide; Swiss can’t wait to play with it.

The quintessence ghoul, too, seems impatient, “C’mon now, Swiss. Fuck me with it, wanna–I wanna feel it in my throat.”

Swiss obeys.

[otogariado]

only halfway thru the new frieren episode i was almost tearing up because the theme of protecting each other and caring about life more importantly than winning is so poignant. not all the characters are human in species but once again the humanity is blossoming in frieren's story. i was so afraid they'd actually get killed last ep but i mean it's so funny now what was i even thinking. this is frieren. they won't kill unless it was really necessary.

the reveal that richter raised the platform not to make his fight with lawline and kanne easier but actually to protect them from denken's attacks was so good. the "magic is nothing if you cannot imagine it" line is so wonderful because i'm a big fan of magic systems that revolve around that logical "science-y" aspect of like. understanding how it will work in order to do it. (same reason why i love the magic in "world's greatest assassin".) laufen getting caught by frieren even though she knows it's a trap just bc she didn't want denken to get hurt was also so good. the reveal that denken didn't have a grander motive to be a first class mage beyond "i wanna go back to my hometown and visit the cementary there but only first class mages are allowed to enter" was so painfully human and so reflective of real life. it also strikes you because he was introduced as a high-profile, politically influential mage.

i love what denken says about not going out without a fight. i love that the episode ends in a fistfight for him. i love it when media uses fistfights and punching in such an emotionally-charged human way, beyond the violence, instead depicting it as some sort of catharsis really. because sometimes all you need is a good rough n tumble. in denken's case, it's his way of not giving up without a fight. i like that. i also like that this was foreshadowed by denken telling laufen to cut the tree down instead of trying to cut the restraint. "we don't have any mana" "neither do they". sometimes all it takes is to find a differently way to approach your problems and sometimes the solution is simpler than you think.

i'm a big fan of frieren breaking the barrier because she thought it was unfair to cut kanna (and by extension lawline) out of her source of magic, giving her an unfair disadvantage and honestly a handicap. it's a short part of the episode but it's so important, because it shows that if people are given the right tools and the accessibility, they can do for themselves what they want and need to do. i love that frieren is like "can you imagine winning against a water manipulating mage with water around? i can't."

i'm a fan of how the "basic" combat and defensive magic are depicted and treated as in this show. yes, people more on from traditions, but traditions are there in the first place. richter's explanation of magic history in their world provides an insight to how modern magic evolved from the foundations. but the foundations were still foundations for a reason. they made it a point with fern saying "frieren doesn't restrict me from spells" (even tho it was the setup for a small joke) that the point isn't to pick a side between tradition vs modern, but rather to learn from both and decide for yourself what you want to apply to yourself. the depiction of fern and frieren winning with traditional magic and richter and kanne overwhelming each other with modern magic makes it clear that the show isn't trying to preach to either side.

i also like the theme of "pursuing magic out for the sake of magic is enough". it's nice to hear that denken shares this mindset with frieren, because again he was introduced as someone influential and you'd think he thinks like he could use magic as a source of power. and that's the impression i got of him too from previous episodes, but a lot of first impressions of mine were proven wrong later and i'm so happy for that bc these characters have so much depth packed into them in so little time.

what else have i missed...

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?” 

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air. 

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?” 

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.” 

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?” 

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting. 

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries. 

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?” 

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.” 

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house. 

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.” 

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between. 

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.” 

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?” 

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how. 

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it. 

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly. 

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch. 

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all. 

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.” 

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.” 

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection. 

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….” 

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space. 

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.” 

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same. 

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start. 

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support. 

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.” 

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation. 

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again. 

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be. 

You’re overwhelmed. 

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise. 

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal  – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not. 

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop. 

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag. 

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring. 

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened. 

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general. 

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd. 

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them. 

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?” 

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.” 

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered. 

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.” 

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle. 

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.” 

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement. 

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone. 

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.” 

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him. 

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to. 

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers.  “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….” 

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.” 

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”  

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?” 

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either. 

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you. 

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin. 

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?” 

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I  don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask. 

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style. 

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.” 

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.” 

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him. 

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable. 

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.” 

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ” 

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.” 

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being. 

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face. 

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.” 

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.” 

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.” 

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.” 

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it. 

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes. 

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” 

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.” 

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself. 

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point. 

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?” 

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside. 

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms. 

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed. 

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever. 

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates. 

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.” 

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning. 

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back. 

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long. 

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that. 

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing. 

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too. 

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little. 

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move. 

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips. 

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after. 

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach. 

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.” 

“We can do this again, right?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired. 

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against. 

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book. 

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.” 

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Are you tired?” you ask. 

“Always,” he says through a yawn. 

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do. 

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you. 

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off. 

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.” 

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like. 

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him. 

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise. 

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

-

-

-

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 34 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | lesson 33 | lesson 35

i might be getting ahead of myself here, but are we lilith ?? like is that what's happening rn ??? he's not saying mc's name, and raphael doesn't day their name in the next scene...if so then that's actually really fucking sad 💀

it makes sense though, belphie not wanting mc to go into his head bc he's still clinging to the past and doesn't want to lose them forever like he lost his little sister forever, especially since human life is so finite compared to that of a demon or an angel or a reaper

also it's obvious by his choice of words that despite him looking older, belphie is very, very young in his mindscape, just like mammon was. i feel like this also shows how close mams and belphie are even if it's not shown much on screen in the game, or at least how much belphie takes after mammon's, if not all of his older brothers traits, for better or worse

well nvm...i still think my theory is valid though. belphie wants to go back to his old life and end up not losing lilith, but still have mc with him

i wonder how similar mammon and belphie's bond in the celestial realm is to their bond in the devildom. is belphie still as reluctant to ask for help and advice openly? is the banter still the same? are there less insults? how does the age gap here cause them to treat each other differently if at all? or the lack of angelic status?

oh i'm gonna cry

big brother mammon will always have my heart and i need more of him

we know belphie's love of stars and constellations and the night sky in general started when he was in the celestial realm, and seeing it manifest in mammon in his mindscape makes my heart happy, even if mammon isn't the reason he became interested in astronomy (was it michael? lucifer? idk i don't remember)

i also think it's very interesting how belphie's brain is actively working against him "wanting to hide from mc". he literally said "i don't want you to see the inside of my mind" and is hiding away from them. i think, in reality and in his mindscape, he's running from the fact that he has to face his feelings about the idea of mc leaving to go to the "human realm" and the possibility of losing them forever like he lost lilith

this was (obviously) not beel speaking, but his inner thoughts in the shape and voice of beel. circling back to belphie having the best and worst traits of his brothers, his insecurity and need for reassurance rivals levi's, and we don't get to see it as blatantly because he masks it way better than levi does

ok so we're here in the timeline...interesting. how much time passed between luci and dia's first meeting and the celestial war? how much time had passed between the celestial war and mc's initial arrival to the devildom? how much had belphie aged?

angels and demons age different than humans do, and belphie doesn't feel any older than like...10 or 11 at the most, but beel seems older than that. maybe its his mind warping things to make himself seem and feel younger, but maybe he really was that young. was lilith even born at this point? how old was belphie during the time of the war ?????

also i'm mad we didn't get to see michael bc i wanna know what he looks like but oh well 🧍🏾

oh baby :((((

i'm not the biggest belphie fan AT ALL, at least canon belphie, but i think it's necessary to acknowledge how his trauma severely affects the way he acts. he went from blaming himself, to blaming an entire race of people for his sister's death. he feels like he should've been the one to die, even if it meant leaving his twin without him

now, if he got a proper redemption arc after lesson 16, THEN we could talk. i think the devs fumbled his character in that regard, but my hcs about his redemption will have to suffice for now

he didn't want mc to see this dark part of himself because he hates that he still has this mindset, that he's trapped in a cycle of "what ifs" and wishing it were him instead of her, constantly ruminating and letting his anger and grief fester without ever dealing with it properly and letting himself heal. he not only thinks he doesn't deserve to heal, but that he doesn't deserve to live long enough to see himself heal, that he doesnt deserve to live at all

WHY ARE YOU BEING DIFFICULT????

i mean i knew this would happen since its only lesson 34 and there's still 6 more to go...but damn

i love and hate the fact that he's so smart. like, they could easily just ask barbatos to send them back to the human realm if it was that serious. he's clearly taken a liking to them. lucifer knows something's up, and he won't forge a pact with them until he gets to the bottom of whatever's going on

initially, i thought it was a spell to bring them back since he'd been the one facilitating the trips into the brothers' mindscapes this whole time, but this is wayyy more interesting

i feel like the barbatoses communicate across timelines, or that their lives intermingle with each others' somehow, so whatever they feel for one person in a specific timeline is felt for ever version of them in every timeline. we know barbatos, at the very least, knows that kayden is an important person in the grand scheme of things, whether it be because of the way diavolo feels about them or because they play a large part in the obey me version of a canon event

if it's more than base level importance, we can assume that there's a level of trust and love that barbatos feels for mc that stretches across time (callback to the login screen's dialogue)

maybe he gave us the piece of the grimoire for a reason outside of belphie's mindscape escapades. what if this is how we gain lucifer's trust? if a demon as powerful as barbatos can give mc a piece of his grimoire, then he should be able to make a pact with them, seeing as they're trustworthy enough to be in cahoots with THE time demon

anyways barbatos is nightbringer and you can't tell me otherwise. unless you think it's michael. then i might hear you out...i'm stuck between thinking either of them is the titular character simply because of the simultaneous lack and abundabce of emphasis on michael's importance

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

[ghost-husbands]

I have Thoughts™.

My perspective of Payneland and Cryland, under the cut because knowing me, this is gonna get long probably.

Before I begin, I wanna leave a little disclaimer and say I am not here with the intention of bashing any ship or any character. I love Charles because he's my favorite and that's that. I love Edwin as well. I think Payneland is fantastic and they really carry the whole show. I love it. I also like Crystal and the struggles she's had, the way she's carried them and survived them. I do have a soft spot for Charles x Crystal. I love them all, just to be clear. Not hear to bash anybody or throw shade...okay let's get to the other stuff.

Okay so I've always been one to pay a LOT of attention to the little details that the writers/directors/actors themselves with acting choices etc put into the portrayal of characters. Whether that's body language or dialogue or whatever.

When I think about what incites me to ship or not ship a pairing, I realize that it's a couple of things.

The chemistry that may or may not be there. It could be a pairing that interacts or does stuff together, and if they get along and it just seems so natural and doable, I can see that. This will usually be me thinking "Oh god, these people are perfect together. Look at the way A is looking at B! It's obvious B is in love with A" or whatever.

The circumstances - They could be two characters that the plot itself is driving together. Maybe star-crossed lovers or A pining for B etc.

And then there's the matter of the emotions/reactions that you can see between said characters. Now this fascinates me.

Taking a look at the Charles/Edwin dynamic and Charles/Crystal. I'm not so much intending to compare the two with the end of saying "this one or this one" when you can say "why not both?" Because frankly I love them both but differently. It's more to look at the relationships and those ideas I mentioned above in respect to these characters.

Charles x Edwin

Historically, they have a LOT more time together, by each other's side for 30+ years after Edwin finds Charles on the brink of death in that attic in 1989. Charles isn't ready to go and refuses to leave Edwin alone. From then on, they never part. As for what happens between their first meeting and when the show begins, I'm not extremely familiar because I haven't read the comics and all I do know is from what I've seen.

You can see that there is deep devotion between the two of them. They will protect each other (even if that's mostly Charles taking the beatings to keep Edwin safe) for sure, that notion is there. Edwin knows he can count on Charles and vice versa. Edwin definitely has feelings that he's struggling with through the season (being honest with himself as to what they are and dealing with the impossibly hard to bear burden of keeping those inside his heart bc he, prior to 1x07, doesn't know how Charles will react to this). Charles, on the other hand, cares very, very much for Edwin and would probably tear the universe apart if that was necessary to make sure that Edwin was alive, safe and sound by the end of the day. I've heard different things, but it seems to me that Charles also has these feelings, but it either didn't occur to him before or he didn't know how to identify or put those into words. That's perhaps why he said 'I can't say that I'm in love with you back' not 'I don't love you' or 'I'm not in love with you'. It was definitely NOT a rejection, I don't think so. Anyway, this is thought spilling for another moment.

A particular detail that hasn't left me alone since I saw it pointed out here...the fact that both Charles and Edwin, when they are embraced by other....BOTH of them, in those separate moments lay a hand over their heart. It affects them, they feel something there in the heart. What that is, I have no idea. I really want to know, and it's a delicious left-to-us-to-think-about sort of thing which in a way is much more fun than simply explaining it away with words. But that is contact (which, mind you, in theory, ghosts don't have) they wouldn't, theoretically feel.

And yet. When Charles hugs Edwin, Edwin afterward lays a hand over his heart and reacts as if something happened there, and I'm pretty sure it did. Same for Charles, when he hugs Edwin after they find out they're staying where they are...he feel something there.

Charles x Crystal

I know that this isn't a common ship (at least not nearly as popular as Payneland) and most will look at it from a perspective of "Not possible, he's a ghost, she's a human being. That's going to fall apart at some point". Some would also probably say that it's not something essentially romantic (that's looking at it and saying that what is there isn't love but could be friendship, other third thing whatever). I just want to look at Charles and Crystal as Charles and Crystal and pick apart the stuff we see.

Charles is compassionate, warm and has a big heart. I saw that from the beginning. He's the one who steps up and to Edwin's chagrin, announces that they'd be taking Crystal in until she's recovered. They go off on a walk and he enjoys it, even laughing when she's essentially mocking him, trying to be "mean".

The alley scene

His compassion really just struck a chord with me because of that moment in the alleyway. Now Edwin is upset (and I think he's right to be. Perhaps not in a shouty way but he's a little bit right) because the rhythm he's accustomed to with Charles has been turned on its head with Crystal's arrival. They have a demon to deal with on top of the cases they're working on, inconvenient stuff happens because of the little human being Charles has taken in, despite Edwin's displeasure. (Edwin is dear to me, and I love him. Not trying to bash him in any way...) So he's upset and he snaps, distinctly unhappy with the unnecessary problems the DBDA is met with because of Crystal. Crystal's patience is worn thin (poor girl had a nasty run in with demonic ex-boyfriend only moments before) and she gets mad. She snaps, and walks off. Charles watches her go, and Edwin makes a comment about how Crystal was yelling at "them" but Charles clarifies that it wasn't "them" as in, she wasn't yelling at Charles so much as Edwin. Anyway, all this is besides the point.

My point is that Charles at that point, follows after and listens, attentively, to Crystal relating how she feels that she can't go back to her home, that without her memories, that's how she feels. He looks pensive, considering what to do. What does he do? He wants to show her something. Tells her they need a mirror.

He shows her his parents, there in the mirror, and basically tells her that he relates. He knows what it's like. It just strikes me that he's being a little bit vulnerable here. We later find just how deep that stuff is inside of him, and we even get a little hint of that when he explains that his dad wasn't a very nice person. But he's showing her that he's listening, he knows what she means to a certain degree and just the act of doing that is reaching out, in a way, that's how I take it. His compassion.

The scene outside Jenny's shop

Crystal is shaken from what's just happened, and can't help but remember David and the toxicity of that relationship. Charles is there for her, and as I've said before, I think it's really interesting what he does next. He's sitting beside her on the curb and he just puts an arm around her. This is a comforting gesture, he knows, for her. Can he feel it? Aside from maybe physical pressure, no, not really. He just does it, for her. He doesn't get anything out of that.

The kisses - (or his attempt and her rejection, and the goodbye kiss)

Another point of interest for me was the kisses. It's established, confirmed in the canon by 1x07, I believe, that ghosts can't actually physically feel stuff like touch, a kiss or anything of that ilk. Earlier we see that when Charles tells Edwin he kissed Crystal. Edwin asks whether or not he felt it, and Charles (and this really is something that's been bouncing in my head) points to his temple, and says "...but I felt it here". Emotions? The emotional impact of it, rather than the physical effect it would have on him. Memory? He remembers what it's like to kiss and considers that, but still can't quite feel it.

Then, there's the moment when Crystal wakes up from that nightmare. (Part of me, not going to lie, thought, Charles would never hurt you...I don't understand how he could end up in a dream like that, confused with David the demon, but Crystal's trying to sort herself out). Charles goes in to talk to her, and the first thing he does is lean in as though to kiss her. Again, he's not gonna get anything out of that. It seemed to me like simple affection he wanted to show her, because we know he damn well won't feel anything. Not really. She pulls away because that nightmare really shook her and she's just not ready to pursue anything. (Which was good writing on the part of the show, it's realistic.) Just caught my attention that that had crossed Charles' mind to do that.

And then, the goodbye kiss.

Now this is more of a question from me. Why?

We see clearly that Charles isn't happy to see her go. He cares about her. She's his friend, he just doesn't want her to leave. Like 'he grabs her bags and holds them out of her reach "Nope you're not going"' doesn't want her to go. To his question of "Why does this feel like a goodbye goodbye and not a 'see you in London' goodbye?" she answers with a kiss. Doesn't say anything, just kisses him.

He looks a little confused, uncertain, trying-to-solve-a-puzzle about it. Which I think was an interesting (but not out of character) response to that, because he wouldn't have been able to feel it. But that begs the question, what exactly is it in his head that he does feel...

My final thoughts: I think Charles and Crystal are cute. According to show canon, no, it just can't happen on a logical level, according to where she is in trying to step back into her life and discover herself, and just the fact that he's a ghost. It wouldn't work. As friends, I think it's something sweet and I also think that the affection there is something real, something that they both need. And the characters as well. Affection, love and understanding are things all human beings need, and it's a lovely thing to see that given and received among all of our loved characters.

In the scope of fanfiction and the free creativity there, I'm open to possibilities because of the existence of AUs, different times, different places.

I certainly don't think that there's anything toxic to this relationship, but that's just me.

If you came to the end of this, bless you. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[bigassbowlingballhead]

so we all know that my dreams are weirdly hyper realistic and plot driven so buckle the fuck up.

number one: everything (like, the rules of reality) was the same as real life except i guess my bf didnt exist (sad but necessary for the plot i suppose). im at thanksgiving at my parents house, which is a weekend long affair. tzp and redacted are married and also there bc they are my friends i guess. im definitely better friends w taylor than redacted but redacted and i get along and like each other. okay. the scene is set.

so, im preparing dinner with my dad and aunts like usual. taylor and redacted have slept in but taylor comes out to help eventually. he is fresh from a shower and wearing a very tight shirt. we talk while i cook and it’s clear that i need to fuck this man like, yesterday. within the dream logic, this is not the first time ive fucked around with him — this is a thing that we do. go me!

so we’re like okay, where can we go, bc i have a one story house and it’s full of family members at thanksgiving. i mean FULL. and redacted is sleeping so we dont wanna bother him, but there is literally nowhere that we can go that a family member wouldnt also be there and see us (damn you, open floor plans!!!) so what else can we do but go outside behind the pool shed, obviously.

now, it IS november in philadelphia, so it’s not WARM, but we’re making it work. i got this man bent over in a tiny corner of backyard, shirt fully off, making him see god. weve got our shoes on and mostly pants except for the important parts. hes not making as much noise as i want him to make (bc duh, we gotta be quiet), but im doing my damnedest to make him squeak, so im touching every inch of him that i can. i remember that i was thinking “i wish i had another hand to grab his hair, bc i already have one hand on his balls and the other on his dick and im not willing to give up on either of those for the sake of making him arch his back.” obviously this was a tough decision by me, but what are you gonna do. also at this point important to mention that i dont actually remember all the details, just flashes of stuff and general vibes. i was definitely like “hurry up and come man, we are on borrowed time here,” but taylor was apparently in no rush no matter how much i played with his dick. also at some point i put my hand on his stomach and could feel his abs and how he was moving every time i did and whew. that was hot.

so TRAGICALLY we were interrupted before the grand finale. i am not pleased but hey, if it’s time for dinner then it’s time for dinner. so i sit next to tzp at dinner and redacted sits on the other side and im TRYING to enjoy my MEAL but those two are definitely doing something under the table. whores.

things get a little weird and dreamscape-y here so i’ll skip most of dinner but the only relevant plot point that came up is i found out about something thats been seriously irritating me at work is happening again and so i was kinda pissed. but anyway.

so after dinner all the cousins decide to get in the pool which is insane to do bc it is NOVEMBER and my parents never even have the pool open at thanksgiving, but it’s my dream so fuck weather patterns in guess. so we’re all in the pool and taylor has clearly still not gotten off and redacted and i are having a good time messing with him, you know how it goes, standard pool shenanigans but nothing too bad bc my parents are RIGHT THERE so. keep it pg. but after we go inside?? oh all bets are OFF.

now here’s where things go bad for me. we go inside and we’re only in our towels and we’re all three looking for a place to fuck and we CANT FIND ONE. it’s only a three bedroom house and all three bedrooms are occupied. for some fucking reason we try my parents room first (which im glad was occupied bc i would not be down to fuck in my parents room, ick), but my little sister and my cousin are in there watching a movie with the little cousins, so thats a big fat no thank you. then we go to my sister’s room which yeah, i wouldnt feel GREAT about fucking in there, but it’s a redacteds threesome on the table and if i have to do it i will. but thats where my uncle and aunt are sleeping and hes in there napping after all the pie so thats another no go. so now im pretty pissed off bc of the work thing and also pls why cant we find a place to just FUCK.

so we go into my old bedroom and im thinking this will be fine, this is where redacted and taylor are sleeping anyway, (why didnt we go there first? whos to say) this will be open and we can get down. but we get in there and two people ive never met before are in the bed. what.

so my family tends to take in a lot of strays around the holidays. if you dont have a place to go for thanksgiving and you know a relative of mine, you are automatically invited to my parents house. theres always like 5-6 unrelated people at dinner just bc my uncle or cousin or whomever showed up and was like “i have extras!” and my mom is always like “dope! come in and eat!” it’s a lovely representation of the welcoming nature of my family and culture and it’s something that i always love to see around the holidays but it is also currently FUCKING ME OVER BC I JUST WANT TO BANG THESE MEN IN PEACE!!!

so im like “excuse me, with all due respect, who the fuck are you.” and the one guy was immediately rude (sir you are in MY BED) and was like “your mom said we could stay here so fuck off.” and im like??? YOU fuck off?? but then another part of me is like “no, your mother raised you better than that, you need to be welcoming to people so they dont feel unwanted.” the thing is that at this moment they are in fact VERY unwanted. so taylor is also pissed and redacted is trying to calm him down but keep in mind that taylor hasnt finished still so hes a bit bitchy. and redacted is like “what if we just went and got a hotel room somewhere,” and im like NO, we are in nothing but our bathing suits, we are all horny and ready to go, this is HAPPENING.

so i go back into my parents room and i ask my cousin hey have you seen my mom and also maybe you guys could watch the movie in the basement bc desperate times call for desperate measures and im not gonna fuck in my parents bed but maybe the floor would be fine. and shes like i think your mom is doing the dishes but why do you need a bedroom all to yourself? and i just gave her a look and i was like come on. why do you think. and she asked “ohh, okay, so wait, where do you see this going with taylor?” and i was like “oh it’s not going anywhere, he’s married to redacted, we just fuck around. it’s great, sometimes redacted joins, sometimes not, but it’s always a good time.” and she was somewhat scandalized and i was like oh right. within the context of my family that would be an objectively insane thing to just drop like that.

so anyway. after that the dream gets all weird and dreamy (there was some plotline with kamala harris i think? i think i worked for her? but she was actually also my irl boss interchangeably? idk). but thats the story of how i fucked taylor at thanksgiving in my subconscious. also i just remembered that while i was fucking him and had my hand on his stomach i could feel the outline of my strap through his abs. have a good day i love you 😘

the outline of your strap though his abs is CRAZY GIA. i love it.

also where'd the strap come from, was it stored behind the pool shed for safe keeping, are you just strapped at all times always ready to bend over a gay man? (me next)

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

new neighbor | joel miller x reader (part 2)

parts: 1 2 3

warnings: none! slight suggestive stuff (its his arms. you look at his arms and trust me, i looked at his arms. ur gonna wanna look at his arms.)

word count: 1.5k

still pre-outbreak! :D this part isn’t THAT necessary but it builds tension for “WHEN ARE THEY GONNA MEET” 

i worked on this for a week (it was a little crazy in a good way) and as long as it is, i am still kind of proud of it! we’ll see if i keep writing for joel in the future (i am hyperfixating on the last of us so hard right now bc im also playing the game)

but for now, i hope you like how this turned out and happy reading! don’t forget to check out my ask box even if its just to chat! :D

joel shuts the door to his truck before locking it, tossing the keys only an inch in the air and catching them in his open palm. he heads for the door, looking up for a second then doing a double take. there they were, the neighbor sarah had been so adamant for him to meet. they had their hands on their hips, back turned to him as they faced a box inside the van. slightly amused (and nosey like his daughter), he leaned against the truck to watch what was about to unfold.

you stare down the box in front of you, squinting at it partly because of the sun and partly out of trying to convince an inanimate object to suddenly grow lighter. this was the last of it’s kind, every other box was light enough for you to knock out and start unpacking; that and the repairman would come by to fix your a.c. with no one to help, though, you didn’t know how to get this box out of here: technically (and you about this for a bit), there was an able-bodied man just across the street and sarah had confirmed that with the scolding she had received the day before. but imagine that, you thought to yourself, he doesn’t even know your first name and you’re already asking for help. so going it alone it is. you step forward, hands on either side of the box to pull it to the edge of the van’s opening. wrapping your arms around it, you take a deep breath and start to take a step back; bad idea. you hadn’t anticipated the weight, stumbling backwards with a short gasp as you prepare to meet concrete. “woah, woah, i got it.”

the weight in your arms is still there, leaving you with your knees bent in an attempt to keep yourself upright. “we’ll carry it over to the door together and i’ll take it the rest of the way. that sound alright?” the slightly strained voice across from you says, making you look up. oh. you meet his dark eyes and nod wordlessly as you tighten your hold on the box. “watch your feet.” he says, taking steps backward to your front door. you try to take in your surroundings like he says but you can’t take your eyes off his arms; does that t-shirt fit him like that all the time or only on the rare chances that he flexes? he suddenly takes the box out of your arms, turning to drop the box onto the floor as gently as possible. “um, thanks. thank you.” you say, clearing your throat as you tear your eyes away from the floor to look him in the eye. it’s quiet between you two; not much else left to say. “um, my name’s joel. i live right over there just across the street.” he outstretches his hand for you to shake and you take it a little too quickly. oh wow. his grip is firm and you can feel the callouses there before he pulls away, leaving your hand to hang in the air uselessly in the air for a few seconds. “i’m y/n. i had a feeling that was you the other day. i met-” “my daughter. yeah, sorry about her, she’s just...excitable is all.” joel says with quiet sigh but you can see the hint of a smile on his face, the flash of affection in his eyes.

“oh she’s no trouble. in fact, i let her know she can come over whenever she likes, but there is work waiting to be done here.” you say with a grin, taking a few steps back to sit on the box joel had just put down; “i’d offer you a seat but i barely have one myself.” you wince. “well, if it’s fine by you, you can come over to my place. sarah’s at school and my brother’s off to work.” “oh, i don’t want to be a bother.” you say as you start to stand: in no time at all, you’re sitting in joel’s kitchen with the pleasant feeling of a.c.

joel chuckles at the sigh of relief you let out when you drop onto a chair conveniently placed next to the air conditioning. “that whole fucking house is an OVEN, good god...” you murmur as you let the cool air hit your face. “now, i’d volunteer to fix it for you, but i don’t think i’d last a damn minute in there without sweating like a pig.” joel says, offering you a beer which you gladly take; without hesitation, you angle the edge of the metal top against the table before slamming your fist down onto the table onto the bottle’s head until the bottle makes a fizzing sound that signals you that it’s open. you smile in satisfaction at the hissing sound it makes before realizing what you did, giving joel a ‘sorry’ look. “oh, don’t act all hurt about it. lord knows how many times me and tommy’ve done that.” he says as he unscrews the metal top with little effort. the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the only sound being the whir of the a.c. or the sound of the glass hitting the table. joel was surprised at himself, not only for really taking the time to walk over to you, but to invite you into his house so soon? tommy would probably get a laugh out of that.

“so what brings you to austin? job?” “oh, no, i’m studying at UT. didn’t really get the chance when i was younger, so no time like the present, huh?” you say, taking a long swig of your drink. “that’s mighty admirable. i...was having sarah around my prime college time, can’t say i wouldn’t do it all over again.” joel says, finger playing with the peeling label on his beer. he looks up when you shrug, meeting your eyes as you rest your chin on your palm. “being a father is admirable. i’m sure she looks up to you.” joel scoffs at that but smiles nonetheless, taking a sip from his drink. it’s strange to him how natural this all feels to him, even the silence is welcome despite how little the two of you know one another. “um, what about you? you an austin native?” “born and raised.” “perfect.” you say with much more enthusiasm than before, both of you sitting a little bit taller now. “i’ve been eating ham sandwiches and maruchan for the past week. my fridge and things like that don’t come for 2 more days so i need some recommendations. got any places i could never go wrong with?” you laugh when joel whistles and sits back, growing visibly more comfortable. “where to begin.” he starts, smiling at the way you shrug and take a sip of your drink.

sarah waves to tommy as he drives off, letting herself into the house. she’s about to announce her arrival before she hears sudden laughter from the kitchen; that didn’t sound like joel. she walks over to the kitchen doorframe, peeking her head in as discreetly as possible. what a scene, indeed. your chair was next to joel’s now, your head tipped back in laughter and your hand on joel’s arm. sarah bit her lip to hide the smile on her face at the (somewhat unusual) sight of a smile on her dad’s lips; of course, his arms remained crossed against his chest. they make hushed conversation, a few sarcastic “oh, really?”s and “yeah?”s leaving them as they talk about something only they know. sarah finally raps her knuckle on the doorframe, making you and joel jump a bit. “christ, um, hey, kiddo. didn’t hear you come in.” joel says after clearing his throat. “sorry. didn’t want to interrupt anything.” sarah says with a shrug as she drops her backpack on one of the empty chairs; she pretended not to notice the way you were trying to distance yourself from joel. “that’s alright. i’ve overstayed my welcome anyhow.” the two of you stand together, joel saying a quick “don’t you worry, i’ll get that” when you try to clear the bottles from the table. “well, i’ll be off then. you guys have a good night and i’ll see you next week, joel.” you say, smiling at the two of them before making your way out of the house.

joel freezes at your last comment as sarah looks at her dad with a growing grin. “what’s next week?” joel drops the bottles into the trash, his back turned to sarah. “none of your business.” “oh, joel. see you next week, JOEL.” sarah says in an exaggerated flirty tone, intertwining her fingers together and propping her chin on her hands. “stop it.” he grumbles but can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “you’re getting soft, old man. doesn’t look good on you.” sarah jokes to which joel simply scoffs. she laughs as she makes her way towards the living room, leaving her dad in the kitchen with his thoughts. he looks up for a second, looking out the kitchen window that lets him see your yard. a small smile tugs at his lips when he sees the lights in the house go out before he finally walks towards the living room.

MY HANDS ARE SO SWEATY FROM TYPING THIS SO FAST WOOOAHHHH

im patting myself on the back bc i managed to write this while simultaneously doing english homework (college is a pain in the butt) so i hope that you all enjoy this! :D

would yall want to see a part 3 to this? let me know in the replies! it would probably be the date to be honest and maybe a little smooch ;D

BUT FOR NOW i hope you all have a good rest of your day/night/afternoon and stay safe! <33

LOVELIES <3 (taglist): @lokilover476 @littleshadow17 @avengersfan25​ @3zae-zae3 @randomisart​ 

[2jam4u]

hi milla! It’s so nice to see you around again, I’m so touched and happy for you that your life is so beautiful 🥹 you give me so much hope. I have the same dream of becoming a therapist, I’m autistic and have a GED because I had a horrific time in school in general as a kid. I’m 30 now and it intimidates me so much to go “back” to college (for the first time) not bc of my age but because it was so difficult the first time with undx autism amongst other things. I’m still undiagnosed officially today, and I always weigh whether or not I want go through with a dx, but my understanding is the only way I can get accommodations is with the official diagnosis. Do you have any words, thoughts, or advice for an autistic girlboy on a similar path to you? Thank you just for reading this I hope you have such a nice night 🫶

Honestly the 10+ years between my last attempt at post-secondary education were mostly me in a panic because I had my hs diploma and what felt like a brain that just didn't work with traditional education and a job market that demanded at minimum undergrad degrees for entry level jobs. It took a solid 10 years of my sister convincing me year after year for me to finally get on board and allow myself to try again. But yeah, I think a large part of why I'm able to be successful now is the knowledge I have of how my brain operates and my clinical diagnosis.

I think when it comes to accommodations at school or work, those are the only areas where the formal diagnosis has any worth. In pretty much any other area of life it's not necessary, but you do need to have formal diagnostic reports to give in for those accommodations. That being said the majority of my accommodations are for the adhd according to accessibility services at my school. I don't think they're very well versed in autism related accommodations but they know a lot about adhd so I have a recorder for class, access to digital copies of all my textbooks, a text-to-speech software for those digital texts and extra time in exams — all of those are specifically for adhd. So if you're auDHD i'd recommend getting an adhd assessment done because they're significantly cheaper and (I don't wanna say easier but) easier to get, people are more likely to believe you, more likely to take your self-reporting at face value, shorter assessment etc.

But like I said before, I think the accommodation is only half the reason I'm doing better, there's a ton of stuff I do for myself in the way of regulation, support for my "deficits", preparing myself for routines and possible changes, laying out my school info in a way that's most digestible for my brain bla bla bla. Those are things you don't need a diagnosis for but are work you can put in for yourself that can make a HUGE difference. I can talk more about that if you want but if you're not able to get a formal diagnosis please don't think that means school is ever off the table for you entirely.

Black and white tism thinking here but I tended to see school as an all or nothing situation. Either I was naturally great at it and had no problems, or I couldn't do it at all. So when I struggled I gave up quickly, but now I'm forcing myself to work through things and it turns out I don't have to be naturally gifted at something to still get really good results and good grades. And I think the same can be true for a lot of us, if we give ourselves the opportunity to make it happen.

[starlightandetherealshadows]

Hello! Feel free to ignore this, but I wanted to give my two cents about the MC's initial personality while playing. Now, this may be blunt, but at first, I was incredibly disappointed. Usually, I tend to play stoic/quiet MCs who don't lash or speak out, and it seemed to be quite the opposite to the distrusting and stoic mc in the game. However, I was thinking extremely hard about this, and I actually get why the MC was so outspoken, especially when V literally pointed a gun at them. Stoic and stubborn MC, from what I saw in the prologue, could easily be more nonchalant *before* the alien invasion, but that, obviously, changed. When C found them and brought them to the hideout, I didn't take into account that MC was in a vulnerable position, and I only focused on the part that MC hadn't interacted with another person in years. So, yeah, of course, MC may be overwhelmed, but their not gonna let people (V *cough*) walk all over them. I guess the thing was that I was so used to stoic MCs in IFs just standing on the sidelines and observing, but that is obviously not that kind of IF. The thing that had gotten to me the most, however, was the second-hand embarrassment of MC actually talking back to V after he blatantly insults them because I could never😭 I guess what I am trying to say is that even though I was seriously taken aback, none of the characters (including MC) are not gonna be 2-dimensional (as you have stated multiple times), and it has definitely grown on me, even if the MC was a little more of a fire-cracker than I expected. I am really looking forward to seeing where you take this story, and I will absolutely be eating it up because even if I might have to be tossing my phone across the room occasionally (bc my second-hand embarrassment is so easily triggered😭😭), I cannot get enough of your writing and characters!! I hope this made sense because I was just rambling about my take on if you are willing to make the MC a little more stoic or have some mute choices, which I am not against, but at the end of the day, I will still be reading the fuck out of Memento Mori! Have a good day/night!!! MWAH💋

Hi sunshine!

I appreciate your super-thorough analysis of both MC's personality and also your initial/developing reaction to it!

Just wanna offer some perspective on why I'm writing MC the way I am (you've already nailed a lot of the points but this is gonna be a succinct explanation from my head hehe)

MC is ultimately a fully fledged character in Memento Mori. While writing, I have about six different MC's in my head, each with distinct personalities, motives, and reactions to events. As I'm writing Ch. 2 in particular, I'm using these characters to influence the choices available and the stat checks necessary for certain actions. MC was never going to be a self insert. I love a good self insert sometimes, but it doesn't work with this if!

What makes characters feel realistic and multi-dimensional to me is their ability to break out of their different archetypes. We all know the ones like The Mean Girl or the Shy Kid or the Comic Relief. We can use your Stoic!MC example. Do we as humans act the same exact way every single day with every single event and interaction? No, we don't. Because we are complex, muli-faceted individuals that can have conflicting thought and actions, or opinions. What makes a character feel flat is when they are only given like 3 personality traits and stick to those regardless of what happens around them in the story.

So in Memento Mori, your Stoic!MC will have moments where they're outspoken and opinionated. The Charming!MC will lose their cool and lash out rather than smooth talk. The Friendly!MC will snap at someone without thinking. We aren't perfect, neither is MC, and I think that adds dimension to what can easily be a very blank slate kind of character. This isn't exclusive to MC, either! Veronica/Vincent will be nice to you sometimes for seemingly no reason. Zero will have moments where he is not okay and rejects your comfort when he reads it as pity. Cecelia/Chase will not always be the bouncy comic relief that uses humor to make everyone smile.

To add insult to MC's injury, like you mentioned in your ask, they are suffering from extreme amounts of PTSD and trauma. They have lost everyone and everything, they're a young adult living in complete isolation for two years. They're starving, they're injured, they hate themselves and being alive. It's going to take them a while to feel like themselves. In the span of one day, they've been nearly killed by a monster, then they're covered in blood guts and sweat when they meet C, then C brings them to meet 6 other people (including two aliens) and now they're going on this extensive journey with complete strangers, while that very morning they were contemplating ending it all. it's a lot.

By the time MC meets V, they are already at their limit of dealing with bullshit so V pointing a gun at them was never going to fly. V insulting them was a no-go either. Now, in the future, MC can ignore V more often because they'll be less on edge than when they were all first introduced. Once they have time to process, then they can react what is most familiar and comfortable for them. It will take time.

I laughed when you called MC a firecracker! I'd say they're more...unpredictable as a character when they're under high stress. As time goes on, they'll adjust and mellow out in some ways, but right now? MC has had ENOUGH with feeling like shit all the time.

I'm really glad you were a bit embarrassed by MC talking back to V because that was my goal AHDSEWLKMFRLK it's supposed to feel a bit uncomfortable. It's MC trying to clap back on someone when they have lost most of their social skills. It made ME cringe while writing it. Like oof MC, just ignore them???!!!

I'll definitely be adding some more options to be a bit more stoic or selectively mute in chapter 2, and as for chapter 1, I think more options to stay silent while talking to Cecelia/Chase or when they're speaking with Delphine/V could be good too. I'll see how it flows!

You'll see at the beginning of Ch.2 that MC already feels a tiny bit better. Nothing much but at least they aren't alone anymore, and they have a hot shower and some real food. So small wins for MC!

I think that's all I wanted to say for now!!! Thank you again for your message, my friend!!! I'm glad you're liking my writing and my characters, it does mean a lot to have your support!! <3

[echobx]

Yeah the ending I can’t think of another death rn that was like his and shouldn’t have happened jj was mostly everyone’s fav and he was part like the core 4 of the pogues im seeing so many people saying they won’t watch the last season and I didn’t even watch part 2 of this season I saw what happened and was no point for me it’s going to be weird not having him at the premiere of the last season and bts I know something happened with Elaine and that pates they all unfollowed each other and one of the pates unfollowed Rudy so idk what happened but killing him off was so not necessary they could’ve done anything else he had dreams they never even let him have a good ending they let him have the ending he always thought he would have I can’t even look at pics of jj at all knowing what happens or read fics which sucks cause the was my comfort but it all feels ruined

I'm so certain that she's not at fault this time, at least not how a lot of people think.

we know Rudy didn't want the s3 storyline, he knew what they were doing wasn't in line with the JJ we got to know in the first two seasons. on top of that comes whatever happened bts with Madison and their falling out. so, if the execs hadn't forced jiara to be written after fans "demanded" it we would not be here. Rudy gave them an ultimatum in s3, either fix it or he's out after s4, and that's what we got.

the reason why s1 and s2 were so good was bc they had capable writers on the team, writers that cared. but, in Netflix manner (before strike) they probably fired those writers to save money and now we have this shit, two seasons that do not feel like the actual characters the way the first two feel. that's why we have a shit plot with female characters that suddenly have less depth than in the beginning of the show and stupid reveals that make no sense. like, I remember being at the edge of my seat when I watched Ward reveal himself the first time, but nothing in s3 or s4 does even come close to that in the slightest.

I understand why Rudy didn't wanna do it anymore and I hope he's happy in the future and I hope that people will realize that all parties involved in this drama are at fault. I know I rarely talk about Madison and Mariah, but those two aren't innocent and Madi isn't as nice and sweet as she makes herself out to be. I honestly just want him to find peace and be happy with what he's doing and not have to be forced to do another season of this shit show, bc that's all it's turned into.

I feel the same about the pictures and I think we all should just take some time and actually grief for this character as much as we need before we can go back to this space of redeeming him maybe and writing those fix it fics in which they are all happy and no one gets pregnant at 19 or has to go to the military or die. but first we need to let ourselves feel all those shitty emotions and not push them down bc that's not healthy, trust me.

I genuinely hope no one watches s5 because they don't deserve it. They don't deserve to see even an ounce of support from us after what they did to him. He was the most loved character on that show and they gave him the worst ending. It's not even a good death and then they even go so far as to show us that they burried him in Morocco and didn't even take him home to find his last peace. I'm so angry and sad.

Fuck the Pates, I'm never gonna watch anything they touch ever again. They destroyed everything.

[vypridae]

oook IDEAS!!!!!

i was looking the e handbook this morning and it’s all pretty straightforward, not a ton of room for interpretation except for looking at the wording of a few of them

throwing things at the wall rn pretty much so shoot down as needed as i’m not very attached to these ideas👍👍

we’re already utilizing 15 which is the two murders and two victims first one committed is punished also also side idea i had for chapter three, since we already have kiyo as the second culprit. what do you think about shoving miu or himiko or angie in there?

i’m leaning more toward himiko or angie now that i think about it rather than miu just bc of the angst potential especially combined with korekiyo being the one who’s gonna survive the trial and all. with himiko we’re already experimenting with a very upset tenko and i feel considering her whole thing with men in canon [did you wanna change up the characters a little btw? forgot to ask] that’s just gonna upset her 10x more than if it was just himiko as the sole blackened.

and then with angie i’m completely fine killing her off since we’re going with the simulation idea and implies the shinounaga siblings will still live after the whole thing stops, anyways anyways that’s a whole tangent. by that point it’s about the midpoint of the game, meaning we sacrifice some interactions but they still get a decent amount of time together meaning! ohhh the survivors guilt korekiyo will be left with man that’d be fun to experiment with [once we settle some major details i definitely plan on trying to write out some stuff for this <33]

anyways back to the rules, aside from the pool one there’s another one that i don’t really remember what was for? i think it was added from the ch1 trial since it was so close to the limit everybody was pointing at monokuma for artificially starting something. “#9. monokuma will never directly commit a murder.”

at the current moment i’m not entirely sure how we could utilize that? but if it helps at all it does imply that it’s possible he will assist like provide things/information but he will never land a blow on the victim

otherwise the rules are super straightforward and otherwise all encompassing and are just “hey go kill, go to bed at this time, don’t try to kill monokuma, body discover is 3 people” etc etc

man we’re two people and even with all the unsettled details we’re already building a better story than a whole team of writers wow

ooh ideas !!! sorry this is taking so long to answer btw i just now am actually getting around to using my brain properly BAHAJSDHKA

we’re already utilizing 15 which is the two murders and two victims first one committed is punished also also side idea i had for chapter three, since we already have kiyo as the second culprit. what do you think about shoving miu or himiko or angie in there?

OOOOOH DO YOU MEAN LIKE FOR THE FIRST CULPRIT? IM NGL I KINDA REALLY LIKE THE IDEA OF THAT BEING HIMIKO ACTUALLY, then again i think that would be lowk obvious because wasn't that how the og game went? i mean. well kind of, kork was trying to frame himiko for killing tenko so ig its different still. i love that idea i think we need to use that :3 we can keep angie alive for at Least one more chapter for u

also we can change the characters up a little!! i feel like with rewrites thats kinda a necessary thing to do in part because i feel like theres always SOMETHING you get rid of when you do rewrites yk? idr all of tenkos like, lore? but i think we should at least lower her Hate For Men (i personally have a hc that she has Four (4) men she likes from the get go or at least she hates them less and those are shuichi, rantaro, gonta and kiibo so we can do something with that maybe? idk i dont remember a lot about tenkos backstory so herkgsajkdfg)

OOOHOHOHO we could have something thats like monokuma is like the uuuuuuh . accomplice? no. yeah thats the word . we coudl ahve something like that maybe?? like he isnt caoable of directly laying a hand on the students but he sure as hell can help them come up with ideas and maybe thats something that happens WEHRFGAJKDHGF

i didnt think thered be too many rules we could utilize based on phrasing and stuff so this is about all i expected EBGJKDSHFJKG not in a bad way just like . i am not good at thinking outside the box

BAHAJSHJKASH we're just so good at this actually thast what it is

[msommers]

✈️🧡🤔😞 for riya, ghilly and aphrodite!

thank you!! let's breeze right by the fact that i forgot this in my drafts for numerous days bc i have too many things in there, it's embarrassing // details about ocs

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

RIYA — she's being scammed because Riya would love traveling if she wasn't doing it as a damn Grey Warden. she misses home more than she ever thought she could, but the potential love of journeying around is definitely there. it's exciting getting to meet new people, interact with different cultures, view all new kinds of aesthetics and traditions, etc etc. plus it gives her the opportunity to flirt with all kinds of people and we know she loves that lmao 

GHILLY — home is wherever Ama is, and Ama is her constant companion during her travels so like. best of both worlds. between the two of them they practically carry a home with them anyway—tent, supplies, comforts, materials for hobbies, etc etc, they got it all packed away and ready whenever they decide on a location to set up in. she's got that strong wanderlust in her, hard to picture an end to traveling. 

APHRODITE — loves travel because she grew up in a home that she hated so deeply and did everything she could to stay out of it at any chance. she also just enjoys it in general, especially now that she doesn't have to be involved in the planning/scheduling whatsoever and she can fully live in the moment (you know, outside of when she's being bossed around because she's on a tv show but we ignore that bit). 

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

RIYA — passionate, audacious, protective. 

GHILLY — curious, open-minded, sincere. 

APHRODITE — loyal, creative, funny. 

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

RIYA — plays with her hair a lot, the most expressive hands and facial expressions you’ve seen while in conversation, winking aficionado, loosely clasped hands at her front, gets real close to / initiates touch often when talking to people, incapable of not checking her appearance in a reflective surface, flutters eyelashes, purposefully does her best to look hot even while idle 

GHILLY — has an accent while speaking elvhen, expressions/reactions appear toned down, summons wisps into her lantern to play with when it’s quiet, traces her vallaslin while in thought, moves at an unhurried pace 98% of the time, character bleed if too much time spent connected to a single spirit

APHRODITE — pushes her hair behind an ear more frequently than necessary, bobs her head/dances to the music she’s writing in her head, big time eye-roller, pulls her hair back to make for a hairstyle then gives up part way through, leggy bouncy disease (critical), bites pens/pencils, “nice [insert artist name here] reference” if somebody unwittingly name drops a song/lyric she likes, exaggerated hip swaying while walking

😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

RIYA — don't know if it's pulled it off in-game, but Riya's intended to be the kinda girly that grabs everyone's attention when she enters the scene because of her presence, charm, and [usually] beautiful wardrobe. tbh i think she attracts people no matter what her mood is because she's so expressive and open about everything. she looks like she's having a great time at a party? you feel like you could approach and she'd pull you into the vibes without hesitation. she's throwing a fit in anger? you highkey wanna engage just to hear her rant about whatever's made her so mad. she's sitting there upset? you have no choice but to go over there between how her eyes literally Glitter with tears and the way her entire body gives off "i'm in desperate need of support, please baby me". (she'd also rather fucking Die than be alone for more than 5 minutes so there's that. she puts in the effort to be approachable.) 

GHILLY — i can see both ends of the scale being true for Ghilly. sometimes she wants to be left alone and puts effort into outwardly displaying that in ways people can easily pick up on, and other times you can practically feel her welcoming anybody into her circle with open arms. 

APHRODITE — this bitch has a gravitational pull about her. you either want to get close so you can join in on her incredible vibes, or because you want to figure out just how much of a front she's putting on because nobody's That loud with their personality unless parts of it are ramped up for attention. she's rarely found alone and that's certainly on purpose, she needs others around to avoid the introspection.

[dicktozier]

I'm rambling about Daryl Dixon and romance ... what year is it?

I have had some serious time with my man Daryl, since I have actively watched TWD since 2012 (except for a small hiatus last year where I didn't finish the show bc I didn't want it to end lol but I recently did finish and its all I think about now)

I have always thought that Daryl was a queer character. If you know the character, you know what I mean by him having those signs of being queer ... constantly thinking of himself as an outsider ... being drawn to friendships with women ...

I thought that in canon, it made the most sense for him to be ace? Every person he's formed a strong bond with, it's been platonic, when plenty of other romantic couples on the show have formed from much less.

I also remember something about Norman thinking that Daryl just has zero game and would be very awkward about romance. 😆 Which I agree with.

This kind of thing has also lead me to think that he could have internalized homophobia, where he's never really acted on his feelings for the same sex.

I have also thought that maybe he was just physically abused so much as a child that he couldn't stand that idea of being touched.

Which are like both very sad reasons that he's never had romance.

With or without Daryl being queer being the case, Leah was such a mistake on the writers part. I don't know what they were thinking with that shit. Why would they give Daryl romance after all that time only for him to have to kill her for shock value? Like was he not traumatized enough? Have we not done enough to him? For him to be THAT vulnerable with someone and then that all happened with the reapers ... give me a damn break writer's room.

I never saw it as necessary for Daryl to have a romance on the main show. I can understand that people did want that, and pressed for that, (especially when it comes to Carol, since he is clearly the closest to her out of anyone ever).

Now that he has his own show, and we are delving even more deeply into him ... still exploring the world, but he is the ACTUAL main character with the damn show named after him, I could be more open to the idea. I understand the show likely isn't going to make him queer.

I have TOTALLY written rp threads and fics with Daryl in relationships (even sexual ones) that take place in the canon timeline. I have fantasized and daydreamed about him having a boyfriend. I think he's had a strong bond with Aaron. I just like the idea of him being with Jesus, (though I could make a list of their couple of canon interactions of WHY lmao - its fine).

I know from experience of r0leplaying in The Walking Dead fandom back in the day that people are protective and wild over their ships ... especially when it comes to Daryl ... not that I have too many followers now ... especially TWD peeps.

Beth and Connie are Daryl's biggest m/f ships other than him and Carol, and I ... guess I get it, but also Do Not.

I don't actively participate in shipping Daryl and Carol, I do understand why people do. If he and Carol do end up being endgame, I will probably root for it. Wanna make it clear, even though it ain't my OTP, whatever makes Daryl happy I am here for it. He really does deserve that happy ending.