#pssst check out my tag >>

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Are you familiar with Sonic the Hedgehog???

Familiar with him?

He's my best friend! (previous hyperfixation)

[weaselytedious]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 大逆転裁判 | Dai Gyakuten Saiban | The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes & Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Naruhodou Ryuunosuke & Iris Watson | Iris Wilson Characters: Naruhodou Ryuunosuke, Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes (Dai Gyakuten Saiban), Iris Watson | Iris Wilson, Naruhodou Ryuunosuke's Pet Shrimp Additional Tags: Fluff, Slice of Life, Canon Compliant, general silliness, the glorious origin story of Chuunosuke, Friendship, Background Ryunosuke & Susato, Ryunosuke’s aquarium obsession, Post-Dai Gyakuten Saiban 1: Naruhodou Ryuunosuke no Bouken | The Great Ace Attorney: Adventures Summary: It’s been a few months since Susato left London abruptly to return to Japan. Ryunosuke doesn’t know what to do with himself, and Sholmes are Iris are behaving in even more peculiar ways than usual.

(Takes place during the gap between the first and second Great Ace Attorney games - contains some big spoilers for the first, but none for the second!)

[t0asty1]

slututations earthlings 🥶

names: nicole/nikolas (nik for short), rendareiyaes (ren, rain or rei for short) and you can also call me toast/toasty

pronouns: any and every but please default to they/them unless specified otherwise ☝

age: 17 and strung out on confusion......

just started my 2nd year of college 🎉 (dual enrolled) (please kill me😊😍🥳)

mbti: infp/intp (i got exactly 50/50 score on "thinking vs feeling" so yes both)

im literally suguru geto irl. i dont kin him he kins ME 💥

𝑰 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑷𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒚𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 ❤

ᨳ

im uh genderfluid and uh idk what the hell my sexuality is but its some kind of combination of bi aroace and demi. yeagh 👍

i am not a human.

pssst.... please check out my comic with only one page out tagged as "suicide fairy series"

also if u want to rp as jjk characters. join the jjk officalverse its so fucking funny og my god

⊱🪷🪼🧠ྀིྀི⊰　

more about me (please read!!):

≽^•༚• ྀི≼

THE POLYCULE 💯💯💯‼ (lowkey we all aromantic about it)

angel: @fist-full-of-feathers 😍😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🌹

my wife (hes a man): @raeprise 😍😍😍😘😘😘❤❤❤

the REAL rui kamishiro from pjsk (NOT CLICKBAIT): @kamisheep 🥰🥰🥰😍😍🥰😍😘😘

my platonic husband: @boy0fpoison 😼😼🌹💍💍💍💍💍❤

person who gave me a human sacrifice to be here: @garden-of-runar 🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😼😼💐🌹

my. fictional boyfriemd: @ino-offical 😍😍🌹🌹🌹🌹😼😍 #NikumaCanon

a thing a found in the sewer: @mah1to-offical 😍😍😍😍😍💐💐🥰🥰

𝜗𝜚

my bros💕🌈😊🌷

@caffeinated-object

@max-on-fire

@purplequestionmark

@thetoastyistoast

@unlovablelover

@losairr

@kamishirofan098989

(if u wanna be added or taken off please tell me ❤)

᧔o᧓

art blog: @t0asty1-arts

writing: @t0asty1-writes

side blogs: @ch1lly0 @anxious--avoidant @holdingmyown-hand

gimmick blogs: @t0asty1-alien @your-fav-hates-my-mom @shigaraki-speech-bubble @kohane-detector @curse-of-10k

rp blogs: @geto-offical @megumi-offical @ino-offical @mahit0-offical

𓉳̸

rules:

dni - ABLEISTS, homophobes, racists, misogynists, transphobes, terfs, nazis and pedos the whole hate salad

i also selfship so if you dont agree with or are not comfortable with that, you can scroll past those posts, unfollow or block me your choice

mutuals can dm cuz ily and want to listen to you yap <3 but people who are not moots cannot dm me cuz you are scary and idk who u are 😰

that being said if you followed me but i didnt follow back, first please give me like a day to see that you followed me, but if i take longer than that feel free to just send me an ask saying u want to be moots <3

i like people who like me and are nice to me 👍

♱

im very mentally ill and neurodivergent. i am also chronically ill and technically disabled.

(depression, adhd, general + social anxiety, autism, auditory processing disorder, suspected DID)

(chronic fatigue + pain, severe anemia, low blood pressure, Fucked Up Joints)

it interferes with my ability to answer asks or reply to things you tag me in. i always look at and tags so feel free to tag me as much as you like, just know you may not get a verbal response and its ok because i still like you i just didnt have the energy to use words <3

✩

I LIKE A LOT OF THINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

thinsg i like:

video games - minecraft, animal crossing, project sekai, homicipher, fnaf, ut/dr, sth, mario kart, pokemon, loz

animes - csm, dandadan, mp100, madoka magika, sailor moon, bocchi the rock, jjk

music - wallows #1 fr‼💯 and sombr is taking over my playlists rn

vocaloid - my fav vocaloid is rin and fav producers are kikuo and pepoyo 🔥🔥🔥

kpop - mostly skz (hardcore stay) my biases are. jeongin and seungmin ❤❤❤ #babygirls

hobbies - dance, bracelet making, birding, cooking, singing, playing instrumence

instruments - saxophone, trumpet, trombone, flute, guitar, bass guitar and glockenspiel (ladiesss ladies one at a time 😼😼😼)

other things (i will remember more as i go on): murder drones, marine biology, graphology/handwriting analysis, psychology

📼 ◛ 　

my autism condensed into a single image:

also i made my pfp myself and im so proud of it hehehe

[crazzzycomet]

Dried Roses

joel miller x fem!reader

Chapter 6: My Condolences, Here's Dinner

Coming up on two years of your parents' tragic passing, you decide to make the move to Austin, Texas, in hopes of a fresh start for you and your three younger siblings. After few months of settling in, a lapse in judgement and a one night stand ends with Joel Miller in your bed.

Tags: 18+, MDNI, au no outbreak, age gap, one night stand, smut, sassy!joel, mentions of death and grief, loss of parents, porn + plot, joel is clearly pining for you lol, angst, lots n lots of tension, flashbacks of drunk sex, he loves pushing it, teasing, praise kink, oral sex, denial of feelings, admitting feelings?, soft!, joel teaches you to chop wood hehe

chapter summary: Joel invites you over for a last minute dinner after finding out about your situation. It doesn't take long before you figure out it wasn't so last minute after all.

this is chapter 6 of dried roses - there are currently 7 chapters uploaded on ao3 <3

a/n: the tags here are included for all chapters in this series. at this point in the story, i recommend maybe going back and reading past chapters for lots of context leading up to this point - but feel free to read however you like💫

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

--

“What’re we having for dinner?” 

“Leftovers,” you answer, a symphony of groans following suit. 

“Oh! We could get pizza!” Bear suggests, sprawled out on the couch, looking up from his book on whatever animal he’s fixated on for the day. 

“Leftovers,” you repeat, half-paying attention as you line up a nail and begin hammering it into the wall, the reverberating thud drowning out their disheartened sighs. 

You’d been putting up pictures all day after lugging in the dust-riddled box from the garage - decorating bare walls and shelves with the past memories you were so afraid to meet with again. 

The Universe flexes its cruel, poetic muscle when you reach the bottom of the box and pull out the last frame. 

A picture of your parents at their courthouse wedding. You stand between them - no more than two - squinting from the sun and squeezing the stems of pale pink peonies and sprigs of baby’s breath that match your little white sandals. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you breathe out to whoever listens. 

You bring the tarnished gold frame to the very masterfully—no attempt at finding wall studs—hammered nail in the wall, when you hear a muffled buzz coming from one of the couch cushions. 

“RoRo,” you say, focused on your attempt at leveling the frame with your naked eye. 

“Got it.” She picks up your phone and holds it to her ear. “Hello?” 

“I meant bring it to me,” you rasp.

“What? No - it’s me, Mr. Miller. Yeah. Hi.” 

Your stomach twists into what feels like a barrage of shoddily tied fisherman’s knots. 

“Give it,” you say through gritted teeth, the picture frame sagging when you snap your head and reach your hand out in her direction. “Pssst! Ro!” 

“I can’t hear,” she shushes you. “Dinner? Sure, we can come!”

“We’re having leftovers tonight!” you whisper sharply. 

She sticks a finger in her mouth, fake gagging in response.

“Okay. Yeah, uh-huh. Yep.” She tucks the phone in her shoulder and checks her nails. “Sure, I’ll tell her. We’ll see ya soon. Bye, Mr. Miller!” 

“What the hell, Romy?”

“He said he made too much food or something - I don’t know, you were yelling at me while he was explaining.” She shrugs, handing over your phone. “And sorry, but I did not want leftovers.” 

It wasn’t about the stupid fucking leftovers. Who the hell wants day three lasagna?

It was about the fact that your palms were sweating over the mere mention of Joel’s name. 

That, only two days ago, you were folded in his arms, bawling your eyes out, gagging on hacked sobs, and dripping snot all over his shirt. 

The embarrassment had finally set in later that morning, and it took everything inside you not to start looking for listings on Zillow. Find a new neighborhood. One without any Joels around the corner who’d witnessed you break down over your dead parents. 

He’d held you the whole time, though, didn’t he? Stayed with you. Comforted you. Made you feel safe. Called you his sweet girl when he thought you couldn’t hear. 

And you hated that you needed it. That you liked having it. The comfort. The safety. The lull of his drawl in your ear.

My sweet girl my sweet girl my sweet girl my sweet girl my sweet girl—

“Hello?” Romy waves a hand in your face. 

“Huh?” 

“Joel’s? We can go, right?”

“Fine,” you concede, Joel’s words dissipating like morning fog, “we can go.”

“He told me to tell you, ‘no later than six-thirty, so it ain’t dark out when you’re walkin’ over’,” she mocks his southern drawl, really selling it with a serious, Joel-coded scowl. 

“How thoughtful,” you say dully. 

A cryptic, last minute dinner invite. Oh, and it’s already a quarter past six. 

How. Fucking. Thoughtful. 

You look down at your oversized Rangers t-shirt, stained with this morning’s breakfast - its hem kissing the faded yellow bruises that remain on your knee-caps.

“You should change,” Romy suggests, her face scrunched with judgment. “And do something about your hair—"

“Stop while you’re ahead,” you grumble, shoving her back onto the couch on your way to your room to find your favorite pair of jeans and that henley with the thin, lace-trimmed neckline you bought last week. 

“C’monnn,” Romy yells from down the hall, “he said six-thirty!” 

“I’m almost ready!” 

Technically, you are ready - you’d brushed out all of your knots, spritzed on perfume, slid on your favorite rings, even put on a little bit of make-up.

All you needed to do was find some shoes.

“It’s just dinner,” you repeat to yourself for the thousandth time, trying to still the heartbeat in your ears. “It’s just Joel.” 

God, you’re pacing now. Get a fucking grip.

“You miss him anyways, you dumb idiot,” you mutter to yourself. “You wanna see him, you’re just a fucking scared little—”

“You look ready to me—"

“Ah!” You whirl around to find Romy, leaning against your doorframe with crossed arms. “Shit, Ro! You scared me.” 

“Sorry, jeez. What the hell are you so jumpy for? You nervous to see Joel?”

Fucking, DUH. But how does she know that? Did she hear you whispering to yourself like a maniac? 

“What?” 

“Y’know…after the other night. Didn’t you kick him out after I told him about Mom and Dad?” 

Sure, let’s go with that.  

“Uh, yeah. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“Well, don’t be. I know you don’t know him super well, but he’s actually a nice guy when you get past the whole grumpy old man bit.” 

“Mm.” You try to find a facial expression that doesn’t reveal the fact that you know him a little better than she'd appreciate. “Not really a bit, I don’t think, but whatever,” you mumble to yourself. 

You present her with two different pairs of shoes you'd rummaged for in your closet. She points to the ones you were hoping she’d pick.  

“And it’s good he’s inviting us to dinner,” she adds. “Must mean he didn’t take it too personal.”  

“I’m sure you’re right,” you sigh, sliding a heel in your shoe with a thunk. 

“I know. I’m always right. And besides, I already told him we’d go, so…are you ready now?” She pushes off your doorframe with her heel. Points behind her with her thumb. “No backing out, I already got Thing One and Thing Two in their shoes.” 

No backing out. Not when everyone's got shoes on. 

“Yeah,” you answer, swallowing the apprehension rising in your throat. “I think I’m ready.” 

————

Burnt orange and mustard yellow leaves line the sidewalks with colors of the 70’s that crunch beneath your feet with each step closer to Joel’s. 

Woolly bear caterpillars wriggle through the autumn debris, and you have to tug on Bear’s hand about twelve times to draw his focus away from the fuzzy little things. 

“What’s the first thing you do when we get there?” 

“Take our shoes off!” Lulu answers with an enthusiastic skip, the yellow rain boots she insisted on wearing - despite a cloudless sky - skidding on the sidewalk in front of you, hand clasped in Romy's.

You’d been quizzing them on manners the whole way, hoping the last two years of instilling the importance pleases and thank you’s and chewing with your mouth closed until you were blue in the face had paid off in the slightest.

“Mhm, good. And what if Mr. Miller makes something you don’t like?” 

“Spit it in his face!” Romy shouts, Lulu and Bear whooping in agreement. 

“Romy!” you stifle a laugh. 

“You eat as much as you can, and then say you’re full!” Bear says enthusiastically beside you, squeezing your hand. 

Romy waves a hand up. “Guess that works too.” 

“And what do we have to mindful about saying?” You tug on Bear’s hand, steering him away from the caterpillar crawling up a mailbox that reads ‘Miller’. 

“Please and thank you!” They all chirp like little bluebird hatchlings, striding up the porch steps. 

Your shoulders relax. Maybe you’re not doing too bad when it comes to their manners, at least. 

You knock on the front door, trying to ignore the snare drum beating in your chest where your heart used to be. 

“And we shouldn’t say ‘fuck’ around Mr. Miller.” Lulu taps on your thigh - like she’s only saying it to remind you. 

“Right,” you say flatly. “No saying ‘fuck’. You know what, let’s just say no swearing in general, hm? Everyone got that?” 

“Do you got that?” Romy snickers. 

You shoot her a glare right before the front door opens. 

Joel greets you all with a nauseatingly sweet smile and eyes that soften when they meet yours.

“Perfect timin’,” he says, the sound of a kitchen timer ringing in the background.

“I got it!” Sarah shouts before the ringing ceases. 

“Come on in.” 

He guides you inside with a hand on the small of your back. The warmth of his palm could burn a hole through the fabric of your shirt. 

“Thank you!” your siblings all sing in unison. 

“A little less robotic, guys,” you say out of Joel’s earshot. 

It smells good, whatever it is he’s cooked for you. Better than day three lasagna, anyways. 

Romy approaches him the second her shoes are off, and your ears perk up, straining to listen in on their hushed conversation while you help Bear undo the double knots on his laces. 

“Sorry about the other night,” she murmurs. 

When the hell did she get so goddamn mature? 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, kid.” Joel wraps an arm around her. Squeezes tight. “You feelin’ better?” 

“I’m okay." She rests her head on his shoulder. “Got to stay home from school the next morning, so that was nice. My sister and I watched Blue Planet for, like, eight hours straight.” 

Yeah, and you’d spent the whole episode on arctic seas trying to convince yourself that when you’d reached out for him that morning, you weren’t reaching for anything more than heat. You were just cold. 

After a few more hushed exchanges, Romy breaks off to help Lulu line up the shoes in a neat row next to Sarah’s Vans.

Your eyes settle back on Joel then - on the faded white paint splatters on his jeans and the worn-in fabric of the band tee he’s wearing. You trail your gaze up past his wide frame that held you so tightly just a few nights ago, and find brown eyes waiting patiently to lock with yours. 

And when they do, he smiles gently - the look in his eyes, disarming the anxiety and unease reflected in yours. 

Who the hell are you kidding? You weren’t that cold. You knew exactly what you were reaching for that morning. 

“Thank you for having us,” you finally say.

His shoulders visibly relax at the sound of your voice, however sheepish it may be. 

“Thank y’all for comin’ on such short notice.” 

“She didn’t want to,” Lulu interjects, dragging you back to reality. “She said we were s’posed to have leftovers, and got alllll mad when Romy said we were coming over here instead.” 

Joel looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upward at the way you rub at your forehead with an exasperated sigh. 

It’s gonna be a long fucking night. 

“Ro, why don’t you show everyone to the dinin’ room. M’sure Sarah could use some help settin’ the table.”

Romy offers an enthusiastic nod, and you all fall into step behind her when a rough hand grips you on the wrist. 

“Not you, sweetheart. You’re comin’ with me.”  

He leads you toward the kitchen, and fast. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings. The pictures and paintings on the walls blur together as you stumble past them. You think you spotted a guitar leaning against arm of the couch in the living room.

Your pulse thrums in his palm, and before you can ask him what he wants - or just to slow the fuck down - he lands you right in front of pan of string beans sautéing in butter, oil, and garlic.

“How d’you know when these are done?”

“Before they get all floppy,” you answer, grabbing the pair of tongs next to the stove and lifting a limp green bean. “So, like, five minutes ago.” 

“Goddamnit,” he grits, shoving you aside to dump the droopy vegetables onto a platter. 

You choke back your laughter, feigning a tickle in your throat when he glowers in your direction. 

“Where's the plates? I’ll help you dish up.”

“Left cabinet above the sink,” Joel grumbles, picking through the string beans, trying to salvage the slightly crunchy ones. 

You make your way toward the cabinet, distracted by the little, beat-up photo tucked into the wooden moulding - sepia toned children wearing cowboy hats, arms wrapped around one another, grinning toothless grins. 

You’d recognize one of those grins anywhere - that little dimple on his right cheek. It makes your heart swell. 

“Is this you?”

“Huh?”

You point at the picture. “This is you? And the one with the freckles - that’s your brother?”

He nods. “Lifetime ago.” 

“You were cute. Wonder what happened.” 

You pretend not to notice the indent of his dimple that appears under his scruff as you set the stack of six plates on the counter next to him. He pulls a tray of baked chicken from the oven, and uncovers a giant pot of mashed potatoes. 

“So,” Joel starts, scooping a Lulu-sized dollop of potatoes onto a plate, “how’re you feelin’ - y’know, after…how’re you feelin’?”

Fuck. You knew he didn’t just pull you in here for cooking advice.

He takes a piece of chicken and slices it into bits small enough for a five-year old, waiting for your answer. 

“I can do that for her,” you offer, sliding in next to him. 

“Uh-uh.” He bats your hand away. “Got it covered.” 

You’re thinking of another way to dodge the question when it all clicks, your eyes narrowing at the amount of food laid out in front of you.

This wasn’t some last minute thing. He planned this.

“Oh, I get it.” 

“Get what?”

“This is your condolence dinner.” 

“The hell’re you on about, darlin’?” He makes sure to look at you sideways before he sets aside Lulu’s plate to cool and gets started on Bear-sized portions. 

“Do you know how many casseroles I got after people found out? The moms at Lulu’s old dance studio went crazy. Had to start throwing them out ‘cause the freezer wouldn’t shut anymore.” 

“This look like a shitty, frozen casserole t’you?” 

“People don’t know what to do when someone dies, so they cook. ‘Dead parents? My condolences, here’s dinner’. That’s what you’re doing, right?” 

You’re getting defensive. You actively recognize that as each word falls out of your mouth. But for some reason, even if he means well - and you know he does - the thought of Joel cooking you dinner out of pity has your ears stinging with heat. 

“Y’know, you got a real history of assumin’ things, sweetheart, ‘n you know what they say about assumin’.” 

“So it’s just a coincidence you find out about my parents, and a few days later you invite us over - last minute, might I add - after ‘makin’ too much food’. And now you’re asking how I’m feeling—”

“Oh, god forbid I ask how you’re feelin’ after you were curled up, cryin’ on my lap two damn days ago,” Joel cuts you off in tone thick with sarcasm, “s’cuuuse me.” 

Your cheeks display a warm shade of regret. Why do you always start with him? It never fucking ends well.

“Look,” he sets down utensils to cross his arms and face you, leaning a hip against the counter, “this ain’t what you think it is, babygirl. Sarah’s uncle usually comes for dinner on Saturdays, but he bailed last minute. Called you as an afterthought - otherwise all this goddamn food goes to waste.”

Afterthought. 

Weird how one word can make your chest so tight. You’d rather be here for a stupid fucking pity dinner than be a shitty little afterthought rattling around in Joel Miller’s brain. 

“And I’m startin’ to get real sick ‘a you dodgin’ my questions,” he continues. “Now, you tell me how you’re doin’ after all that the other day, and then we’re gonna sit down at the damn table and have a nice dinner.” 

Fuck, fine.  

It’s not that you don’t wanna answer him, you do. You just don’t know how the fuck you’re feeling after everything. There was too much to feel, and you didn’t wanna get into it in the middle of 'Mr. Miller’s' kitchen while he cuts up your baby brother’s chicken. 

But instead of just telling him that, you ball your fists at your sides and squeak out, “Better.”

“Good. Now go on ahead into the dinin’ room. I’ll meet ya out there soon.” 

“Great,” you say, jaw tight. 

So much for thinking he’d treat you any different. 

Same old Joel - toying with you, the exact same as he’s always done.

Making your fists clench and your shoulders tense. Calling you babygirl just to see the color change in your cheeks - just like that first morning when he’d sat on the edge of your bed with that smug fucking look on his face while you stammered like an idiot.

You pause at the threshold, grin forming when it registers.

Same old Joel. Treating you the exact same he always has. 

“Somethin’ else?” he asks.  

You look over your shoulder - he’s still watching you, arms crossed, the sleeves of his shirt tight around his biceps. 

“Just that you’re an asshole.” 

“Yeah, you too, pretty girl,” he drawls with a knowing smile. “Go on now. Save me a seat next t’you.” 

————

You find a spot in the dining room, Lulu on your left - a full plate leaving trails of savory steam in front you. You look across the table at Bear, who grabs his fork and heads straight for his mashed potatoes. 

Romy swats his wrist, mumbling something about waiting for Mr. Miller.

“Ouch!” Bear drops his fork. “Sissy! Romy just—" 

“Knock it off,” you scold through clenched teeth.

Joel walks in, plate in one hand, cold beer in the other. He takes a seat at the head of the table next to you—per his request—opposite Sarah, who’s pouring everyone their choice of sweet tea or water from pitchers she’d brought out. 

“Go ahead ‘n eat - ‘fore it gets cold,” Joel says. 

Bear looks at you for permission, despite Joel’s, and you answer with a nod. He stares daggers at Romy while he scoops a bite of mashed potatoes again and shoves it in his mouth. 

You stab a piece of chicken and take a bite. It’s partially dry, but dammit, the flavor's delicious. Comforting, even. 

“We still got stuff for s’mores, Sarah?” 

“I think so.” 

“How ‘bout I build a fire out back after dinner, then? Roast some marshmallows for dessert.” 

Collective declarations of joy make their way around the table, each kid's eyes lighting up at the thought.

“That sound good?” Joel asks you beneath their muttered arguments over whether or not golden marshmallows are better than burnt ones. 

“Sounds nice.” You smile.

And it does. You hadn’t sat in front of a fire since the last family camping trip your dad had planned after you’d graduated high school. Only, he timed it so poorly that your pregnant mom ended up in labor before you could break out the marshmallows.

“Sorry, kid,” your dad said, breaking down the tent as quickly as he could, “looks like instead’a s’mores, you’re gettin’ a brother.”

Lulu picks up a wobbly string bean with her fork, pleading eyes looking up at you, silently begging you not to make her eat it. 

“Try it, Lu Bug,” you whisper. 

She does, shivering with a hard swallow. 

“I’m full,” she says quietly, her mouth puckered in disgust. 

You giggle, picking up a piece of her chicken with your fork and bringing it to her mouth. 

“Here. Chase it down.” 

“Y’know, Lulu,” Joel starts, having watched the whole exchange without your knowledge, “I tried to take those green beans off the stove, but your sister wouldn’t let me. Said they ain’t done till they’re all gross ’n floppy.” 

“No she didn’t,” Lulu says, her nose all crinkled with laughter. 

“Swear,” Joel says, raising a hand in promise. 

“Don’t listen to him, Lu.” Sarah points her fork at Joel from across the table. “I had no idea he even knew how to work the stove till today.” 

“Sarah,” Joel tsks.

“What? Y'only know how to cook if it involves a barbecue.” She chews on a piece of chicken. “And even then, it’s iffy.”

“Alright, kid—" 

“Watch, you’re just gonna order a whole bunch ‘a pizzas tomorrow, like you do every Sunday when Uncle Tom—" 

“Why don’t you focus chewin’ with your mouth closed, hm?” Joel cuts her off hastily. 

You look over at Sarah. “Your uncle comes for dinner on Sundays?” 

“Yep,” Sarah replies, impaling a limp green bean. 

“Not Saturday? As in, like…today?” 

Joel mumbles something to your right. 

“Nope. Every Sunday,” Sarah confirms. 

“That so?” You offer Joel a calculated grin. Caught. 

Joel Miller cooked you a condolence dinner. 

Afterthought my ass.

“Just eat your damn food,” he grumbles, washing down his shame with a sip of Budweiser. 

“Sarah,” Romy rasps through a forced smile, “did you forget what we talked about?” She chokes down a bite of slimy green beans. “I think you did a great job with dinner, Mr. Miller.”

“Yeah, Dad.” Sarah straightens her posture. “I was just kiddin’ before. Y’really know your way around a kitchen, lemme tell ya.” 

“Love the chicken,” Romy adds, mouth full. “What is that? Rosemary?” 

“Uh oh,” you say, locking suspicious eyes with Joel's. 

“The hell is it you two monsters want?” Joel asks, trying to hide his amusement. 

“Yeah, and why is nobody sucking up to me?” you pout, shoveling another bite of green beans into Lulu’s mouth. 

Sarah says your name with a smile, “Have I mentioned how much I love those jeans on you?”

"They make your ass look great,” Romy emphasizes. 

Joel chokes on his bite of food. 

“Romy, you’re not supposed t’say ass,” Bear pipes up. 

“Yeah!” Lulu points over her plate to Romy. “Sissy said ‘no swearing at all’ after I said 'no saying fuck’ - then Mr. Miller came to the door, ‘member?” 

Bear nods in agreement while you place your head in one hand and reach for Joel’s beer with the other, taking a long pull to the sound of Sarah and Romy’s stifled giggles. 

“Let’s getcha one ‘a those, sweetheart. Think ya might need it,” Joel drawls, pushing out his chair, clearing his throat from his own suppressed laughs.  

He returns with a cold beer, and you gesture at him to keep it since his is already halfway empty, thanks to you. 

“That shirt looks great on you, Dad. Y’know how much I love band tees.”

“Pearl Jam.” Romy matches Sarah’s synthetic smile. “Great taste. My dad loved Pearl Jam.” 

“Jesus, Ro. Dial it back a touch,” you mutter. “Dad didn’t even really listen to—"

Romy clears her throat with that wide-eyed help me out here look.

You look at Joel. Smile. “Dad used to be obsessed with Pearl Jam.” 

Joel shakes his head at the two of you, scooting his chair in with a vexed sigh. “Enough, girls. S'get to it now.”

“Before you say no,” Sarah starts, “jus’ listen to the whole thing, please.”

“Not off to a great start.” He scowls.

“Dad.” 

“Go ahead. I’m listenin’.” 

“There’s this Halloween party—"

“No.” 

“But—"

“No.” 

“Y’said you’d listen—"

“Heard enough. I said no. S’move on.” 

“Ah, c’mon, Joel. Let’s hear their pitch at least.” You tap his forearm, and he tightens the death grip he has around his beer bottle, condensation dripping down his knuckles. 

Any tighter, and it’d shatter. 

“Don’t need to,” he grumbles. “It’s a no.” 

“Well, I wanna hear it.” You look at Romy and Sarah. “Go ahead, ladies. Mr. Grumpy can cover his ears if he doesn’t wanna listen.” 

Joel scoffs to your right.

“It’s a small party,” Romy assures. 

“And the parents will be there the whole time.” 

“I’m sure,” Joel chides. 

“Whose party?” you ask. 

“Our friend, Bailey.” 

“Who else is going?”

They give a list of names, and you recognize enough.

“And it’s on Halloween?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes,” Romy answers meekly, scrunching into herself. 

“But you’re supposed to go trick-or-treating with us!” Bear cries. “We’re all supposed to be bugs together, remember? You said you’d be a bumblebee!”

You tip the neck of your beer bottle in her direction. “You did say that.”

“I can still dress up like a bumblebee! We can take pictures together!” Romy looks at you with pleading eyes. “Please, can I go?” 

“Did you pull your grade up in history?” 

“Yes.” 

“By how much.” 

“Two letters. It’s an A, ask Sarah. Or check - you can check!” 

You owe her big, and letting her skip school to lounge around and listen to David Attenborough all day didn’t exactly make up for the look in her eyes when she’d realized you’d lied to Joel about your parents and had to tell him herself. She had asked if you regretted signing for guardianship, and the fact that the thought had even crossed her mind made you want to curl into a ball. 

You should’ve told Joel, but every time the opportunity presented itself, you choked. Too busy flirting or fucking to bring up reality.  

And you’re not even supposed to be fucking him, are you? 

God, you suck. 

“Fine,” you say cooly, wiping sweaty, guilt-ridden palms on your jeans. “You can go.” 

Romy celebrates, thanking you profusely, despite the melancholic objections from Bear and Lulu. 

“Dad?” Sarah looks at Joel, eyes glimmering. 

“Kid, this ain’t up for debate. We’ll talk more about it when we don’t have company—"

“Please, Dad. Please. Romy gets to go!”

Joel looks at you through furrowed brows, the crease between them deep. 

Thanks a lot.

You shrug in response, finishing your last bite of mashed potatoes. 

Sorry.

“What about Fall Festival?” Joel’s chair creaks as he leans his back, crossing his arms. “Spent every Halloween there since before y’could talk.” 

Sarah’s face lights up, the wheels in her head turning at a rapid rate. “Bear and Lulu would love Fall Festival!” She points at you. “You could take her and the kids with you!” 

“Wait, what?” you ask - in vain, apparently, because no one seems to hear. 

“That is a GREAT idea,” Romy says all animated. “I bet they’ll have cotton candy! Lu? Huh? Cotton candy? Doesn’t that sound yummy?”

“I wanna go!” Lulu blurts. 

“Me too!” Bear shoots his hand up. 

“What about trick-or-treating? You’ve been talking about it for weeks, Bear.” 

And he has. You even let him pick costumes for everybody this year - hence, bugs. 

He looks at Joel. “Do they have rides?” 

Joel nods.

“I don’t care about trick-or-treating anymore.” 

“See,” Sarah insists, “they’d love it. You can go with them, ‘n I can go to the party. Everyone’ll be happy.” 

“Sweetie—"

“I really, really wanna go.” Sarah looks at Joel with those big, round, twinkly hazel eyes. “Please, Daddy.” 

You see it then - the way this little girl has her dad wrapped around her finger - the way his scowl softens and the stern look in his eyes melts into something more gentle. Doting. 

It’s the same way your dad used to look at you. 

“You’ll text me every few hours?” Joel asks in a drawl laced with defeat. 

“Yes.” 

“Homework needs to be done first.” 

“Okay.”

“And your curfew—"

“No later than 11:30.” 

“Not one second later.” 

“So I can go?” Sarah squeezes Romy’s hand. 

“Yes,” Joel sighs, “reckon y’can go.” 

Sarah and Romy erupt in squeals of excitement, both of them leaping out of their chairs to sandwich Joel in a hug. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Sarah gushes between kisses on her dad’s whiskery cheeks. 

“Thank you, Mr. Miller!” Romy beams with her cheek smushed against his shoulder. “I’ll make sure she checks in with you the whole time.” 

“Christ, okay, girls,” Joel chuckles, prying them off to push out his chair and start gathering empty dishes. “This ain’t gonna become a regular thing, got it?” 

“Got it,” Sarah chirps, triumphant smile still spread across her face. 

You help Joel, stacking dishes and cups, about to follow him into the kitchen when Romy mutters something to Sarah a little too loudly. 

“Tell Bailey your dad’s letting you go. Oh my god, he’s gonna freak.” 

Joel’s boots squeak on the wood floors when he hears it, turning on his heel to face the girls.

“Romy!” Sarah hisses. 

“Bailey’s a boy?” he bites, voice rough. 

Romy and Sarah freeze, eyes wide and glinting with fear. Bear and Lulu cover their mouths with small hands. 

“Wow, so many dishes to do,” you sing, linking your arm in Joel’s. “Better get started—"

“Now, how come ya’ll left that lil’ detail out, hm?” his voice is pricklier than brambles. “There gonna be other boys there?” 

“Run," you mouth to the girls. “C’mon Joel, let’s go. Dishes to do, people to, um - whatever, just c’mon.” 

You have to pull him with all your strength before he budges, the girls bounding off like spooked doe after a gun-shot. 

You both set your stacks of dishes in the sink. Joel turns on the faucet, the stream of water hitting the ceramic and filling the silence between you. His jaw tics while he squirts dish soap onto a sponge.

“Joel—"

“Thanks for your help back there,” he grits. 

“Oh, lighten up, ‘Daddy’. You’re overreacting.” 

He flicks off the water, knuckles white as he grabs at the lip of the counter with wet, soapy hands. 

“Don’t call me - y’know just how to push…” He pauses, takes a breath, his tone changing before he says evenly, “I ain’t overreactin’.” 

“So what if there’s gonna be boys? You never went to parties with girls in high school?”

“I did. S’why I don’t want my little girl goin’ to one.” 

“She’s fifteen, Joel. She’s at that age, ya know? Parties and boys and—"

“Your daddy let you go to parties at fifteen?” he cuts in, drying his hands with a rag before he turns to face you.

“Well, no. But—"

“S’it. She ain’t goin’.” 

You snatch him as he attempts to walk past.

“Wait.” Your fingers tighten around his arm, his muscles jerking in your palm. “Just - hold on. Think it over. She’s a good kid - she asked permission first. Sure, she left some details out, but she obviously knows you well enough to pick and choose what to tell you.” 

“Hell’s that s’posed to mean.” 

“You know what it means.” You run your thumb over the swell of his bicep, and you have to pretend it doesn’t make your stomach swirl when his muscles relax into your touch. “I’ll get these dishes done - you go out back and get a fire going. If you’re still hellbent on Sarah not going after that, then whatever. Just take a second to think first.” 

“Okay,” he concedes in a register lower than a whisper. 

And with that, he makes his way out to the backyard.

————

The dishes take forever, not that it was your fault. No, it was his kitchen window’s fault for offering you a perfect, four-paned view into the backyard. 

Dusk had set in, and crimson leaves were making their end-of-life journey from the neighbor's yard and into Joel’s pool. And just to the right of the twilight reflecting off the leaf-littered ripples of the water, Joel was taking his anger out with an axe and some innocent logs next to a little wooden shed in the corner of the yard. 

You'd let the water run, filling pots and pans to the rim while you gaped at the way his muscles swelled with each swing of the axe. The way he’d pinch his brows and clench his jaw tight when he’d drive the axe into the wood. The sweat pooled on his forehead and the neckline of his t-shirt.

Fuck it - you’re obsessed with Pearl Jam now, too. 

Eventually, though, you’d set the last dish on the rack to dry. You even wiped down the top of the stove and the counters for good measure, stopping in front of the fridge to admire the all the pictures trapped with silly magnets. 

You decide your favorite is the one of Sarah around Lulu’s age - her hair bound in two braids - sitting on Joel’s lap while he plucks a guitar. The same guitar you’d caught a glimpse of on your way in. 

You flinch at another crack of an axe reverberating from the back yard, and figure it’s time to see what a little fresh air has done for Joel’s rationale.

And as you sneak by the kids playing a round of Mario Kart in the living room to gather your shoes, you’re not even fantasizing about what it’d be like to see him chopping wood up close - to hear his grunts or see the sweat dripping down the slope of his nose.

“Aw! Who hit me with a red shell?” Bear whines. 

You slink out, shutting the door that leads to the backyard to the sound of Sarah’s sinister giggle, and begin trudging through dewed grass and maple keys to get to Joel. 

You stop in front of him, the toes of your shoes wet - the string patio lights surrounding you in  their soft, hazy glow. 

“Are you done being mad at me now?” 

“Ain’t mad at you.” A sliver of skin shows above his belt before he slams the axe down with a grunt, the crack of the wood pinging in your eardrums. 

You could get on your knees for him right now. That’d make him feel better, wouldn’t it? 

Christ, get ahold of yourself. 

“Then why are you angry-chopping wood out here like a psycho?” 

“You wanna warm fire?”

He doesn’t bother to look when you cross your arms at his tone. 

He tosses the axe into the grass and picks up the smaller one that’s leaned against the chopping block, carefully placing a freshly chopped log before whacking the hatchet down to split off smaller pieces of wood. 

“I know she’s fifteen,” he says, between the snap of wood. “I know I should let her go out ’n experience shit that I - things I don’t necessarily…want her to.” 

He buries the heel of the axe into the chopping block, pausing to look up at you for the first time.

Are his eyes…glossy? 

“S’just - I dunno. She was Lu’s age yesterday - beggin’ me for cotton candy ’n all that.” He rubs at his jaw. “Jus’ thought I had a little more time before all this. ’S goin’ too fast.” 

Oh. 

Your heart sinks at the thought of that picture on his fridge - at the way he had to clear his throat when his voice faltered. She was Lulu’s age yesterday, sitting on his lap while he strummed his guitar to the sound of her giggles. 

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his body in an embrace that he returns immediately - his big arms swallowing you whole. The scent of fresh wood and sweat wraps you in tight. 

“Goes by really fast,” you agree. “Everyone says it does, but you don’t really think about it till it’s happening in front’a you.”

“Worried she’s gonna start pullin’ away from me,” he admits quietly. 

“She adores you,” you say into his chest. “Talks about you all the time when she’s over.”

“She does?” 

“Yeah. ‘My dad does this, my dad says that, my dad thinks this’ - it gets real fuckin’ annoying, actually. Can’t escape you, no matter how hard I try.” 

He chuckles at that. His hand - damn near the width of your back - rubbing languid circles between your shoulder blades. 

“I wouldn’t worry about her pulling away, either.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I see the way she talks to you - looks at you with those eyes.”

“She knows what she’s doin’ with those big fuckin’ eyes. Been makin’ fold since she was a damn toddler.” 

“I noticed,” you giggle. 

“Y’ain’t worried about this party?” 

“No,” you crane your neck, met with brown eyes peering back at you. “They’re good kids. They both work hard in school. They stay outta trouble. They deserve a night of fun, I think.” 

You pluck the shavings and splinters of wood from his shirt, and he picks out pieces caught in your hair. 

“It’ll be fine,” you continue, “Sarah’s curfew sounds, like, freakishly rigid. And besides, you’ll be busy with me and the kids at that festival thing, right?” 

“Y’really wanna go?” 

“Sure. I mean, now that the kids know about it, I don’t really think I have a choice.” 

You do have a choice, actually. And he knows that too. It’s obvious in the smile he’s trying so hard to hide. 

He nestles your head back into the warmth of his chest, and you have to stop yourself from audibly sighing when you feel him press a kiss onto the crown of your head. 

“Dinner was nice,” you say, muffled into his shirt. “Good condolence chicken.” 

“Shut it.” 

You wriggle free from his arms. “You learn how to cook for ‘afterthoughts’ a lot?” 

“You’re treadin’ on some mighty thin ice tonight, pretty girl.” He turns back to the pile of logs and kindling.

“Can I try? My dad never let me.” 

“What, your daddy didn’t teach you to chop wood?” 

You shrug. “He taught me, just never let me actually try it. Said that the idea of me holding an axe gave him the same uneasy feeling Jack Nicholson did in The Shining.” 

It’s the first time you hear Joel really laugh. So unrestrained and deep and genuine - wrinkles around his scrunched eyes, head thrown back, throat bobbing and shoulders bouncing. 

You wish it wasn’t at your expense, sure, but you smile at the sound anyway - laugh a little yourself when he places his hand on his stomach, clutching his abs while he tries to breathe.

“Think me 'n your daddy woulda gotten along real well,” he finally says, blowing out an uneven breath. “That is too damn accurate.” 

Your dad and Joel Miller - Jesus. You don’t even wanna think about what your dad would do if he knew about all this, and some twisted part of you is thankful you don’t have to find out. 

Besides, if the category was teasing you until you wanna scream, they’d be the best of friends. And if Joel thinks they’d get along, who are you to burst his giant, fatuitous bubble? 

“Okay, great. Can we be done making fun of me now?” 

“Jack Nicholson,” he mutters, still giggling to himself. “S’fuckin’ funny.” 

He yanks the hatchet free from the splitting block. 

“Alright, sweetheart. Luckily, this ain’t an axe, it’s a hatchet. Works better for splittin’ kindling - which is what I’m tryin’ to get here.” 

“I know what a hatchet is, Joel.” 

“Alright, Miss Know-it-all, show me how to use one then. Go ahead an’ split some wood f’me.” 

“‘Kay, fine.” You yank the hatchet from his hand and stomp into place. “I will.” 

“So goddamn stubborn,” he mumbles behind you. 

You squeeze the wooden handle, lifting it above the small vertical hunk of wood, lips pressed in a tight, thin line.

“Bad angle,” Joel says through a smile you know is there without having to look. 

“I wasn’t gonna do it yet,” you lie. You were about .5 seconds away from smacking the damn thing with all your might.

You raise it again. Scrunch your eyes shut, and—

“Open your damn eyes, girl! You’ll lose a fuckin’ finger!” 

“I was gonna open them!” you lie again. You didn’t even realize you’d closed them in the first place. 

You hear Joel’s quiet scoff over the katydids’ boring autumn songs.

You raise the hatchet for an ever-so-charming third time - eyes open. 

“Don’t swing too hard. Ain’t about force, it’s about aim. You hit the right spot ‘n it’ll just—” 

“Joel—"

“Sorry.” He lifts hands and takes a half-step back. “All you, baby. Ain’t even gonna tell ya that your feet are too close together.”

You widen your stance. 

“Or that your grip should be lower on that handle.” 

“I know that,” you say, lowering your grip.

“Know ya do, angel. Jus’ thought I’d remind you.”

He hasn’t stopped grinning, has he?

You lift the hatchet again and pick out a spot that looks…choppable? 

You don’t fucking know, you’ve never done this before.  

You connect the head of the hatchet with the wood and - by the fucking grace of god - it splits. 

“I did it!” You whip around excitedly, Joel’s smile even wider than yours. “I mean…See? Told you I could do it.”

He shakes his head, another laugh tumbling from his lips - this one sweeter, mellisonant.

“You did it.” His hands rest on his hips. “My headstrong girl.”

Your heart stutters, your fist clenching tighter around the wooden handle of the hatchet. 

“Can I do another one?” 

“Reckon we could use a few more.” He nods towards the quartered logs waiting by the chopping block. 

You smile eagerly and get back to work. 

If you could’ve told yourself two days ago that in a few days you'd be chopping wood in Joel Miller's backyard with a belly full of dinner he'd cooked for you, you would've keeled over. 

Joel carries bundles of logs and kindling over to the fire pit near the patio, and when you decide you’ve had your fun, you set the hatchet down and work on gathering the freshly chopped pieces of wood yourself.

“Ow!” You abandon pieces of kindling to inspect the stinging splinter on the tip of your forefinger. “Shit.” 

Joel’s already across the yard and grabbing your hand to examine the damage before you can fully assess it yourself. 

“Christ...” He sucks at his teeth, trying to get a better look, angling your finger in the dull gleam of the string patio lights. “Gotta be a half-inch stuck in there, at least.”

“Well, get it out!” you whine. 

“Don’t yell at me, sweetheart. You’re the one who was jus’ dyin’ to split wood.” He grabs your hand, tugging you toward the work shed next to the wood pile. “You split wood, you get splinters. S’how it works—” 

“I don’t need a lecture right now, Joel. And why aren’t we going inside?” 

You try to peek through one of the windows on either side of the door. Nothing to see but milky darkness. 

“Don’t need to.” He unlatches the silver lock on the door. “Got everything we need in here.” 

You’re overwhelmed with the scent of him the second he pushes that door open. Cedar fills your nose, almost overpowering the sweet bitterness of coffee and whiskey that lingers somewhere in the air. 

He tugs the pull chain in the middle of the room, and you have to clench your jaw to keep it from dropping at what’s revealed in the warmth of light. 

There’s a wooden desk to your right, covered in blueprints, and a mug half-full of old coffee, lost in the clutter - along with an empty glass, still sticky with whiskey. A work bench takes up the back wall with chipped away blocks of wood and a framed picture of Sarah as a toddler standing in a pair of men's cowboy boots, hidden behind moutains wood shavings and carving tools. 

Carved wooden figurines - bear, rabbits, deer, wolves, horses, ducks you name it - litter the shelves to the left of you, along with more tools and metal boxes. Joel grabs the one with ‘first-aid' written across a rusted lid. 

“Did you - did you build this?” you ask, still taking it all in. The floors. The walls. The tools hanging on the walls. 

“Build what?” he drawls, digging through the metal box.

“Everything,” you say, fingers running along the detailed legs of the cherry wood desk.

“Yes,” he answers, like it’s no big deal. Like it’s just a fact. 

“The desk?” 

“Mhm.”

“The chairs?” 

“Yep.” 

“The shelves?” You point to wear he’s knelt, as if he can see with his back turned to you.

“Yes.”

“The - this shed?” 

“Sweetheart—” He cranes his neck to meet your gaze “—lemme save ya some trouble - whatever you’re seein’ s’made outta wood, I built. The shed, the chairs, the shelves, the workbench, all of it.” 

You knew he ran a contracting business but, fuck, this was…something else.  

“You didn’t tell me you could do this.” You run a hand along the intricately carved horseshoe design on the desk chair’s backrest. 

“Y’never asked,” Joel says casually, walking toward you. He sets down a pair of tweezers, a tube of Neosporin, and a bandaid on top of the clutter, and drags over the stool from the workbench across the way. 

“Joel,” you say, admiring the wooden owl carving on his desk, “do you realize you’re, like, insanely talented?”

“Jus’ know how to work with tools is all. Let’s get you taken care of, huh?” He leans over, turning on the green banker’s lamp above the blueprints, adjusting it before sits down and pats the seat of the stool next to him. “C’mon, darlin’. Lemme see what I can do.” 

You listen, perching on the stool, scooting closer to the desk light when he asks. 

“I mean it, Joel. This is all…it’s, like, crazy in here. You did the wood carvings too? All the animals, I mean?” 

“You ask too many damn questions,” he grumbles, gently tilting your finger in the light, gaging the best way to go about this. 

“Ow! Stop - quit poking at it!” 

“Quit movin’.” He squeezes your hand. “Gotta see ‘f it’s stickin’ out enough to grab with tweezers.” 

You look down at the tweezers in question, and by the rust lining the metal, you’d venture to guess that they’re probably older than you.  

“Aren’t you s’posed to disinfect those? I could get tetanus or something.” 

His eyes raise to yours.

“Or somethin’?” he echoes, raising a brow. 

“Yeah, like - I dunno - a staph infection. Or cellulitis. My mom had that once.” 

He just stares at you. Blinks. Shakes his head and mutters something like, “Uptight as the day I met you,” under his breath. You wince when he presses the pad of his finger onto the tender spot again. 

He mumbles an expletive, reaching for something behind his forgotten mug full of cold coffee while you try to decode the jargon written on the blueprints in front of you. He fiddles with whatever it is he’s found, reaching for your hand once more.

“Reckon I can get it out,” he says after a beat.

“Good,” you sigh with relief. 

He grabs the tweezers and you look back at him, all geared up to warn him about being gentle when you finally see what he was rummaging around for. 

Glasses. Rectangular brown frames, sitting on the curve of his nose. 

A smirk tugs at your lips - and when you part them, about to say something, Joel puts a stop to it fast. 

“Save it, smartass. ‘Less you want me to leave the damn thing in there.” 

“But—” 

“It’ll fester. Get all infected ‘n gross. Get cellulitis, like you said.” 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” 

You were, actually. Of course you were. How could you not? The old man jokes were writing themselves at this point. 

“Bad liar,” he reminds you, your finger pinched between two of his own, held up in front of his nose as he squints behind the lenses. 

“I think - ah!” you cringe at his first attempt to get the splinter out. “Careful, please.” 

“Sorry, angel girl,” he coos. “Try stayin’ still f’me, hm? It’ll hurt less.” 

You nod once.

“I think they look nice on you,” you continue. “I like you in glasses.” 

He pauses to meet your eye-line, brown eyes peering over his frames. “Think you’re just stallin’ now.” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum with a charmed smile. “Not stalling. Just think you look handsome.” 

Half-true. You are stalling - who wouldn’t be when there’s a piece of wood imbedded in your finger, and nothing but a pair of rusty tweezers and Joel Miller to dig it out?

But he does look handsome. 

Handsome enough stir something in your core. Something that’s been nagging since you two had been alone in your laundry room - before that whole disaster of a night. 

“You know exactly what you’re doin’,” he mumbles softly, letting a grin slip - his cheeks turning a quiet shade of pink before he gets back to work.

Your stomach jumps, realizing that for the first time, you just made the ever-stoic Joel Miller blush - but, like he can see you getting too cocky, he clips your skin between the metal prongs of the tweezers. 

“Ow, Joel!” you yelp, losing your attempt at retracting your hand to the grip he has on it. 

“Shit, sweetheart. M’sorry.” 

He pulls your hand closer - presses a soft kiss into your palm while you watch, mouth slightly agape. He kisses at your fingers gently, your pinched features softening with each one.

The throb in your finger starts to fade into oblivion while the one between your legs becomes your more pressing ailment. 

“Gonna get this out for ya, darlin’. Matter ‘a fact…” he trails off, taking your pointer finger and pushing the flesh down around the splinter, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 

He slowly guides your finger up to his mouth, pushing the tip of it between his parted lips. His spit is warm on the pad of your finger as he sucks at it gently, his teeth nibbling at tender skin. 

You’re practically slack-jawed - you might as well be drooling - completely silent, despite the pain, watching him sit there and suck on your finger. 

His brows are furrowed with focus, trying to find the head of the splinter with the tip of his tongue. 

God. 

You squeeze your thighs together, attempting to quell the growing ache with zero fucking results. 

His jaw feathers with a delicate bite down, sucking softly and pulling back slowly, revealing a half-inch splinter trapped between his teeth. He spits the sliver of wood on the floor and inspects your finger once more. 

“There,” he says, putting a dot of Neosporin where a pinprick of velvety blood rises from your fingertip. He wraps it up in a Hello Kitty band-aid. “All fixed, sweet girl.” 

You don’t realize you’re still gawking at him until his eyes finally lift to yours. 

“Guess I haven’t switched out the bandages since Sarah was little.” 

Your eyes lower down to your finger. Hello Kitty riding a scooter. 

You start scanning everything around you. The owl carving, then the rings of coffee stains over scroll of papers in front of you, the list of measurements written out on a sticky note - anywhere but Joel and his mouth. 

When’s the last time you said something? Say something. He’s looking at you, idiot. Say something, anything—

“What?” he asks. 

You swallow, hoping the cotton in your mouth will dissolve. 

“Nothing,” you say shyly, shifting slightly before crossing your legs. “Thanks for, um—thanks for getting that out.”

He chuckles quietly to himself. You know that chuckle - the one he gives when he’s caught you in something. 

“What?” you hiss, finally locking eyes - and he’s fucking smiling. 

Of course he’s fucking smiling. 

“Don’t tell me that got you all hot ’n bothered.” He points to your bandaged finger. 

“It didn’t,” you lie, hiding the hot pink band-aid with your thumb - your gaze settling back on whatever the hell isn’t him.

You fidget in your chair again, your panties already slick as you uncross your legs, just to cross them again, trying to find a comfortable enough position to ignore the soaked fabric. 

“It didn't, huh?” He lifts your chin with a finger, forcing you to make eye contact. “Look me in the eye ’n lie again, squirmy.”

“M’not squirming,” you mumble, grabbing his wrist, resisting the urge to readjust in your seat. 

“Oh, you’re achin’ aren’t ya, sweetheart?” he teases. “That all takes? Suckin’ a damn splinter outta your finger?” 

And how would this asshole fucking feel if you had his finger in your mouth? 

You wanna ask him. You almost do. You even part your lips to say the words - but instead, you find yourself closing your lips around the thickness of his pointer finger that you shove into your mouth - cheeks hollowing as push it to the back of your throat and suck. 

You watch his brown eyes grow dark behind the frames of his glasses as you swirl your tongue and swallow the salty taste his skin leaves on your tastebuds. 

“Fuck.” He leans forward. Places his free hand on your thigh. “Open.” 

You listen. He rewards you with a second finger, your mouth full as you run your tongue around both, gagging slightly as he pushes them further in. 

He backs off, and you hum a disapproving note, tightening your grip on his wrist. 

“Easy, babygirl. Easy,” he says, voice rough as you take his fingers deeper until you reach the base of his knuckles. “Goddamn.” 

His drawl is low and honeyed, and you have to stop yourself from letting a moan slip just at the sound. 

A string of saliva stretches and breaks from your lower lip as you pull back, leaving his fingers wet and glistening while your eyes remain trained on his. 

You can see the quickened pulse in his neck. His uneven breathing as clenches his spit-soaked fingers into a tight fist. 

Your eyes flit down to the thick bulge in his jeans, then back up to his lust-blown gaze. 

You raise a brow. 

“That all it takes?”

--

ao3 link: crazycomet 💫

[casa-dei-corvei]

My OC as a Companion

Tagged by the lovely @pixiedurango & @lotusfueltofire! <3 (Pssst, check out Cara & Angel! My moots have such cool ocs! <3)

So excited to talk more about my girlie <3

I wanted to try my hand at thinking of the different quests for her since I've seen other people do that and they're SO well thought out and SO cool and...I tried. XD Only half succeeded, but the attempt was made.

(Guys I tried SO HARD, please be proud of me)

Also...it (unsurprisingly) turned out hella long so the full thing's under the cut <3

Sancha Alegría de Riva

Recruitment Quest

After returning to Treviso after A Slow Poison, Viago will ask you to meet up with two of his Crows. They we're going to be gathering intel on Antaam movements in the city and may need backup. You arrive at the meeting spot to find a Crow and a young teenaged fledgling. They introduce themselves as Alegría and Wysteria de Riva (if you're a Crow, you'll make the introductions, like w/ Teia in a Sea of Blood).

Wysteria's the usual go-to for reconnaissance, being quick on her feet and able to get in and out of spaces without being noticed, but with the knowledge that there is a traitor in their midst, it felt safest to have her partnered with the newly returned Alegría. Though that doesn't explain why Viago thought they needed more backup for such a simple mission. (It can't be that Viago would care for any of his underlings. What lies. What slander. What audacity.) "He want's to make sure I don't do anything reckless. Fine. *sigh* Fine. Just don't get in our way. Claro?"

It would be a fairly short and straightforward mission. You'd trail Wysteria as she goes on ahead, ducking into certain buildings to gather intel, taking out roving Antaam. If Wysteria ever gets too far ahead of you, she'll stop and wait. During the fighting, she'll stay stay out of the fray, but helping with magic from afar.

At the end, you'd return back to Teia and Viago. After giving them the information and hearing from you and his Crows about the mission, he decides to sends Sancha with you. She is less than pleased to be sent away again, but who is she to actually go against her Talon?

Cold/Hostile (-75 to -5)

Greeting(s):

"SÌ."

"Ciao."

*sound of acknowledgement*

She'll look up from whatever she's doing, make eye contact, maybe even turn her head towards you, but she won't fully turn to face you. Her tone is perfectly neutral, not holding any malice, but absolutely no warmth either. Her Talon sent her on this mission; she doesn't answer to you, not really. She's not happy with this arrangement, but she is a de Riva, the least she can do is to avoid embarrassing her Talon and show some basic decorum.

Dismissed:

"Claro."

"Adiós."

*sound of acknowledgement*

If she had turned her head towards you before, she turns away completely before finishing her phrase. If she just looked your way, her eyes are focused back on what she was doing as she speaks. Perfectly neutral, clipped, straight to the point.

If you're done wasting her time, she's done wasting yours.

Getting to Know Her Quest

Sancha wants to go back to Treviso. She has missives she needs to give Viago, she needs to see how everything's going, run some errands. She...she's been gone for a while and she at least wants to pretend she's welcome there. You offer to come along and after a moment of silence, she agrees.

Arriving at the Diamond, she waves to Wysteria and the older man she's talking to before going to Teia and Viago. She gives Viago her reports, which he reminds her she could have just sent to him, and without missing a beat she responds that she'd then miss out on seeing her two favorite Talons.

After leaving Viago huffing and Teia laughing, she'll drag you to the markets. Similar to Lucanis, she'll buy things from the stalls. She'll mention that Mikel, Wysteria's father (the man she was talking to), told her about things they were running low on. Threads and fabrics to quickly mend uniforms, simple nonperishable to keep up their rations. You chat a bit as she buys what she can before eventually ending up at a street food stand, with Sancha buying two arancini, handing one to you, and leading you back to the rooftops.

"I'd do this with my brother. *pulls her arancini apart* After we'd finish a contract. One of us would buy the food, we'd meet on one of the rooftops. Watch the sunset." She takes a bite of her rice ball and sighs. "It's never the same, though."

You'd have a chance to a chance to muse about her feelings, all a variation of it makes sense, it's not Salle/home. You can ever flirt with her here, which gets a smile and a soft laugh from her, before morphing into the same variations of "Home hasn't been home in a while", before the slow fade to black as she leads you back to the Diamond to give her people their goods.

Neutral / Warm (-5 to 74)

Greeting(s):

"Well, hello there."

"Buongiorno./Buonasera./Buonanotte." (depending on the time of "day")

"Hey Rook."

"What can I do for you?"

She'll look up from what she's doing as she hears you approach, fully turning to face you. Her tone is light, a small smile playing on her lips as she waits for you to speak. She's beginning to warm up to you, and even she is surprised by that.

Dismissed:

"Ready and waiting."

"You know where to find me."

*sigh* "And just when I thought we were having fun."

"Be back soon?"

All these are said with a smile before she turns back to her work. She's really does hope you'll speak to her again. She's not used to friends, but maybe she can be.

Friendly (75 to 125)

Greeting(s):

"Hola amigo/amiga/amige!"

"Hey bello/bella/belle."

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

"Getting ready to cause some trouble?"

All of these are said with a tone pure warmth and unbridled joy as she beams a genuine smile your way, leaning in conspiratorially. You're one of her dearest friends and she wants you to know how much she appreciates your company. You have her full attention.

Dismissed:

"I'll be here when you need me!"

"Ready whenever you are!

"Be back soon!"

"Adiós, capo!"

If the last line is said, she'll do a mock Crow salute before laughing and shooting a final grin your way before turning away.

If it's one of the others, she'll lean back, smile and do a small wave as she turns away.

Romanced

Greeting(s):

"Hola~./Hi~."

"Hola coure mio."

"I thought it got a little brighter in here!"

"You came all this way to see little ol' me?"

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

All of these are said with a most lovestruck tone, a little shy, and a bashful little grin before breaking into a wide smile to face you. You're her first love, she never even believed love was real, and she wants you to know how much you mean to her. (You know what? Let's make it even more fluffy, actually. Why not.) She'll be holding you hand as you talk.

Dismissed:

*sigh* "I miss you already."

"Don't keep me waiting, Tesoro."

"See you soon?"

"Just remember, you're the one that decided to leave."

She'll kiss your palm before letting your hand go, shooting you one last soft smile as she watches you walk away. Babygirl is is love and doesn't care how obvious she is about it. As long as it's your in the Lighthouse. She does actually realize how dangerous this would be.

Soooooooo, kinda tapered off near the end. Kinda didn't continue on with quest talk. Kinda...bit off a bit more than I could chew. XD

My ideas for Sancha's two main companion quests would be actual finding her brother, which becomes available shortly after Taash joins (they were talking to Sancha about the Lords and mentioned an Antivan named Arlo), which ends with grappling with what to tell Viago, and then deciding what to do with him, which Viago tells her to deal with him as she sees fit.

Because I LOVE to suffer, apparently, it would be a choice between bringing him back to Treviso for Viago to deal with, since he is their Talon and this is his choice to make, (Viago would end up giving him poison to drink, which Arlo would end up barely surviving, and because he survived that he gets to live, pretty much the "best" outcome) or dealing with him herself (assuming Viago would want him dead, she's do the deed, breaking herself in the process, but it's fine, she'll deal with that later. She still has a job to do. She'd report to Viago and can only manage a mirthless laugh finding out he wasn't expect her to kill him. This would be the default path in a blighted Treviso run. She'd be fine until the end of the game, whose to say how she is after?)

I swear I love my babies. 😭 Pretend that's not there, actually. There are no heartbreak twin shenanigans. Go back up to the fluffy romanced Sanchina. Let my demiromantic babygirl love you and be happy.

Oh yeah I gotta tag people now huh? UHM. Gentle tags to @cute-ellyna, @basedonconjecture, @suntamer, @marshmallow-age, @wickedviago & @rook-de-rivas (and if you reading this want to do it too, consider yourself tagged! 💜)

You don't have to go all out like me, btw. XD Only if you want to <3

[sparrowsworkshop]

"Get a Grip" (first edition) by OneWingedSparrow for the @sthbigbang event!

Main Tags: Sonic & Tails & Knuckles, Sonic & Shadow, Sonic Heroes canon compliant, POV Team Sonic, Alternating POV, Lost Jungle, Vs Team Dark, Hang Castle, Mystic Mansion, Light Angst, Bullying, Fear, Ghosts, References to Major Character Death, coughcough Post Sonic Adventure 2, Amnesiac Shadow, accompanied by illustrations! Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles "Tails" Prower, Knuckles the Echidna, Shadow the Hedgehog, Rouge the Bat, E-123 Omega Word Count: 18k Summary:

Ever since Dr. Eggman taunted Sonic with the letter claiming he would conquer the world, Team Sonic has been running nonstop to stop him. The high-speed chase down the seaside, through the metropolis, across the pinball city, and even over the canyon was a piece of cake for the team in their relentless pursuit of Eggman—but a breakneck narrow escape from the snapping, giant crocodile in the swamp, followed by an unplanned tussle with Team Dark, drains Sonic, Tails and Knuckles more than any of them wants to admit. As night falls over the lost jungle, the brothers take a breather in some ruins. However, while they sleep, an unnatural fog settles, and they wake up facing a creepy castle full of...what might be ghosts?! There’s no way out of this mess but to trek through this mystic mansion, so Team Sonic boldly presses onward. The supernaturally spooky atmosphere will prove a testing ground for each brother’s determination to protect his family, by forcing Sonic, Tails and Knuckles to let go of their most gripping fears. Will they be able to overcome their individual struggles and work together to escape, to storm the Egg Fleet in time? Or will hanging out in this castle too long be the team’s ultimate undoing?

Read the whole thing (with the sweet illustrations!) on AO3! This was my first time participating in a Big Bang event as a writer, and I had so much fun! Sneak peek below! Thank you so much @quiet-kid-gone-rogue for your Lost Jungle artwork for Sonic, and @hopetatic for your Mystic Mansion artworks for Tails and Knuckles respectively!!! It was an honor working with you, and I hope you both know that you are amazing! Pssst, Tumblrinas, show the artists you love their work by REBLOGGING THEIR ART! :D Not reposting, that's something else. Believe me, you'll want to reblog these pieces, they're amazing!!! Reblogs of this post are also appreciated! Seriously, thank you so much for checking out this STH story of mine! It was a long time coming—longer than you'd think, and I'm so, so, so thankful I can FINALLY POST THIS NOW! Here we go! LET'S BLAST THROUGH WITH SONIC SPEED! :D ~ CHAPTER 1: WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN

“There’s that black frog again!” Tails exclaimed in alarm.

Those relentless black frogs! If the odd creatures summoned the withering rain again, where could Team Sonic run next? Below the platform over which they galloped churned an ominous, bubbling quagmire, the murky waters reeking of dank algae, decaying weeds, and drowned promises.

Sonic’s eyes darted back and forth as he speed-scanned the path before them. “They’re trying to take us down to the swamp!” he shouted, right as the platform beneath them began to quake. “Hurry!”

Tails and Knuckles scampered after him. The water began to rise rapidly as their spongy footholds sank deeper into the muck, the mushrooms crumbling into soggy pieces like cookies disintegrating in rotten, black milk.

Sonic’s feet squelched deeper into the mud with every step. A nasty feeling, cold and clammy. The sooner they were out of this yucky, mucky swamp, the better!

However, that might have been easier said than done. Sonic kept his sights on the terrain ahead, only to see that no more mushroom stepping stones remained. Team Sonic was running out of road. Which meant…time to trailblaze a new path.

That’s when Sonic noticed the vines dangling over the water. Rows of them, even, like living monkey bars haphazardly and teasingly arranged over the swamp.

No way outta here but forward!

“We’re gonna swing!” Sonic yelled over his shoulder. “Grab onto me when I jump, and hold on tight!”

“Okay!” said Tails.

“All right!” said Knuckles.

Sonic dragged his heels a bit, allowing his teammates time to catch up. Once they were beside him on either side, he jumped. With the practiced acrobatics of a crew that had been together for ages, his partners leapt in sequence. Sonic grabbed onto the vines. Tails grabbed onto Sonic’s legs. Knuckles grabbed onto Tails’s legs. Thereby linked, they swung, and flew.

Sonic let the momentum fling them through the air. Then he latched onto the next vine. Then he waited till the arc had reached its zenith, before releasing and launching.

What goes up must come down!

Sonic launched and landed and launched and landed, and his team followed his lead, clinging onto Sonic as he clung to the vines.

Each vine was somewhat slimy, having absorbed the humidity from the marshy area. Moreover, he could feel the structural integrity of the vines withering with every millisecond he hung on. Though the rain had stopped, the black frogs’ influence clearly reached farther than he could see.

At least they were moving! There were plenty of vines ahead. Swinging would have been a walk in the park, were it not for the ominous grumbling noise that suddenly warbled across the swamp.

“Tell me that was your stomach, Knux?” Sonic shouted over the water.

“Hey, I said the fruit made me hungry, but I’m not that hungry!” Knuckles shot back up at him.

“I think something’s coming from behind us!” Tails called from below.

At that moment, there was a giant SPLASH at their flank, showering them with water.

Sonic’s heart slammed against his chest.

Oh snap. Oh snap. Oh dang. Shoot!

That splash was tremendous. Way too powerful to be a mere mushroom collapsing.

That noise was monstrous. Way too loud to be from one of the frogs.

That grumbling sound…that wasn’t grumbling at all. It was a roar!

... TO BE CONTINUED! THANK YOU FOR READING! CATCH THE REST ON AO3!

[sunnymoodz]

Oh beautiful poison tree…

star|she/they|cabin seven|hufflepuff|poet|writer| <3

—————

⊹ ࣪ ˖ moodboard master list.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ headcanon master list.

✧˖° request rules + fandoms I will do.

—————

reblog tag: starry reblogs!

requests: open!

[pssst! Hey, you! You should check out my friend Orphic’s moodboard and headcanon account!! they’re great and so awesome sauce <3 ]

@moodboardsbymoth <- them!! :) now go look at them. yes this is a threat! (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

[robinwannabee]

Greetings human

Human greetings to whoever has found my blog!

My name is Robin (Rob/Robbie/Roro/Rory)

I’m autistic, have adhd, undiagnosed bipolar - I am a minor so please no smut or asking for money!!

(Pssst!! My Pinterest account is : havocgravecrazed)

Learn about me under the cut!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Green is basically my personality, I’m really into make up, and I change my aesthetic like every month. I’m a massive theatre kid, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Maz Evans (hyperfixation‼️)

I’m trans, genderfluid, bisexual and utterly insane :)

The few fandoms I’m in and or used to be in. There’s not many off the top of my head but here you are<33

who let the gods out, Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Sabrina Carpenter, musical theatre, the owl house, marauders, ddlc, ratchet and clank rifted apart, hogwarts legacy, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Melanie Martinez, Wicked, Divine Rivals, Covenant 13, Punderworld, school bus graveyard

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Kin playlist because apparently music tells a lot about a person?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

I saw Taylor Swift live in August (London n6), Harry styles live in 2023 (London n4), Melanie Martinez (Manchester)

I check my inbox almost all the time so feel free to ask me questions because I will most likely answer them. You can Vent, Rant, Ask literally anything just do not mind.

Socials wise, I won’t be giving away anything unless I personally know you, or have a very close connection too as all my socials show my face. That goes with : TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

My tags are : #robs yaps #robs draws #robs hyperfixation

Thank you so much for reading!!

[nixeau]

Pssst hey! Yeah you, you lookin' for some good Wattpad Haikyuu ship fics?

I gotchu covered (FT. Hqheaven cuz she's the best)

10. Fallen Angel (IwaOi)

Good soup, would read again. Ending was unexpected but also so fricken good.

It's angel au, except it's only Iwaizumi whose the demon who becomes attracted to Oikawa

9. Atlantis (IwaOi, DaiSuga & BokuAka)

It's the captain x Setter troupe trio, what am I supposed to do? Not like it? Now, that's just blasphemy

I love this for the sole reason that Kenma was a vibe, ngl. Mans was to lazy to even DIE

8. To annoy the grim reaper (KuroKen)

7. King (BokuAka)

I love the whole thing, but ngl, I wished it was a whole story

6. Pretend Fiance (DaiSuga)

Teeth rotting, and holy crap the plot twist. It's friend to lovers with the slight sprinkle of fake/pretend I mean obvs

There's also Mafia au, if you squint

5. Paradise (IwaOi)

Its fallen Angel's sequel, you gotta read it

I mean, don't you wanna know what happened to Oikawa after the last chapter?

Cause I did

4. Chimerical (Kuroken)

Its a little triggering, considering the themes but man it is good

Im sorry its been a while since I last read this but all I remember is that its flipping good, like stay up at 3am good

3. Prince (LevYaku)

The fact that this is the only LevYaku in my list is telling

It's Fantasy au, it has a lot of ships, it covers a lot of characters and how they came to be, excellent world building (if I say so my self), it's mild angst and it even has so much after stories. It's my ideal ff, ngl

2. Honey, I think I'm gay (IwaOi & MatsuHana)

It's kinda slowburn, with 2 ships and friends to lovers. AND Chef Iwa!!! it's tagged Butler au tho, do what you will with that info With addition of meme lords Hanamaki and Matsukawa

As an added bonus, you get to hate someone :DD

And of course

1. Best Mistake (IwaOi)

It's angst like full on angst. Like the type to make you cry 3x which I deffo didn't its so freaking good that this is one of my best of all time.

If I said pretend Fiance has plot twist? This one has plot twist on a plot twist

Be warned tho, its not happy ending it full on, tear jerking, will you make throw your phone at 3am worthy

Also a bunch of quotable stuff (I think there's an AO3 version, but I've never found it)

If you read any of these or all of these, tell me cuz I think I've just found my new bestie

If not check them out and tell me what you think?

Maybe. I dunno, man.

[cg-sunnyd]

Pinned Post!

💫 hiya! my name's capri :)! 💫 You might know us from other hit blogs like my main agere acc or my side where I rb agere related images!

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

This is our CG-esque blog! There's two of us running this blog - TL and Capri :) Big age is 26! please send an ask/dm with your side if you're following for a side acc! it won't be published, but we aren't comfy with non-agere blogs following!

DNI (Intro/Links below)

-please no nsfw/k!nk interaction. if your account isn't child-friendly, please DNI. -from the river to the sea, palestine will be free - if you are zionist, do not interact. you are not wanted here. -no syscourse- we are ENDO-FRIENDLY. if you are not, kindly respect yourself and us as well, and do not interact. -syskids, pet regressors, regressors of any age, ect are welcome here! -this is a side account- please don't be sad if we don't follow back! -please don't trauma-dump or come into our dm/asks with explicit things (ex: SH, abuse, ect). we have our own personal struggles, and while we are so, so sorry you have to face the struggles you do, we cannot be your counselor or therapist. -this doesn't mean that you can't come here looking for comfort or to talk about a rough day! i would love to listen to you, and to be a shoulder to support you. i just ask for no explicit details <:) -capri is not looking to be a personal caregiver! this is her general CG blog, but please don't dm asking if she can be your cg. she feels bad and has a hard time saying no. -emoji anons are welcome! i'll try and keep track :P -Padded regressors are safe and welcome here! -TL is totally cool for setting up this intro post for capri 😎

want to be tagged in tag games, piccrews, ect? like this post!

intros/links

💫Capri🍎 -i'm the one that will be most active on here, and mostly answering asks - aka, i'm the caregiver or person you're more likely to interact with :) -i'm nb and i use she/her! any terms are fine with me - mama/bubba/daddy, ect, but i lean more towards fem ones :). -i would love to see things that you make, draw, or create! you're more than welcome to tag this blog in posts or creations. -orange and pink are my favorite colours, and i love otters -i would love to just hear from you all! from babbles in the inbox to telling me about your day, i want to hear it☺️ -banner done by @thecouncilmakes (isn't necessarily sfw!) -an awesome pink-otter collage made by rainbowtimekidtime!

🚀TL🦈 -I'm more of a big brother than a full CG, but I love chatting with others and seeing things! I'm mostly just here because I want to be involved, lol -I use he/him or it/its pronouns, and masc terms only for me please! -I run agere art requests here- consider checking them out! -tag will probably be TL posts lol

🍎you can see a list of tags here!💫 (pssst, i'd love more suggestions for stories or boards!

💫 emoji anons absolutely welcome!🍎 🤍🐞 | 🦌🤎 | 🦋🌙 | 🐶🩵 | 🧸💜 | 🌻

All in all, be kind, be respectful, and we're always happy to hear from you!

🍎things i've made!💫

want to see the stories and boards i've made so far, or the suggestions i have pending? click this link!

[feral-lore-creature]

🖊️

CHECK THE “IMPORTANT POST” TAG & SHARE

Where there’s lore, I’ll find it.

Pssst! I have a roleplay blog! Check it out! :D

📓 A (probably) mildly pretentious fucker with too much time on their hands.

📓 I generally have very niche interests/hobbies, and while It’s not my job to entertain people, you might not know what the fuck is going on. If you’re confused, look it up, or send an ask! Overall I enjoy sci-fi, dystopia, cosmic horror, and the rare fantasy.

📓 I post spoilers like… all the time lmao, but they’re appropriately tagged, and you’re thoroughly warned.

📓 I block based off vibes, man.

📓 My blog isn’t very well-suited for kids, in case that wasn't obvious.

📓 Most of my tagging system is based off the titles or names of my interests. Happy searching!

[soobjvn]

TULIPS 🌷⁎︎° ✳︎ CHAPTER 25 : “ what a coincidence! ,, ( smau + written )

— cw: none afaik

[ prev. ✧︎ toc. ✧︎ next. ]

“UM, GUYS WHAT’S this?”

“yeonjun, i’m driving. i don’t feel like risking our lives to look at a tiktok again,” soobin replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

“very funny. i’m not talking about a tiktok, soobin. i’m talking about kai’s post.” he shoved the screen in soobin’s face.

“you are so lucky we’re at a red light, you freak.” soobin snatched the phone from yeonjun’s hands to inspect the post that was seemingly more important than their lives. “so… what’s the issue?”

“lemme see!” beomgyu chimed in from the backseat, taking his turn at grabbing the phone. “wait, yeah, what’s wrong? of course kai would bring them to the fair.”

“well yeah, i just… i dunno, i guess i just wasn’t expecting her to be there.” yeonjun watched as soobin gave beomgyu a knowing smile through the rearview mirror. “wait, did you guys know about this?”

“no!” they both responded in unison, making beomgyu giggle. “what a coincidence, junnie!”

“you guys suck, you know that?”

“what, now you don’t wanna go?” soobin asked, turning into the fairground’s parking lot. “alright, everyone say a prayer there’s an open spot.”

“of course i wanna go, but…” yeonjun sighed in defeat. “what if it’s awkward? guys i think she’s mad at me or something… what if she just doesn’t talk to me?”

“first of all,” beomgyu started, holding up a finger matter-of-factly, “what could she possibly be mad at you for, huh? have some confidence!” he gave yeonjun a pat on the shoulder. “secondly, she doesn’t really seem like the type to just ignore your existence. she couldn’t, anyways; we’ll all be hanging out together. she doesn’t have much of a choice.”

“oh great, so she’s forced to hang out with me.”

“can you shut up, my god- ooh a spot! thanks guys, your prayers worked.”

“yeah, no one prayed pal. that was all you,” beomgyu leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head. “anyways, to complete soobin’s thought, you’re being annoying. just talk to her. ask her, if you’re so sure she’s upset with you.”

“yes. exactly what i was gonna say,” soobin agreed. “pull the stick out of your ass jun, we’ll have fun. you’ll have fun. with yn. chill out.”

“yeah, okay.” yeonjun ran a hand through his hair, and checked his reflection in the car’s mirror. “y’know, you could’ve told me she was coming so i’d put more effort into my appearance. or put on my good cologne.”

“ewww,” beomgyu faked a gag and soobin laughed. “you’re so… crush-y.”

“yeah alright, gyu. we all know you have a fat crush on win-”

“aaand, who’s ready to have some fun, yeah? woo! fair!” beomgyu nearly tripped as he quickly scrambled out of the car, leaving yeonjun and soobin to trail behind him. they watched as he purchased cotton candy at least two times the size of his head, not even five minutes after stepping foot in the fair.

“he’s an idiot,” yeonjun scoffed.

“yeah, not hard to miss that.” soobin put an arm around yeonjun’s shoulder. “hey, we can work on him and his crush after we get you and yn together, yeah?” soobin couldn’t help but chuckle at the redness that bloomed on yeonjun’s ears at the comment. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

TAGLIST 🌷 @bangchansbae @raehyun-byeoll @yyawnjun @junhuicosmo @n034sy @wintertxt @fanfangying1304 @crystal-jellies @gyuszie @lightprincess-world @hyuneyeon @tocupid @cookiehaos @222brainrot @choi-beomgyulvr @hyehae @yunwonie @you-make-skz-stay (bold couldn’t be tagged)

— pssst, feel free to use my asks / comment here if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

A/N 🌷 fully written ch tmw!! + yn and yj finally meeting again gasp

[starryusrage]

HELLO HELLO EVERYONE! this is an short introduction post so let’s get to it!

first off, i am starryu/starryusrage, also known as minela.

i am a female asexual and my birthday is june 8th, so be on the lookout for that!

i like: law of talos/endzone/castle of nations, kiwi blitz, burning avalon, infractus fatality, pjo, smile for me, touhou, pokemon, jet set radio, monkey wrench, deep-sea prisoner, cookie run (ovenbreak and kingdom), NiGHTS, oc tournaments, mega man, crashbox, and rise OCT!

(pssst, look in the tag #peppermints shitposts to see my shitposts!!!)

that’s all for now, make sure to check out my alt: @cupforcowffee

bye bye now! (BLINKIES BY @biohazardousgeodez)

[ao3feed-undertale1]

caksie x sans aus oneshots!! :3

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64218661 by gigglygiggle caksie from underbaked x like 10 sans au variants in lil short stories!! this fic is very obviously a joke, only made by a silly lil idea by me and my friend about her super cool oc, caksie!! (pssst.. check out her underbaked fic on her account.. its really cool!!) Words: 125, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Multi, Other Characters: Cross sans, Fell Sans, Error Sans, Dream Sans, caksie, Nightmare Sans, Geno sans, Reaper Sans, Killer Sans - Character, XChara Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Original Female Character(s), Sans x caksie Additional Tags: Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), undertale - Freeform, Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Sans | Dream (Undertale), Killer Sans (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Xtale Sans | Cross (Undertale), Error Sans (Undertale), Reaper Sans - Freeform, geno sans - Freeform, XTale Chara (Undertale), Epic sans - Freeform, Undertale AU, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, x oc, OC X CANON, joke, unserious, caksie - Freeform, underbaked read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64218661

[cleverhottubmiracle]

We've had a tag for a while rounding up articles and roundups of interest to women lawyers looking for guidance on courtroom attire… but we thought we'd round it all up into one post. Readers, I'd love to hear your thoughts — what are your best tips on courtroom attire for women lawyers? Pssst: check out our roundup of Wardrobe Essentials for Work — our favorites in every category like blouses, trousers, loafers, and more. This post may contain affiliate links and Corporette® may earn commissions for purchases made through links in this post. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. What Women Lawyers Should Wear to Court Generally In general, your courtroom attire should have a dark, neutral base made of suiting material. You should wear something beneath your blazer that enables you to take your blazer off — not a lacy camisole or sheer tank top, in other words. Your clothes should be comfortable enough to move and sit in, i.e., not skin tight. Your shoes can be heels or flats, but above all else they should be something you can walk in comfortably, and they shouldn't squeak or otherwise make a lot of noise. We, of course, have a regularly-updated roundup of the best interview suits for women in all budgets, and we've rounded up the best petite suits, the best plus-size suits, and the best suits for tall women. We've also given tips on suiting alterations for women, and offered advice on dry cleaning women's suits. We've talked a lot about courtroom attire for female lawyers in the past, including whether you can wear “interesting” suits to court, what to wear for a month in court (or a long trial in general!), how to stay polished when dealing with metal detectors, and (a while ago now!) whether you can wear flats to court. We've even talked about some finer points of women's professional attire in general, such as whether you should unbutton your blazer to sit, the best coats to wear over a suit, and whether your shirt collar should go in or out of your blazer. (Outside of the courtroom, do check out our post on C-suite style for women if you're interested in power dressing — we also feature a Suit of the Week that tends to be a more fun or interesting women's suit.) If you're an American judge, or a lawyer practicing in a jursidiction where robes are common courtroom attire, we've done a whole roundup on where to shop for judicial attire (including jabots), inspired by advice from readers in the comments section. Why Does It Matter What Lawyers Wear to Court? I'm going to say that yes, it matters what all lawyers wear to court — men, women, everybody! With men's clothing, however, the margin for error is pretty small — you wear a suit. Period. Whether it's a good suit or a bad suit, for the most part, doesn't matter, so long as it looks like a business suit. (But do try to avoid wearing a red velvet magician's tuxedo suit to court, a la My Cousin Vinny.) The fact of the matter is that you are representing a client in court — not yourself — and so personal style should take a backseat. All lawyers appearing before a court should look professional, respectful of the court and judge, and you should strive to convey other traits that would behoove your client, such as honesty and trustworthiness. The circumstances around the courtroom appearance matter, as well, at least in my opinion — I remember years ago The Wall Street Journal profiled a young public defender who talked about her love for high fashion in the courtroom… that has always rubbed me the wrong way. (As we'd say these days: main character energy.) Does It Matter What You Wear to Court If It's a Bench Trial or Appellate Trial? Yes, it does — even if you know the judge well, you don't know every member of the judge's staff well. Many courtrooms have their own dress codes, though. Does It Matter What You Wear to Court If You're a Junior Member of the Trial Team? What you wear to court especially matters if you're the lead lawyer, giving opening or closing arguments — and even if you're a junior lawyer questioning a single witness. I'd think opening and closing arguments matter most, though, because they are usually the first and last arguments the factfinder will hear. That said, I also think it matters if you're a junior member of the trial team, whether it's a junior lawyer, paralegal, or other assistant. Again: you all represent a client. If a male lawyer chose to wear flip flops and board shorts to court, you would notice — and notice what table he was seated at — even if he wasn't the focus of activities for the day. My guess is, you'd even notice if he wore khakis and a button-front. Why Are There Special Rules for Courtroom Attire for Women Lawyers? Like I mentioned above, it isn't that there are special rules per se — it's just that the margin of error is much, much wider for women. Judges may have their own code of conduct, including dress code, in their courtroom. Do Women Lawyers Always Have to Wear a Suit to Appear in Court? This depends heavily on the judge, as well as your client. As we always note in our featured Suit of the Week, a suit can often be the easiest thing to put on. That said… no, you don't always have to wear a suit to appear in court. Two non-suit looks that might work for court: the “column of color” — i.e., black pants, a black blouse, and a more colorful blazer on top of the column of color a dress, topped with a blazer (in fact, many commenters here note that they wear a nonmatching dress and blazer all the time to court) Of course, there are exceptions — for example, judges and juries will hopefully be more accepting of a pregnant mother's attire. We've done a roundup of the best maternity suits for lawyers, but pickings are very slim. Another adage we cite often here: know your office. In this case, know your courtroom. If there's any question in your mind, wear the easiest option: a suit. Can Women Lawyers Wear Pantsuits to Court? This used to be a very controversial question! Pantsuits are much more acceptable now, but my answer remains the same: it depends heavily on your judge, courtroom, jurisdiction, client, and so forth. The answer may be different if you have an older judge, are practicing in the South, or other reasons. The Best Hair and Makeup for Courtroom Attire These two things aren't terribly complicated, either: you don't want your hair and makeup to be a distraction from your arguments. To that end: your hair should, ideally, be neat and clean. You should wear it in a way that you will not be fidgeting or playing with it during your time in court. For some people this may mean that you don't need to worry about styling at all! But if you know yourself to be a fidgeter, take a look at our roundup of easy office updos or tips on styling long hair for interviews. Ditto for your makeup — you don't want it to be a distraction. You should strive to look awake and alive — it doesn't have to be more than that. For me this means a bit of undereye concealer, blush, and a bit of lip tint — for you that may look different. Is Pantyhose Required for Courtroom Appearances? This varies widely by court, judge, jurisdiction, and locality. I would err on the side of “YES” until you know differently, but that's me. (We have a whole guide to pantyhose; this affordable pair is our latest favorite.) Do Women Lawyers Have to Wear a Suit for Remote or Virtual Courtroom Appearances? This answer also varies widely. For the most part, I think a dark blazer and neutral top should be fine. — but know your situation. Some Of Our Latest Favorite Suits for Women Great Quality Suits for Women Less Expensive but Polished Women's Suits Seasonless Suiting for Women As of 2025, some of our favorite seasonless suiting includes Ann Taylor and J.Crew on the affordable side, and Theory (Good Wool), Brooks Brothers, M.M.LaFleur and Argent on the more expensive side. (Talbots used to carry it also, so keep an eye out at resale sites!) See our roundup of the best women's suits of 2025 here! Stock photo via Deposit Photos / HayDmitriy. New here? Some of our main fashion articles that might be of interest include our Ultimate Guide to Business Casual, Wardrobe Essentials for Work, and The Corporette Guide to Comfortable Heels — all constantly updated! If you're just starting out or on a budget, check out our Affordable Office Clothes roundup — and if you're plus-sized, check out our Plus-Size Picks for Work. Source link

[norajworld]

We've had a tag for a while rounding up articles and roundups of interest to women lawyers looking for guidance on courtroom attire… but we thought we'd round it all up into one post. Readers, I'd love to hear your thoughts — what are your best tips on courtroom attire for women lawyers? Pssst: check out our roundup of Wardrobe Essentials for Work — our favorites in every category like blouses, trousers, loafers, and more. This post may contain affiliate links and Corporette® may earn commissions for purchases made through links in this post. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. What Women Lawyers Should Wear to Court Generally In general, your courtroom attire should have a dark, neutral base made of suiting material. You should wear something beneath your blazer that enables you to take your blazer off — not a lacy camisole or sheer tank top, in other words. Your clothes should be comfortable enough to move and sit in, i.e., not skin tight. Your shoes can be heels or flats, but above all else they should be something you can walk in comfortably, and they shouldn't squeak or otherwise make a lot of noise. We, of course, have a regularly-updated roundup of the best interview suits for women in all budgets, and we've rounded up the best petite suits, the best plus-size suits, and the best suits for tall women. We've also given tips on suiting alterations for women, and offered advice on dry cleaning women's suits. We've talked a lot about courtroom attire for female lawyers in the past, including whether you can wear “interesting” suits to court, what to wear for a month in court (or a long trial in general!), how to stay polished when dealing with metal detectors, and (a while ago now!) whether you can wear flats to court. We've even talked about some finer points of women's professional attire in general, such as whether you should unbutton your blazer to sit, the best coats to wear over a suit, and whether your shirt collar should go in or out of your blazer. (Outside of the courtroom, do check out our post on C-suite style for women if you're interested in power dressing — we also feature a Suit of the Week that tends to be a more fun or interesting women's suit.) If you're an American judge, or a lawyer practicing in a jursidiction where robes are common courtroom attire, we've done a whole roundup on where to shop for judicial attire (including jabots), inspired by advice from readers in the comments section. Why Does It Matter What Lawyers Wear to Court? I'm going to say that yes, it matters what all lawyers wear to court — men, women, everybody! With men's clothing, however, the margin for error is pretty small — you wear a suit. Period. Whether it's a good suit or a bad suit, for the most part, doesn't matter, so long as it looks like a business suit. (But do try to avoid wearing a red velvet magician's tuxedo suit to court, a la My Cousin Vinny.) The fact of the matter is that you are representing a client in court — not yourself — and so personal style should take a backseat. All lawyers appearing before a court should look professional, respectful of the court and judge, and you should strive to convey other traits that would behoove your client, such as honesty and trustworthiness. The circumstances around the courtroom appearance matter, as well, at least in my opinion — I remember years ago The Wall Street Journal profiled a young public defender who talked about her love for high fashion in the courtroom… that has always rubbed me the wrong way. (As we'd say these days: main character energy.) Does It Matter What You Wear to Court If It's a Bench Trial or Appellate Trial? Yes, it does — even if you know the judge well, you don't know every member of the judge's staff well. Many courtrooms have their own dress codes, though. Does It Matter What You Wear to Court If You're a Junior Member of the Trial Team? What you wear to court especially matters if you're the lead lawyer, giving opening or closing arguments — and even if you're a junior lawyer questioning a single witness. I'd think opening and closing arguments matter most, though, because they are usually the first and last arguments the factfinder will hear. That said, I also think it matters if you're a junior member of the trial team, whether it's a junior lawyer, paralegal, or other assistant. Again: you all represent a client. If a male lawyer chose to wear flip flops and board shorts to court, you would notice — and notice what table he was seated at — even if he wasn't the focus of activities for the day. My guess is, you'd even notice if he wore khakis and a button-front. Why Are There Special Rules for Courtroom Attire for Women Lawyers? Like I mentioned above, it isn't that there are special rules per se — it's just that the margin of error is much, much wider for women. Judges may have their own code of conduct, including dress code, in their courtroom. Do Women Lawyers Always Have to Wear a Suit to Appear in Court? This depends heavily on the judge, as well as your client. As we always note in our featured Suit of the Week, a suit can often be the easiest thing to put on. That said… no, you don't always have to wear a suit to appear in court. Two non-suit looks that might work for court: the “column of color” — i.e., black pants, a black blouse, and a more colorful blazer on top of the column of color a dress, topped with a blazer (in fact, many commenters here note that they wear a nonmatching dress and blazer all the time to court) Of course, there are exceptions — for example, judges and juries will hopefully be more accepting of a pregnant mother's attire. We've done a roundup of the best maternity suits for lawyers, but pickings are very slim. Another adage we cite often here: know your office. In this case, know your courtroom. If there's any question in your mind, wear the easiest option: a suit. Can Women Lawyers Wear Pantsuits to Court? This used to be a very controversial question! Pantsuits are much more acceptable now, but my answer remains the same: it depends heavily on your judge, courtroom, jurisdiction, client, and so forth. The answer may be different if you have an older judge, are practicing in the South, or other reasons. The Best Hair and Makeup for Courtroom Attire These two things aren't terribly complicated, either: you don't want your hair and makeup to be a distraction from your arguments. To that end: your hair should, ideally, be neat and clean. You should wear it in a way that you will not be fidgeting or playing with it during your time in court. For some people this may mean that you don't need to worry about styling at all! But if you know yourself to be a fidgeter, take a look at our roundup of easy office updos or tips on styling long hair for interviews. Ditto for your makeup — you don't want it to be a distraction. You should strive to look awake and alive — it doesn't have to be more than that. For me this means a bit of undereye concealer, blush, and a bit of lip tint — for you that may look different. Is Pantyhose Required for Courtroom Appearances? This varies widely by court, judge, jurisdiction, and locality. I would err on the side of “YES” until you know differently, but that's me. (We have a whole guide to pantyhose; this affordable pair is our latest favorite.) Do Women Lawyers Have to Wear a Suit for Remote or Virtual Courtroom Appearances? This answer also varies widely. For the most part, I think a dark blazer and neutral top should be fine. — but know your situation. Some Of Our Latest Favorite Suits for Women Great Quality Suits for Women Less Expensive but Polished Women's Suits Seasonless Suiting for Women As of 2025, some of our favorite seasonless suiting includes Ann Taylor and J.Crew on the affordable side, and Theory (Good Wool), Brooks Brothers, M.M.LaFleur and Argent on the more expensive side. (Talbots used to carry it also, so keep an eye out at resale sites!) See our roundup of the best women's suits of 2025 here! Stock photo via Deposit Photos / HayDmitriy. New here? Some of our main fashion articles that might be of interest include our Ultimate Guide to Business Casual, Wardrobe Essentials for Work, and The Corporette Guide to Comfortable Heels — all constantly updated! If you're just starting out or on a budget, check out our Affordable Office Clothes roundup — and if you're plus-sized, check out our Plus-Size Picks for Work. Source link