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corazondebeskar-reads · 11 months ago

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remember what you're staring at is me

jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 8 - found footage | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.9k

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

warnings: Jackson!Joel, some dark!Joel, some soft!Joel, we love a man who contains multitudes, ambiguous ending, I wish I had made this a much longer one shot but oh well, references to The Hospital Incident, oral (f & m receiving), implicit p in v

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You find it on your porch one morning in an old paper bag. Someone’s written right onto the brown wrapping with black crayon—”you need to know the truth.” It seems rather dramatic once you peel back the paper to find a videotape.

It's not high quality—the footage is fuzzy and crudely edited together. But there’s just no mistaking the man on the screen.

Joel and Ellie came into your life when they arrived for the second time in Jackson. You had heard the gossip the first time, but never met the pair.

You met him fairly quickly when he swung by with a torn jacket, gruff and blunt but polite. Steady. “They, uh, said to ask you about some mending?”

“Sure thing,” you say easily, smiling at the very handsome stranger. “Let me take a look.”

It was a casual thing, the sewing, and you liked it that way. You didn’t make anything, didn’t haul things to the market. You spun the wool for those who did craft things, and then you kept to your little projects at night.

The push and pull of the needle was the meditation you needed to keep going every day, even now, even safe here in this bubble. Something productive, something to keep your trembling hands busy and your mind blank.

And in return, you got company and conversation. Most folks knew your services could be bought with a warm drink or baked good, a promise of a favor you’d never call for.

“How long?” he asks, voice flat and serious, but it didn’t prick at you, didn’t land as rough as it set out.

“Not long,” you muse, looking over the tear—a knife gash of some sort, and the thin lining that peeked out. “Ten minutes if you just want it sewn up, or if you give me a day, I can get it properly stuffed.”

“Sewn, please.”

Please. You like that. Manners at the end of the world.

“You sure? Be a lot warmer if I fill it out.”

“I don’t—” he scowls at the ground. “I barely have anythin’ to offer ya for the mending.”

You want to tell him it’s on the house, call it a welcome basket, but he’s holding out what he does have to offer and your jaw drops just a little, lips parting to make way for a soft, pleased “oh” that has him straightening up.

“I can find somethin’ else,” he says.

“Oh, no. That’s… amazing,” you say, taking the jar into your hands and popping the lid. They certainly aren’t potent, not like you remember, but oh, you could die from just the faint smell of the cinnamon sticks. “This is… more than enough. I’ll owe you, I reckon.”

“I dunno about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Seriously,” you say, eyes wide. You set the jar on the counter. “For that, I’ll get the whole thing done tonight.” After all, the delay had only been so you could go to bed.

“Y’ain’t got to do that, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

You brush him off and start gathering your supplies. If you steep the thread in tea for a bit, you think, you might be able to get close to the color of the fabric.

He turns down a cup when you offer but does take a seat at the table. He’s as stiff as your late husband’s favorite bourbon, but the blunt edges grow a little duller when you don’t try to keep up small talk.

The bright overhead light casts him in shadow, deepening the circles under his eyes and drooping his wrinkles in inky black. But his eyes are bright and curious as he watches you start to add unspun wool from your stockpile into the jacket, trying to shape and layer it evenly through the inside. You have to make a couple incisions but keep them tight to the hemlines and existing stitching.

The thread dries quickly with the hearth raging and he speaks for the first time as you weave it through the needle’s eye.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a threader,” you say, offering it to him to see after you’ve pulled it loose. “I, um. I’m not as dexterous as I used to be and I can’t say my sight’s as keen, either. Makes it easier to use these damn tiny needles. Luckily, it wasn’t a very in-demand item when people were raiding shops.”

“Huh,” is all he says, sliding it back across the table to you.

The stitching is quick and rote. You’re used to people pouring out their life stories and desires and drama when they sit at your table or on your sofa, feet kicked up on your coffee table while you sew.

But this silence with Joel is warm, too. You’re almost regretful the job didn’t take longer.

You stand up and he follows, pushing his chair neatly back into its place. He takes the coat and runs a gentle finger across the original wound.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

You give him a wan smile, never having found those words to settle right in your skin. “Nice meeting you, Joel,” you say instead. “You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and lets himself out.

You lock the door behind him and wonder why you feel so energized. That tea was decaf, after all. And a little fuzzy, if you were totally honest, but you weren’t going to dump it down the drain just over a few fibers.

One day when he comes, it’s with a bundle of thick socks and another, smaller jacket. Not a difficult job, but the gift he brings to trade knocks you off kilter so hard that you have to sit down.

“Not sure if it’ll be any use to you, but figured you’d know someone who can use it if you don’t,” he says, looking at the floor.

You’ve gotten to know him a little better, though his visits are few and far between. But he’s gotten more comfortable around town, more interested in following that wild daughter of his than hiding away.

Sometimes, he’ll even sit at your table in the mess. You’d even go as far to say that the two of you were friends.

So you can tell what he’s trying so hard not to project. He’s nervous.

It looks almost like a desk lamp with its sturdy base and bent wooden arm, but in place of a shade and bulb is a hoop. You recognize it immediately and your stomach swoops. It’s an embroidery stand and you might faint just from that, just from having a steady way to hold the fabric tight as you sew.

But that isn’t all. He shows you how to turn the peg that loosens the grip of the handle on the side, a raw hewn thing that doesn’t match the worn stain of the stand. You’re burning, head spinning, and the fuzzy darkness at the edges of the world stop you from focusing on the gift.

The carved handle, he says, with hands curling around either side of you, has been partially hollowed to accommodate the end of the magnifying glass. You can raise and lower it with the peg and rotate the handle to use the other side of the glass.

“Joel,” you say uncertainly. He doesn’t really seem like he’ll want the attention drawn to it, but you have to know. “Did you make that?”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Just added the glass is all.”

“Just added the glass,” you echo in a whisper. But you know he doesn’t mean he only attached it. He made the entire attachment and fit it onto the stand.

His ears are red and he won’t look at you.

You set a cautious hand on his arm where it reaches across your shoulder, still resting on the table. He’s caging you in from where he leaned over to demonstrate. “Joel, this is incredible. This is… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Ain’t a big deal,” he mumbles but he doesn’t shake off your hand. “Just saw it and thought it might be useful.”

You feel emboldened by his kindness, so you curl your hand around his bicep. “Can I thank you?”

He looks down at you now, seeking something that he must find, confirmation in your blown out pupils and parted lips, and nods.

He doesn’t break away as you slip from the chair to sink onto your knees or when your fingers loop around his belt to pry it open.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” you say, voice tight.

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” His voice is the rumble of thunder breaking a tense summer night.

You don’t bother removing his belt, simply knocking it open to reach for his zipper.

You’re about to tug his pants down when the door opens.

“Hey sugar,” Tommy drawls, “all my fuckin boxers have holes. Can you help a guy out? Promise they’re cle—“

His loud mouth gave just enough warning for Joel to pull his shirt down over his belt and for you to fumble at rolling the cuff of one pant leg up just so, reaching for a pin.

“Oh hey, Joel!” Tommy says happily. “Finally fixin’ those ratty old things?”

It’s a fucking miracle that he’s in these jeans, his favorites. Actually, it’s not, he wears them all the time, and they’re just a little too long so the bottoms are torn up.

“Guess so,” Joel scowls. He’ll have to finally let you hem them now.

“Just leave ‘em on the table, Tommy,” you say around the needle between your teeth. “And tell Maria to stop bein’ so rough with them.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “She can’t help it, sugar. I’m irresistible, see?” He claps his brother on the back and takes his leave.

You slump a little, sighing as you set the needle on the table before moving to resume your activity.

But Joel steps back. “I should get goin’,” he says. The line between his brow is cavernous and his lips are tugged down at the corners.

“Oh. Okay,” you say, and pull yourself up with a hand clutching the table.

“So. Thanks again,” he says. And then he’s gone.

You let yourself drop dramatically into a chair, groan growing as it turns physical when your tailbone hits the seat wrong.

You’re rubbing your forehead and thinking about going to bed to give yourself a pity orgasm when the door opens. He’s quiet and cautious, but he pushes the door shut behind him and locks it.

“M’sorry,” he says. “I…”

“It’s okay,” you say with a tired smile. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he says, offering you a hand.

You take it and let him pull you to standing.

His other hand finds your waist. “I was bein’ a coward.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Darlin’, you couldn’t,” he says. His arm slides further around, pulling you to him in a gentle embrace. He looks down at you through heavy lids, watching the way your lips part just a little. “You still want this?”

You bring a hand up to cup at the hair that curls down the nape of his neck. “Please,” you whisper.

He matches your motion, cradling your head in his palm as he dips his head to kiss you. He wastes no time, licking into your welcoming mouth, seeking out the earthiness of the tea still lingering on your tongue and the sweet shiver of goosebumps prickling across his skin as you wind your fingers into his hair.

“Shit,” he mumbles when you break away for air. “What do you want, baby? What can I have? You gotta tell me now, before I can’t think straight.”

“You can have whatever you want, Joel,” you say, hot breath brushing his swollen lips before he presses them to you again with a growl.

It’s a much quicker kiss, and he breaks away to drop to his knees and push your skirt up to your hips. You have to lean back with both hands clenching the edge of the table not to fall over in shock.

He nuzzles against the soft cotton of your panties and groans at the smell of your wet cunt. He mouths at it gently over the fabric before hooking his finger around the gusset and pulling it aside to part your lips with his tongue.

“Not fair,” you gasp as he feasts. “I was supposed to—supposed to do that for you.”

“You said whatever I want, darlin’,” he says against your pussy, chasing the taste of you.

“Fuck,” you pant. “Fuck.”

“Gimmie one and I’ll let you suck my cock if ya want it so bad,” he says, plunging two thick fingers in and basking in the way you squeal and squirm. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pistoning in and out like he’s trying to win a race.

It works, with his tongue on your clit and his fingers against that soft, secret part of you that no one has touched before, you gush around where he spreads you. “That’s it,” he croons, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl, give me another.”

“You said—”

He cuts you off by sucking on your clit and your hips rock, wobbling the table as he takes another from you anyway.

“Couch or bed?” he says, tugging your panties down your legs now that he’s sated the immediate urge.

“Don’t care,” you say.

“Alright, bed,” he says. “Wanna do this right.”

“Don’t think you could do it wrong,” you say, a lazy, sated smile on your face and a lightness to your eyes that he thinks he could get addicted to.

He does let you suck his cock, and thinks maybe he could die happy from the warm, wet of your mouth and the way you look up at him like he’s the only thing in the world.

At that moment, he is. You had resigned yourself to keeping your little crush a secret until it faded, too fond of him to risk it, but here? Now? Now that you’ve had him, you don’t think you can ever go back.

He’s gentle in a way you can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s soft with you, but just aware. Like he knows where you’re capable of meeting him and settles there. He makes room for himself in you like you’d done for his coat, opening you up and stuffing you until you’re warm and full and renewed.

He doesn’t leave you to stitch yourself up, either. He buries his face in your tits and holds you tight after, cleans the both of you up with a warm towel, and kisses you before he leaves.

Neither of you want him to go, but he’s got Ellie at home and won’t—can’t—worry her by not coming home. Not without warning. Next time, he whispers, and it carries a question and a promise.

There is a next time. And another. And another. You think you might be in trouble. You do far less mending jobs once your evenings are taken over by Joel. You still take them, darning socks on the soft with your feet in his lap, or basking in the way he looks proud and satisfied when you use the stand to fix up bigger projects. Some of your favorite nights are when he sits and strums his guitar while you sew, just two people finding peace by creating it themselves. Together.

So when eight months later, that tape finds its way into the VCR you’ve only used twice, you’re more than familiar with the bulking shape of him. The way his hair sticks up when he runs worried hands through it. The grip of those hands, sure and steady.

He finds you there on your third viewing. You didn’t even hear him come up the porch, didn’t realize the sun was starting to crest over the mountains, that he’d be coming by with breakfast just like he promised.

The little Joel on screen is working his way to the operating room. You’ve stopped flinching at each crack of the gun or collapsing body.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

You do startle when he speaks, unaware that he’d been watching you watch the tape for a minute. His voice is low and slow, something lurking beneath the baritone that trips an alarm.

This isn’t your Joel. This is that one, the one from the TV.

He moves like a jaguar, slinking and graceful. “Where,” he snarls, breath curling off your clammy skin, “did you get this?” His hand curls around your shoulder at the base of your neck.

“It was on my porch,” you whisper.

His fingers dig in a little where he holds you in place. “Try again.”

“It’s the truth, I swear. I didn’t know what it was.”

“How much did you watch?”

“All of it,” you whisper, though it feels like the click of a lock.

“Goddamnit, baby. Why’d you have to do that?”

There’s an actual click, the unmistakable flick of a release.

“Joel, please,” you say, voice breaking. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I can’t take that chance,” he says.

He still hasn’t brought the knife close to you, though, so you hazard a glance over your shoulder. You wish you hadn’t. He’s gone, his sweet eyes dead to the world, no whisper of his gentleness to be found.

“I swear, please. You can trust me.”

“Can’t trust anyone in this world, darlin’. You shoulda realized that by now.”

*title from "Through Glass" by Stone Sour

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #dark!joel #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dead dove fic #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday8

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queenjunothegreat · 19 hours ago

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Tumblr fix your shit or I swear to god I'm gonna lose it (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

ANYWAYS!!!!! Here is the link to the long-awaited Hallmark fic! I have been informed that chapter one is sad but I PINKY PROMISE things get better ASAP. Anywho, on with the important shit.

May I present Where the Love Light Gleams Chapter One: When You Pine for the Sunshine of a Friendly Gaze

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, fine. We’ll handle it. How do you want to do this? Trying to do everything over the phone is going to be a bigger pain than either of us are willing to deal with.” Thalia went quiet for a moment before she very hesitantly said, “What if we… went back?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up, even if he knew Thalia couldn’t see it. “You mean back to California?” “Sure. I mean, I don’t see why not.” Jason sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, Thalia, I don’t think you know what you’re signing yourself up for. Wills and estates are a nightmare to deal with and– “We could spend Christmas together.” Jason’s teeth clicked shut at her interruption. Silence hung heavy between them before he broke it. “I don’t like Christmas.” *-*-* After the sudden death of his mother, Jason agrees to travel across the country to spend Christmas with his estranged sister who hates the holiday as much as he does. Things manage to go worse than he could have ever imagined when he finds himself stranded in Oklahoma in the middle of the night, but maybe that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Jason Grace was having a bad day. He’d woken up with a feeling of dread that he couldn’t explain as anything other than mounting dread for the fast-approaching holidays and a desperate desire to do anything other than walk into the office. Things hadn’t gone much better from there, first with him pouring hot coffee all over his hand instead of in his cup and then nearly missing his train and stepping in a mysterious puddle just inside the subway station. Then, of course, he’d had to smile and grimace through all of his coworkers gushing about their Thanksgiving plans for the next day before they noticed him and awkwardly cleared their throats, asking him if he was planning on spending the day with his father. He hadn’t managed to get much of anything done all day, despite the looming deadlines, but he figured he was still more productive than everyone else in his department. But somehow, all of that still didn’t manage to be the shittiest thing that happened to him that day. No, that illustrious title went to a phone call.

Jason sucked his teeth and gripped his phone a little tighter. “So, she’s really dead?”

Thalia clucked her tongue a couple times like she always did when she was uncomfortable. “Yep. Doctor called and let me know this morning.”

Jason heaved a deep, heavy sigh and buried his face in his free hand. “Alright. I’ll call up Octavian. He deals with estates, and he owes me a favor so–”

“No,” Thalia cut him off sharply. “We can handle it. I don’t want lawyers getting involved. I don’t like lawyers.”

Jason took in a quick huff of air through his nose to calm his temper. “I’m a lawyer,” he reminded her in a slightly clipped tone. Had it been a few years earlier, Thalia would have blustered about how obviously he didn’t count, but now she just remained silent. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, fine. We’ll handle it. How do you want to do this? Trying to do everything over the phone is going to be a bigger pain than either of us are willing to deal with.”

Thalia went quiet for a moment before she very hesitantly said, “What if we… went back?”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, even if he knew Thalia couldn’t see it. “You mean back to California?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t see why not.”

Jason didn’t bother to tell her exactly why he was so surprised. She didn’t need to know how she’d left a twelve-year-old boy devastated when she’d shouted at their mother that there was nothing in California worth staying for and stormed out the front door for the very last time. It had been fifteen years since that day, but considering he hadn’t been in the same state as his sister in four years, he didn’t really think much had changed.

Jason sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, Thalia, I don’t think you know what you’re signing yourself up for. Wills and estates are a nightmare to deal with and–

“We could spend Christmas together.”

Jason’s teeth clicked shut at her interruption. Silence hung heavy between them before he broke it. “I don’t like Christmas.”

“That’s because it sucks,” Thalia scoffed. “I can count on one hand the number of not-shitty ones I’ve had, and I don’t remember when the last one was. I think maybe it was the year I turned twenty and we were in Milwaukee for a show.”

Jason remembered his last good Christmas. He was eleven years old and his big sister had given a pair of Superman pajamas that he wore until his mom threw them out years later because she was sick of looking at them in their ratty state. He didn’t tell her that either. “Then why the hell would we do that?”

“I dunno. It’s December,” Thalia said, and Jason could almost see the casual lazy shrug that accompanied the suggestion. “Families celebrate Christmas together.”

“Are we a family?”

The words were out of Jason’s mouth before he could bite his tongue, and he grimaced. “Sorry, I– That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not wrong,” Thalia said quietly. “I don’t know if we even are a family any more, Jason. But we are family, so… maybe we can be a family again?”

Jason frowned down at his desk, brows furrowed deeply. “I– I’ll think about it, okay? I don’t even know if I can get the time off at this short notice.”

“You’re the managing partner’s son,” she pointed out derisively.

“Yeah, well, you’ve met the guy,” Jason pointed out. “Look, I said I’ll think about it, and that’s the best I can promise you right now. I can’t just drop everything and move across the country for a month. I have a real job.” The last bit was an unnecessary dig, but it felt pretty good, so he didn’t take it back.

Surprisingly, Thalia didn’t rise to the bait. She just sighed, and Jason couldn’t help but notice that she sounded tired. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Okay, just… Just think about it. Let me know one way or another. We’ll figure something out if we can’t do this.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back soon,” Jason promised, his tone equally gentle.

She hummed softly. “Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I hope you know that.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, unwilling to admit just how much those three words made him want to burst into tears. “Yeah, no, I– I know, Lia. I love you, too.”

“Okay, I’ll, um,” Thalia cut herself off by awkwardly clearing her throat. “I’ll let you get back to your big important lawyer job. Talk to you later. Bye, Jason.”

“Bye, Thalia.”

The line went dead and Jason slumped over on his desk burrowing down into his arms. His mom was dead. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and his mom was dead. He wondered how normal people would feel about that. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be at least a little upset, not feel like an invisible noose had fallen from his neck. It had been months since he’d last talked to her over the phone. It had been years since he’d seen her in person. He remembered trying to surprise her for Mother’s Day the year he’d graduated from law school. He’d shown up on her front door with flowers and a pearl necklace just like the ones in movies she’d always yearned for when he was growing up. She’d answered the door with a scowl on her face, smelling of cigarette smoke and soured whiskey and demanded to know what he wanted from her. Things hadn’t gone much better from there, even when he’d presented his offerings. After that, Jason had moved to New York and never made an effort to go visit her since. Not that she’d exactly made the effort to extend an invitation, either.

He wondered if his father knew she was dead. If he knew, did he care? Doubtful. Thalia had always been more like their father than she wanted to admit. He cut ties and walked out on anyone and anything he deemed less than deserving of his time and attention, just like she did. Which left Jason to be like their mom. Left behind, bitter and hurt and waiting for someone who’d never bother to come back.

He shook his head and stood from his desk. He had briefs that he still needed to write, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any more work done today. He sent a quick message to his department head that he was feeling ill, so he wanted to know if he could head home early. She responded with nothing more than a thumbs up emoji, so he packed his things without a second thought. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the necessary off time built up to skip out a few hours early. Truth be told, he hadn’t taken a vacation in the four years that he’d been working there, so between that and the two week bereavement leave he was due, he could easily arrange to go to California for a month. He just… didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go back to that awful house. He didn’t want to share awkward meals with Thalia while they discussed divvying up their dead mother’s estate. He didn’t want to sit in front of a half-assed fake tree and exchange gifts with Thalia that neither of them gave a shit about.

But he’d have to do something. His mother was dead, and he’d need to do something. But that would just have to wait. That would have to wait until Jason ate enough Chinese food to make himself sick, drank an entire bottle of sauvignon blanc, tortured himself with a marathon of his mother’s favorite movies, and had a good, long crying session. My mother is dead, Jason thought to himself once again as he stepped outside into the cold afternoon.

He marveled at how little that mattered.

*-*-*

Jason was sitting in front of his TV, eating reheated leftovers from the office Thanksgiving party two days earlier as brightly colored floats and balloons rolled across the screen. He hadn’t actually woken up early enough to watch it live, but through the marvels of the modern age, he’d found a channel streaming it all day long. So, naturally, he’d sat himself down to partake in this national tradition that was older than his grandfather.

He hated the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

But, well, he didn’t exactly have any other plans, and this made him feel a little less like a lonely, half-orphaned sad sack. He figured most people in his position would be connecting with family on a day like this, his father lived in New York City as well, after all. And if there was one thing that was certain, it was that his father would be having the finest Thanksgiving party imaginable. He had a large family, a whole Rolodex of important clients, and an image to maintain, after all. Right about now, his penthouse apartment was probably dressed to the nines with a feast fit for kings weighing down his dining table. His whole family would be there.

Except Jason.

The first year Jason had moved to New York and joined his father’s firm, he’d been eager to partake in the festivities. His mom hadn’t really put any kind of effort into holidays after Thalia left home, and he’d been alone for all seven years of college, but this was going to be his big chance. He’d mentioned it to his father after a department meeting, and he’d been told that one of the secretaries would email him the details of the event. The email never came, but Jason had held out hope that maybe it was just a clerical error, and he’d patiently waited for a Christmas invite. Then New Years came and went, and he quit asking. Despite what some people thought, he could take a hint.

Jason shoved another forkful of food into his mouth and grimaced. He hated turkey, and the half-congealed gravy wasn’t helping much. He wondered what his coworkers were doing at that moment. Most of them were probably with their families, though he’d overheard a few of them discussing arrangements for a friendly get-together for those who didn’t have families in town. Jason hadn’t been invited to that, either, because, well, he had family in town, didn’t he? They didn’t need to invite him to Friends-giving.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he was lonely. He didn’t have friends, not really. There were a few people at work who offered him smiles and friendly conversation, and a few people from school who occasionally sent him a message, but nothing else. He didn’t go out, he didn’t take classes. He just came home every day after work and worked until his eyes ached for sleep, went to bed, then woke up and did the same thing the next day.

As he slouched there in his recliner, dwelling on all the ways his life sucked, the camera panned over to some celebrity he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of, standing on the back of a float designed to look like a gingerbread village. She gave the camera a blinding smile while all the various gingerbread people around her waved. Then, the float rolled to a stop and she stepped forward to the microphone. There was the sound of bells and humming before she opened her mouth and began to sing.

I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree

Jason stared at the TV with something that bordered a little closer to offense than he would have liked to admit. His mind skipped down a handful of streets to that glittering penthouse he wasn’t invited to, and his phone was in his hand and pressed to his ear before he really knew what he was doing. It rang a few times before finally picking up.

“Jason?”

“Hey, Thalia. Yeah, it's me,” he said. He couldn't blame her for being confused. The two of them didn't exactly make a habit of calling one another on holidays. He heard a bunch of background clatter, and his brows knit. “Are you… at a party?”

“No,” Thalia said, a little too quickly. “Well, I mean, not really. Some of the Hunters and I met up at Phoebe's place. That's all.”

“Oh.” Jason sucked his teeth and added another person to his list of people having a better day than him. He dismissed the thought and pressed on. “Hey, were you serious about going out to California?”

“Yes!” Thalia almost shouted the word down the line, then she cleared her throat, obviously embarrassed at her eagerness. “I mean, uh, yeah. I was serious. Do you want to?”

“Sure,” Jason shrugged. “Like you said, getting the time off won't actually be all that hard. How soon can you get there? It's gonna take a while for us to get everything taken care of.”

“Um, how about the sixth? We're doing a show out in Denver on the second, and then we're off until after New Years. Does that work?”

Jason ran through the basic plan he'd outlined in his head. If he knew his mom, she likely didn’t have a will or anything drawn up. That could potentially make things messier, but he doubted he or Thalia would be all that interested in disputing any rulings the court made. He shrugged. “Yeah, that should be fine. Hopefully.”

“Yeah. I, um, yeah.” Jason could hear the big beaming smile Thalia wore when she said her next words. “Thanks, Jason. This really– It means a lot, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason said with a gentle smile. “I love you, Lia.”

“I love you, too, Jay. And, um, happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving. See you on the sixth.”

“See you.”

Jason hung up the phone and let out a soft sigh, eyes sparkling. He was going to go home. He was going to see his sister for the first time in years. He was going to celebrate Christmas with his family.

*-*-*

Then he froze, and his face paled in horror. He was going to have to go home. He was going to have to see his sister for the first time in years. He was going to have to celebrate Christmas with his family.

He glowered at the TV and the celebrity lady who was once again smiling and waving at the camera. “This is all your fault.”

Leo Valdez was many, many things. He was a mechanical genius. He was the textbook definition of a plucky orphan. He was an amazing cook. He was the best adopted brother Piper McLean could have ever asked for, and they both knew it. He was smart, he was talented, and above all else, he was incredibly humble.

But at the moment, he was most importantly the only mechanic in Crooked Hollow Bend, Oklahoma, and there wasn’t another one for almost a hundred miles.

He’d been minding his own business, idly flipping through a car magazine when the shop phone went off, which was odd partially because most everyone in town just waltzed right on in when they wanted their car fixed, but mostly because it was well past half the town’s bedtime. Still, he figured that talking to whoever was on the other end of the line would be more entertaining than his magazine, even if they were just a prank caller or a very confused old lady with a very wrong number.

“Valdez Automotive. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Valdez, it’s me.”

Leo narrowed his eyes, trying to place the voice. “Stoll?”

“Yeah.”

“Connor or Travis?”

“If I say Travis, what will you do?”

“Hang up.”

“Oh, good. Then it’s Connor.”

Leo snorted and rolled his eyes. “Alright then. What do you want?”

“You willing to take a look at a car tonight?”

“Why the hell do you need me to look at a car tonight?” Leo asked, gobsmacked. “Can’t you just wait until tomorrow, dude? It’s, like, ten.”

“It’s not for me. Travis and I were driving home when we saw this dude stuck on the side of the road. He’s fine, but his car’s in rough shape.”

Leo’s brow furrowed. “Who is it?”

“No idea. He said he’s driving from New York to California.”

“Hmm…” Leo glanced over at his empty schedule and shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Tell him to limp it in and I’ll take a look at it. He’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow for it to be fixed, though.”

“Yeah, about that. He’s not limping this thing anywhere. Travis and I are gonna be towing it in with our truck.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Yikes. He’ll definitely have to wait until tomorrow for me to fix it, then. You want me to call Piper? She’s for sure got a room open, but she might have to get it ready.”

It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice thick and gravely with sleep, “You’d better have a damn good reason for calling me at this time of night, I swear to god.”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind. We’ll get this guy’s car hitched up and drag it in. See you in thirty.”

”See you.” With that, Connor hung up, and Leo called Piper.

“Hello to you, too,” Leo scoffed. “And I do have a good reason, thank you very much.”

“Leo, I’ve told you before, finding a chip shaped like a video game character isn’t half as cool as you think it is, and nobody is gonna buy it on Ebay.”

“First of all, fuck you, I could have made bank on that Sonic chip if you hadn’t eaten it,” Leo huffed. “Second of all, I was just calling to let you know that you’re going to be having a guest soon, so you might want to get ready.”

Leo heard Piper shifting around, likely sitting up in bed, finally paying proper attention to him. “What? A guest? Really?”

“Yeah. Connor just called me and said he’s on the way in with some guy from New York whose car broke down. He’ll be stuck in town, and he can’t sleep in his car, so he’s gonna need a place to stay tonight.”

Piper made a soft, sympathetic noise. “Poor guy. I wonder if he was on his way to visit family for Christmas.”

Leo hiked an eyebrow, even if she couldn’t see it, and smirked. “Pipes, it’s, like, the second. I think it might be a little early for Christmas traveling. I know you’re a little freak when it comes to the holidays, but not everyone is.”

“Connor didn’t specifically say he was by himself, but he also didn’t mention anyone.”

Piper blew a very loud, wet-sounding raspberry down the line. “Whatever. I’ll see about getting a room ready. Do you know if he’s traveling alone?”

“Mkay. I’ll get something set up for him. You’re still coming tomorrow, right?”

“Duh. I’m pretty sure you’d skin me if I bailed on you.”

“I for sure would,” she said with syrupy sweetness. “Anyway, gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Leo hung up the phone and got to his feet, making sure to stretch all of the stiffness out of his arms and legs before he made his way through the kitchen and out to the garage. Running a mechanic’s shop out of his house had its fair share of challenges (expanding the dinky little two-car garage and getting it properly tricked out with everything needed to run a proper garage had been a nightmarish eight months) but it meant he got to just hang out in his livingroom in his pajamas when he wasn’t working, so he figured it was worth the hassle. Besides, he never had more than two cars in the shop at a time, so it’s not like he was exactly pressed for space. He quickly got changed into his coveralls, and started moving stuff out of the way so he could properly work on whatever it was that the Stolls had dragged in.

Not too long after he was done, there was a short honk from outside, and he opened the garage door to see the Stolls sitting in his driveway, a sparkly dark blue Audi tethered to the back of their pickup truck. Leo tipped his head back and groaned, readying himself for a real pain in the ass.

Leo bounded over and put his arms through the open passenger window of the truck and put on his most winning smile and best customer service voice. “Alright, dude. Let’s see what we– Wait a minute.” He scowled at the truck occupants. “What did you two do with the guy?”

“He’s in his car,” Connor (Probably) reported. “We offered to let him ride up here with us, but he said he’d rather stay back there.”

Leo frowned before he shrugged and went to the other car. The guy inside was sitting in the front seat, forehead pressed to the steering wheel. Leo couldn’t see his face (or anything but his broad shoulders and fluffy blonde hair) but he’d recognize that defeated slump anywhere, even on a complete stranger. He cleared his throat, and tapped on the window.

Immediately, everything about the mystery man changed. His spine straightened, his shoulders pulled back, and his chin got a confidently charming tilt to it. The whole display reminded Leo of a marionette being jerked to life with the strings of its puppeteer, and he felt a shiver, unrelated to the cold, go racing down his back. The guy quickly got out of his car, straightening his charcoal peacoat as he went, then offered Leo a polite smile and a handshake. “You must be Leo Valdez. The mechanic?”

“Uh, yeah,” Leo said hesitantly, shaking the man’s hand. “That’s me.”

“Jason Grace,” he said, his smile still perfectly poised and uncomfortably approachable. “Sorry about the late call. Thank you so much for taking the time to see me. I can assure you that I will happily compensate you for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, dude, it’s no problem.” Leo felt like he’d been spun around one too many times. There weren’t a lot of people in town who made the effort to talk with that level of detached professionalism, and even fewer who bothered to do it with Leo. He shook his head and gave Jason a blinding smile. “Alright, dude, let’s see what we’re working with.” Jason blinked at him for a moment and Leo just arched his eyebrows. “Do you maybe wanna try starting it?”

Jason jolted like he’d been hit with a taser before his cheeks went pink. “Right. Yeah. I can do that.” He sat back down in the driver’s seat and pressed the ignition button. The car revved to life in an instant, then immediately started making the most awful grinding sound Leo had ever heard. Before he could clap his hands over his ears or make any kind of signal to kill the engine, Jason turned the car back off with a wince. “And that’s what made me decide to pull over.”

“Yeah, I can see why you were stuck,” Leo agreed with a nod. “Alright, I’ll see about getting you unhitched while you get your stuff out of the trunk. I’m not gonna be able to fix this until tomorrow, and you’re gonna need a place to stay for the night.

Without waiting for a reply, Leo started unhitching Jason’s car from the truck. When he was done, he trotted back up to the front to hand over the straps they’d tied up Jason’s car with, which Travis (Probably) tossed in the back seat before looking at Leo eyebrow hiked up near his hairline. “You think you can fix it?”

Connor (Probably) snorted and grinned. “Good luck, man.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. Then he winced. “It’s definitely not going to be easy, though. Sounds like a transmission issue. I hate transmissions. And Audis. I don’t know who designed them like that, but they need to be shot. Twice. Or more. I’ll tell you when I finish dealing with the transmission.”

“Thanks. Lemme know if you guys find any more lost travelers, yeah?”

“You got it. See you.”

“See you.” Leo waved at the Stolls as they drove away before he turned back to Jason. He was once again in that same miserable slump he’d been in before, this time leaning against the car. Leo bit his lip and gently said, “Hey, man. You alright?”

“Well, I haven’t slept in over thirty-six hours, I’m stranded in an unfamiliar town because my car decided to break down in the middle of nowhere, and my mom’s dead, so I decided to drive across the country to divvy up her estate with my sister who I haven’t seen in years while we both try to pretend that we don’t hate Christmas, but other than that I’m just great,” Jason snapped. Leo sucked his teeth for just a moment before Jason stiffened and turned to Leo with a horrified expression. “I’m so sorry. That was wildly inappropriate.”

Leo gave him a half-hearted smile. “It’s cool, man. It does sound like you need some sleep though.”

“Yes. Please,” Jason agreed, rubbing a hand over his face. “One of the gentlemen from before mentioned something about a hotel?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call the Stolls gentlemen, but they were right about there being a place in town for you to stay,” Leo grinned. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

#valgrace #my writing #pjo fanfic

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eemcintyre · 2 years ago

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Repaying the Favor (Tom Cruise)

TW: discussion of blood/periods, one mention of throwing up.

Summary: Tom comes home one afternoon to find you in a great deal of pain because ~it's that time of the month amirite ladies~, and he does what he can to try and make things better, despite you insisting that you can handle it.

I myself have been on my period, so I have been nothing but angry, depressed, and h-word (more than usual I mean 🙃🔥) and this is what happened. So it was productive, at least, I guess?

After a hectic morning of back-to-back appointments, Tom was returning to the apartment he and Y/N shared. He was hoping to not only grab a brief lunch, but also some quality time with Y/N before heading back out for the second half of his work for the day.

Unlocking the door and crossing the threshold into the main living room/kitchen area, he was surprised at how quiet the apartment was. Scanning his surroundings for Y/N, she was not to be found, so he proceeded to check the bedroom, calling out “Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m home.” He was met at first with silence, which concerned him, but before he could panic about her being mysteriously gone, he heard a muffled groan. However, upon reaching the bedroom, he still couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Where are you? What’s going on?” He darted across the room until he spotted her lying on the floor by the side of the bed. She was lying on her stomach, twisted in a position that looked odd and uncomfortable with one leg bent toward her midsection and the other straight out. Tom breathed a sigh of relief, ruffling a hand through his hair.

“Don’t do that to me, honey- I thought you’d been taken,” he laughed nervously at the movie reference, noticing that she was also clutching her stomach and had several heating pads draped across her body.

“I-I’m sorry, I- ow, ow, ow…” Y/N struggled to explain herself as several intense pains stabbed in her midsection. “It’s, I just…”

“When did it start?” Tom asked, quickly realizing what the problem was. He crouched down to where she was splayed out, gently placing a hand on her back. Y/N furrowed her brows, this time in confusion instead of discomfort.

“How did you…?”

“I grew up with three sisters, remember?” he chuckled. She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment over the whole situation, but he pulled them away with his hand that wasn’t comfortingly stroking her back. “Hey, don’t worry, I'm not one of those guys who thinks periods are gross. It's just blood. I really don't care. If you stick me with something sharp, blood's gonna come out." He paused, recalling an incident from a while back. “Like that time I knifed my hand really bad trying to make stir fry.” Y/N managed a quiet giggle. “I practically bled all over you, but you just rolled with it and didn’t freak out, and you got me all fixed up.” He smiled while reflecting on that eventful memory.

“C’mon, why didn’t you tell me?” he pressed as Y/N attempted to roll over into a new position, the old one no longer comfortable as new pains began to spring up.

“It’s just humiliating, it shouldn’t be such a big deal, and you’re so busy, and I ruined the sheets…”

“Ok, ok, hold on,” Tom interjected, lacing a hand into one of hers. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of; let’s get that straight. And I can wash the sheets; that’s not a problem.”

“No, I’ll take care of it; it’s not necessary-” Y/N, who had been trying to sit up, was cut off as she doubled back over in pain. Tom threw an arm around her shoulders.

“And as for me being ‘too busy’, I’m not going anywhere, angel. Not when you’re too sick to sit up. I don’t have anything going on the rest of the day that can’t wait.” He had made his mind up and could not be moved by any of her continued pleas that she was fine and could manage by herself.

After fetching her a dose of painkillers and reheating the lukewarm heat pads, he delicately scooped her off the floor, transferring them both to the nearby bed. He settled her on his lap while he rested his back against the headboard. She was curled up in such a way that her head was nestled in his neck and chest, and he could reach an arm around to knead her stomach.

Once the painkillers started to kick in, he felt comfortable enough to run out of the apartment to grab her a few things. Y/N insisted that he had done enough, to which he replied, “If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll just have to guess.” He slipped into his leather jacket, making sure his wallet was still in the pocket.

“Do I also have to remind you of the time I was out of commission sick for almost a week? You practically waited on me; you cooked everything, you sang to me, you sat with me while I was throwing up-“

“Oh no, please don’t talk about throwing up,” Y/N implored, already nauseous from the consistently intense stomach pain.

“Oops, sorry,” he winced.

She begrudgingly requested her favorite hot tea and that he rent the new movie she had been wanting to see, blushing and trying not to smile.

“Yes, ma’am. Now, call me if you need anything; I shouldn’t be very long.”

He gave her a peck on the forehead and a peck on the lips before leaving on his quest, and Y/N replied, “You know you’re the best, right?”

#tom cruise #tom cruise fic #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise x reader #fanfiction #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise fluff #fluff #fanfic #one shot #x reader #imagine #creative writing #self insert #reader insert #just for fun #just roll with it

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fachefaucheux · 2 months ago

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WriteFest! // Day 1 + Goals

It’s that magical time of year again! You know, the one where amateur writers all across the internet take on stupidly ambitious word count goals and drive themselves batty trying to reach them. I am no exception.

I’ve been doing word count goal challenges during the last two months of the year off and on since 2001 (really dating myself here, eh?). And despite all the terrible business that’s been going on with the most infamous one, I’m not going to quit a two-decade long habit just because other people are asshats.

The OG Word Count Challenge helped me write my first “novel” Way Back In the Day, actually. That story was a bizarre fever dream about a guy who found a nuclear warhead in the supply closet of the care home he was working in…and getting rid of it required him to go undercover as vicar and infiltrate MI6??? Obviously, that didn’t end up going anywhere. But you can see glimmers of the same tried-and-true plot devices in it that I’ve been using ever since: a mix of action and humor, the fantastic and bizarre, shady con men pretending to be religious authority figures. (I don’t know why fake priests seem to be a running theme across my stories. I blame Catholic grade school and an overactive imagination.)

Since I tend to favor quantity over quality, I’ve escalated over the years to usually setting my word count goal for November at the 100k mark. But this year, I’ve been confronted with a challenge too insane for me to resist! I do a lot of my drafting on a website called 4thewords that I discovered nearly two years ago (great site, tbh, I highly recommend it to anyone who is more productive when they gamify their life), and this year, they’ve raised the challenge bar to a whole other level. For this year’s WriteFest, the top goal is to write 250k in 44 days. That’s roughly 5,700 words a day, for those of you who don’t feel like whipping out your calculator app.

So, of course, I had to do it.

Is this a good idea? Probably not. Am I still going to try my hardest? You’re goddamn right.

But I am cheating juuuuuust a little. I’m not doing it all on one WIP. This year, I’ll be working on completing Mushroom Picking Season (maybe 20k left? hopefully), the first volume of Canticle (if there’s more than 200k left on that, I’m totally cooked), and making a pitiful attempt at pushing my dissertation to the 25k mark, which is about halfway. (Yes! I do stuff other than write gay shit! My dissertation contains no gay lunatics, sadly. But it does contain an overabundance of (yugo)slavs.) Tally all those up, and you’ve got the 250k, with some wiggle room for just writing some unhinged smut to pad the total when I’m too tired to write anything semi-coherent.

As tradition dictates, I started on November 1st. Not at midnight, because I’m old and decrepit. But at six in the morning. And the results are in!

Day one, done and dusted. Total words: 8,226. For a brief moment, I’m ahead! Only 241,774 to go!

Of course, it’s the second now that I’m posting this. Once again, at six in the morning. I think I’ll try to snag another couple hours of rest before charging into the breach once more. Today’s goal is at least 6,000 words. But probably more, since I owe ya’ll an installment of Niv/Yule hijinks on Sunday. If I get really ahead this weekend, maybe I can even take a very small breather sometime this coming week. (I’m going to need it. For Reasons.)

Stay tuned to see how fast this project goes off the rails! (And snag a sneak peak at some writing snippets, if I’m feeling ambitious.)

#writeblr #ao3 writer #web serial #mm romance #writing #writefest #novel writing #writing challenge #4thewords #november writing challenge

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fromtenthousandfeet · 7 months ago

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Never Let Go Thoughts

I finally listened to Jung Kook's Never Let Go via a reaction video. I sort of skipped through it, to be honest. I'm not here to write a review of the song, but to express some concerns.

As others have said, the song feels rushed and unfinished. Yes, it's repetitive and continues to be a little too derivative of Justin Bieber's work. Also, his English pronunciation isn't the greatest. Because the tempo is so fast, his diction suffers. Any non-native English speaker will have this problem given how fast the song is.

I think it's great that Jungkook is trying new genres. An artist really needs to push boundaries and take risks in order to grow and stay relevant in the industry. But in this case, I'm struggling to understand how such a simple song could have 8 writers and 4 producers. Teenagers across the globe are making better music in their bedrooms with free or cheap music production software.

This is going to sound crazy given how snarky I can be, but I genuinely feel bad for Jungkook. Seven and Golden didn't sit right with me, and neither does Never Let Go. It's increasingly clear that Big Hit/HYBE's goal is to make money off of JK without investing in his growth as an artist, even though we know he's a serious music lover with high standards. And while ARMY and JJKs will support Jungkook unconditionally - continuing to buy and stream his music - the general music consuming public will not. Right now he's not an industry joke because most people in the GP have no idea who he is, but if BSH and BH keep this up, JK will become completely irrelevant. The American music market is not the Korean music market. Copying established western singers over and over again is not going to end well, especially when the final product feels significantly sub-par to the original.

Now for the scary part. Who is paying for all this promotion - especially for a song that should have either been released on music platforms but not for sale, or simply brought back to the recording studio for improvement/reworking? If JK's marketing costs are deducted from his song sales and streaming profits, not only will he not make money, but he might end up owing HYBE big bucks. I think it's very likely he's in a 360 contract with Big Hit given how much investment they've put into his solo work. Hopefully he was able to negotiate favorable terms so he doesn't end up in massive debt for his solo projects. Jon Bellion's recent bellyaching about the lack of radio play for SEVEN makes me think the group behind JK's album aren't getting the royalties they were expecting.

As I watch BTS' fandom devolve into divisiveness and rancor, as the members' solo singles fail to chart in the US, and public perception about HYBE continues to fall, I worry. I think Bang PD was counting on BTS' reputation and brand value lasting forever. He's a foolish man. I'm reminded of that video where he's sitting with TXT and telling them that their collab with the Jonas Brothers is going to be a huge hit and has a guaranteed spot on the Billboard Hot 100. We all know how that went. Does anyone have a link to that clip? Bang PD has a lot of bravado, but not a lot of western music industry sense.

Thanks for these comments on my previous post, @in2u-4asec and @isaidnothankyou. Ditto!

in2u-4asec i worry about jk to be honest. because all the money used and continued being used to promote him as a soloist, it isn't free. he has to make money to pay all of that. i just really hope he hasn't signed any solo contract like that infamous 360 one. isaidnothankyou @in2u-4asec, I've thought the same thing. I know it isn't the thing to take away from his "agency," but was it really his idea to release an unfinished song (he was obviously embarrassed about it) in a blatant money grab? I've said this about Jimin, but it goes for everyone. Do they have anyone who is NOT affiliated with the company to advise them and protect their interests? A real manager, in other words, not just someone who drives them and takes care of the luggage?

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laura1633 · 9 months ago

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I love your defiant Max au so much because of the enemies to lovers aspect especially the hate sex. Uhmmm so…

I love the idea of Max being blindfolded as Charles tries to feed him gelato, except maybe this time it’s a bet.

For every flavor Max can tell is not the real “authentic” version (aka Max’s ice cream) Charles has to pull that product and rework it. But if Max can’t guess the majority of the flavors correctly than he owes Charles a favor.

I imagine the first few times they made this bet Max would’ve crushed Charles and sent him back to the drawing board each time, but Charles is super competitive and can’t stand not winning, so he ask for rematch again and again until he actually starts getting better. More and more flavors stay each time they rematched until eventually Max loses.

Of course Max is upset that he lost to Charles, in honesty he’s probably a sore loser about the entire affair, but a bet is a bet and he’s someone who doesn’t back down on his promises.

Because I’m me, Charles definitely used the favor for sex lol.

I imagine he ask Max to kneel as a part of the favor blind fold still on, and Max whose at this point torn about liking Charles being drawn to him while simultaneously being infuriated, is very confused, unsure and maybe vulnerable.

He then takes the blindfold off carefully cradling Max’s head saying he wants to see Max’s eyes for this. He tells him about this plan and ask if Max want this, says he could use the favor for something else if Max refuses.

Thing is Max does want this, and he has for quite some time now, so instead of pushing Charles away he goes for the button of his pants which has Charles groaning and tipping his head back.

I’ll let you fill in the rest from here lol

Lestappen rival to lovers works in every au 😂 and thank you to the original anon who suggested ice cream shop owner Max.

This is great anon because Charles would absolutely be super competitive and asking for rematches until he wins! He'd become obsessed with winning! Oh and absolutely he would use that favour for sex (and who can blame him - Max is hot but he's even hotter when he's all worked up from losing).

#anon asks #Lestappen #Ice Cream au

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deepdarkdelights · 2 years ago

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For the boquet boys.... Can I ask for a summary of how they all know each other? I'm still so confused😅😅😅 like Namjoon is the big scary mafia, hoseok is his second in command (?), Then how do the other BTS members know RM? are they also members of his gang? I'm just so lost

You know what that is a completely fair question! A lot of the world-building I did was through asks as this was my first series! So, it makes sense why you are missing some pieces! I should really add a guide to the masterlist now that I'm thinking about it 😂

So, here is a guide to (I think) all of the relationships:

Jungkook - he works with Yoongi and is his CFO they both bonded over their "shared interests" if you know what I mean. Jungkook also grew up with Jimin and Tae they are all childhood best friends and would often spend summers at the lakehouse with him and his family. Jungkook also owes Namjoon now, Yoongi contacted Namjoon on JK's behalf in order to get the forged death certificates for his father. Jungkook knows of Jin and Hoseok because of Yoongi but has never met him.

Yoongi - works with JK and is the CEO of his entertainment company. Yoongi's father was indebted to Namjoon and when Yoongi inherited the company he also inherited his father's debts. Yoongi also knows Jin as Jin was previously in Namjoon's place and he plans to call in a favor with Jin to deliver the MC's baby. Yoongi knows Hoseok as Joon's right-hand man. Taehyung is also contracted under Yoongi's label. Yoongi has never met Jimin.

Jimin - childhood friends with Tae and Jungkook, they are all still in touch. Jimin's grandfather used to kidnap and murder those that slighted him, he would sell the bodies/organs to the underground through Namjoon's father - after passing, Jimin took over for his grandfather and still supplies Namjoon with whatever he needs but he does not kill anyone...just kidnapping. Jimin knows Hoseok as Namjoon's right hand but also the middleman for deliveries/favors. Jimin is not familiar with Yoongi and hasn't met Jin.

Taehyung - childhood friends with Jungkook and Jimin. Taehyung is contracted under Yoongi's label and has met with him often. Taehyung does not know Jin and he has not met Hoseok or Namjoon in person. He does know of them though because they were the ones he paid to learn everything about the MC - where she lives, her personal documents, and access to her browsers and cameras etc.

Jin - he is Namjoon's half-brother. Jin's father was a crime boss who raised him as his next heir despite Jin not wanting to take over. Namjoon found Jin and they planned to murder their father, once they succeeded Jin handed everything over to Joon but he still gets a cut of the profits and in turn acts as a doctor when needed. Jin knows Hoseok as Joon's right hand. Jin knows Yoongi through his father's debt. Jin knows Tae as an actor but hasn't personally met him. Jin knows about Jimin from his grandfather but hasn't met him. Jin has not met Jungkook.

Namjoon - knows pretty much everyone through work or debt. Yoongi, Jungkook, and Tae are indebted to him. Jin is his half-brother and is somewhat indebted to him. Jimin essentially works for him by providing "product." Hoseok and Namjoon met each other as teenagers and spent a lot of their time on the streets together and getting into all sorts of trouble. They built their empire from the ground up together.

Hoseok - knows almost everyone through work and through Namjoon. He's the consigliere, the right-hand man, the guy that gets the job done. He knows Jin as Joon's half-brother and as a doctor. He knows Jimin through "work." He knows Yoongi through "work." He knows about JK because of Yoongi and Namjoon. And, he knows Tae as an actor and as someone who is indebted to them.

AND done. A comprehensive list of how everyone knows each other 😅

#asks #the bouquet series #lore #the bouquet series relationships

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thebreakfastgenie · 2 years ago

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one 🔥 for mash, one 🔥 for tww

These won't be new because I post my unpopular opinions all the time lol but

MASH:

There is a very obvious "king of repression" in MASH. It's Margaret. Margaret struggles to admitting she's feeling anything or experiencing negative effects from the war to anyone. If there is anyone Sidney is dying to put under a microscope, it's her, although I don't think he sees any of them that way; they're his friends and he likes being able to help them, they're not lab rats. Margaret has an entire conversation with Sidney wherein she's denying feeling anything at all, while expressing sublimated rage, and basically projecting, as she's trying to offer him advice. In fact, rage is one of the few emotions she ever feels comfortable expressing. One of the only people who can get past her walls is Hawkeye, and in Comrades in Arms she even falls back on rage with him.

Margaret's second conversation with Sidney is mostly comic relief and unfortunately dominated by early installment weirdness Charles ship tease, but it goes very similarly. She makes claims about other people while seemingly unaware of her own feelings and behavior, and she yells a lot.

Margaret says she's not a very open person. We see her struggle to form relationships, including with the other nurses, because she is so closed off. She's lonely, but she pushes people away. It's hard for her to admit she wants or needs anything. She hates to show any kind of vulnerability.

And yet we can see Margaret be compassionate! With the other characters in the later seasons, and with the patients throughout. She does acknowledge emotions, just not her own, because that would be too dangerous.

These are all traits you rarely get to see in a female character and I for one owe Loretta Swit my life.

In the spirit of the game, I'll get a little spicy:

I think the reason the fandom devotes so much time to the repressed BJ headcanon--which is just that, a headcanon-when Margaret is right there doing it in canon and gets very little attention is that people struggle to see female characters as complex. Emotional repression in particular tends to be associated with men; we see this all the time in society. This is not a problem specific to this fandom; it's a reflection of how we are taught to view women that manifests in every fandom. I do think Margaret is a prime example of it.

TWW:

I don't like Donna's arc in season 6. I think it loses sight of the foundation of the character, which is my criticism of a lot of seasons 5 and 6. I hate the "shallow girlboss feminism" critique, but if the shoe fits... We're supposed to believe Donna is overqualified for her position and Josh has been unfairly holding her back. This is simply not the case. There wasn't really a ladder for Donna to move up. She was very good at her job, so Josh had every professional reason to keep her.

None of the other assistants are portrayed as being treated unfairly. Mrs. Landingham, Debbie, Bonnie, Ginger, and Carol are all career assistants. That's a real job! Donna also has no formal qualifications and no relevant experience prior to the Bartlet campaign. The whole point of Donna was that this silly, slightly flaky young college dropout is actually extremely smart and capable. Donna not wanting to remain an assistant makes sense, but she wasn't wronged. The job offer she gets in season 4 is lucrative, but it's for a start-up, where formal qualifications are less important than in, say, the White House, and they're more free to emphasize her on-the-job experience. Donna getting as high a position she as she does on the Russell campaign is frankly absurd and in my opinion a product of it being a convenient way to have two main characters handle those campaign scenes.

Once Donna does get successful, she jettisons most of her personality in favor of being Competent and occasionally the only moral one (2162 Votes; Donna is the moral compass of the show but the way that was presented bugged me). And Josh was right, if a bit dramatic, when he said he was the victim. Donna quit without giving notice! That's pretty unprofessional! Donna was so full of shit when she accused him of keeping her in grunt-level servitude, when we've seen the responsibilities she's been given. And like... knowing how he liked his food was part of her job. It's uncomfortable to admit but Josh did give her a career. That doesn't mean she's beholden to him forever, but it happened. In Impact Winter, she never told Josh what the meeting she wanted to have was about or that it was important until the last minute. She also knows better than literally anyone that his meetings get rescheduled all the time because that's the White House, and him not prioritizing her meeting over various urgent situations is not personal. Maybe if the show had done a better job of showing him dismissing her and taking her for granted as an ongoing pattern I would buy it, but they didn't.

Even in the Josh/Donna resolution in season 7, Donna has to be Cool and Right even at the expense of making sense. Josh is the first one who brings up talking (and even indicated he wanted to way back in Election Day, which she ignored), but we're supposed to believe it's a sign that he's panicking about commitment when he doesn't want to do it while badly jet-lagged? It's all the tables have turned, Josh is pining for Donna, until Donna's the one setting deadlines. All in all it made the character much less enjoyable for me and unintentionally sent the message that women can't have personality and success. Iirc, CJ gets a lot less fun material once she becomes chief of staff, too.

#mashposting

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the-rookinator-3000 · 1 year ago

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hell yeah you’ve got some based headcanons

curious on your headcanons for dot

THANK YOU!!!! i think about them a lot . penguins in my brain. also i can totally do dot hcs !!! (i was wondering when someone would ask cuz i did have a couple in my mind...)

👗 > DOT HCS BELOW!!! MY FAV DISGUISE GAL :3

first of all and i CANNOT stress this enough, trans. she is a trans woman. this is very important!!! RAAHHH

and to add to that i'd like to think that her "design gal" appearance is the product of her finally expressing herself, which is why she's wearing a lot more colorful accessories and trying a new style she usually didn't have prior... and the whole "new passion for fashion" quote is DEFINITELY an indicator of her being more comfortable with herself and her interests, especially branching out to other things that don't have to do with the EPF

dot is fond of giving her fellow agents nicknames! she likes to call rookie "rooks" and (canonically) calls the agent "ace", she also teasingly calls jpg "big guy" just to annoy him

heres some relationship stuff below!

to rookie, she is a very dependable and understanding older sister figure. the two are very close and rookie enjoys going out on missions with her just as much as he enjoys doing so with jpg. dot has always been offering a helping flipper to rookie

to jpg, dot is very sassy and kind of ruthless. she likes to tease him a lot, mostly to see his reaction. but the two do get along, especially when talking about their common interest in fashion. jpg owes a lot to dot's talent and skill, even if he has to take in all of dot's teasing all the time

dot owes a lot to aunt arctic, mostly because of ANOTHER SCENARIO I MADE UP IN MY HEAD but basically it had to do with dot first coming into the island, and more or less being really distant and cold. a lot of that personality really softened when she got recruited into the EPF

occasionally, her old cold-hearted nature can sometimes stick out, especially when she's angry. which is one of the main reasons why jpg never attempts to fight back against her teasing. she is simply too girlboss i fear

i also originally planned for her to be the one who made rookie's hawaiian shirt. i scrapped the headcanon in favor of an oc explanation, but i'll just leave it here :3

dot enjoys scrapbooking and crafts in general! there is a board in her igloo that contains a lot of photos, she is very crafty!

dot's parents are both models, and they taught her how to improvise on fashion when she was younger. that's how she ended up being really good at making disguises out of simple materials.

despite that, dot does not get along well with her family!

dot has crossdressed a lot before, mostly for her disguises, but occasionally she does it for fun.

(semi-canon?) she has a lot of friends around the island, and maybe even moreso in the fashion industry

her personality has hardened a lot more after the events of operation blackout, she became a lot more focused and just.. a teensy tiny bit more stern

everyone in the EPF means a lot to her, she cares about all of them like family. (and she probably cares more about them than her own family but i digress) just like gary, she'd rather be cryogenically frozen 20 times over than see the EPF get destroyed in front of her

she collects squishmallows. i dont know im adding this in

the inside of her igloo is the most pastel purple-pink mess you can possibly think of. (i also thought of her living in a travel trailer? kind of a funny thought ngl)

OKAY I THINK THATS.. MOST OF IT!!! I HOPE THIS WASNT TOO FOCUSED ON OTHER PENGUINS

#asks 📪#ask game #dot the disguise gal #<- just putting that in my character tags...

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zorilleerrant · 11 months ago

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I like to think that Rose makes fake infomercials for all of her products, and has roped all of her family, friends, and neighbors into making them. which means, eventually, The Doctor gets tapped to star in one, where he gamely holds up toys and talks about their fantastic qualities. now he's pretty charismatic, and he loves teddy bears and all, so I think he'd get very enthusiastic about this, and become very popular all over the internet.

so we know he always calls himself The Doctor, even in contexts where it doesn't make sense, but in a channel of fake toy infomercials (with real handmade toys to buy) I don't think people would question it too much. they even get him to say "trust me, I'm The Doctor" and other catchphrases like that by leaving comments. he develops a cult following, and, owing to this, Rose puts him in even more videos and gets him to talk up all of her most popular products. she's doing great business out of all this.

one time, he tries to show off a talking bear. the bear says something normal, like "I love you", but it's advertised with the ability to email Rose your own audio files and she'll record them for the bear. except this one doesn't turn on immediately - so The Doctor has to sonic it better. works pretty quickly, the bear starts playing music, and he goes, see, what a fascinating product! which, of course, makes the bear very popular after the video goes viral. what else does it do? well it makes people want his sonic screwdriver.

now I don't think almost anyone thinks it's an actual device, they think he was just being funny, but it means that Rose gets to design a whole bunch of novelty penlights and they start selling really well, too. (just cheap bulk ones and she sculpts decorations onto them, well within her wheelhouse.) and The Doctor, by popular demand, starts using them to give the plushies 'checkups' and make sure they're all feeling their best.

so, because he does silly little skits like that, and he's called The Doctor, people think he's a toy doctor, and start sending in their dolls and bears and toy cars and everything to get patched up. Rose can do that easily; that's the same sewing, stuffing, painting, etc. that she's already been doing when she makes things by hand. maybe she learns some new techniques, which I think she'd be excited to try, but most things I think would be very quick repairs and send all the toys home happy and healthy. except it's odd that it's happening so much, because no one has put together that people think The Doctor is, like, The Toy Doctor yet.

but The Doctor has also noticed this influx of orders and is all, well, if people are going to be sending so many in anyway we might as well add a separate order form, and while we're at it let's make our own site, that'll be cheaper and more convenient. and Rose is all do you even know anyone who can make a website because all my friends are, no offense, kind of bad at it, and you shouldn't believe them when they say they know how. and The Doctor's like of course I know someone, it's Mickey.

and Mickey's like, oh sure, I'll do you a favor, and drops by the house to help set up Rose's website because he wants to install some design software for her to make it easier to do mockups and such, and he gets to explaining, and then The Doctor finally comes home, and at first Mickey's like, hey, and keeps explaining, but then he finally looks at The Doctor and he's like. why do you have a different face that's the same face that I thought you already didn't have anymore, and The Doctor has to explain.

and then Mickey's like. I thought you lived with Martha now and also what happened to the version of you who looks like me, did you just abandon Martha? and The Doctor's like. I don't think that part has happened for me yet it's probably yet another version of The Doctor who isn't really The Doctor but just looks exactly the same because that's happened really a lot of times now. or else it's a future version of me! and Mickey is like. right well enjoy your website

and then Rose asks Mickey to do infomercials for her toys and since Mickey thinks the toy monsters are really cool he's very enthusiastic about them and then his videos go viral too

also Mickey is the only one who realized why people think he's The Toy Doctor and has to explain about toy hospitals

#look i said something #don't mind me I'm drunk right now #doctor who

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arkadiaasks · 7 months ago

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How is Season 3 of GX trash? This is literally the TVTropes description: Season 3 is considered by many fans to be the series' start of its true highest point owing it to Jaden's Character Development, better pacing, and an overall darker tone with much more dire situations.

It's basically a bad action movie, or at least devolves into one. Or a phoned-in sequel where the author is writing for the check.

I have an extremely low opinion of Director Tsuji due to how his run of Cardfight!! Vanguard (it follows his impersonal space force villain fetish to its logical conclusion and it basically killed Vanguard as a meaningful competitor to Yu-Gi-Oh!) and a lot of the second half of GX Season 3. But basically? It's style over substance, especially as you move into the second half.

The first half is good and has decent set-up and general follow through and escalation, resulting in some really fun intense climatic Duels.

But. Basically?

The second half of the season has the writers more or less stumbling over each other's feet with regards to writing decisions. If you've ever actually watched it, the tone just gets really off kilter and doesn't even work as well as the tone for the first half of Season 3. And basically plot points (namely who or what The Supreme King exactly is changes from week to week).

Jim's sacrifice really doesn't get well built up because the Orichalcum Eye comes out of left field without build up from earlier in the season.

O'Brien's character basically gets shot to hell.

Amon and Echo basically get their heads blown out spontaneously with no real meaningful clarification that "Yes, they're dead for reals, holmes."

Shou, Edo Phoenix and Kaiser basically act in really weirdly out of character ways (yes I know why Shou does but it just comes off as edge for the sake of edge).

The show tries to clean itself up in the fourth quarter but you have a lot of 'but the damage was already done' problems, and it adds a heavily unnecessary twists of past lives I've never seen defended in a meaningful way.

GX's pacing was generally fine as it ran on "we do this for 11-13 episodes and then we complicate the plot in a new way", which is how a good production does its story for syndicated TV in Japanese animated long runners.

I'm also suspect of people who only really got into GX with Season 3 as "The real GX" as anecdotally, those types were basically bullies, transphobes, or gaslighting manipulative sexual abusers or all three combined. (But I will acknowledge this is a personal bias)

Or the types so fucking insecure about their media they need it to be Grimdark so their friends don't judge them for watching a kid's show. (At which point, my dude, drop your friends if they're gonna be shitbags to you)

And honestly, Judai's character development only works with Season 4 to contextualize the trainwreck Season 3 became (which itself was an attempt by the writers to try and get the show back to the more dramedy setting they had been shooting for for Season 1 but got shot down for reasons similar to why the Dark Signers arc turned into Kiddy Nobody Did Nuffin Wrong Town)

Season 3 is honestly just a mess, especially with Cour 3. Takegami and Yoshida and the rest of the writers were given an idea by Takahashi (the Supreme King concept) and could not figure out what they wanted to do with it.

He was simultaneously an extra dimensional ruler that already existed. A past life. Judai's trauma giving him a Batman of Zur-En-Arrh autopilot fugue state. It just wanders around in circles, and doesn't figure out what it wants to be until meaningfully at the end.

And.

Yoshida clearly not interested in the past life baggage. Or a forced / phoned-in addition of The Light of Destruction again.

Basically tosses Season 3's events into a trash can outside of broad strokes, in favor of addressing plot points from Season 1 and 2 about the main cast, and using loose ends from the first season to construct the story's endgame.

It's basically treated as a failure by the staff themselves except for it as a vehicle to do cool stuff in Season 4.

#yugioh #yugiohgx #yugiohanime

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nadiegesabate1990 · 8 months ago

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People ask me why you stopped writing song lyrics?

I had a lot of vigor, style and violence in my lyrics that I wrote. But it's very boring to live in today's world, it's pathetic. We have to write and people get sick of it and we have to write another one, you know, that gets tiring. And this gives rise to fads. But I distanced myself from cruelty. And I didn't have the money to record in 'record' studios, publish these splendid albums.

At that time, I was working on one of my masterpieces, at home, I had a dispassionate view of misery and cruelty and I wrote while drinking coffee. The cool thing about it all is that they accepted the challenge of recording my albums. But I look alienated. But what does it mean to be alienated?

Alienated work is part of a process of domination imposed on subjects, individuals, who are treated only as means for the achievement of others and not as ends in themselves, they are treated as instruments and not as people and, finally, they are expropriated of its production.

A being only considers itself independent as soon as it stands on its own feet, and only stands on its own feet as soon as it owes its existence to itself. A man who lives off the favors of another considers himself a dependent being. But I live completely on the favors of another when I owe them not only the maintenance of my life, but when he, moreover, created my life; when he is the source of my life, and my life necessarily has such a foundation outside itself when it is not my own creation.

Creation is, therefore, a very difficult representation to eliminate from the people's consciousness. The being-in-itself of nature and man is inconceivable to him because it contradicts all the probabilities of practical life. (MARX, K. Economic-philosophical manuscripts. p.113)

In this sense, Marx only conceives the possibility of the existence of ethics from overcoming selfish and possessive individualism, from overcoming the dichotomy between the individual (bourgeois) and the citizen that now allows the domination of the selfish forces of civil society that isolate the individual of his community essence, sometimes the domination of an abstract entity – the State -, disconnected from the real life of men. In both situations, there is a denial of freedom in the republican sense. Therefore, Marxian politics presupposes the effective existence of the republic.

In games of domination, the aim is to confuse the development of political thought and citizen action, which must be constituted from questioning mediations and ethical values, with simple empty rhetoric, or with the mere assimilation and reproduction of a competence discursive, supposedly democratic, but whose objective is solely domination and, therefore, the suppression of freedoms.

For some authors, Marx's problem is the disregard of the role of the State as a means of constituting and promoting freedom. But, did Marx, definitively, disregards the role of the State, or it would be shifting the axis of political beyond the limits of the formal State – thinking about the politicization of civil society, exercising the sovereignty of the State, to then constitute a truly democratic State?

Nothing much, it's a bit daring with autobiographical tones that refers to the daily life of an angry girl. After a prolonged silence, I returned to the metal genre. The most uncontrolled experimentalism leads to obsessive satanism of darkness. It's been ten years and I still haven't been successful, and I'm being asked if I'm dead.

I don't know if I'm Christ or the Devil?

I hope to receive some prize. And also receive more awards and be recognized throughout the Planet, and be honored with more awards.

#lol #funny #art #photography #nature #fashion #music #movies #anime #gaming #taylor swift #artists on tumblr #tumblr

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an-aroaces-harem · 10 months ago

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Ivy Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I just deepl and google translated my way through this because I wanted to know what’s going on, so there are definitely mistakes but I believe I managed the general gist of the story. Anyway, it’s just a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes. Morganatic Idol belongs to Cybird and ABC Frontier, Inc.

Ivy: Next song too, huh?

Ivy-san laughed weakly. His listless appearance differed from his usual gently and dependable appearance.

(What's wrong?)

Rina: Um ... Ivy-san?

Ivy: Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm a little fuzzy. It's nothing.

Ivy: Anyway, thanks for delivering the papers. I'll take it.

(Oh, I hadn't given them to him yet!)

I hurriedly pulled out a stack of papers and handed them to Ivy-san.

Ivy: Thank you.

He quickly looked over the documents.

(Very serious expression ...)

Perhaps noticing my gaze, he looks up and smiles.

Ivy: You seem to be interested in it. Do you want to see?

Rina: Is that okay?

Ivy: I don't care. You're part of the staff.

Ivy: These are offers that come for exe.

Rina: Eh, all of this!?

Ivy: Oh. Collaborations with foreign artists and requests to perform at music festivals. That kind of thing.

I skim over the documents he shows me.

(All the names of famous festivals and artists even I know.)

(I can't believe they get so many super-sized offers like this. I knew exe was on a different level ...!)

Ivy: As you know, exe is all about self-production.

Ivy: We'll all decide whether or not to accept the offer, but first I'm going to do my homework on the job that's coming our way.

Ivy: Then I share it with the members, and we all look at it from different angles, and then we make the final decision.

(Come to think of it, I've heard that you also take care of the clerical work behind the scenes. So this is what it was all about.)

He says it plainly, but data collecting is a painstaking process.

(While keeping up with his busy schedule as an idol, he also takes lessons and trains.)

(And to write high quality songs in such a short span of time, and to do this kind of work on top of that ... he's a little too busy.)

(I'm afraid that Ivy-san's body is getting tired of it ...)

The way he looked at me earlier made me worry.

Rina: Umm ... I think it would be better to ask the others to help you.

Rina: I think it's a little too much of a burden for Ivy-san.

I know it's a bit forward of me, but I just said it like that.

Ivy: I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine.

Ivy-san smiles at me ... but then says that firmly.

Ivy: And the other members have their own things to do.

Ivy: Xeno does the directing, Jace is doing makeup and costumes, and Finn and Hugh are doing choreography and training.

Ivy: Each member does what only they can do ... so it's my job to do this.

He may be a responsible leader who cares about his members.

But ... after seeing the shadowy expression on your face earlier, I'm worried.

I also remembered that I felt something strange about him at the concert the other day.

(The reason why Ivy-san's smile looked different from usual at that time might be because he was too exhausted ...)

As soon as I thought that, I opened my mouth.

Rina: Ivy-san, please allow me to assist you in previewing that offer.

Ivy: What!? Why?

Rina: I'm worried about you, Ivy-san.

If it's so bad that it diminishes your brilliance on stage, it's not something that can be ignored. And ...

Rina: I've had a lot of help from you in the past days.

Rina: From the day I arrived at the apartment, you were so kind to me ... it was really reassuring.

He was the only one who was kind to me when I was anxious.

(He showed me materials, recommended me to help with the distribution ... and gave me gifts.)

Rina: So if there's anything I can do to help, please let me. I want to return the favor.

Ivy: I'm glad you feel that way, but I'm sorry. You're too busy.

Ivy-san seemed puzzled by my passionate words.

Ivy: First of all, you don't owe me anything. I just did what I had to do.

Rina: I'm not exaggerating! You really helped me.

I can't tell you how many times your words of encouragement have helped me.

(I was saved by Ivy-san's kindness many times just in this short period of time.)

(I feel so much safer when I'm around this person ...)

Ivy: No, but ...

Rina: Please, I'll do anything anything to reduce Ivy-san's workload ...!

I was so eager to help him that I even said something like that.

Ivy: ... Anything?

Rina: Yes!

Ivy: ...

Ivy-san makes a gesture as if he's pondering something.

Ivy: Well, then ...

His beautiful eyes flicker slightly, and then he suddenly takes a step closer.

Rina: !?

As the distance between us closes, his eyes, always softly colored, turn earnestly toward me.

Ivy: Stay put and don't move ...

I couldn't move as if I were tied up. I watched breathlessly as he reached for me.

(What are you ...?)

Ivy: Kawanaga-san.

Rina: Ah ...

The sweet, magical voice spun from his shapely lips made my heart race.

He reached out and gently placed his hand on my head.

A large hand lightly touched it, and then my head was caressed with both hands.

Rina: Wah ...

Ivy: You're so sweet ... to care for me like that. I'm glad.

Rina: Ah, Ivy-san!?

When I looked up in surprise, he was looking at me with bright eyes.

Ivy: Haha, I'm sorry. I'm kind of happy.

(This is the third time having my head patted ... but this one feels a little different from the other times ...)

He had been gently so far, but the way he just did it was like he was ...

Ivy: Finn wasn't so wrong about what he said before.

He laughs mischievously.

Rina: What do you mean ...?

Ivy: I'm talking about you being like a dog or cat. You're like an honest, healthy little animal.

Ivy: When I do this, it's very calming.

As soon as he said that, his hands mixed my hair again.

Rina: Oh, wait a minute!

Ivy: Hehe, so cute and cuddly.

Laughing happily, Ivy-san strokes my head.

(Really, he's treating me like a cat or dog!? Ivy-san is even talking like Finn-san.)

While I was frozen, not knowing how to react, my hair was being crumpled up ...

(Oh my god ...!)

Rina: Ivy-san!

... In my confusion, I just screamed.

Ivy: !

At that moment, he stopped and widened his eyes in shock.

(Oh s-shoot!)

Rina: I'm sorry. I was just shouting ...

Ivy: Ah no, it was me ... I got a little carried away. I'm sorry.

My hair was a little messy, and Ivy-san hurriedly fixed it.

Ivy: You don't like being treated like a cat or dog. I'm sorry.

Rina: I was surprised, but I hope it cheered you up.

Ivy: You're very kind. Thank you.

Ivy: But it was wrong of me to overdo it. I'll be more careful from now on.

Rina: I've asked that before but am I really that much like a cat or dog?

When I asked him this, he stared at me.

Ivy: I thought so but ... when you were mad at me earlier, you looked more like my sister.

Rina: Sister?

Ivy: She used to scold me like you just did.

Ivy: She would huff out his cheeks and say "Oh my god, onii-chan!"

He looked so kind as he squinted his eyes at me.

Perhaps this is Ivy-san's expression as a 'big brother'.

(I bet he really loves his sister.)

The shadows that had been there just a few minutes ago had completely disappeared.

(I've been told I'm like a cat or dog, or that I look like his sister. I don't mind it, but it's kind of weird ...)

I wonder what kind of person Ivy-san's sister is, who has been mentioned many times.

Rina: How old is your sister?

Ivy-san's eyes were a little downcast and he looked as if he was thinking.

Ivy: Probably around the same age as you.

Rina: I see. Does her face resemble yours?

Ivy: Well, I don't know. I've been told we look alike.

Rina: I'm sure she's a strong person because she only scolds Ivy-san.

Ivy: She was often angry with me, especially when I was naughty.

The way he talks about his family shows that they're close siblings.

Then, Ivy-san coughed.

Ivy: Actually, I was feeling a little stuck until just now. But after talking to you, I feel much lighter. It's a wonder.

Then, he says resignedly.

Ivy: I'm just wondering ... when I'm tired, can I ask for your help again?

Ivy: For example, like patting your head like before.

Rina: Eh?

Ivy: Oh, no, I'm sorry for asking you to do something weird. I know I said I wouldn't treat you like a cat or dog anymore, but it's contradicting.

Ivy: But when I stroked your head, I felt so much calmer.

With a tense expression on his face, Ivy-san was staring at me.

For some reason, his serious eyes make my heart skip a beat.

Rina: ... I don't mind at all. If you can think of me that way, I'm happy for you.

Rina: I'm willing to do it whenever you need my head.

Ivy: !

Ivy: Thank you ...!

When I answered with a sense of embarrassment, Ivy-san laughed at me.

The way he looks at me is much gentler than it was at first.

I was happy to feel like we had become a little closer.

... And then.

The studio was only occupied by two people, but then I heard someone enter.

And ...

Finn: Hey Ivy, I brought you some goodies.

Finn: Oh, you're Rina, aren't you? What are you doing here?

Rina: Finn-san!

He had wondered why I had brought the documents instead of Sakura-san and--

I also told him that I'd like to help with Ivy-san's work.

Finn: I see ... that's good, isn't it?

Rina: Really?

Ivy: Hey, Finn. You can't let her do that.

Finn: She's motivated. I find she can do the job relatively well, and I think that's good.

Finn: And you've got your hands full with songwriting now, don't you? Then why don't you let Rina take care of it?

Ivy: That's ...!

Rina: Ivy-san, please!

Ivy: ...

After a moment of contemplation, Ivy-san let out a sigh.

Ivy: ... All right. If you insist, I'll let you do it.

Rina: Thank you very much! I will take full responsibility!

Ivy: Yeah, thanks.

Rina: Yes!

... After that, Ivy-san asked Finn-san to go home with me becaue it was already late at night.

--flashback--

Ivy: I wish I could give you a ride, but ... sorry, I can't leave yet.

--flashback--

Ivy-san was apologizing, even though he was the one who was going to have a hard time.

I think he has a strong sense of responsibility. Ivy-san seems to be trying too hard, which worries me.

(I'm glad he agreed to let me help.)

(This might reduce Ivy-san's burden a little.)

(You trusted me with this, so I'm going to finish it!)

I made up my mind to do so.

⤷ next chapter

#morganatic idol #morudoru #morudoru ivy #resa translates something for once?

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