#I can’t believe how old this original post is

[ukulelekatie]

I just revived my old iPod touch that I haven’t used since ~2013 after believing it to be dead dead for years and oh my god it’s like opening up an old time capsule. There are photos of me and my friends that I haven’t seen in years, taken in an old high school building that doesn’t exist anymore. I have games that are no longer downloadable on the app store. It’s running iOS 5 with the original skeuomorphism app icons. I still have the youtube app. My contacts app is full of maiden names and deadnames. The music app has songs I haven’t heard in almost a decade but still remember all the lyrics to. A daily alarm set for 5:30 AM (god I can’t believe I had to wake up that early in high school) and another set to 11:11 PM to remind me to make a wish. Reminders to finish homework assignments, or to write my application essay for the university I ended up attending, and one marking the release date for the final episode of Cabin Pressure. The last thing I googled was “how to draw people hugging”.

Possibly the strangest thing is that the tumblr app still opens, but it’s stuck in a permanent snapshot of 2013 where it won’t show me any new posts no matter how many times I refresh. My dash is full of old BBC Sherlock posts from long-lost mutuals who have either since deactivated or got unfollowed or changed urls so many times that I don’t even recognize them. Lady Gaga and Game of Thrones are the top trends. My profile shows my previous url and icon, with only 43 followers. I feel like a time traveler

[i-care-4u]

QUIT | J. FÉLIX

PAIR: JOÃO FÉLIX X FEM!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you loved joão the way he loved his past lover. from the first time dating joão, you couldn’t help but to feel lucky that you’re in a relationship with the rising star. however, it wasn’t the same case with joão. in simple terms, you were just his rebound.

during the course of your relationship, joão would think about his past relationship with his ex. everything reminded him of her where even doing the simplest tasks like going to the grocery store was a sign that he just misses her presence.

your friends noticed the body language between you and joão. while you were being too attached to him by resting your head on his shoulder, he wouldn’t lay an eye on you. rather, he would think about his ex, and a memory involving a moment like this.

you remembered the conversation you had the next day with your friend.

your friend, clara, argued, “y/n baby, that man didn’t even laid an eye on you.”

you were feeding into your delusions, believing that joão loves you, “maybe he’s just tired, okay?”

“tired? he was very much outgoing when i saw him with his friends while you were asleep on the couch,” clara sighed, “y/n, i don’t care about his status, but you can do better.”

“i can’t.”

you were well aware of the people’s opinion of you. when the internet found out that you and joão were dating, people began comparing you to his ex, where you were considered the “better” girlfriend. of course, you didn’t liked being compared to his ex, who had a history of cheating. joão had been cheated on a couple of times, therefore making you feel bad for him.

“what do you mean you can’t?”

you repeated, “i can’t let him go like that.”

clara looks at you, “y/n, isn’t it obvious? joão hasn’t moved on.”

that sentence was engraved in your head for the next month and forward.

there was a thing that people say: your first love is unforgettable.

-

as predicted, you and joão broke up the following month. around this time was when his ex came back to the city.

you had a hard time ignoring the interactions between joão and his ex. you were upset that he came back to her after what she did, but you were so defensive of joão, who will experience heartbreak once more.

everyday, you come on instagram to check up on joão to see what he’s up to. in recent events, he was seen hanging out with his now girlfriend at a nearby restaurant. that girlfriend being the same one that cheated on him months prior.

“he’s with her again?” your friend, isabel, looked at the picture of joão and the girl. you knew who she was talking about instantly.

“yeah…” your voice softened, sensing insecurity.

isabel puts her phone on the coffee table.

you sighed, “i just don’t get why he came back to her after everything she did. i just want to see him happy.”

“i know you want to see him thrive again, and it’s not your fault that he went back to his old ways. there’s going to be someone else that’ll truly love you.”

isabel was right, and you knew that. however, you were constantly reminded about the things you and joão did during the course of your relationship.

as days turned into months, you couldn’t help but to continue to view how joão was doing online. he seems perfectly fine, according to his posts on instagram. the more you scrolled down, the more you realized that you could’ve been there. spanish grand prix? that was your idea. miami, florida? that was originally a trip you planned with him.

you couldn’t help but to tear up. as you set your phone down, you thought about everything that is going on in your life. you keep agreeing with your friends telling you to move on, but the process was hard for you.

-

you flew to barcelona with clara and isabel, where you three were going to stay for a week.

the third day, you three attended the fc barcelona game. you were a fan since childhood, and you were overjoyed at the fact that you’re finally seeing your team live.

“i can’t wait to see pedri play,” isabel looked at the field where all the players are standing.

some big names showed up on the lineup. lewandowski, pedri, de jong, gavi, but one of them stood out to you. as you paid close attention to the player’s face, you felt disbelief. the number 14 jersey belonged to someone that you used to know. that face looked familiar, as it belonged to joão félix. joão, the one who dreamed about playing for fc barcelona. and it was the same joão who had left you for his cheating ex.

“oh…” you didn’t know what to say. rather than saying something about joão to your friends, you instead kept it to yourself.

however, joão is an important part of your love life. of course, your friends brought it up.

“félix is playing for barça now?” clara asked you and isabel.

you avoided clara’s question and remained focused on the field. meanwhile, isabel nods, “yeah.”

they both turn to face you. as you see their eyes staring at you, you chose to ignore them.

isabel pats your shoulder, “hey, i know joão is in the same place right now and if you want, we can leave the stadium and go explore other parts of the city, no?”

focusing on the game, you didn’t want to exit the game. it didn’t even hit half time yet. “no, i’m good where i’m at. i don’t want to waste any of our money because of him.”

-

after the game, everyone including the three of you, started exiting the stadium. as you were on your way out of the seats, a pair of eyes looked at you. you ignored what was going on in the background and ignored that joão was playing for your childhood team for now.

on the field, joão was ready to end the night. he was giving hand shakes to the opposing team, and entered the locker room before leaving the stadium for today.

in the locker room, joão couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve possibly been you in that audience.

“you’ve been quiet today joão. what’s up?” ferran sat down next to him.

“i saw her. she was with her friends just now.”

“joão, you need to leave her, she’s no good for you. are you aware on how many times she has cheated on you?”

“it’s not about her. it’s another girl.” joão sighed.

“please don’t tell me. y/n?”

joão nodded silently, his thoughts racing. maybe ferran was right: he needed to move on from his past, the cycle of grief and longing. however, facing reality proved more difficult than he had anticipated. ferran placed a hand on joão's shoulder, conveying concern. "joão, you should let go. you can't keep clutching onto something that isn't meant to be. i’ve seen the body language between you two, and turns out, it’s not meant to be.”

-

listening to ferran's words, joão rather ignored him. instead, he decides to navigate the crowds of barcelona. glancing around, he noticed a familiar woman standing in the crowd, her presence both comfortable and alarming. it was you.

time appeared to stand still as their gazes locked, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering feelings. joão experienced contradictory emotions, including longing, remorse, and hope for the future. joão approached you with confidence and a fast heartbeat. "y/n," he said softly, his voice full of apprehension. you were surprised and concerned. "joão," you replied softly.

you and joão were struck by the shared history and feelings while standing in the city center. It was as if time had folded in on itself, forcing you guys to confront memories from their past. joão interpreted your eyes as a reflection of his own sadness and longing. he wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between you and him, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to beg for forgiveness.

you were also suffering with your own inner turmoil, torn between the sorrow of the past and the light of hope in your heart. you hoped joão had changed and was ready to go forward, but feared disappointment. joão broke the silence with a mumbled plea. "y/n, i understand i made mistakes, but i want to make things right. i want to show you that i've changed and that i'm no longer the same person i was before."

as joão's comments hung in the air, you felt a knot in your gut, hanging down like a heavy load from your shared history. you wanted to believe him, trusting his good intentions, but you knew some wounds were too deep to repair. your voice was trembling with emotion. "joão, i've seen you repeatedly go back to her, not once, but three times, and i won't accept it. i cannot be seen with someone who has not been healed from their past relationship."

your statements broke joão and revealed the brutal reality of their situation. he wanted to protest and beg you to give him another chance, but he knew it would only exacerbate his impending sorrow. joão bowed deeply, burdened by his wordless regret. he realized he had lost you not only now, but possibly forever.

“as much as i love you, all i can tell you is good luck finding someone.”

as you turned away, your footsteps echoing in the deserted streets, joão was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the bitter taste of regret and haunting echoes of what may have happened.

[celestialalpacaron]

Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

[bekmadethis]

Here’s a bunch of stuff in the MM Tales of the TMNT comic-con sneak-peek I thought about too much!

They’ve cared so much about showing how differently they each react to and process the same situation.

Through the scene Raph is excited to tear things up and true to every iteration ever tries things his way until it doesn’t work, Don’s flight response pings into analyst mode and you just know he’s figuring out how to break stuff, Mike is thriving in team-mode and keeping them all on track, and Leo flails around like a giant ball of chronic anxiety before figuring out a plan. They’re original formula with gently new toppings and I’m ready for this slice.

Raphael

This guy! We get so much. He’s rearing to do some fighting that isn’t sparring and be free to do some actual damage. So we know he’s bored fighting is brothers and wants a challenge. He can’t handle this one and in figuring that out is “open to suggestions” which is quite the overlooked Raph quality, he’ll listen he just has to work through that impulsive reactive streak first. He’s strong and knows it, and that robot gets a harder fight. The Raph highlight for me was taking time while fighting to honour the time-old tradition of making fun of Michelangelo. <Sobs in last ronin.>

Donatello

This kid, man! It’s a long standing opinion of mine that everyone should be more scared of Donatello. His interest in understanding the threat overrides most of his fear. Cerebral af. This is his face most of the time while a robot programmed to obliterate him is directly behind him. On the surface it looks like he’s running away a lot, but he can’t exactly press pause on it to figure out how they work. His gentle heart characterisation is well intact, apologising to the robot when he damages it having already personified the thing. I honestly believe he would take it home like he’d found a new pet if that were an option.

Michelangelo

What a show of Mikey magic. He’s got the comedy relief on a casual setting with subtle jokes and unintentionally antagonistic observation style. Mike has a tiny attention span but is 100% in every moment and they draw a lot of attention to his speed and agility. He shines doing what Mikey is known so well for; keeping the family together. It was awesome to see him effectively orienting his brothers into the situation, and see them listen to him so readily. He still calls to Leo for guidance when he feels out of control, but we might be in for a more surprising personal arc than ~nobody takes me seriously~ this time around.

Leonardo

This is a blessing for Leo fans because MM Tales Leo sucks /srs. Not in the way Raph fans say it on Instagram posts, in the way that his flaws are so disparate from other versions that a mastery arc is screaming his nervous muppet name. The giftedness is still sewn in; even flailing around he has more advanced weapon control, is observant enough to be the right level of stressed when a threat shows up, and jumps into strategy finding a vantage point to make a plan like a good little Leo, but instead of our usual Leo trauma ball we (at least for now) get to watch a Leo with the confidence of a processed cheese slice be terrible at things because he’s just some kid…

Pfffffffahahhhahhahba

The Mutant Mayhem kids are the most realistically green (and by that I mean inexperienced) we've ever seen them and it's continued into Tales. With detaching from source origin and establishing a much more grounded reflection of teen life in the current world, the growth arcs over Tales and the next MM movie have such immense unburdened potential that it really could lead anywhere and I don’t know what to expect.

(Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles will air in August 9th 2024 on Paramount+)

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I talk about it a little in this post and its various comments, but I think that the themes of life, death, and immortality that exist within KNY are genuinely some of the most interesting parts of the series at large. The most prominent and straightforward example of this exists within Muzan’s desperate quest for a perfect eternal life, which directly conflicts with Kagaya’s belief in the longevity of the human will. The former is concrete, physical, and simple where the latter remains abstract and very difficult to define.

It’s obviously displayed in Kagaya’s death scene;

But is also scattered throughout the manga in different moments — Sanemi’s first meeting with Kagaya is one of them, because it’s where Kagaya first mentions how little he thinks his life matters when he has an heir to continue aiding and leading the organization for him. He finds his eternity in the long standing effort his family (both biological and chosen) has made and will continue to make in freeing the world of the demonic blight. Which is a philosophy that he makes sure Muzan knows is followed by everyone who fights and lives or dies for the organization and its cause. The young men and women who didn’t pass Final Selection, the demon slayers on Mt. Natagumo, Rengoku, and so on so forth.

He dies knowing that he has a guaranteed legacy, and that Muzan’s inherent nature as a demon means he will never be allowed to do the same. Why do you think he becomes so angry when Kagaya mentions how his death means the death of all his demons too? He knows just as well as Kagaya does how limited he is. There is no one to avenge him or continue his work if he fails the way Kagaya and the Ubuyashiki have always had the Demon Slayer Corps. And even when the organization disbands, they have the certainty of a peaceful, demon-free future waiting for them. That is what they have all worked for, and the desire for tranquillity will always exist within humanity no matter who the enemy becomes.

Yorichii understood that very well… but his older twin brother, Michikatsu, could not fathom it.

He was utterly befuddled by Yorichii’s smile as he thought of the uncertain future, imagining a generation even stronger and more capable of saving lives than they were. He didn’t help the Sengoku Era demon slayers develop breathing styles or teach them or do anything because he wanted to be remembered — it was because he believed in the cause as earnestly and as fiercely as the old families who had followed it for centuries before him. By his own admission, Michikatsu had become a demon slayer out of insecurity and jealousy. He questions how his younger brother managed to leave so much more of himself behind when he was the one who became immortal, but he did this to himself.

He abandoned his wife and his children alongside his personal honor and his dreams and his cause and that’s why he can’t even begin to fathom Yorichii’s hopes for the future even when its manifestation is standing right in front of him;

Together, Yorichii and Michikatsu act as the second biggest philosophical contrast in KNY. They are the everlasting legacy of a man who could not care to leave one behind and the forgotten samurai who was utterly obsessed with the idea of having one, but didn’t know what that really meant. Tanjiro and Muichiro are also wonderful examples of this, because Tanjiro has absolutely no direct relation to Yorichii, and yet he effectively acts as his heir. On the other hand, Muichiro is explicitly noted to be Michikatu’s descendent by Kokushibo, but he is originally thought to be a Sun Breather’s descendant and rejects Kokushibo altogether. More than that, Kokushibo is the one who ultimately kills him.

Michikatsu literally and metaphorically kills any chance he has at having a legacy with his own hands, while Yorichii aids Tanjiro long after death.

It’s a beautifully painful contrast.

[stormsthatrage]

Short snippet from the Bleach I Knew You AU.

But before I begin. *Insert deep sigh here.*

Secretlypansexualmango, if you see this, it was supposed to be a response to your ask. Unfortunately, it took a hard left-turn and ended up in. Uraichi shipping territory? Look, IDK, I'm asexual, I don't get it either. Anyway, since I don't know your shipping preferences and don't want to accidentally respond to your ask with something that squiks you, I will be officially responding to your ask in another post that is less likely to be unexpectedly unpalatable. Thank you for your patience, and, uh, I hope this doesn't turn you off the au! (*laughs nervously*)

Without further ado, the snippet:

Breaking into the Shiba family grounds is easy. By sheer comparison, breaking into Shiba Ichigo’s room specifically is almost a challenge, but it’s not anything that Kisuke hasn’t planned for.

The strange, modified kido, and the odd wards Ichigo has placed, are simple to bypass with a bit of fancy footwork and precisely-timed counter-kido. It’s practically child’s play to get past them, now that he's roughly figured out how they work and where they all are.

His job is made even easier by the fact that, for some reason, Kisuke’s spiritual pressure doesn’t wake Ichigo up. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seems to sleep deeper when Kisuke is nearby and has let Benihime out a little.

He has theories about that.

He’s tired of them being theories.

He’s here to get evidence.

Kisuke bypasses the final seal and slides Ichigo’s window open, slipping into his room. He lets his spiritual pressure permeate the air a little thicker than he would in normal company, and as expected, Ichigo’s spiritual pressure slows down as he falls further into slumber.

… And Kisuke is supposed to believe that the first time they met was two months ago? When this is Ichigo’s reaction to his presence? When Ichigo is one of the most paranoid people Kisuke, an ex-onmi agent, has ever encountered?

Kisuke is a genius. He doesn’t need to be in order to see the flaw in that logic.

Kisuke steps further into the room, gliding softly over the old wood floorboards. He pauses in the middle, taking a moment to debate where to start.

Well. Why not with the simplest?

He’s caught it a few times, the barest trace of his own power lingering around Ichigo. A fascinating phenomenon, when he can’t recall a single time he’s drawn shikai around him, let alone used enough power to leave a long-lasting trace.

He draws closer to Ichigo’s bed, until he could reach out and touch him if he wished.

Ichigo breathes deeply, evenly, no sign of waking up. At some point, his covers ended up half kicked-off. Possibly from the heat, probably from nightmares. Regardless of the reason, Kisuke can’t help but think that he looks strangely fragile this way, surrounded by the evidence of his restlessness.

He puts a hand on the the hilt of his soul-partner. “Awaken, Benihime,” he murmurs.

She stirs within him, gently, in a way that is oh so rare. Like the softest, most gradual of ocean tides, she rises, her fragrance of wet iron washing through the air around them.

And together, channeling her power through his eyes, they see.

Glowing crimson threads that they have no recollection of weaving wrap protectively, lovingly, around Ichigo. A thin but strong filament, sewn through the skin from just below Ichigo’s ear all the way to his opposite shoulder, sutures closed what must have once been a deadly throat wound. Another one, obviously originally meant to keep shut a gash down the length of Ichigo’s forearm, keeps it companion.

And beyond the battlefield sutures there are more threads. Hundreds of intangible and deceptively thin and absolutely unbreakable strands of Benihime’s power wrap around Ichigo, crisscrossing over themselves — around his throat and across his face and down his torso and up his arms, visible wherever his bare flesh is exposed — seemingly serving no purpose.

Benihime’s power surges at the sight, a hot delight running through her as she sees Ichigo so thoroughly caught in her webs. Kisuke’s fingers suddenly, urgently ache with the urge to touch, to tighten, to add more.

Soul King.

No purpose other than, it seems, to satiate their own possessiveness.

Kisuke exhales a shaking breath. Closes his eyes for a brief moment. Gets the heat in his blood under control.

No purpose other than to alert themselves, perhaps? Did they know that one day they wouldn't recognize Ichigo anymore, and left this as a clue?

(And oh, what a clue. What a clue it is.)

He lets Benihime’s power fade, taking his hand away from her hilt. He’s self-aware enough to know when he needs to stop tempting himself, and he’s gotten the evidence he came for — far better proof than he could have ever anticipated.

He takes a step back, and the motion is the most unnatural thing he’s done in a long, long time.

He has questions. He has a few theories, too. Amnesia, caused by a very specific type of parasitic hollow. Dimension travel. Time travel. He doesn’t have enough information yet to figure out which is most likely, but he has finally confirmed beyond doubt that Ichigo is his, has been his, and something tried to steal that from him.

Fury flares within him, burning through his veins, and he can’t do this right here.

He takes another step back, this one just as unnatural as the last.

He can’t ask, yet. He can’t get closer, can’t wake Ichigo up with a soft hand on his cheek, can’t tell him that he’s there now, can’t promise him to take care of it all if he would just let him in again.

No.

Shiba Ichigo is in the middle of a chess game — a dangerous one, a complicated one — and Kisuke can’t see the whole board yet. Tipping his own hand might trigger a whole plethora of traps, including another round of amnesia, and he refuses to risk the knowledge he’s regained.

He will have to be careful. He will have to move cautiously.

He casts one last look at Ichigo, lets his eyes trace over that delicate throat that he now knows almost bled out. That delicate throat that had to be held together with Benihime’s webs. That delicate throat that he doesn’t remember stitching back together, despite the fact that he used his bankai to do it.

He was made to unknow a person he loves. He was made to unknow a war. He was made to unknow the fact that danger lurks still in the shadows of Soul Society.

He will know the end of this game. And Ichigo will learn that there is no universe in which Kisuke does not protect what’s his.

Kisuke turns. Takes another unnatural step away from his favorite, infuriating puzzle. And then he wrenches himself out of the room, out into the night, closing the window behind him and leaving as unnoticed as he had come.

[theresattrpgforthat]

TTRPGs for people with dyscalculia?

THEME : Dyscalculia Friendly.

Hello friend, I’m going to first point you to the Math-Lite Chaotic Murder Hobos recommendation post I wrote up a year or two ago.

What I understand about dyscalculia is that in can affect the ability to do mental math, but I'm not sure how much it affects number recognition. I have a few games here that ask you to read the faces on a die, but I don't think any of them expect you to do any addition. I hope you find something fun on this list!

Cats of Catthulu, by Joel Sparks.

CATS OF CATTHULHU is the beloved rules-light roleplaying game in which the players take the part of ordinary cats, secretly defending human civilization from the Chaos Cults of the other animals. All the players have to do is act like cats, while the Cat Herder arranges exciting challenges for them—anything from snacky time to daringly interrupting dire rituals.

In Cats of Catthulhu, the way the story will go is always a mystery. You and your friends play to find out what happens. One person, the Cat Herder, arranges the secrets and situations, and sets the scene, but even they don’t know where the night will end. The players take the role of individual, ordinary cats. All you really need to do is act like a cat.

It might be a bit difficult to get your hands on them, but the original dice for Cats of Catthulhu don’t have any numbers on them; instead, they have sad cats and happy cats. Whenever a cat does something, they roll 2 of these dice. Rolling a Happy Cat is a success; rolling a Sad Cat is a failure. The reasoning behind these dice is: cats can’t do math!

If you can’t get your hands on cat dice, you can use any old d6, and regard 1-2 as Sad Cats and 3-6 as Happy Cats. You’ll also want to get some kind of physical token to use as Treats, which are player currency used to allow free re-rolls. Cats of Catthulhu is great for groups who are mostly getting together to just have a fun time, ready to act silly and get into all kinds of shenanigans.

DUSK, by Gila RPGs.

Equipped with the latest suntech, you are tasked with venturing out into the Dusk, and helping bring a new dawn to humanity. The Dusk does not want you there. 

Good luck.

In DUSK, you play as Shards, survivors on the planet Obron after the devastating nova-event that saw your world destroyed. Now you wield powerful technology fueled by pieces of your dead sun, in hopes of surviving another day. DUSK uses the LUMEN 2.0 system, and is a diceless RPG focused on resource management rather than luck or chance. 

As a diceless game, DUSK feels a lot different from a number of other diceless games, and I think that’s because of the style of game it’s working off of. LUMEN games are more about strategy than they are about narrative, and in DUSK that’s carried forward in the form of Suntech, items that require energy to power and provide specific advantages.

DUSK is still a relatively new game, but the designer is prolific in the amount of quality work he’s released in the past - and so when he says that there’s more to come, you best believe there’s more to come. If you’d still like to roll dice but you like the idea of the setting in this game, you might want to check out NOVA, which also uses the LUMEN system but gives you dice to roll or LUNA, a game about cultists trying to destroy the moon. Both of these games use pools of d6’s and ask you to look for the highest number, so I don’t think there’s that much math involved.

CASE & SOUL, by Briar Sovereign.

CASE&SOUL is a lightweight tabletop game for telling action-packed stories in the mecha genre. CASE&SOUL is designed for one-shots and short to mid length campaigns. Speed through a lightweight downtime; hire freelancers to pad out your Crew’s skills on missions. Customize your playbooks with SOUL moves, and enjoy a cut-down FITD gameplay with just the essentials for fast and flexible sessions.

Forged in the Dark games use a dice pool, rather than abilities with modifiers. You add dice from various places on your worksheet, and try to roll at least one 4 or higher. Rolling a 4 or 5 is usually a mixed success, and rolling a 6 is a complete success. Personally, I’m a big fan of games that use dice pools, as I’m also not a fan of trying to add up all of those numbers, and having to just look for the single highest dice helps speed up action resolution.

At the same time, Forged in the Dark games can have a lot of moving pieces at once, especially if the GM wants to track a large number of factions, or players want to plan multiple-stage missions. CASE & SOUL advertises itself as a slimmed-down version of these kinds of games, but I can’t tell whether or not that is the case when I look at the character sheets. What intrigues me is the CASE and SOUL tracks; I think your CASE is your Mech, and it receives Harm differently than your SOUL, which is an interesting way to measure how much your mech is (or is not) part of you.

Keyforge: Secrets of the Crucible, by Edge Studio.

In the center of the universe hangs the Crucible, a gigantic artificial world created by the enigmatic Architects and home to countless beings and cultures. Here, impossibly advanced technologies mix with arcane powers to make for a setting unlike any other! Uncovering the secrets of this mysterious world will take all your skills—but the potential rewards are boundless…

Explore this world of boundless opportunity in Secrets of the Crucible, a new sourcebook for the Genesys Roleplaying System set in the KeyForge universe!

You’ll need the Genesys Rulebook for this one, because the main reason I’m recommending Secrets of the Crucible is because of the dice system. Genesys dice don’t use numbers; they use symbols that represent success and failure - and they also have symbols that deepen the nuance of each roll. You can roll advantages or disadvantages that calibrate exactly how much you succeed, as well as triumphs or despairs that give you the same kind of highs and lows as a Nat 20 or a Nat 1 in D&D. This means that each roll tells you so much more about what’s going on around you than just whether you open a door or sweet-talk a guard.

As for the setting, Keyforge is originally a card game published by Fantasy Flight games, about a world called the Crucible, full of secrets that various factions are competing to unlock. It reminds me of the worlds of Magic: the Gathering or League of Legends, with various settings that look very distinct from each-other, and represent different styles of play.

SHIVER, by Parable Games.

WHAT IS SHIVER?

SHIVER is a tabletop roleplaying game that lets players bring their favourite scary movies, spooky tv shows, and horror stories to life. Ever wanted to play through the plot of your favourite film on the tabletop? Or wanted to make sequels, prequels and original stories in the worlds of pop culture you love? SHIVER lets you play that!

SHIVER is setting neutral allowing you to play any story, anytime, and as anyone. Want to play a game of teens in survival mode against a zombie horde? Kids on Bikes who dread exploring a haunted house on Halloween night? Or perhaps a medieval monster hunter looking for a werewolf, vampire or mage? SHIVER can deliver stories and characters for anything from cult pulp classic to Cthulhu fuelled eldritch mystery.

The designer of SHIVER set out with the goal of making games easier for his friends, who had similar struggles with games that had too much math involved. Players roll six-sided and eight-sided dice with various symbols on them, looking for the symbol that represents their character's strengths. The more difficult the task is, the more of the required symbol you need. The game itself is recognized as a class-act horror game, good for everything from pulp-action to gothic fiction to slasher horror. If you don't have the special dice, you can substitute with d6's & d8's, or you can use the free Dice Roller designed for this game.

Tournament Arc, by Biscuit Fund Games.

Are you looking to experience the triumphs and defeats of Space Hyper-Basketball? Need to feel the epic highs and dizzying lows of card games in the post-apocalypse? Want to face the trials and tribulations of the cheese-rolling World Circuit?

Tournament Arc is your very own collaborative sports anime experience, made in the diceless Belonging Outside Belonging engine popularized by games like Dream Askew and Wanderhome. In every thrilling episode, you’ll play the part of the Team as they negotiate the complexities of their daily lives, explore a collaboratively created world, and, most importantly, play the Game.

Tournament Arc is both diceless and GM-less, and is designed to tell stories about teambuilding and competitive sports, although the setting appears to be pretty flexible. The Belonging Outside Belonging game system provides each character type with prompts, and sorts those prompts into different categories. Usually there will be some things you can always do that generate tokens as well as narrative obstacles, and then other things that you can only do when you spend tokens - and as a result, also help characters confront those narrative obstacles. If you have players that like having something tactile to keep in their hands as they play, you might like Tournament Arc.

Warehouse Bitches, by Darling Demon Games.

The Time Worm arrived as it was prophesied just as the crown fell upon his head, and all potentials collapsed into a single haunted citadel, which you call Hex City. You are transgender punks and goths from earth, and in this place your powerful hearts make you witches, daemons, beast-people and arcane architects. We bide our time, smoking and drinking, playing video games and eyeing the crumbling walls of our enemy, The Lord of Olympus.

In Warehouse Bitches, you play as one of the titular warehouse-dwelling trans folk in the hellish Hex City. In this GMless Belonging Outside Belonging game with a unique coin-flip mechanic, you'll wield magic, build allies across the city and fight back against the bastards in subtle ways.

I’ve already explained a bit about how Belonging Outside Belonging works, but Warehouse Bitches adds another layer by using coins as tokens. Using coins, your options are different depending on whether or not the coin is on Heads or Tails. The moves on your character sheet are not just differentiated between Strong and Vulnerable, they’re also differentiated between Heads or Tails, and you must have matching sides of the coins showing in order to be able to use those moves. Characters also have Magic moves, which require the player to flip every coin they currently hold, and reassign those coins based on whatever side they land on.

Warehouse Bitches has only 4 playbooks as it stands now, so a group of 4 players is probably the largest group that can play the book as it stands now. The game is GM-less, but looking at the rules, I think it would be possible to have someone pick up the GM role in order to introduce complications and narrate the actions of various other factions in town. Similar to other BoB games, there are zones that have various elements and details that need to be decided as you play, which will also help provide events and interesting features that keep the game fresh and exciting.

[sundrop-writes]

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

The joke's on you - we are salt and you are the wound.

Summary:

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free.

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort. Can be read with or without considering the canon events.

Word Count: 9,600

The Last of Us Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronounces, the reader is a lesbian/does not date men, themes of abuse and abusive relationships, domestic abuse, ‘love at first sight’ trope, could be considered ‘soulmates’ trope, hurt and comfort, the reader is being abused by a family member and is saved by Ellie,the reader is being emotionally and physically abused by a family member, evidence of emotional manipulation/brainwashing in the reader character, the reader character has injuries from physical abuse, trauma, becoming free from abuse, depictions of violence (fist fighting between Ellie and the abuser), mentions of guns and gun violence, there is elements of Joel and Ellie’s relationship in the background and this could be read with or without considering the canon events (their emotional falling out), mentions of alcohol, drugging someone against their will (done toward the abuser), threatening someone’s genitals with a knife (done toward the abuser), kidnapping and intimidation through violent threats (done toward the abuser), mentions of hanging/choking/suffocation, use of lesphobic slurs (I think ‘rug muncher’ is the only one?) (from the abuser towards Ellie), Joel and Ellie making a kidnapping (and potentially murder) plot together, this has a happy/hopeful ending. 

A/N: Another re-post of a fic I really, really love. This one is particularly deeply personal to me. Whenever I write about the concept of abuse, it’s very emotional for me, but this one has some more personal touches - because it is about abuse coming from a family member and how it can be difficult to part from that because you rely on them for survival and resources that keep you alive. Often times when people think about abuse - or when abusive relationships are modelled in media, it is a romantic relationship, and they display how a person can go from sweet and romantic and turn into a monster, and how it manipulates the victims emotions and makes it difficult for them to leave. And I do think that is an important story to tell, but one equally important - the story of an abuser who is a constant in your life, and makes you dependent on them for survival, and it causes you to rationalise all of their poor actions and behaviour because you need them. You want them to be a good person in your mind because you don’t know how to sustain your life without them.

Another deeply personal touch on this fic - the title. It is titled after a Fall Out Boy song, and you guys might know - I fucking love Fall Out Boy. I feel like all of their songs have a direct cord to my soul. But this one in particular is so special and tender for me. I was struggling with what to title this fic, and I was going through a playlist of songs that I listen to frequently - and this one came up. Although I believe the original intent of this song is about a cheating spouse, for me, it brings up feelings of how I think of my abuser. Especially the lines ‘I’m the kind of kid that can’t let anything go, and you wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and split your throat’ and 'this is me wishing you in to the worst situations’.

I feel like it is very accurate, because Ellie is someone who is very 'wearing her heart on her sleeve’ and through this fic, she wants to be emotionally detached and leave the situation alone, but she can’t. And it turns her heart into this weapon against her, and ultimately, against the abuser. Because it is only of the fact that she cares so much about y/n that she wants to hurt the guy at all. And it also works to describe y/n’s feelings, because she hates that she has emotional attachment to her abuser, but she does, and it makes her feel as though her heart is a weapon against herself. So yeah. I hope you enjoy this fic, and if you relate to it somehow, I hope you can heal.

...

Ellie didn’t believe in love at first sight. 

She was the type of person who thought it was cheesy - some made-up bullshit built for movies and books to sell people on the type of story that would never actually happen. She founded herself on facts, and though she knew realistically it would never happen in her lifetime, she thought that space travel was far more factual than something like love at first sight. 

Until she met you. 

And yeah, it probably wasn’t love - at least not true love - until later on. But there had to be some reason that she stuck her neck out for you like that. There had to be something drawing her to you like that. Maybe it was that fabled invisible string. That unspoken thing that made her want to die and want to kill for you, especially within the first ten minutes of meeting you. 

You were with a group taking refuge in Jackson. In such a small town, rumors were rampant. The group had been in town for less than a day and people were already whispering about whether or not Maria was going to take in such a large number of people on such short notice. 

Personally, Ellie didn’t care. She knew that Jackson had the resources to support new people and she knew that Maria would make the right decision. She was a good leader; she would sense if the group were good enough people to stay or not. She wouldn’t knowingly let in any dangers. 

But then, Ellie started to care very suddenly, very much - when she met you. 

When she saw you, the very first thing she noticed was your smile. She didn’t think she had ever seen someone smile with such intense, genuine joy. It was something that instantly twisted her gut into knots - filled her with those cartoonish butterflies as she took in the sight of you. 

You were standing along the edge of one of the fences, near a small, green pasture for the animals in town. It was a small wooden fence that came up to your hips, around an area that was sectioned off to keep the baby cows in so they could graze. You were leaning on the wooden panels, admiring those little cows with awe, a smile on your face a mile wide as you watched the animals stumble around happily in the field. It was a beautiful spring day, with a light breeze kissing against your skin, and plenty of bright green grass for the cows to snack on. It made the sun seem so much brighter with your smile under it.

Ellie couldn’t help but find herself drawn to you. 

She was supposed to be on her way to return her rifle to the gun shed after patrol. But instead, her feet carried her to you, almost entirely against her will. And soon she found herself standing barely a foot away from you, leaning on that same fence with one hand and staring at you with a big idiotic smile of her own. 

You gave a small jolt when you finally took your eyes off the cows and noticed her staring. Ellie panged with guilt. She hadn’t realized how unintentionally creepy she was being. She didn’t know that it was a programmed response on your part - an ingrained jumpiness that you couldn’t help. 

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat, struggling for words, and she was thankful when you spoke first. 

“You guys have everything here.” You said, bright and excited as you put your eyes back on the grazing pasture. “It’s the first time I’ve seen baby cows before.” 

“We - uh - we also have sheep.” Ellie tripped over herself to say this, shouldering the strap of her rifle to point beyond to a spot where the sheep’s pasture could not be seen. “And there’s greenhouses, and horses. My horse is named Shimmer. You can come and meet her if you want!” 

Ellie almost felt stupid, rushing to say all of this, rushing to impress you. If you liked Jackon’s plentiful resources, then perhaps if she pressed just how fantastic and resource filled the place was, you would want to stay. 

She found herself wanting you to stay. Very badly. 

You bit your lip, slightly shy, and let out a nervous giggle. You didn’t want to turn her down. But years of warnings in a closed off echo chamber had made you weary of strangers. Even seemingly kind ones. 

“That would be nice.” You told her quietly. “Maybe later.” 

Ellie thought she was coming on too strong. She kicked herself internally because of it. 

She had no idea that you were hesitant to be friendly - hesitant to get too close because of the ‘consequences’ you had seen in the past. In your eyes, Ellie seemed like a lovely, friendly person, but you didn’t want to get hurt for trying to make friends. Even if you felt a spark of attraction towards her, you could never pursue it. You didn’t have the room to do so. 

Ellie simply nodded at you, the pain of rejection curling in her gut as she began to walk off. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard it. 

Yelling - a brute voice disrupting your peace. 

When Ellie turned around, there was a man. Someone who would have been otherwise average in his looks, if not for the violence he wore so boldly, obviously uncaring of who saw him. His face was tight with anger as he crowded into your personal space, grabbing a hold of your wrist and screaming at you relentlessly as though you had greatly offended him. 

She wondered how someone like you - someone so sweet, who took wonder in baby cows, could ever do something to warrant such a visceral reaction of anger from someone. 

Ellie gripped her rifle tightly. 

A voice in her mind told her that it was none of her business, but another quickly argued back and said that you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It said that she should step in. She felt frozen as the two sides warred inside her. For a few moments, she simply watched on, taking in the one-sided conflict between you and this man with horror swimming inside of her. 

Your reaction was the worst part. 

Your face immediately shifted from that excitement, awe, and wonder that the baby cows gave you and contorted into pure pain. Tears welled up in your eyes and pure fear overtook your entire body. Your spine coiled up, as if to protect your internal organs, but you made no real moves to get away from this man. 

He spouted at you about ‘wandering off’ and ‘what have I told you before’, ranting on and on as if you had made some horrible mistake by taking time out of your day to admire a grazing pasture full of animals. Ellie was just about to unlock her knees and charge over there to do something about it when a vial, angry eye caught hers over your shoulder. 

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” He barked at Ellie. 

Those simple words were all it took to trigger something in Ellie. 

At a moment’s notice, all of her logic flew out the window, and she found herself consumed by the impulse of her rage instead. She shed off the strap of her rifle, leaving the heavy object on the ground behind her in case it might impede her as she barreled toward the man like a raging bull. 

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole?!” Ellie fired back, entirely nonsensical. 

But both of them, ill-tempered, were beyond talking at that point. 

He stepped around you and went to open his mouth again and Ellie took a swing. She easily made contact with his jaw, but he absorbed it well. Her knuckles stung as she pulled back and landed another hit on his cheek, most definitely leaving a nasty bruise. 

Ellie was caught off guard when a large fist collided with her face. 

She would never be the type to say that men shouldn’t hit women simply on principle. Especially not in this case, because she had swung first. 

She was shocked simply because of the sheer force behind the hit. It wasn’t just to get her off of him - it was vengeful. 

Though her skull was rattled, when he moved his hand up again, Ellie caught his wrist and hit him again. Still feeling that blinding rage, she took him to the ground. His nose felt like mush under her knuckles and she wouldn’t have stopped - if not for someone forcefully pulling her off of him. 

She wanted to yell when she found out that someone was Tommy. But he quickly dampened any of her protests. 

Tommy then gave her a long lecture about ‘first impressions’ and handling her temper during ‘misunderstandings’. He told her that being a part of their family meant that even unintentionally, she represented Jackson as a whole. Regrettably, Ellie felt guilt curling in her stomach because of his words. Even if the guy had it coming, she hated Joel or Tommy looking down on her with disappointment. 

And some time during that long, droning speech, you and that man slipped away. Ellie had a very bad feeling in her gut because of it. 

She had a feeling that he was nothing but a cause of pain for you. 

But of course, she had no outright proof of that. Aside from your tears. But you weren’t even there to tell Tommy your story. And what story was that? That you had been yelled at? How the hell did that substantiate Ellie beating a man up? 

She had nothing more to go on than a gut feeling. 

So rather than telling Tommy about any of the things she suspected, she accepted everything she had said, she apologized for losing her cool, and then (after he gave her a hug, patted her on the head and said ‘it’s okay, kiddo’) - she turned and walked away. 

When she returned her rifle to the gunshed, Jesse asked if something had happened on patrol to cause the bruises on her face and make her expression so sickly, and she quickly shrugged him off. 

Ellie felt intensely guilty for not doing something more. She felt bad for not simply asking you what was wrong, for not handling the situation like a real human being. She had no clue why she couldn’t simply be calm when she saw you so upset like that. 

She didn’t even really know you. She just had a feeling that you were too good to be treated like that. Something deep in her gut was screaming that you did nothing to deserve it. 

The group you came in with split up. Some of them made their way down to the coast with the intention of fishing, perhaps finding and fixing up an old boat, and some of them stayed. 

Ellie took notice when you and the man who had yelled at you stayed. 

She also took notice of the fact that whenever she saw you around town, that man was never very far from you. And whenever he lingered around you, you were much different from the girl she had met that day near the pasture. You were slumped down, never rising to your full posture, constantly tense, and incredibly quiet. You never spoke a single word to anyone other than that awful man. You never even made eye contact with other people. 

Ellie spent weeks watching you from afar, attempting to see if you were okay, looking for some ‘evidence’ that you weren’t. Some hard proof that she could bring to Tommy and Maria, something to show that she wasn’t insane for attacking that man. And it wasn’t until the spring rolled into summer, and Ellie’s bruises from the incident had faded, that she found time to speak to you again. 

There was a time when Ellie caught you without your ugly shadow - when you were by the coops, feeding the chickens, imitating their clucking and laughing to yourself. 

“I think you’ve got a career as a chicken caller.” Ellie chuckled as she walked toward you. 

You smiled when you looked up and saw her. 

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I just like them because if they say mean things to me, I don’t have to know.” 

Ellie felt a lump rise up in her throat at the pain behind your words. 

It left an awkward, painful silence for a moment before you spoke up again. 

“Look, I’m sorry about before.” You told her. “If you thought you had to defend me, or…” You continued staring at the grainy feed on the ground, pointedly not looking at Ellie. “I piss him off. Often. He was just having a bad day, and I-” 

“That’s no excuse for him to yell at you like that.” Ellie cut you off. She rushed to get the words out, desperate for you to know this at the truth. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?” 

“So do you.” You chuckled. It wasn’t genuine laughter. 

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. It made her nauseous. She never wanted you to fear her the same way that you clearly feared that horrible man. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie said quietly, intense guilt overtaking her. “I do genuinely apologize if I scared you. I just… I couldn’t stand to see you crying like that.” 

“I totally get it.” You snorted, painful humor lingering in your voice. “It’s so annoying. But… sometimes I can’t help it.” Though you kept your voice steady, these simple words spoke volumes of pain. 

Ellie wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask if there were more days when he pushed you to tears. 

“I’m sorry that I’m such a crybaby.” You told her. You tried to laugh this off, as though it was just a funny trait of your personality, and not a fault of pain being inflicted onto you. 

Ellie shook her head vigorously. 

“No.” She quickly corrected you. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Confusion knitted over your features. Ellie fought hard to find the words to explain it. 

“I was angry because he made you cry.” She explained. “I was pissed off because he upset you, and - and, I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know you. But you don’t deserve that.” 

Hearing those words for the first time was a truth so radical it almost tore the ground from underneath your feet. After years of being told that you weren’t worth the trouble - that the food you consumed was a burden, that the bullets used to protect you were a waste - being told for the first time that you didn’t deserve such treatment… you felt like the words didn’t belong in your ears. 

“What?” You looked at her with pure shock overtaking your expression, a most genuine and raw reaction. “You really care that much about me being upset?” 

This gripped Ellie’s insides worse than anything else. You could barely conceptualize someone caring about your feelings this genuinely. 

“Yeah.” She admitted quietly. “I do care.” 

This left your face tight with contemplation, intense thought. Ellie didn’t want to leave room for you to get too caught up in it, for you to overanalyze her genuine gesture. So she came up with something else. 

“So… did you still wanna meet my horse? Maybe we could take her out for a ride?” Ellie posed. 

You seemed hesitant. But eventually, you decided ‘fuck it’ - you might as well have some fun. Especially if it meant spending some time with someone who actually seemed to care about you. 

Ellie took you to the stables and introduced you to Shimmer, and officially introduced you to herself, as you did in return - which seemed odd after all that had happened. But it was nice to finally have a name to go with your pretty face. It was nice to finally hear your laughter as Ellie made an age old joke about hay and horses. 

After you took a while to pet the horse and get acquainted with her, Ellie got permission to go past the gate. She took you on a slow trot on the outskirts of Jackson. She had butterflies curling in her stomach the whole time as you gripped her waist, sitting on the back of the horse, and you smiled brightly and complemented how peaceful everything was. 

When the two of you got back from the ride, you kissed Ellie on the cheek, and she nearly squealed with happiness. 

And then, she didn’t see you for nearly a week afterwards. 

She thought she had done something wrong, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with that awful man who barely let you out of his sight. 

The next time she did see you, you were walking along closely behind that wicked man, your eyes low to the ground. And when she called out your name, you didn’t look up to greet her. 

The sweet summer turned into fall and Ellie felt the guilt gnawing at her more, especially when she noticed the days or even weeks when you didn’t seem to come outside. Days when you didn’t show up to do your chores and were supposedly sick, days when nobody else seemed to care why you were missing. 

There was that voice in her head. ‘She’s just a girl.’ The voice said. ‘It’s just a crush. It’s none of your business. You should just move on.’ 

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to listen to that voice. For some reason, she felt this thing gnawing deep in her gut - something that said you needed her. 

Against her better judgment, Ellie went to the house she knew you were staying at, and knocked on the door. 

She wasn’t surprised when you answered. You peeked through the door with only half your face showing, utterly terrified. 

“What are you doing here?” You barked.

Ellie had a feeling that your anger was a formation of fear, and it wasn’t entirely directed at her. 

“I was worried about you.” Ellie admitted shyly. 

You opened the door further, hesitantly, and then pulled Ellie inside before you shut the door and closed all the locks. Ellie felt her stomach twist when she noticed you looking through the curtains, as though you were afraid for your life, looking out for danger. 

Ellie had a distinct feeling that she knew what that danger was. 

A giant lump formed in Ellie’s throat when you turned around and she saw it - that black eye, swollen and bruised, glaring at her. It was the part of your face you had been blocking with the other half of the door. There were other things she couldn’t see. Scrapes and bruises and hand shapes swats over your arms and torso, covered by your purposefully baggy sweatshirt with long sleeves. 

“Just stop.” You said, turning to Ellie, your voice quaking with the intensity of your emotions. “Stop worrying about me.” 

Ellie’s jaw tensed. She would find that intensely difficult - practically impossible. 

“No.” She easily told you so. “I care about y-” 

“Stop.” You said, a harsh cry in your throat. 

It was too painful for you to consider. The idea that someone sweeter and nicer existed in the world and cared for you. The idea that the way of life you had known for years wasn’t the only way to survive. 

“Look, I like you.” You added on. “You’re really sweet. But you don’t want me. I’m sure you can find someone else-” 

Ellie stepped forward, her fingers brushing so gently over your cheek, right underneath the swelling of that awful black eye. You were so entirely startled by the pure gentleness of the touch that you let out a choked off sound from the back of your throat, almost a sob. 

“He did this to you?” Ellie asked, her voice deadly calm and quiet. 

You refused to answer. 

“Is he your fucking boyfriend?” She prodded, her voice even sharper and more offended now. 

You scoffed, pulling away from her touch. You thought she was jealous of the idea of you having a romantic partner. But in fact, she was deeply offended at the universe, she was in turmoil at the idea that someone would even consider hurting you when they claimed to love you. 

“My brother.” You told her, the word almost sounding like poison on your tongue. “I would never choose someone like him. But I’ve been stuck with him for as long as I can remember.” 

“Oh.” Ellie said quietly. 

It was not a possibility she had considered. But she knew that there had never been any romantic connotations to the interactions between the two of you. Only danger, intimidation, and pain. 

It was almost a worse fate, in a sense. The idea that you had been saddled with him because of genetics, that you couldn’t escape him because of obligation, or being forced to survive together.  

“Yeah, oh.” You repeated, tears clutching the inside of your throat. “And really, it’s none of your business. He’s always taken care of me. He takes care of me, so-” 

“This is not taking care of you.” Ellie argued sharply, gesturing to the mark on your face. “If you need someone to take care of you, I’m right here.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. Again, you thought it was jealousy. That it was her trying to make herself seem appealing as a romantic partner. 

You didn’t know that she was serious, that she would give you the world on a silver platter if given the chance. 

“And I sure as hell won’t hit you.” Ellie added on. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” You scoffed. 

“That’s easy for me to do.” She fired back. “Not beating the people you love is the bare fucking minimum. In case no one ever told you that.” 

Her last words were intensely sharp, but struck a chord deep inside of you. It caused your stomach to churn with harsh realization, something you probably already knew that was brought to the surface and waved in your face:

This was not a life that everyone lived. 

“I can’t do this right now.” You huffed quietly, shaking your head. 

You were still swimming deep in denial, hating the idea that your life was founded entirely on pain. But Ellie would fight through all of that pain to get to you. 

“Come on, how long is it gonna be before he kills you?” She asked, the words quiet but devastatingly striking. 

You remained painfully silent. 

“What kind of life is this for you?” She spoke up when you did not reply. “There’s so much more out there for you that doesn’t involve your asshole brother.” 

“Look, you know nothing about him.” You said sharply. “You don’t know what kind of life he’s had. You don’t know what he’s been through. What we’ve been through. Some of the things he’s saved me from.” 

Ellie could only imagine what was going through your mind. Obviously, she had seen some of the darker things the world was capable of. She knew that if your brother had saved you from some of those horrors, it made him look like a saint by comparison. 

She wanted to scream that you didn’t have to go through this. Life didn’t have to be like this. Absorbing his hits and being a target for his anger wasn’t necessary for your survival. 

“Usually it’s my fault anyway.” You sighed. “I meant what I said before. I have some weird talent for pissing him off.” 

Ellie was downright insulted at this. 

“It is not your fault.” She rushed to say, her throat straining with the intense passion behind the words. 

You found it difficult to believe her. 

Any reply you could have mustered was drowned out by the sound of heavy boots coming up the porch. 

“Get out.” You barked at Ellie, panicked. “Get out, you have to leave.” 

You shoved Ellie out the back door before she could argue, and the sound of more screaming and an ugly collision of a hand on flesh made Ellie clench her fists to avoid charging back inside. She had to tell herself one simple thing - she wouldn’t be able to explain a murder to Maria or Tommy. 

She wouldn’t have to. 

And there was maybe only one other person in town who would understand. 

She went right from your place to Joel’s, and he seemed too pleased about her being there in order for him to really question it. He seemed even more pleased when she asked for his help. 

When Ellie explained the situation, she was surprised that Joel didn’t want to take it to Maria. But they both knew that she was diplomatic. She had an entire town to think of. She couldn’t be chasing down people’s personal problems, and she couldn’t be known for doling out vigilante justice. She had to make people in Jackson feel safe, and she didn’t think that civilian trials and public executions would be the way to do that. And as far as Ellie knew, nobody in Jackson had ever acted up like this before. Maybe they were just good at keeping it a secret. (That thought scared her more than anything.) 

Joel suggested something about a quiet smothering and a shovel. Nobody would ever find the guy’s body, he reasoned. 

Ellie didn’t want it that way. Even if the guy was a piece of shit, he was your only family. She knew that in some fucked up way, you would miss him. 

No - it needed to be his choice. And he wasn’t going to make the right choice on his own. So they had to guide him to it. Well, they had to force him to it and shove his face in the damn right choice. 

And then, if he didn’t make the right choice - then they would go to Joel’s version, a Plan B, and they would get the shovel. 

Her and Joel talked it over for hours, making a solid Plan A. When they were both finally satisfied, Ellie left out the back door to head to her place to finally crash for the night - when had it gotten dark out? 

She paused in her tracks when she saw you standing at the bottom of the few stairs that led up to the porch. 

You had a large sweatshirt hood pulled up over your head, and in the minimal light from the back door’s bulb, Ellie could see that your eyes were entirely startled. Your cheek was sporting a fresh, wicked bruise that hadn’t been there before. Your lip was busted, and you had the neck of the sweater pulled up, half hiding some marks on your neck. 

Clearly your brother had come home furious about something. Perhaps he had seen Ellie leaving. She partially felt guilty about it, and definitely felt more secure in her plan. 

“I - uh - I ran into Dina, and she said I could find you here.” You said, motioning off to where you must have spoken to Dina, muttering nervously because Ellie had been standing there for a few moments staring you down with sadness in her eyes and had not spoken. “I was gonna knock. But… I…” 

‘I got nervous.’ The words were lost on your tongue. You knew it sounded strange. Being afraid to knock. Being afraid to ask for help. 

Ellie walked down the steps to meet you on the ground, and you didn’t move away when she reached up and brushed a gentle thumb across your lip - not quite touching the area when it had been split open, but clearly scorning it in her mind. 

She wanted to suggest something about running away, but she knew Joel would just come after her. The easier solution would simply be to get rid of the awful man who had done this to you. 

You grabbed her wrist and leaned into her hand. She cupped your cheek then, holding you so tenderly that it almost hurt. Your body was so unfamiliar with sweetness, with comfort. 

“I can’t do this.” You sobbed quietly. “Ellie, I can’t do this.” 

You weren’t feeling brave enough to leave the familiar, the thing that bound you in pain and torment. 

“Yes, you can.” Ellie told you firmly. 

She gently tilted your head up, forcing your gaze toward hers. 

“Ask me.” She told you. 

You both knew what it meant. 

‘Ask me for my help.’ 

‘Ask me to get rid of that monster, and I will.’ 

You let it bubble inside of you. The words swelled up inside of your throat, and a wicked sob escaped, causing hot tears to leak down and touch Ellie’s hand before you got it out. 

“Help me.” You croaked. “Please.” 

“I will.” Ellie told you firmly. “I’ll get rid of him.” 

She leaned in then and planted a kiss on your forehead, something sweet enough to render another sob from your throat. When she moved to pull away, you reached around and grabbed the back of her shirt, clutching on tight to keep her there, pulling her into a hug and holding her to savor the precious temporary moment you were able to be away from your tormentor. 

“Ellie?” You said her name, and she hummed a response, still leaning with her lips gently pressed against your forehead. “I know - I know it’s so stupid. But… I don’t want him dead.” You told her. Ellie had predicted as much. “I just… I want him gone.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Ellie assured you. “I understand.” 

By the time Ellie got everything together, the cold was just setting in. 

The first snowfall had just hit Jackson, and she had made sure to keep a close eye on you in the interim. You told her over and over again that you were going to be fine. 

A few times you even went back on your ask, you told her that you and your brother were getting along much better. Ellie’s gut churned on the days when you smiled and told her that things between you and your brother were getting much better, that he was making an effort to control his temper, that you could see him making ‘big changes’. 

On for another fresh wound to show up on you and when she would ask you about it, you broke down crying and declared that it was all your stupid fault. 

Ellie knew that he was never going to change. And it only made her more firm in her convictions to carry through with the plan that she and Joel had carefully laid out. 

Gathering the supplies needed for her plan wasn’t as hard as she originally thought. 

The pharmacy in Jackson was surprisingly easy to steal from. She found a pharmaceutical journal in the library; finding out which drugs could knock out a grown man and memorizing the names of them - not that hard. 

And then Ellie took an easy fall during one of her patrols, wincing and whining about the pain in her twisted wrist far more than she felt it, getting the nurse to unlock the drug cabinet to give her some tylenol with codeine. Then she ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tray with a bunch of stray pieces on it, and she got what she needed out of the unlocked cupboard like clockwork. 

She wasn’t sure if the people in Jackson were naive, or if she was far too used to being a criminal. 

Her wrist had healed up nicely by the time everything else was ready.  

Joel thought it would be wisest that they use his basement. 

He explained to Ellie that they could use an old military technique - shut out all the light, take away anything potentially familiar about the room, make it naked and bare and anonymous so that it would seem like a random place that could be anywhere. 

It would be right in town, but the prospect of seeming so far off, so ‘in the middle of nowhere’ - it would be a good part of the scare tactic. They spent some time cleaning out the basement, putting garbage bags over the windows, and draping the room in plastic tarping - partially to scare him, and partially, just in case. 

Joel got a bottle of cheap whiskey that he watered down some, and Ellie poured out the bottle of pills onto the counter with the intention to crush them all up and mix them with the alcohol. 

“Christ Ellie, that’s enough to take down a goddamn horse.” Joel commented. 

Clearly, it was too many pills. 

Ellie took a handful of them - half, and put them back in the original bottle. When she looked up at Joel again, he shook his head. Still too many? 

“Here, let me.” He said, gently shouldering her out of the way so he could make the mixture himself. 

“You act like you’ve done this before.” She commented. 

“You act surprised that I’ve done this before.” He replied. 

He did have a point. Especially considering that when Joel had met Ellie, he had likely been expecting her to be a large bag of drugs, and not a child who needed to be smuggled. 

Joel put back a much bigger portion of the pills, only leaving four tablets that he began to crush up to be mixed in with the drink. 

“The alcohol is gonna magnify the effects of this stuff. A lot.” Joel explained, emphasizing the last words. “You kept saying you didn’t wanna kill him. So you don’t need to give him an overdose.” 

Ellie nodded. It was a good point. She felt lucky to have his help with this. 

Joel scraped the crushed up tablets - now a powder - into the bottle, and put his thumb over the opening to seal it while he shook it up, making sure it was well dissolved before he put the cap back on. 

“Remember. Pour one for yourself, but don’t fucking drink from it.” Joel reminded her. 

It was a mental tactic. Pour two glasses, so as to not seem suspicious, but don’t take a sip. 

Joel handed her the bottle, and they walked over to your place. 

Ellie made sure that Dina was keeping you busy with spare chores, things she supposedly couldn’t do without your help, ensuring that you would be out of the house for the night and wouldn’t miss your brother gone. Ellie went around to the front door and Joel went to the back, waiting for her signal. 

She knocked on the front door and when your brother answered, she waved the bottle. She apologized for the two of them having gotten off ‘on the wrong foot’ when he first came into town. She claimed that she wanted to set things right with him. 

He looked her up and down with suspicion, but opened the door. He fetched a couple of glasses and Ellie did as Joel instructed - poured one for herself after she poured one for him, took it in her hand, but didn’t sip from it. 

He eagerly knocked the first drink back and Ellie hated the fact that he didn’t pass out right away. He poured himself a second and she forced herself to make an attempt at conversation. 

She asked about one of the pictures he had on the mantle over the fireplace - a framed photo of him and some woman. He grunted, saying that it was ‘his bitch’ but ‘she was dead now’. The way he spoke about women made Ellie want to hurl. This caused the conversation to lull into him asking if Ellie had a boyfriend. 

She shrugged it off. Especially seeing as he didn’t seem like the most accepting type if she told him why she didn’t have one. Then he looked her up and down as though he was inspecting her. As though just because she didn’t have a man in her life, that made her an available prospect for him. Ellie clutched her glass so hard she thought it cracked. 

He took more gulps of his drink, and then he mentioned you. He said that he had seen Ellie talking to you. 

He wasn’t clever about his intentions. He wanted to know why someone who was clearly friendly toward his sister wanted to be on his good side all of a sudden. 

Before she could make up some lie, the drugs kicked in. He became hazy, and made a slurred thought about his liquor tolerance being higher normally before he dropped to the floor, out cold. 

Ellie knocked on the back door for Joel, and they had his unconscious body halfway down the basement stairs when Tommy’s voice came into the house, shouting for Joel. They both gave each other that ‘oh shit’ look and Joel dropped the man’s head like a sack of potatoes. He rushed up the stairs to talk to Tommy before his brother could come to them. 

Ellie dragged the dead weight the rest of the way, and she listened as the voices carried through the house. Joel was getting called out for an emergency patrol route - a large horde of Infected had been spotted near the west watch tower. 

Tommy asked for Ellie too, but Joel lied and said that he hadn’t seen her. 

As Joel was gathering his things to leave, he went to the top of the basement stairs. He gave Ellie one last firm, knowing look. It was an out. She knew that if she wanted to, he would stay back and help her clean up the mess, and they would find some other way to go about things so she wouldn’t have to go it alone. 

But she was firm in her convictions. 

“I’ve got this.” She told him, giving him a nod. 

He nodded back and then closed the basement door. 

She picked a steady beam in the ceiling. 

She dangled off it with her body weight to make sure it wouldn’t budge (even though your asshole brother was probably a good hundred pounds heavier than her). And then she put him in the noose Joel had tied, with the rope tied precariously around the beam. 

She had more than enough slack on it to make sure that he wouldn’t choke while still unconscious from the drugs. As tempting as it was to simply kill the man who had been abusing you for years, this was about scaring him. This was a warning. An attempt to get him to make the right choice. His hands were tied behind his back, making him unable to get away. 

As he came around to consciousness, he began to groan and squirm, and Ellie wasted no time in putting her plan into action. 

She went to where she had the other end of the rope tied, fashioned to some hook that might have been used to hang up tools or something else at one point, and she untied it and hoisted him up. He choked furiously as his breath was cut off by the noose, and Ellie made sure he was far enough off the ground before she grabbed something else important - the stool. 

When preparing, Joel had intentionally cut off two of the legs, making it wobbling and unsteady. She put it underneath him and guided his legs to it, and then he took a wheezing breath as the pressure was released from his neck while his feet wobbled on it unsteadily. 

“What the fuck?” He barked out, obviously trying to sound intimidating when he was so breathless. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re fucking insane!” 

Ellie took a step back, looking up at him with a neutral expression. He was entirely powerless. He couldn’t swing and hit her, he couldn’t run. If he jumped, he would hang himself. He was completely at her mercy, and he had to listen to what she had to say. 

In regards to the question, she shrugged. 

“Maybe.” She said simply. “I just wanna talk.” 

“Oh, you wanna talk?!” He growled out the words in anger, still trying to sound lager and more powerful than he was. 

And then, all too predictably, he swung out his leg in an attempt to kick her. 

Ellie easily dodged it, and the motion made him unsteady on the stool. Both his legs fell off, and she simply watched as he struggled, hanging freely by the noose for a few moments. He sputtered and choked, kicking around frantically to get his feet back on the stool. It was a wonder that he didn’t knock it over. 

Eventually, he did get back up to stand on it before he passed out. He continued to choke on the air, veins bulging in his face from the effort. All while Ellie stood back, arms crossed, staring at him condescendingly. 

“That was stupid.” She commented quietly. 

“Fuck you!” He choked out. 

“Look, the way I see it, you have two choices. Maybe three.” Ellie explained. 

He glared at her with absolute poison in his eyes, but remained silent and still, other than the tremors in his legs as he struggled to balance on the stool. 

“Option one: you continue being a petty bitch, so I leave you here.” She told him simply. “You can test your endurance for a few hours, maybe even a few days. But no one will find you, if they come looking at all. And eventually, your legs will give out from exhaustion and you’ll hang.” 

“Y/N will come for me.” He replied confidently. The devilish smirk that spread across his face gave Ellie the urge to smack him. 

“No.” Ellie argued, just as quick, just as confident. “You really think Y/N is gonna be able to find you?” 

This was the mind game Joel had talked about. He was right in Jackson, right under your nose. Would he shout for help, or would he believe that he was out in the middle of nowhere, stranded somewhere that you would never be able to find him? 

His silence was all too telling. Ellie resisted the urge to smile, knowing how important a firm, intimidating face was in this situation. 

“Option two,” She continued on, taking his silence as a sure sign that he didn’t like option one. “You can listen to what I have to say, and you can get agreeable about it real fast.” 

“What’s option three?” He asked. 

Of course, he didn’t like option two either. He didn’t like being agreeable. 

But Ellie had a feeling that in a few minutes, option two would be the one that he’d beg for. 

“You say something I don’t like,” She got her switchblade out of her back pocket, and clicked the switch to show off the sharp, shiny blade. “And then I kill you.” 

There was a pointed moment of silence as he looked between the sharp point of her knife and her unforgiving, deadly calm expression. For a moment, his enraged face wavered, and then came fear. It was just a flicker, but Ellie saw it as weakness. And she was going to exploit it. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He barked. 

“It’s very simple.” Ellie explained. “Leave Y/N the fuck alone. Get your shit, leave town, and get as far away from her as possible.” 

“That’s my sister.” He argued. “That’s my blood. You can’t just expect me to abandon the only family I have, I-” 

“If you respected her as your family, you wouldn’t fucking beat her.” Ellie cut him off, the words turning to poison on her tongue. 

He looked intensely caught in that moment, his expression becoming ghostly. As if he somehow hadn’t figured out that this whole thing was about his abusive ways. 

“What? You don’t like me ‘cause I protect her? ‘Cause I look out for her?” He immediately switched, swelling into that self righteous, taunting person he was with you. “You wanna fuck her, don’t you? You fucking self righteous rug muncher, think you know what’s better for my own sister than I do! What the hell is wrong with you? You-” 

As he ranted, Ellie stepped forward and hesitantly grabbed the waistband of his pants. Clearly, the message wasn’t getting through to him. 

And though it was something more disgusting to her than blood, guts, viscera, even the smell of an old moldy building - Ellie yanked down his pants in one swift movement, trying to ignore the sight of it in front of her. She placed her switchblade right at the spot where his dick met his inner thigh, simply resting it there. 

The feeling of the cold metal in such a sensitive spot easily shut him up. His stomach clenched as he held his breath, likely waiting for Ellie to cut him. 

With him on the stool, it was hovering at around eye level, and she tried her hardest not to look directly at it. For you, it was worth it. That’s what she told herself. 

“Listen carefully,” Ellie told him, her voice still low, still deadly calm. “You are going to agree to my terms, or they’re going to find your body missing this.” She threatened him, gently nudging the blade upwards, not yet cutting into flesh. 

He gasped, shock and horror crashing through his system. He continued to struggle with balancing on the stool, struggling not to lean into the knife by accident and maim himself by mistake. 

He looked at Ellie with terror in his eyes, but oddly enough, he didn’t say anything. Ellie considered it progress. 

“I’m going to be very generous,” She said lowly, making it sound like a threat. “You have twenty four hours to get your shit, and get the hell out of Jackson. I don’t give a fuck what you tell Y/N. In fact, you don’t have to tell her anything at all. Just disappear. I don’t care where you go. Just get the fuck away from here. The farther, the better.” 

Ellie paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. 

“If you’re still in town by sundown tomorrow, I will kill you.” She said. “If you tell Y/N about this little incident, I will kill you. If I see Y/N later and she has a single scratch on her-” 

“You’ll kill me.” He quickly finished off the sentence as he thought she would say it. 

Ellie shook her head, putting on a wicked grin of her own for the first time during the conversation. 

“No.” She said, a chuckle peeking through her voice. “I’ll make it slow. I’ll make you beg for death. I’ll make you wish that you had taken this very fucking generous first offer.”

There was another silence, filled only by the wobbling legs of the stool rocking against the ground, and the man’s anxious breaths. 

Ellie wondered if he was stupid enough to decline her generosity. 

“Okay.” He finally agreed. 

Ellie hoped that she wouldn’t have to follow through on her threats, but she wouldn’t hesitate to. 

She took her knife away from his crotch, leaving a small nick on his inner thigh that would hopefully serve as a good enough reminder of what he was supposed to do. 

Of course, the temptation to hurt him more brutally was there. She knew that if Joel came home and she was covered in blood - he would help her clean up. He would help her hide the body. But Ellie knew that this was about something bigger than herself, her own rage, her own guilt. 

It was about keeping your conscience clean. 

She knew that if you ever found out that she had killed your brother, no matter the reason, no matter the situation - the guilt would fall back onto you. You would spend the rest of your days wondering how you could have done things differently to solve a problem that was never your fault. So she would take the burden of guilt or fault off of you, and force it onto him - where it belonged. He would get to live, but he would never go near you. Not ever again. 

After thinking about all of this for a moment, and calming herself, Ellie unceremoniously cut him down, letting him fall into the middle of the floor with a grunt. She pulled his pants back up and shoved a bag over his head. The bag something else that Joel had woven into the plan - another scare tactic. 

She kept his arms bound behind him as she struggled to lug him all the way across town without getting caught. He struggled against her hold and spoke up every now and then, demanding to be released, but Ellie simply kicked him and told him to shut up. It worked well. It seemed that he was truly afraid of her, because he was much more docile now than the man who had risked hanging himself to kick her in the head. 

She dumped him on the back porch of your house and cut the ties on his wrist. He could feel stupid later for the fact that he had been in town the whole time, not secluded off in the woods someplace you would never find him. He yanked the bag off his head and looked up at Ellie with pure scorn in his eyes, and she held up her knife once more, reminding him just how sharp it was as she left him with some parting words. 

“Sundown. Tomorrow.” She told him firmly. “Or Y/N won’t even find the pieces of you scattered out in those woods.” 

Ellie was surprised when he didn’t say a single word, didn’t even hurl any insults at her back as she walked away. 

She had no idea that he was happy to cut his losses, thinking that you weren’t worth the trouble if Ellie was willing to kidnap, threaten, and eventually kill for you. 

Ellie went to bed early and hoped that everything had worked. 

She woke up from a deep, hazy sleep to pounding on her door. 

She struggled to get out of bed, thinking there was some kind of emergency. She flicked on a light and opened the door, and you came rushing inside. 

Ellie almost didn’t see you through her sleep dulled eyes, her lids still half-closed, but she recognized your voice as she closed the door behind you. 

“My brother is gone.” You said, your voice edging between worry and fear. Ellie thought you might be relieved. She didn’t know that you were still tentative - scared that he might come back, terrified it was a trick. “It’s just - he just packed up all his things, and when I woke up, he was gone. And he left me this note.” 

You thrust a piece of paper into Ellie’s hands, and she blinked her sticky eyes open a few times in order to read it. She scanned over the messy writing, barely absorbing it. It was some bullshit about how Jackson ‘wasn’t right for him’ and he felt ‘suffocated’ and he was going to travel to catch up with your group who had gone to the coast, he thought he was a man of the sea, blah blah - but you needed to stay in Jackson, because it would be safer for you. 

“It’s a trick.” You announced as Ellie read over the words. Your voice quaked, your throat tight with fear. When Ellie looked up, tears were dancing in your eyes. There were sharp scratches on your neck - they were scabbing over, and a greenish bruise on your cheek that was fading. “It’s gotta be a trick. He’s testing me. He wants me to - to follow him? Or he’s coming back, or-” 

Ellie tossed the paper aside, uncaring of where it landed, and then stepped toward you, grasping your face with gentle hands. 

“It’s okay.” She said calmly. “He’s gone.” 

She echoed the words you had said that night, letting you know that she had miraculously granted your request. 

If it was true, then you would consider her a guardian angel. But you almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. 

“You did something.” You said quietly. It wasn’t accusing. It was a simple truth. You swallowed thickly. You waited before you asked your next question. “Is he dead?” 

You would have hated to think that Ellie would go through so much trouble to frame his murder as him simply leaving town. 

“Would you hate me if he was?” She replied. 

Strangely enough, you had no clue how to feel. 

Ellie saw the warring on your face, the years of pain tethering in your soul, and hoped to release you from it. 

“He’s alive.” She sighed, a heavy awful truth floating from her lips. You looked somewhat relieved, but then that fear pricked into your big, sad eyes once again. “He’s not coming back. I can promise you that.” 

If he did, Ellie would kill him. But she didn’t speak those words to you. 

You lunged forward then, tightening your hands around her back, squeezing her with intense, passionate ferocity as you pressed your face into her shoulder and began to sob. Ellie held you dutifully, trying her hardest to be gentle with you, petting smoothly over your back as her heart ached at the sound of your cries. She had no idea that it was relief - pure relief exhaling from your lungs, the feeling of finally being able to breathe with the presence of that dark tormentor no longer hanging over your life. 

“Thank you.” You sobbed, clutching onto her shirt. “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you.” 

… 

When Joel came back from his patrol, he asked where Ellie had buried the body. She sighed and told him that the guy had made the wise decision to leave town. Completely of his own accord. He shrugged and said he didn’t care either way - he just wanted to meet the ‘lovely young woman who was worth going through all the trouble for’. 

Ellie invited you over for steaks at Joel’s house a few days later, and artfully dodged all the questions about whether you were dating or not. 

… 

A few months later, when winter thawed out and spring had come around once again, Ellie had taken you beyond the walls of Jackson once again, both of you delighting in the purity of everything nature had to offer, and your newfound freedom. 

“Is it just me or is the air out here… fresher?” You posed, inhaling deeply as you threw your head back, truly basking in the nature around you. 

Ellie giggled at this, and you threw a smile back over your shoulder at her. You walked along the path, bobbing between the trees and enjoying the greenery as it thawed out from the snow. 

“It’s the mountains, there’s nothing but fresh air up here.” Ellie chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, it beats living in the city. That place stunk to high hell. People piled on top of each other, old rotting buildings, no trees anywhere.” 

You let out a small laugh at this. It wasn’t Ellie’s greatest work in comedy, but your lungs felt much lighter these days, and she soaked up the sound like the new saplings soaking up the sun. 

She had also noticed your choice of attire for the day. For her, there was still that small nip in the air, something indicating that there might be one last frost left to the year, something that made her want to wear a sweater. But you had worn a short sleeved tee shirt with your jeans, and Ellie preened at the fact that there was not a single bruise anywhere on your skin. Some old scars that she could never have the hopes of reversing, but more and more lately, your smile outshined all of them. 

“Ooh, look at this!” Ellie came to crouch at a small patch of grass, what you didn’t recognize as thick reeds that were somewhat special to her. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

“Joel taught me this.” She noted, making you even more intrigued. 

Ellie plucked one out of the dirt, and held it between her two palms before she held it up to her two lips and blew - it made a sharp noise like a duck’s call, and you instantly began giggling at this delightfully strange sound. 

“Okay, how did you do that?” You asked, kneeling down beside her. 

Ellie grabbed up another one and put it in your hands, positioning them well. After a nod from her, you put it to your lips and gave a hard breath. You dissolved into laughter once again when it made that strange sound. 

“I love that.” Ellie commented, absolutely beaming herself. 

“What? You play the guitar but your favorite instrument is grass?” You joked. 

“No.” She replied. “I love that smile.” She told you, motioning up toward your face. “That’s why I fell in love with you.” 

“Els.” You murmured quietly, unable to truly explain the wave of emotion that came over you - being intensely thankful for her saving you, changing the course of your life, the swelling of love you felt for her and how it only grew with time. 

Ellie didn’t need words. She leaned in and kissed you then, and you - for the first time in a long time - relaxed into her love and let yourself be happy. 

From time to time, you were tempted to ask what exactly it was that she had done to make your brother go away. But as the months ticked on and your relationship developed - as Ellie helped you navigate your freedom and enjoy the sweeter things in life, you found that you truly didn’t care.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask about a sequel or a continuation for it, because there won't be one. If you liked it and you want to comment on it, please comment on the body of work that I have written. Or feel free to check out the many other works I have written on my TLOU Masterlist. Thank you!!

[babydollmarauders]

THROWBACKS — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

y/n.hughes

liked by jackhughes, colecaufield, and 122,167 others

y/n.hughes alexa, play fifteen by taylor swift

though if i can make an amendment, there has been nothing greater than dating the boy on the hockey team 🤍 that boy has given me the world and the absolute cutest daughter in the world

tagged jackhughes

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colecaufield damn, talk about some throwbacks!

y/n.hughes my phone made a compilation of these today and you know i just HAD to post them!

trevorzegras you post 3 photos of me and i don’t even get a tag?? i see how it is! hoe’s before bro’s i guess

y/n.hughes trevor, you’re letting your drama king out

trevorzegras he deserves to shine. don’t stick him in the basement when he deserves the pent house. he deserves to bejeweled.

y/n.hughes don’t you dare use the sacred word of mother against me! i advise you to check the book of Lover; chapter 14; verses 0:50-0:54

jackhughes it’s like i married trevor… oh i just got chills

user92 we ask, and y/n delivers omg

jackhughes lovie, you are the greatest thing i’ve ever done

y/n.hughes do you wanna reread what you just said?

jackhughes lovie, MARRYING YOU is the greatest thing i’ve ever done

jackhughes i still stand by my original comment though

y/n.hughes momma is gonna see this!

jackhughes we have a child, do you think she doesn’t already know these things?

slknight35 oh wow, you’ve been down tremendously for THAT man since you were 15? look at him

y/n.hughes since i was 13*

slknight35 that’s actually worse

_quinnhughes you two make me sick in the best way possible

y/n.hughes my bad, Q— didn’t know you were allergic to love

_quinnhughes you’ve been with him too long, he’s corrupted you. what happened to my sweet little y/n that asked me how the star wars movies were made if they would’ve been floating in space? she would never talk to me like this

y/n.hughes hey! i was young!

_quinnhughes you were 14, you were old enough to realize they weren’t actually filmed in space

y/n.hughes i was a dreamer and a believer! your brother seemed to have found that quite charming

jackhughes you were like an innocent little kicked puppy that i wanted to take home with me and keep safe forever

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes why do you speak? you’re SO pretty, and then you open your mouth

jackhughes technically, i didn’t say it, i typed it.

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes crib.

jackhughes yes, that is where El sleeps?

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes no, that is where YOU will sleep. act immature, get treated immature.

jackhughes i’m sorry, i love you

user27 these photos omg i just can’t even believe they’ve been together THIS long

lhughes_06 sis, i say this with so much love… why?

y/n.hughes what do you mean “why” ?!

lhughes_06 i mean, why the pictures? why Jack? why?

y/n.hughes you guys look adorable! and because he’s always been the cutest boy to ever walk the planet to me

lhughes_06 i think you need your eyes checked

jackhughes what is this, hate on Jack day?!

_alexturcotte i’ve always been stylin 💯

y/n.hughes hey remember when you used to call me at 7am and ask what you should wear?

_alexturcotte idk what you’re talking about. that doesn’t ring a bell.

y/n.hughes really? cause you did it for 5 years

_alexturcotte lovie, please, you’re killing my game

y/n.hughes you have game?!

[artist-issues]

every now and then I play with the exercise of "what if we're wrong" because sometimes I get bored and also as an actual exercise. I usually apply this to Christianity/religion, matters of the after life, or about other people.

So sometimes I poke at the big question, if Christianity isn't real, what does that mean? And I don't usually go the route of atheism or bad sci fi, just that the religion is proven to be fundamentally inaccurate to reality, so what does that mean?

Anyway it wasn't until I was reading a really good sci fi story, where this one dude explains to some aliens the concept of "Love your enemies, do good to those that hurt you" and of course the aliens are like what? (Because in the sci fi narrative the universe is functioning under a Dark Forest Theory) And the dude explains its from one of earth's greatest teachers. And the aliens are like, if the inhabitants of the universe could believe that, this universe would be a different place entirely.

And it was at that point where I realized bro... even if it's not accurate, practicing Christianity is still worth it, for a human being. Loving your enemies means loving them like humans. The Poor, the Meek, and those who mourn, those are promises and comforts that we shouldn't toss aside even if heaven isn't real.

I don't know, this is just a terribly simplistic because I'm not the best at putting my English thoughts into english out loud, but that crack gave me a touch of useful coping. I asked my dad, if aliens are proven to exist it doesn't automatically mean christians stop practicing and believing, right? And he said obviously not.

I don't know but have you ever engaged in such a question " what if we're wrong?" And if you ever have what answer had you arrived at?

EDIT: As @atwas-meme-ing correctly pointed out in the comments section of this post, who cares whether or not I’ve played this game: God answered the question through Paul in his letter to the Corinthians: “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.” 1 Corinthians 5:19.

There’s no “good moral teaching” to be found in Christianity if Christ wasn’t God, or if God didn’t exist, or if eternity weren’t real. My rambling logic is below the cut.

I mean, I play that “game” all the time about other things, and sometimes I do it for work. I’ll take two established characters and a setting me and my friends have agreed on, and I’ll “run a scenario.”

But the thing is, once my brain picks out something that doesn’t make sense, or that wouldn’t be in-character for the characters to do, the whole scenario grinds to a halt and I have to start over. I can’t suspend my own disbelief once I notice that something doesn’t line up. Even if I really liked “where the scene was going” before I noticed that thing. Whatever I’m getting stuck on because of it’s out-of-character nature unravels the parts I like, too.

All that to say I can’t even run a scenario in my head where “what if all this isn’t true? What if it fundamentally doesn’t line up with reality?”

I can’t. Once or twice I have tried. But I hit snags immediately. I’ll go, “pretend all of this Christian religion really is just a centuries-old conspiracy humanity’s been patching up the holes in.”

But then that little simulation-checker in my brain goes, “then how do you explain people dying for it? That many martyrs aren’t likely to have allowed themselves to be tortured and murdered for something they knew was a conspiracy.”

And I go, “well, pretend they died because they didn’t know it was a conspiracy, they believed it.”

And the sim-checker goes, “but the original disciples of Jesus, ground-zero of the faith, were all martyred. Not just people who learned from them and came after them and could’ve been hoodwinked: the starting points, themselves. They would’ve had to know it was a conspiracy, if it was a conspiracy, and they still willingly died for it.”

Maybe I’ll pivot and go, “pretend there isn’t objective truth.”

And the sim-checker goes, “there isn’t truth…objectively?”

Maybe I’ll pivot again and try, “pretend that everyone really does just measure morality based on what they’re used to, what their individual society’s trained them to associate with pleasant feelings and reactions.”

And the sim-checker goes, “Okay, where did those societies get the training manual? Where did it come from? Why do so many different societies’ and people groups’ ‘association with pleasant feelings and reactions’ around the world have so many things in common?”

And the answers to all that leads me back to Christianity. Even if I go the longest way round I can think of.

And eventually I quit running those scenarios. Because guess what?

Where’d the ability to run scenarios come from?

How did I get that? How did you?

See, the thing is, we go, “what if all of this isn’t true?” But it’s right there in the question. “Where did you get that desire? The desire for “truth?”” Is it to keep yourself safe, like the natural animals have an instinct toward, or is it to keep yourself sane, because you need some sense in this life to make it through? Sure. Maybe. But why? What’s “sane?” What’s “safe?” Sanity presupposes order. Why do you, and all humans, naturally lean toward wanting things to be “the way they’re supposed to be?” Where’d that come from, that idea of “supposed to be?” And Safety presupposes good being found in avoiding pain and damage and fear. “Good?” Where’d you get that idea?”

The further you dig, even into your own psyche, the less you can run any scenario that has God absent entirely. And no wonder. He designed it.

One more thing.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - C.S. Lewis

I used to lean into the idea you’re saying here. “Even if it’s not true, I’m going to live like it is and believe it just in case. Besides, it makes me better, and makes the world better.” That’s not belief at all. That’s ends-justify-the-means thinking. The teachings that Jesus gave which “make the world a better place” are utterly worthless if they’re coming out of the mouth of a liar. Because why should anyone believe Him? Why should anyone “turn the other cheek,” or “do unto others?” Because it makes us “better?” Who gets to define “better?”

The answer, of course, is Jesus does. The One who taught those sayings. But only if He’s God. Only if He was telling the truth. If He wasn’t God, what right has He, to tell us to give away our possessions to others and let them abuse us and give our lives up? If He was a liar, all of those “good teachings” would be tainted and untrustworthy. Besides, like I just said, they’re all only able to be called “good” teachings if you accept that there is one objective, universal “good.” And we’re right back to “where did Good come from?”

All roads lead back there, to Him. But we humans like to do this thing with God where we pretend there could be any reality outside of Him. It sort of makes sense, how we got that way. After all, when was the last time you noticed oxygen? How often during the day do you consciously inhale and exhale? As often as it happens automatically? How often during the day do you notice oxygen touching your skin or moving your hair or drying your eyeballs? As often as those things happen automatically? No. But it’s ever-present. Without it, you couldn’t live, let alone notice anything. But oxygen has always been around and everything in our lives interacts with or can only exist WITH it. God is much more than that, but that’s as close as I can get to communicating: He’s so good, and He’s so constantly there, everything, all the time, that it’s easy for us to take Him for granted, forget Him entirely, then use our two-pound brain matter to say, “He might not exist.” You might as well say, “imagine a world with no matter.” 🙄 “Ohhhh kay. Then it wouldn’t be a world.”

[arcanegifs]

On Gifmaking:

So season 2's coming soon, and I wanna reflect on making gifs ever since I came back to Tumblr. I can't believe it's been 2 years of making gifs for this show!!!!! Look at how large my folder is lmao

And those are JUST gifs lol

Anyways, over time, my style has changed, especially how I color edit Arcane gifs. I kind of strayed away from a stylized filter color into just something that looks a lot more "natural" and works with the original scene.

Initially, I thought I'd save time, but I ended up not using my old arcane preset PSDs and resulted to coloring almost every scene manually. So in the end, it takes even longer to make them HAHAHA. It takes around an hour and a half for me to make a 10 gif set, basically. It also helps that I have a photography background, so coloring/editing is a lot simpler for me.

Here's a lil before and after of a dark scene (hiiiii viiiiiii <3)

Arcane is a REALLY dark show, but it goes for most of TV shows. Many of them are darker and harder to bring up the lights to make stuff look nice as gifs. Some people don't like to color their gifs, and that's okay. I personally just like color edited gifs more.

I've started learning how to upscale scenes myself, so that I have a better resolution and leeway to make things look "HD" more.

If you're wondering why my stuff look so "crisp", it's a combination of the scene's lighting, my sharpening settings on Photoshop and knowing how to upscale everything into 4k resolution. Of course, doing this needs an extremely beefy pc, which I am very lucky to own one.

Here's another before and after of a nicely lit scene. These are much, MUCH easier to do than all the darkly lit scenes because of shadows and lighting (caitlyn kiramman truly the rizzler <3)

I've been very lucky to be able to essentially take a nice, long break for like a month doing nothing after being so damn busy for the last year and a half, so it's nice that I was able to make a ton of gifs and be chronically online for a short while LMAO.

It's been so fun! But it's time to go back to reality lmao. I closed reqs for a bit because I was just so swamped with them the last few days, and I wanted to gif scenes that I like this time. I've done like 2 weeks worth of gifs. And you will see Vi a lot bc she's on my mind a lot heehee 🥰what can I say, she's such a babe <3

Here's a lil sneak peek, just look at herrrrrrr 🥰🥰🥰 and yeah, 4k upscaled resolution really helps making these tight crops, it's why i never went back to 1080p lol. It's how I’m able to make zoomed in gifs look decent (like the kirammountains gifset lol)

Thank you so much for all the support, likes, reblogs, and the nice tags you guys give. Yes, I can see and read all of them (both the nice and nasty ones lmao). If you have nothing good to say about the characters or my editing style, or anything related to the edit, please I beg you, just write a separate text post about it <3 If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it in my edits.

Lastly, thank you to the people who share my stuff outside the site and credit the blog and link them back here. I see you and appreciate you <3 You guys don't know how much I appreciate shoutouts and link backs, because people stealing my gifs is something that I've dealt with after making them for like a decade.

Tumblr is sadly not what it used to be in the 2013-2015 era. There’s definitely less activity as time goes by, so I appreciate all the people who credit and link back to this sideblog. Unfortunately, there’s more people who just repost them and it gets wayyy much more traction in other soc med sites. Yeah, ofc I get a lil jealous, but eh what can you do 😞 can’t really stop em.

I also don’t like putting watermarks because it personally looks tacky to me, but I understand why other people do it.

Anyways, if you reached at the end of this lil rambling of mine, thank you! I sadly might be busy during November because that's usually busy season, but I'll try to make time for making gifs of Season 2! Thank you and enjoy your stay on this lil sideblog :)

[strawbaby-jelly]

I got a rather exciting piece of Star Trek history in the mail that I wanted to share!

Note: I am far from a Star Trek historian. What I say here is going based off of mostly old blog posts and fan forums. Apologies in advance if I get information incorrect and feel free to correct me!

“Killing Time”

“Killing Time” by Della Van Hise is #24 of the Star Trek pocketbooks. Published in 1985 the first edition of this book was recalled after a bit of an outcry, apparently in part from Roddenberry himself, as it seemed to imply that Kirk and Spock had something more than a friendship between them. Editions after this remove and replace the “offending” passages.

Though the novel is rather infamous it is sought after by collectors and fans of the Kirk and Spock relationship (like myself.) And though it’s infamous, shunned by Roddenberry and IP holder there are accusations that the plot of the first alternate original series movie was at the least inspired by the novel.

Who is Della Van Hise?

Della Van Hise had an extensive history of writing fanfiction on an old typewriter from a young age. Along with that experience she was known amongst fans that traded their stories back and forth as a rather prolific K/S writer, often publishing fic under pseudonyms. It is apparently fans of these works that encouraged her to submit Killing Time to be officially published. Della went on to have original works published such as poems and novels like “Quantum Shaman.”

According to a Facebook from Della’s wife, Wendy, she passed in March of 2021 after repeated health issues.

At the beginning of “Killing Time” there is a series of acknowledgements. The first of which is to a Wendy.

Just How Rare is this Thing?

The true rarity of this novel is a bit hard to parse in my opinion. There are Star Trek books out there far more expensive, such as “Stitch in Time” by Andrew Robinson. Sources say around 250,000 of copies of the first edition were produced, with 100,000+ having already been shipped before the recall. Copies that were swept up into the recall were destroyed but according to some fan forums many copies did end up on store shelves and were sold. It’s unclear just how many copies of the first edition are left but there are plenty of stories of fans stumbling across the first edition on second-hand bookstore shelves, in thrift stores or even in EBay lots of Star Trek novels sold by people who apparently didn’t know what they had.

As of now this book isn’t worth $100+ and I don’t believe you should buy it for that much if you see a listing for that price. My copy I bought for $60 which $60-70 seems to be the standard accepted value going off past eBay listings. This of course isn’t inexpensive, especially for pocketbooks when you can usually find them for less than $10 in stores and even less online. Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be a way for fans to enjoy an uncensored copy online if they can’t afford a physical copy. The most I was able to find is this.

A journal entry which compares the uncensored to censored parts of the book.

How do You Know if it’s the First Edition?

So say you’ve run into a copy of this book out in the wild or you’re looking at listings online and are unsure if it’s the recalled edition or not. There are luckily a few quick and easy ways you can figure out if it’s legit.

1. An Embossed Title

Now this way is not always a guarantee if you have a 1st edition copy. Apparently there was some copies that were printed with flat lettering but all first editions I’ve seen of this book through listings and blog posts do always seem to have the raised lettering on the title.

2. Publishing Date

The first edition was published in 1985. If you have a copy or are looking at one that has a publish date past 1985 then it’s not first edition.

3. Page 41 Uncensored

Now this is a guaranteed way to find out if you have a first edition copy. There is a sentence that is only included in the uncensored version on page 41.

“I understand that you were probably playing with dolls and wearing lipstick until you were twenty!”

If you have or have found a copy of “Killing Time” with all these things included then congratulations you’ve got the recalled first edition!

My Thoughts

I am *very* excited to own a copy of this book. It’s been a dream, I know silly, to own it for many years. I’ve avoided spoilers or even having the second edition of this book with the hopes that I would one day own it. I am a K/S fan of course but also as a lesbian I am curious to see if the book is truly as bad in its uncensored state as some claim. Homophobes have a way of blowing up the smallest moments. Some blog posts from the early to mid 2000s claim the book is disgusting and should’ve never been published for its content, others say it’s exaggerated and it’s mostly blink and you miss it moments. I can’t wait to see for myself!

I may leave a review of this novel after reading it. 🖖💖

[iboatedhere]

Hi friend! Thanks for asking for prompts!

I’d love to request a fic based on a prompt from the June list - Peaches 🍑 (any interpretation you like 😏). Can’t wait to see what your awesome brain comes up with! ❤️❤️

start with a little inspo

"I'm having a full-on crisis."

"Henry, darling," Pez says over the line, "you'll have to be a tad more specific. You open a conversation this way at least three times a week." 

"This is the most urgent. This is the one that will have me change my name, grow a beard, and flee to the woods. It was lovely knowing you, Percy. Truly."

"I'm not entirely sure you could pull off a beard," Pez says. "Too blond and too pale. It'll just blend right in."

Henry groans.  

"Perhaps plastic surgery," Pez offers. "Although it would be a shame to cut up that gorgeous face." 

"Percy—."

"I'm sure I could find you an excellent surgeon. Let me make a few calls."

"Please go ahead and do that because I'm hanging up."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," Pez says with a laugh that negates his promise. "Tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better once you do."

"I might have, accidentally, slightly, sexually harassed a politician on Instagram."

"That's quite the adventurous statement," Pez says after a moment. "Care to elaborate for me, Haz?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning, love." 

"You know how dreadful I am at social media."

"Indeed. If I had a penny for every time you accidentally posted a screenshot or sent me a DM filled with gibberish, I would never need to tap into my trust fund."

"Yes, well, there's this man that I follow—."

"The politician? Haz, if you dare tell me that you've taken an interest in some old, white dolt—."

"He is none of those things. He's quite young, and I believe he's said his father is Mexican—."

"Oh, you believe?" Pez says as if he already knows Henry has hung on to his every word since he followed him. 

"He's brilliant," Henry continues, "and beautiful."

"But still a politician."

"He's pro all the correct things, Pez. Nobody is perfect, but he's as close as I've seen."

"And you sexually harassed him?"

"Slightly. Accidentally. And via Instagram, which I know doesn't make it any better."

"What is his name?"

"Unimportant."

"You do realize I can find him by looking through your followers. It's the price you pay for only following one hundred people."

"I like to keep my feed neat and organized. Plus, the fewer people I follow, the less of a chance I have of embarrassing myself."

"And yet here we are."

"Indeed."

"Henry George Edward James Fox. What in the world did you do?"

"Well. He posted this photo to his stories, and I meant to scroll past it—."

"Did you?"

"I meant to screenshot it," Henry admits. 

"That's more like it. Do continue."

"I meant to screenshot it and then move on—."

"Wank off."

Henry hangs up. If Pez isn't going to be helpful, then they don't need to have a conversation. 

Thirty seconds later, Pez calls him, and Henry picks up against his better judgment. 

"Is his name Alex Claremont-Diaz?"

"Pez!"

"He's not hard to find. Running for New York's 11th Congressional District. Originally from Austin, Texas. Yee-haw."

"Pez, please, I'm dying."

"Moved to Manhattan to attend NYU law, then relocated to Brooklyn where he decided to try his hand at politics. Seems to volunteer a lot and posts quite a few thirst traps. I'm telling you, Haz. A man in a well-fit suit is a thousand times sexier than one with his shirt off."

"Did you look at his stories?"

"Looking now. A photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Basic.  A Goldendoodle in the park. Adorable. A little photoshoot. Oh. Oh my. I see."

Henry hums, knowing precisely what Pez is looking at. 

Congressional hopeful, Alex Claremont-Diaz, facing sideways toward the camera in a jumper and khaki pants. 

"Certainly has a body on him, doesn't he? What did you accidentally say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. But I somehow sent him the peach emoji."

There's a moment of silence and then bubbling laughter. "Oh, Henry," he wheezes. 

"I don't know, my finger slipped on the screen or something, and then that little bar came up on the bottom, and the peach emoji auto-filled. I tried to delete it, but I hit send instead. Then I tried to delete that, but I couldn't, and now I'm panicking."

"Oh, darling."

"I don't know what to do. I'm so embarrassed I could die."

"I do think you're overthinking this a bit. The hopeful congressman did post that photo for a reason."

"So you think he was looking for this kind of reaction?"

"He's young, gorgeous, and very clearly knows it if he's taking GQ photo shoots and posting them to his socials. Plus, the angle of this shot…I think it's safe to say he got plenty of peaches sent his way."

"Oh," Henry says, doing an awful job of hiding his disappointment. He spends entirely too much of his time thinking about this man, and in return, he's barely a blip on his radar. "Okay. I suppose it's not as dire as I thought."

"As long as he doesn't block you, I think you're just fine."

"Okay," Henry says again as his phone dings. He pulls it away from his ear and looks down at a new Instagram notification. 

"Oh bloody hell," he breathes when he realizes what he's looking at. "It's a message from him."

Pez gasps. "What does it say?"

Henry holds his breath as he opens Instagram. "He sent me a photo of myself. That ridiculous one you made me post from during our trip to The Hamptons."

"The one in your swimsuit? By ridiculous, you must mean how ridiculously hot you looked. Posting that was a public service."

"I beg to differ," Henry says as another message appears. "Oh. Oh."

"What?" Pez asks. "What?"

"He sent the eggplant emoji. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Henry," Pez says, "love. It means you'll have quite the story to tell the grandkids."

[live-laugh-legolas]

What video games the fellowship would play

Aragorn:

-Ik this is about favorite video games but this man wouldn’t know shit about technology

-He likes that Dino game when the internet is out though

-He probably gets motion sick if someone gets him to play a video game

Legolas:

-This elf likes typing games

-The ones that test your speed

-And he’s good too; it’s a little concerning actually how much time he will spend practicing

-He also loved Geometry Dash

-Actually he also definitely played on CoolMathGames (does anyone remember this? We would play it at school)

Gimli:

-Just dance

-This man goes hard

-Can and will do Rasputin

-Also Resident Evil but just for the tall vampire lady

Boromir:

-Wii sports

-May or may not have thrown the controller into the tv after refusing to wear the band

-Cannot figure out the bowling and always throws the ball into the audience

-He also loves Super Mario Bros but mainly for the nostalgia of playing with his brother

Frodo:

-Minecraft

-He likes to create things and this is a peaceful way to do it

-Rust

-I don’t know much about this game, I’ve just seen people play it a few times and I think he would enjoy the aesthetic

Sam:

-Animal Crossing

-He takes this game a little too seriously

-Feels personally connected to the animals and will cry over them

-His island is beautiful though

Merry:

-Chess and puzzle type games

-He’s a nerd and you can’t change my mind

-And I love him for it, but he will spend hours playing one chess match

Pippin:

-Definitely joined the Among Us hype

-He is not good at it, but he has fun and that’s what matters

-He also always wins at Mario Kart but no one knows how because he once again, kinda sucks

-Does he cheat? Maybe. I think it’s pretty privilege though

-He also is definitely an iPad kid and plays Subway Surfers while eating and getting crumbs all over the screen

Gandalf:

-I firmly believe this old man would absolutely eat at video games

-Any shooting game he will destroy you at

-Not afraid to tell his teammates they suck

-A little toxic

———————————————————————

This is kinda a shit post and I really only play Minecraft so my knowledge of video games is lacking. This was originally just going to be Gandalf, but I decided just to do everyone

[silenzahra]

Green, Orange and a bit of Purple✨

This story was originally written and posted on 14th February 2024 in two different posts. My dear friend @itsavee4117 reblogged them, which I obviously appreciate, but I'm afraid some time after he did, I edited both posts to add the chapters to Tumblr so people could read them here as well.

That's why I thought of redoing them, and I decided to share the entire story in just one post so as not to drive everyone crazy 😅 You can find the story on AO3, where you'll see it's divided into two chapters (and I even added a title to them 🤭), or read under the cut to find the entire story. It's long though, so make sure to grab a snack and/or a drink. Of course, likes, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, as well as kudos on AO3! 💖

My original source of inspiration was @sarahrsketches's comic Plumber's Bouquet, which you can see dubbed here!

Special thanks to @itsavee4117 @whippedcremepi and @mario-movie-brainbug for reblogging the old posts and to @elitadream for leaving such wonderful feedback on them 💖 (You can find them here and here if you're curious).

For those of you who will read this for the first time or would even like to give it a reread: I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, and please remember that my asks and PMs are always open for you. Reblogs are deeply appreciated 💖

Also, this story got many lovely comments on AO3, which I'm obviously very thankful for! Still, it didn't get much feedback here on Tumblr (no disrespect to those mentioned above of course 🫂). I hope it's not too much to ask, but would you please consider leaving some feedback here, even if it's just one sentence? 🙏 I'd love to hear your thoughts on my beloved Luaisy story! 🥰

@vulpixfairy1985 @bberetd @peaches2217 @ask-rosalina-and-her-family @aqua-peri

@kimasousparky @megamagimugi @jellyfishinc @pepperycar @keakruiser

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Without further ado: Luaisy for the soul! 💚🧡✨

Chapter 1: The beginning of the date

Luigi can’t believe it.

What he has been wishing for months is finally going to happen.

His first date with Daisy is about to begin.

Nervously, he smooths out the green shirt he’s wearing, the most elegant in his closet, so that there’s not a single wrinkle on it. From the corner where he waits, the one closest to his building, he takes quick and constant glances at the pipe through which Daisy is going to arrive, located at his back. Fortunately, it’s hidden in a seldom-traveled alley, so the chances of New Yorkers stumbling upon it by accident are slim. Of all the pipes in Brooklyn that are connected to the Mushroom Kingdom, this is the one closest to Luigi and Mario’s former home.

Which makes it the perfect pipeline for the brothers and their new friends to travel between dimensions while going unnoticed by the inhabitants of Earth.

As he patiently and with growing anxiety awaits Daisy’s arrival, Luigi goes over and over in his head the places in his city that he wants to show her. Everything will be fine, he repeats himself. He has been planning this date for months, long before he could even muster the courage to ask Daisy to go out with him.

He recalls that instant in his head very often. The way his legs trembled. His dry throat. His back sweating from nerves. How he kept fiddling with his fingers as, step by step, he approached the spot where Daisy was sitting in the garden of Peach’s castle, with whom she was having a lively conversation. Mario’s words of encouragement echoed in his head, along with the sentences they had rehearsed together so Luigi could say them to Daisy later. He remembers that Mario was waiting for him not far from there, hidden behind a corner and ready to intervene should Luigi require his aid. He remembers that Peach, as soon as she saw him arrive, apologized to Daisy and hurried to join Mario, giving Luigi a quick nod of encouragement as she passed him.

He remembers that Daisy, upon noticing his presence, smiled and greeted him by waving her hand with her usual energy, which made a smile blossom on Luigi’s lips. He remembers that, when he finally reached her side, she got up to give him a quick hug, causing his heart to bounce in his chest and her sweet vanilla scent to envelop him, before inviting him to sit next to her.

Of course, Luigi obeyed. Smiling nervously, he listened to her chatter for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the dimples that appeared when she smiled and on the constellation of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Meanwhile, he was trying to find the right moment to start talking and the courage to push the words out of his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he distinguished that Mario and Peach, from their hideout, were gesturing to him. She did so discreetly and sweetly, but he was waving his arms and vocalizing in an exaggerated way, to incite him to finally start.

And Luigi, after swallowing, chose to do it in the same way as when removing a band-aid: in one go and without thinking.

“Daisy.”

His voice was barely a nervous whisper, but it was enough for the desert princess to interrupt herself and give him a warm smile.

“Yes, honey?”

“Er...” Luigi looked down, flustered by the affectionate nickname, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I-I thought that... W-well, I thought that m-maybe... you’d like to... c-come to B-Brooklyn?”

He scolded himself for his stammering. He’d practiced endlessly with Mario until he managed to deliver his sentences without stuttering, but standing in front of Daisy, the first person he’d been drawn to in a very, very long time, and trying to carry out the plan as intended was a very different thing.

“Luigi.” Her voice, full of curiosity, caught Luigi’s attention, making him set his eyes on her at last. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Her voice sounded defiant, of course, but Daisy accompanied it with a mischievous and amusing look that Luigi even found... suggestive? No, he must have been imagining it, he was too nervous and his eagerness to spend more time with her was playing a trick on him, Daisy could not be...

... Or could she?

“Uh-huh... W-well, uh...”

What should he answer now? Why hadn’t it occurred to Mario that Daisy might react like this? Why hadn’t it occurred to him?

“W-well, uh, I-I don’t know, I mean, o-only if you want to, I mean, I thought you might want to, but if you don’t, it’s okay! Of course you don’t want to, why would you, it’s a stupid idea, I-I’m very sorry...”

With every mumble that escaped his mouth, he felt himself shrinking more and more, to such an extent that he wished he could disappear, bury his head in the ground like an ostrich and never have made that suggestion to Daisy. Why did he think she would be interested? Why did he think she would want to spend time with a simple, clumsy, skittish plumber like him?

However, Daisy surprised him with a soft chuckle in which there was no trace of mockery, but rather... tenderness?

“Oh, Luigi,” she exclaimed, and slapped him on the shoulder so hard that Luigi thought she had just broken a bone. “Don’t underestimate yourself, sweetie! Of course I want to!”

Despite the pain in his back, Luigi sat up like a spring and turned to her with wide eyes.

“R-really?”

“Of course!” Daisy nodded vigorously, her grin so wide that it brought back those dimples that made Luigi feel like he was melting inside. “I really want to see Brooklyn, and I can’t think of a better guide than you!” she added with a wink.

With his back leaning against the red bricks so characteristic of his district, Luigi smiles, his cheeks flushed at the memory. Daisy’s joy at his suggestion was genuine, as was her eagerness to tour Brooklyn with him. Luigi really hopes, wishes, to be up to the task and get Daisy to have fun by his side. He fiddles with the flower he holds in his fingers and wonders if the desert princess will be much longer in coming.

He can’t wait to see her again.

A hand on his shoulder startles him so much that he lets out a shriek and is about to drop the flower. At the last moment, he manages to hold it close to his chest and places his other hand around its petals to protect it. As his fluttering heart tries to calm down, he hears a well-known chuckle, and a familiar and adored vanilla scent reaches his nose.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles with a smile, beginning to turn his head.

“Sorry, honey,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Luigi is about to reply that it’s okay, that it’s his fault for being so easily scared, but he can’t do it.

He’s speechless.

Daisy looks gorgeous. More than that: she looks stunning, dazzling, radiant. Her pretty auburn hair shimmers in the evening sunlight, and a sparkle under her ears reveals the golden, daisy-shaped earrings she has chosen for the occasion. Her lovely eyes, as deep blue as the sea, gaze at Luigi with affection. He notices the eye shadow that Daisy has applied, a beautiful shade of purple that matches the full skirt she is wearing, which reveals the lower half of her legs. Her sandals, on the other hand, are orange, and the heel of them causes Luigi to see her even taller and slimmer than usual. Her blouse, matching her shoes, is adorned with yellow flower patterns, and leaves her slender shoulders bare. As he notices them, Luigi swallows, wondering what it would feel like to put an arm across them and thus touch her beautiful skin, just to see firsthand if it’s as soft to the touch as it seems.

But what catches his attention, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, are her lips. Daisy often puts on lipstick, but today she’s wearing a nice earthy color that matches her beautiful brown skin, and Luigi is seized by the sudden and compelling need to find out what they taste like. He reddens immediately and chides himself. This may be a date and they may have both dressed up for the occasion, but it’s not like him, nor right for Daisy, that that, kissing her, is all he can think about at that moment.

He wants to say something, anything, make some silly joke to try to relax and make her feel welcome, but only one word comes to his mind.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle as her freckled cheeks light up under the blush she has applied.

“You think so?” she says playfully. “How cute.”

Luigi gasps. Did he just say that word... out loud? He feels his whole face burning immediately with embarrassment, and he’s about to apologize when he finds Daisy looking him up and down intently.

Suddenly he feels ragged, disheveled, very far from the elegance of the young princess. Almost unintentionally, he takes a quick glance at himself, searching for any wrinkles or stains on his green shirt or his blue jeans, even though he has carefully washed and ironed them for the occasion. His brown shoes are also shiny, as he has rubbed them incessantly, and he has used more shampoo than usual when showering, as well as making sure that not a single hair was left out of place when combing his hair. Including his moustache.

All in the hope of making a good impression on Daisy, but it wasn't enough. How could it be? He works non-stop day after day, he gets dirty often, so he's sure he's left something out, some tiny detail that he's missed because of his nerves, and Daisy has noticed it immediately and is judging him and is going to leave at once, because how could she want to go out with him?

“Handsome,” she then says, slowly, looking him in the eye.

“Wh-what?”

“You just used an adjective to describe me,” Daisy says, and winks at him. “So I just used another one to describe you.”

Again, Luigi is speechless. He pants, trying to find his voice, but he feels like a fish that has been plucked from the sea and thrown to the bottom of a volcano. A green, clumsy fish that doesn’t know how to react to the fact that the girl he’s getting crazier and crazier about every day has just paid him a compliment. To him, no less. Does that mean, then, that there’s no problem with his appearance?

In a reflex action born out of fear that Daisy will laugh at him or, worse, get tired of waiting for an answer and leave, Luigi stretches out his arm in her direction. She gives a start and looks down, and a beautiful smile lights up her face when she notices the gift he is offering her.

“A daisy?” she says, delighted, and brings both joined hands to her cheek. “And it’s purple!”

“Y-yes,” he manages to murmur, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I-I grow them in my garden, in my house in the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“I love it! Thanks, Luigi!”

Daisy reaches out with both hands to take the flower, and Luigi struggles to ignore the tingle of excitement that runs up and down his body as her fingers brush his and send a pleasant electric shock sensation to his nerve endings. Daisy brings the flower to her face to inhale its scent and admires its pretty purple petals with delight. Luigi smiles tenderly as he sees her take the aster to her head to try and pin it in her hair.

“Wait,” he offers without thinking, reaching out his arms to her. “I’ll help you.”

Daisy slowly lowers her hands and lets him do it. Luigi holds the stem of the flower and carefully moves a lock of Daisy’s silky hair aside, taking care not to muss it. He places the plant so that it’s held securely to the side of her face and its purple petals sparkle almost level with Daisy’s lovely blue eyes. Which, Luigi suddenly notices, are watching him attentively. Surprised, he turns away from Daisy and takes a step back while letting out a nervous giggle, blushing again. He hadn’t even noticed coming so close to her, nor that his tongue, as it usually does when he’s focused on something, was sticking out between his lips.

Fortunately, although Daisy is observing him with interest and a wide smile on her face, she does not utter a word. She just stares at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and Luigi suddenly finds himself at a loss for what to do with his arms.

“W-well... D-do you want to...?”

He points forward with his hand, unable to finish the question, as his throat feels dry and he needs to drink urgently. Daisy’s jump, as if her mind had wandered away from there and just suddenly returned, disconcerts him and makes him wonder if he has inadvertently done something wrong because of his usual clumsiness.

But Daisy soon pulls herself together and gives him a dazzling smile.

“Sure!” she exclaims enthusiastically. “Where are we going?”

“Not far from here.”

Luigi starts walking in the direction of Punch-Out Pizzeria, which is almost at the end of the street. It’s one of his favorite places in Brooklyn and he can’t wait for Daisy to try their famous pizzas. He really hopes she likes them, because then he’ll always have an excuse to invite her to dinner.

As they walk down the street, Daisy stops to look in the windows of the various stores they pass. She points at them with her finger, which she presses against the glass, and talks to Luigi about how much or how little she likes the products for sale and how exorbitant or affordable she finds them depending on the price. He listens to her without interrupting and smiles, his heart full of tenderness at the genuine enthusiasm with which she examines everything.

When they get to the bookstore, however, it is she who listens to him talk. This is Luigi’s favorite bookstore, the one he goes to at least once a week to browse through the new releases and, if possible, take home a new book. The same thing happens when they reach the florist’s shop, although this time the enthusiasm is shared, as they both have a passion for gardening.

By the time they finally get ready to enter the pizzeria, it’s almost dark. Luigi can’t help but be surprised, as the walk from his house to the establishment usually takes him no more than five minutes. But he’s not going to complain, since, almost unintentionally, he’s had a chance to take a nice walk with Daisy and show her two of his other favorite places in Brooklyn besides the pizzeria.

Luigi opens the door and steps aside with an exaggerated bow.

“After you, milady,” he pronounces with feigned refinement.

He hears Daisy let out a soft chuckle that, unexpectedly, makes him feel connected to her in a way he’s unable to explain.

“Very gallant, gentleman,” she replies as she passes him, imitating his tone.

Luigi stands up straight, laughing as well, and enters after her. Daisy moves to a free table by the window and Luigi follows her without hesitation. He feels strange: on the one hand, he’s on familiar ground, in the pizzeria he has been coming to with his brother since they were teenagers, which floods him with an intense sense of security so powerful that he believes nothing could bring it down. In fact, he knows for sure that, if he’s been able to make that little joke with Daisy when opening the door for her, it’s thanks to that feeling.

On the other hand, his companion is none other than the ruler of the Kingdom of Sarasaland. A warrior and brave princess who’s won his heart with her exorbitant and inexhaustible energy, her desire to prove herself all the time and her lively personality. A princess, a young woman, who has the power to make him feel as if his limbs were made of butter, his face a burning coal and his heart, an organ foreign to his body that belongs entirely to Daisy, so that it accelerates like a runaway horse when she is near.

And now she is near.

She’s sitting across from him, flipping through the menu, but the tables at the Punch-Out Pizzeria aren’t too wide. Luigi knows that, if he stretched his arms out just a little, there’s a good chance Daisy’s hands would brush against him when she drops the menu. He swallows. Should he do it or not? Would it be too bold? Would it be too brazen to try to hold her hand? Would Daisy even want their fingers to touch?

“What do you recommend?” she asks, her eyes still fixed on the food list.

Luigi gasps. He feels as if he’s been caught red-handed, as if he’s been doing something wrong. He shakes his head a little and ducks it to see his own menu as he tries to sort out his thoughts to answer Daisy.

“W-well, Mario and I always order the bell pepper pizzas.”

“Let me guess,” she asks him, her voice laden with a challenge that causes Luigi to look up, curious, and their eyes meet over the table. “He orders the red bell pepper, and you order the green bell pepper.”

Luigi laughs and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, embarrassed.

Daisy laughs softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, just below the flower.

“Actually, I just went by the colors you two usually wear. Is it a coincidence that your favorite colors match your favorite pizzas?”

“I guess so.”

Luigi shrugs and she giggles again.

“If there was a purple pizza, I’d order it,” she states, returning her attention to the menu.

“You can try mine if you want to.”

Luigi purses his lips as he realizes he just said that out loud. It’s just a silly idea that has crossed his mind, but Daisy most likely doesn’t want to share. Why would she? He should’ve thought better before saying such a silly thing.

To his surprise, however, Daisy looks at him decisively and nods.

“What’s your second favorite pizza?” she asks, very seriously, pointing her finger at him.

“Er… C-carbonara,” he stammers, dumbfounded.

“Perfect.” Daisy picks up both cards and winks at him. “How about we order carbonara and green bell pepper? Then we can both try each other’s pizza.”

Relief floods Luigi with the intensity of the swell. Daisy’s solution seems perfect, so, trying hard to overcome his shyness, he raises his arm to call the waiter and places their orders. When the man leaves, Luigi places both elbows on the table and drops his hands over the edge of the table, close to his stomach. He doesn’t know where to look, so he wanders his gaze absentmindedly around the room.

Inevitably, his eyes end up meeting Daisy’s, so he forces himself to compose a smile. He’s so nervous, however, that it comes out weak and insecure.

But Daisy doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well,” she says lightly, also leaning on the table, and watches him intently. “So what else do you like to do?”

“Uh... Sorry?” Luigi feels lost.

“Apart from reading and gardening,” she says, smiling sweetly at him. “What other hobbies do you have, Luigi?”

“Oh! W-well...” Luigi shrinks back a little. Will he bore her if he goes into detail about his other hobbies? “I-I like photography. I like... to be able to save an instant, a memory, a place, and freeze them in time so that they become eternal.”

“Wow,” she exclaims admiringly. “That’s very profound.”

“Really?”

Luigi looks at her with wide eyes, unable to believe that, as is practically his case with the rest of the world, Daisy doesn’t think he’s being too intense or ridiculous in expressing himself that way. The young woman nods vigorously, a sincere smile glowing on her face, and her expression of sheer interest is all Luigi needs to launch into speaking.

He tells her that sometimes ideas or images come to his mind, and he needs to get them out of his head, to bring them to life. They drive him to write or draw, depending on what comes to him, which is why he collects notebooks and sketchbooks. He tells her that, every Christmas, he gives his brother a wool garment he knits himself, because Mario is quite a mess and his clothes hardly last from one year to the next. He tells her that on Saturday nights, he and Mario stay up late watching a movie in the living room of their new home, and that they always have trouble choosing because their tastes are so opposite. She listens to him, attentive, and from time to time lets out a giggle or makes a comment but does not interrupt him. Luigi, finally, tells her that on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes also on Fridays, he and Mario play videogames, and at his explanation about them, Daisy’s eyes light up more and more.

“That sounds amazing!” she exclaims, excited. “Oh my gosh, now I need to try those... What are they called?”

“Videogames,” Luigi clarifies, and leans forward, his eyes sparkling, sharing Daisy’s enthusiasm. “And you’re more than welcome to come try them out! I’m sure Mario would love to play with someone who’s not as clumsy as I am,” he adds with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad.” Daisy playfully punches him in the shoulder, which makes Luigi’s giggles increase. “Keep in mind that I’ve never played. Of course you’re going to be better than me!”

“That is, until you get the hang of it,” Luigi says, massaging his shoulder. “And I’m sure it won’t take you long at all.”

“Well, thank you for your blind faith in me!”

Daisy laughs too and brings a hand to her chest, but, in the midst of their chuckles, she stops and gives him another intense glance. Luigi’s laughter barely lasts a couple more seconds before it stops abruptly, as he feels overwhelmed by the intensity of her deep blue eyes.

“You’re very sweet, Luigi. Did you know that?”

Daisy’s cheeks glow as she utters those words, but her smile remains, serene and confident, no trace of nervousness or embarrassment on her beautiful face. Quite the opposite of Luigi, who is convinced he could fry an egg on his forehead.

“Th-thank you,” he mumbles, looking away, and rubs the back of his neck again, flustered.

Daisy giggles.

“And you look so cute when you do that.”

Luigi’s blush grows, which causes Daisy’s laughter to increase in turn, and Luigi, despite his rosy cheeks, suddenly finds himself feeling that he can go on behaving like this forever if it will make her chuckle in such an uninhibited and sincere way.

At that moment, luckily, the pizzas finally arrive, accompanied by their drinks, and the young woman’s attention turns to the food. She contemplates both pizzas attentively, almost as if they were works of art, and this time it is Luigi who has to hide a giggle. He watches, expectantly, as Daisy takes her first bite of her carbonara pizza, and waits, on the edge of his seat, for the girl to pronounce her verdict. Her face, thoughtful as she chews, doesn’t even hint at a simple clue, which makes Luigi, almost without realizing it, hold his breath.

Until Daisy, after swallowing, gives him a beaming smile.

“It’s delicious!” she nearly squeals, waving her other hand in the air in excitement.

“Yes!” Luigi exclaims in turn and raises a victorious fist.

For the next few minutes, he finds himself devouring, not even knowing how, small bites of both pizzas, his and Daisy’s. He cackles, half surprised, half overwhelmed, when Daisy, without so much as by his leave, moves her head forward to take a rather savage bite of the slice of green bell pepper pizza he holds in his hand. Her expression is so delighted, so self-satisfied, that Luigi can only cover his mouth with his free hand to try to stifle the fit of laughter that assails him.

After finishing the pizza, Luigi suggests they have some tiramisu. And, if Daisy was already impressed by the flavor of the pizzas, she’s completely thrilled when she tastes the dessert.

“Oh my goodness, Luigi,” she mumbles after devouring the last slice. “No wonder this is your favorite place in Brooklyn. You have to bring me here often!”

“Anytime,” he offers before finishing his tiramisu.

“How about...?” Daisy begins to say, casting a casual glance around the place before laying her eyes on Luigi as she rests her chin on her hand. “Tomorrow?”

Luigi almost chokes on his tiramisu. Daisy hurries to bring his drink closer to him, and even though there’s barely a sip left, it’s enough for Luigi to stabilize himself. Speechless, he stares at Daisy, astonishment dancing in his expression.

“T-tomorrow?” he repeats, still gasping for air.

“I mean, if you want to,” Daisy replies, though she keeps smiling.

“Yes!” Luigi almost shouts, unwittingly stretching out on the table. “Yes, I mean, yes! Of course I want to! B-but you…”

“Me what, honey?”

“You...” Luigi lowers his gaze, unsure, and begins to rub the tips of his index fingers together, wanting to look at her, but not daring to do it. “Y-you want to?”

“Of course!” she assures him. “I love what I’ve seen of Brooklyn so far. I want to see more... and I want,��� she adds, gazing at him purposedly, “to see my handsome guide again.”

The air disappears from Luigi’s lungs. His heart is racing, galloping so hard against his chest that he thinks it’ll end up opening a hole in his skin and running away to Daisy’s arms. She, in the meantime, stares at him casually as she bites her lower lip.

“I know I’ve told you this before,” she says softly, “but I love it when you do that.”

“A-actually,” Luigi replies with a nervous chuckle, “y-you said I’m v-very... cute... w-when I do th-that...”

His voice trails off as he realizes what a stupid thing he’s doing. Why does he stop to point out something so silly when the important thing is the message Daisy is conveying? Why is he unable to come up with an answer according to what she has just told him?

“Both options are true,” she replies without raising her tone, shrugging her shoulders.

Still flushed and uneasy, Luigi gives a weak smile. He is thankful that Daisy hasn’t for an instant pointed out the ridiculousness of his remark. In fact, it doesn’t seem to bother her one bit that he’s been the awkward, embarrassed bundle of nerves he’s always been all dinner. Quite the contrary: judging by her words and the intensity with which she contemplates him, Daisy loves that Luigi is so... like this. So him.

And he loves that Daisy is so her.

He swallows slowly, determined to tell her so too. His eyes remain fixed on the wooden table. His fingers, again, fiddle with each other. His cheeks burn, as they’ve been doing for most of the night. His voice comes out hoarse at first, as if it wants to remain a prisoner inside his mouth, and Luigi is forced to clear his throat to force himself to speak.

“I-I t-too... like you. V-very much.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, pleased with himself for finally daring to say it out loud. He even breaks into a small smile, the urge to laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Just... very much?”

Daisy’s voice sounds suggestive. Insinuating. Provocative, even. Luigi, very slowly, dares to raise his head. Daisy hasn’t wiped the playful, cheeky smile from her mouth, as mischievous as the wink she gives him when their eyes meet. Luigi purses his lips. Blushing as he is, he plucks up his courage and holds her gaze, even though inside he feels like he’s made of jelly. When he speaks, he gives his voice all the seriousness he can muster so that she understands that he’s not playing games or exaggerating.

“Very much so.”

He almost feels like applauding himself for being able to say it without stuttering. He smiles again, trying to appear confident, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Daisy’s. He wants her to read in them the sincerity with which he speaks, just like him, in her gestures, in her smile, in her beautiful gaze, has been able to see from the beginning that she was not joking when she expressed how much she liked the way he is.

Daisy’s smile widens slightly, in a barely appreciable way, as she hears the vehemence of his tone, but Luigi notices it. She then places her hands on the wood and leans on it to stand up.

“Luigi, you are adorable,” she states as she gets up, and the way she says it, her voice filled with fervor, her face as if she were simply talking about the weather, completely disarms Luigi. “I’d love to take a walk with you. Would you like that?”

“Oh!” Luigi’s throat has gone dry at the compliment, but he struggles to find his voice and stands up too. “S-sure! Th-there’s a park near here. W-we can... stroll there. I-if you want t-to.”

Daisy smiles and nods, smoothing her skirt with her palms, and touches her hair for a moment to make sure the flower is still firmly attached to it.

“That would be great.”

She places both hands on her purple garment and smiles at him, and Luigi grins too, staring at her. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Daisy is waiting for him to move first, as he is closer to the exit than she is. Feeling clumsier than he has ever felt before in his entire life, Luigi stumbles until he reaches the door and, again, opens it and steps to the side to give way to her.

As Daisy walks past him, she gives him a low chuckle that has no mockery in it, and Luigi, his face burning, imitates her, though his laughter sounds a little louder because of his nerves, which, though they had settled during dinner, have returned more impetuously. When she steps out into the street, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a slow breath, trying to calm himself, before following her.

The blush on his cheeks increases when his eyes meet Daisy’s, who gazes at him with a smile full of affection. After clearing his throat, Luigi puts one hand in his pocket as he raises the other.

“The park is that way.”

As he drops his arm, a slight electric shock elicits a soft cry of surprise. He staggers back in surprise and carefully examines his hand. Behind it, he notices Daisy’s confused gaze, watching him in astonishment, her own hand raised. They both drop them slowly, their breaths a bit shaky, their eyes caught in each other’s. Luigi does not understand what just happened. Bewilderment washes over him, and Daisy’s expression tells him that she, too, feels disoriented.

Until, suddenly, she smiles a somewhat... shy smile?

“Wow,” she says. “Looks like we have chemistry.”

“W-what?” Luigi raises an eyebrow in confusion.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle.

“We accidentally brushed against each other,” she explains. “And sparks flew.”

Luigi lets out a low “oh” and looks down at his hand again as his brain processes what has just happened. His cheeks start reddening again as a smile, much more self-conscious than Daisy’s, blooms on his lips. When he returns his attention to her and finds her as flushed as he is, Luigi feels again that tug of affinity inside him that pulls him towards her and makes him understand that, without a hint of doubt, they are somehow connected.

“I guess we’ll have to be careful,” says Daisy, “or we’ll short-circuit each other.”

Luigi laughs and nods, though the immensity of his feelings doesn’t diminish for an instant. Then Daisy extends her arm, smiling warmly at him, and Luigi stares for a second at those fingers waving in his direction in a silent invitation.

“Shall we try again?” Daisy suggests.

Luigi looks up at her again with a cheerful grin and, without hesitation, stretches out his own hand. At the first touch of his skin against Daisy’s, he does not feel a new electric shock, but a mixture of excitement and disbelief that only increases as his fingers slowly intertwine with the princess’, their palms touching, as if this is their place, as if this is where they belong, as if this is where they always should be.

United. Glued. Together. Being one.

That’s exactly how Luigi feels when, as he lifts his fascinated gaze from the union of their hands, his eyes meet Daisy’s. She smiles at him, a slight blush covering her tanned skin, but Luigi, to his surprise, doesn’t feel insecure or embarrassed for the first time all night.

For the first time, he knows that what he’s doing, holding Daisy’s hand and pressing it lightly, feeling his bond with her deepening, is okay. It’s more than right. It’s perfect. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what he wants to experience all the time, every day of his life, if she feels that way too.

And, judging by the speed with which Daisy is quick to return his squeeze, Luigi has no doubt that the young woman does, indeed, reciprocate his feelings.

With a soft chuckle, Daisy nods her head in the direction Luigi pointed when he left the pizzeria. Luigi responds with another giggle and, not letting her hand go, starts walking.

Chapter 2: The end of a wonderful night

Walking with Daisy hand in hand is a very different sensation from walking with her by his side. Now, even if Luigi still finds it hard to believe, he is touching Daisy’s warm skin, which turns out to be much softer and silkier than he had imagined. He is feeling her slender fingers wrap around his hand. He is feeling her palm press against his, seeking his touch the same way Luigi seeks hers.

He feels so exhilarated, so euphoric, so blissful, that, almost without realizing it, he begins to swing his arm, rocking Daisy’s as well. She laughs when she notices the movement, but she doesn’t try to stop him, quite the contrary: she starts swaying her arm with so much momentum that soon is she who leads the motion, which makes Luigi laugh out loud while, thrilled, he lets himself be carried away.

They soon leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind to dive right into the greenery of the leafy park where Luigi goes for a walk from time to time. Daisy smiles, delighted, as she notices the dense nature around them, and reaches out her hand to brush the trunk of one of the trees they pass. She can’t take her eyes off all the beautiful flowers that populate the area, her eyes wanting to capture it all, and Luigi gazes at her with a deep feeling of tenderness flooding his heart.

“I used to come to this park a lot when I was a child,” he tells her, his eyes also wandering around the place. “My Mom used to bring my brother and me here when we were just babies. We’d play together in the sand,” he adds, pointing to a section in the park where a children’s area is visible, “although at first Mario preferred our mom to swing him. It was too scary for me,” he confesses with a chuckle, “so I’d rather stay there building castles with my colored blocks.”

Even though he was very little, Luigi still remembers one of those occasions when, after he had finished building a big fortress with his blocks, a boy suddenly stormed in and stole the flag he was trying to crown it with. Luigi recalls the feeling of helplessness when the boy, with a brutal kick, smashed his castle, and the momentum caused him to fall backwards and crumple to the ground while the boy cruelly taunted him. 

Until, behind his aggressor, something red unexpectedly appeared, hit him on the head and snatched the flag from his hand. Luigi still remembers how surprised he was when he noticed Mario, who, standing protectively in front of him, held out the flag without turning to him, his defiant and furious expression fixed on the boy. The latter, after getting up, gave them an angry look before running away. Only then did Mario turn to Luigi with a reassuring smile from ear to ear, and Luigi, still somewhat stunned by what had just happened, tried to return the smile, though he could barely compose a weak grimace. 

From then on, however, Mario began to play more often with him in the sand. He still went on swinging, of course, and soon began to go down the slide without their mom’s supervision, but he never took his eyes off Luigi. Years later, moreover, that park was crucial in Mario’s recovery after his first love breakup, since Luigi, after several days of taking care of him and comforting him while his brother cried his heart out in his arms, managed to convince him to leave the house and go for a walk together. The fresh air of nature felt so good and cheered him up so much that, soon, it was Mario himself who began to look for Luigi to go for a stroll in the park.

A sigh escapes Luigi’s lips as he recalls those memories. This park is very important for him, so he’s glad to be showing it to Daisy. Since she wanted to see his favorite places in Brooklyn, this little garden hidden in the heart of his district could not be missed.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning to her, his hand firmly clasped in hers.

“I love it,” Daisy declares, looking everywhere to soak in the beauty of the park. “It’s a very beautiful place.”

She turns her face towards him as she takes a step to cover the short distance between them. The fingers on her other hand lightly brush Luigi’s arm, making him give a start. The touch is so faint and intense at the same time that he feels himself melting.

“Thank you for sharing it with me, Luigi.”

Her head rests gently on his shoulder as she releases a sigh, her hair, and the purple flower, tickling his ear. Luigi’s heart, at this point, has jumped into a runaway gallop that brings a smile to his lips, nervous and plethoric at the same time. His skin burns so much, it’s been burning so much all night, that he wouldn’t be surprised if the next day he finds burns all over his body, as if he had gone to the beach and forgotten to apply sunscreen.

By then, their footsteps have led them to the pond that rules the place. It’s a large lake inhabited by several families of ducks, where, during the day, passers-by can sail in small boats. Luigi promises himself to bring Daisy here again soon, so that they can ride together in one of the boats in the sunlight. He knows for sure that she’ll like the experience.

Right now, all they do is gaze at the calm waters under the bright light of the full moon, along with many other couples also strolling through the park. Luigi notices that there are some clouds scattered across the sky but hopes that they won’t rob the moon of its brightness and allow them to continue enjoying the peace and warmth of this summer night. 

“Luigi, look!”

Daisy’s alarmed voice, together with the light tapping she gives him on the arm, makes Luigi lower his eyes again. He gapes at a duck that is approaching them, swimming calmly across the pond, tracing a clear straight line that emerges from the small house in the center of the lake, where all the ducks live, and concludes, without any doubt, at the exact point where Luigi and Daisy are standing in this moment.

“How strange,” Luigi murmurs, puzzled. “I thought all the ducks would be sleeping at this hour.”

“Maybe it’s a vampire duck,” Daisy suggests.

Luigi gives a snort and looks sideways at her. 

“You think so?”

“Maybe it’s coming to drink your blood,” adds Daisy, running two fingers along his arm.

“Or yours,” Luigi counters, ignoring the shudder that runs through him at the young woman’s touch. 

She laughs, and the sound of her laughter makes Luigi’s heart beat faster, full of tenderness.

“I don’t think so. My blood is blue,” Daisy points out, gazing at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m a princess, remember?”

“Then maybe it’s a bewitched prince who needs to be kissed by a beautiful princess.”

The words have come rushing out of his mouth, not even thinking them, his eyes fixed on Daisy’s. He scolds himself once again, convinced he’s gone red in the face again, but Daisy’s sly smile silences the apology that was about to burst from his lips.

“I can think of a much better candidate than a prince to kiss this princess.”

Again she runs her fingers along his arms as she speaks, so slowly that Luigi thinks he’ll pass out. Her eyes, two glittering sapphires, gaze at him with intensity, even brighter in the moonlight. Luigi is breathless, but the beauty of her look so mesmerizes him that he is unable to take his eyes off her. 

A sudden squawk startles him so much that it makes him stagger and fall backwards, a shriek of surprise escaping his throat. Luigi closes his eyes just as his lower back hits the grass and he lets out a soft moan of pain, but Daisy’s screams immediately catch his attention.

Opening his eyes, Luigi gasps when he sees that the princess has placed herself in front of him in a protective attitude to defend him from the duck, the cause of his fall.

“Get away from here!” she shouts at it angrily, trying to shoo it away.

The animal flaps its wings, still quacking, but Daisy’s impetus, her eagerness to keep it away from Luigi, ends up causing the duck, although reluctant, to begin to waddle in the direction of the pond, to which it finally returns. Only then, Daisy lowers her arms, her breathing accelerated, and turns to Luigi with concern painted on her face. 

“Oh, my, Luigi, are you all right?” she asks, holding out both arms to him.

And Luigi, who had been staring at her, completely fascinated, blinks suddenly, trying to get out of the state of confusion in which he’s immersed, and shakes his head.

“Y-yes,” he murmurs, laughing nervously, as he raises a hand.

Daisy clutches it at once, her fingers closing tightly around his palm and wrist, and Luigi feels that warm, pleasant shock again as soon as his skin comes into contact with the princess’. Daisy pulls him to help him up, and he embarrassedly massages his back with his free hand. His other hand is closed tightly around Daisy’s, and he has no intention of opening it. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, embarrassed. “It caught me off guard.”

Daisy, not letting go either, lets out a faint giggle.

“Don’t apologize.” She removes her hand from his wrist, only to place it under his chin and sweetly turn his face towards her. “It wasn’t your fault, but the vampire duck’s.” 

They both laugh, sharing a knowing glance, and Luigi can’t help but stare at her, spellbound, still unable to take in the fact that this brave princess has just saved him. Even if it was from something as random as the attack of a duck from the pond.

“Thank you, Daisy,” he says wholeheartedly, his eyes shining with emotion. 

Daisy’s face lights up with a smile that, once more, brings out the dimples in her freckled cheeks. 

“You’re welcome, Luigi.” Her eyes stare at him again. “You’re... so charming.”

Luigi’s legs tremble, and not because of the fall. He feels that his smile is like jelly, flimsy and unstable. A scream rises in his chest and spreads throughout his body but does not reach his throat. His cheeks, of course, burn, even more intensely. And his heartbeat is so loud, so booming, that he’s convinced Daisy can hear it clearly.

She keeps looking at him, her expression full of warmth. Is it Luigi’s impression, or is her face now a little closer to his? His eyes, as if deciding for themselves, drift to those beautiful lips, so full and suggestive, that he so badly wants to kiss. Is it possible that Daisy... also wants to... kiss him? Him?

Suddenly, a soft melody reaches his ears. With his eyes still locked on Daisy’s, Luigi doesn’t lose any detail of her reaction: a new sparkle, naughty this time, shines in her eyes, while her smile turns mischievous. With a giggle, the princess puts a finger to his chest and pushes him gently, making him back away, at the same time that she herself takes a step backwards. Luigi laughs, stunned, though his mirth dies when Daisy’s hand slowly slides across his palm until the touch is broken, leaving him with a sensation of emptiness that makes his chest feel hollow.

“Wow,” Daisy exclaims playfully, as she places both hands behind her back. “This music is perfect for a dance, don’t you think?”

Luigi laughs again, but, somewhat confused, he takes his eyes off Daisy for a moment to search for the source of the melody. He then notices a figure, under a tree near the pond, sweetly sliding a bow over the strings of a violin, inviting the many other couples strolling around to dance to the beautiful song and take in the intimate and romantic atmosphere.

A throat clearing from Daisy impels Luigi to rest his gaze on her again. The princess does not look directly at him, but her eyes are raised to the sky.

“I wonder,” she says, pretending to be oblivious to his presence, “if there’s a handsome gentleman around here who would like to ask this lady to dance.”

Luigi gasps as he realizes Daisy’s intentions. His heart pumps wildly at the fleeting wink she gives him. Dancing? Together? Like in those romance stories set in bygone eras? His throat goes dry. Of course he loves to dance, and of course he’d love to dance with Daisy, but pretending to be a gentleman asking a lady for a dance? And a princess, no less. He’s just a simple Brooklyn plumber – how can he possibly live up to her expectations?

But it’s Daisy. The girl who has driven him crazy practically since the first time he saw her. The warrior, feisty princess who won his heart with her impulsiveness and her spontaneity. The bold, sassy woman he has fallen for head over heels. And, besides, she looks so beautiful, with her pretty orange blouse, her cheerful full skirt, the purple flower pinned to her lovely auburn mane, shimmering under the moonlight...

He wants to do it. He wants to dance with her. He wants to feel her close, he wants to feel her hand in his again, fitting together like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. He wants to please her, to whirl with her until dawn if necessary, to be carried away together by the sweet melody that flows from the violin and floods his ears.

So, without a second thought, Luigi plucks up his courage, shortens the distance between them in two strides and, with a slight bow, extends his hand to her.

“Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance, beautiful lady?”

Daisy’s smile widens at his gesture, her dimples appearing once again on her cheeks. She brings one hand to her chest in feigned surprise and slowly reaches out the other to place it softly on Luigi’s palm.

“With pleasure, handsome gentleman.”

Luigi’s fingers unconsciously close around her delicate hand. When he straightens, however, Daisy lets go, but does not pull away from him. With her eyes fixed on Luigi’s, the young woman places one hand on her partner’s shoulder and reaches for his fingers with the other, so that, at last, their hands are joined again, palm against palm, the fingers of one of the back of the other’s hand. Instinctively, Luigi raises his other hand to, with some uncertainty, rest it on Daisy’s waist, whose smile widens, and she gives him a slight nod of approval. Luigi sighs in relief, his grin a little more confident, and then, to the rhythm of the music, they both begin to move.

At first, of course, Luigi’s feet stumble, his legs shaking like a leaf. Daisy laughs faintly at his embarrassed expression, but she gently squeezes his hand and, whispering, begins to set the beat to help him. 

“One, two, three... Now!”

And Luigi obeys, and strives to follow the pace she sets, and manages to complete the steps so precisely that he surprises himself. He watches Daisy with enthusiasm shining in his eyes, and she, smiling tenderly at him, falls silent, because she understands that he no longer needs her to guide him.

And suddenly, they’re dancing.

Luigi can’t believe it. The delicate cadence of the melody propels his feet, which move in near-perfect synchrony with Daisy’s. They whirl around the park together, close to each other, Daisy’s purple skirt tangling around her legs. She, with her eyes closed and a serene smile on her lips, rocks in Luigi’s arms, feeling the music, living it, and he soon catches the passion with which the young woman dances. The song floods his mind, reaches his heart and urges him to dance with his soul, devoting himself entirely to the beauty of the music.

Without letting go of Daisy, Luigi reaches out his arm to spin her around, and watches her beautiful hair float behind her, making her look even more attractive in his eyes, if that’s even possible. The purple daisy, still clinging to her mane, slips a little to rest on Daisy’s ear, and, at the conclusion of the spin, she falls into Luigi’s arms with a soft exhalation of awe. Luigi holds her, one arm behind her back, his hand gripping Daisy’s firmly, and breathless, she gives him a rapt smile, her free arm coming up to encircle his neck. Luigi, to his surprise, finds himself smiling gallantly at her, completely immersed in the music and the intimate atmosphere of the place. He helps her straighten up and resettles his hand on her waist, as Daisy’s hand slides back to its place on his shoulder. As they continue to dance, however, her fingers lift slightly to graze his ear, sending a tingle of pleasure to every nerve ending in Luigi’s body.

By the time the harmonious melody concludes, they’re both breathing heavily, their hearts beating fast to the rhythm of the other’s. They glance, smiling, their hands still intertwined, Luigi’s palm still on Daisy’s waist, Daisy’s fingers still resting on Luigi’s shoulder. Their bodies are very close, their chests almost pressed together due to the posture. Luigi, for the umpteenth time that night, finds his eyes entwined with Daisy’s, caught by that depth that so reminds him of the ocean. She too seems unable to stop gazing at him, a pretty smile gracing those beautiful lips that Luigi is so eager to taste. His heart gets a little faster if possible at the thought, but the princess drives him so crazy that he can only think of having her closer, a little closer, just a little bit closer. He feels totally imprisoned by her spell, hopelessly wrapped around her finger, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

His breath intermingles with Daisy’s. Hers is a bit shaken, while he feels like a bundle of nerves. Still, Luigi’s instinct is screaming at him to keep his head down a little, and who is he to resist.

“Luigi,” he hears her say then, her voice barely a choked whisper, “if you want to stop... you’d better do it now.”

Despite her words, Daisy doesn’t sound too convinced. Luigi can’t stop the corners of his lips from lifting slightly, his heart full of tenderness, and his voice comes out hoarse and low as he manages to answer her.

“I don’t want to stop.”

Fleetingly, Daisy returns his smile. She continues to move closer, raising her head a little higher, and Luigi continues to tilt his, both anxious and excited with anticipation.

Until, at last, their lips meet.

And Luigi feels like he could die in that instant.

Daisy’s lips are sweet, soft, far more delicious than Luigi could have imagined, and he melts inside with delight. He thinks he might burst into tears from the joy of finally seeing his greatest wish fulfilled. Is Daisy, the princess he’s madly in love with, really kissing him? Is this not a dream? But no, the touch of her velvety lips against his is so real that he’s about to lose his mind.

He wants to give himself completely to this madness and never let go. 

They linger for a second with their mouths pressed together, enjoying each other’s touch, until Daisy begins to move her lips. At first she does it slowly, tempting him, tasting him, and Luigi, delighted, lets himself be guided by her lead and enjoys the movement.

Then Daisy opens her mouth, inviting Luigi to explore her, and lets go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. Luigi barely notices, so lost as he is in the kiss, so fascinated by the flavor of the young woman that he can’t even realize that now both his hands are squeezing her waist, instinctively pulling her closer to him. 

They both raise their tongues at the same time, so they meet somewhere in the middle of the union of their mouths. Luigi moves his away for a moment and allows Daisy to be the first to explore his mouth, and he feels his legs tremble at the gentleness and tenderness with which she does so. Next it is Daisy who pulls her tongue away and, again, opens her lips, and this time Luigi accepts the invitation and marvels again at the intoxicating taste of the pretty princess.

They continue to kiss and savor each other, not wanting to stop, not wanting to move away from the other, not wanting this sensual and exciting experience to end. They press more and more against each other, the kiss is more and more ardent and passionate, Luigi feels more and more flushed and heated, but he doesn’t want to stop for anything in the world. He feels that he could spend all his remaining life kissing Daisy, lost in her lips and in her flavor and feeling how she entangles her fingers around his neck in an attempt to bring him even closer to her.

Suddenly, Luigi begins to feel a slight discomfort on his arms, something cold and wet that makes his skin prickle, but he ignores it, for Daisy’s lips are more important. However, the discomfort increases, now falling on his hair as well and slipping through Daisy’s fingers. She lets out a little cry of surprise against his lips and Luigi can’t help but smile, but doesn’t release Daisy’s mouth, eager to prolong the kiss for all eternity. 

Nevertheless, even though she doesn’t seem to want to break away either, she begins to say his name giggling as she places her hands on his chest to try to push him away a little, gently but firmly. Luigi, thinking it’s just a game, laughs and pulls her a little closer, ignoring the cold he feels in his arms and head. Daisy presses her lips on his for a moment more and, to Luigi’s disgrace, she moves away and says his name again, still chuckling, raising her tone a little. He finally opens his eyes but doesn’t erase the infatuated smile from his face nor take his arms away from her waist.

“It’s raining,” she points out with a giggle. 

“How nice,” he mumbles, enraptured, and seeks her lips again. 

Daisy is about to burst into laughter, but it’s drowned out by the intensity of his kiss. However, after a few seconds of kissing him back, she pulls away again and places her hands on his cheeks.

“Luigi,” she insists, amused. “It’s raining!”

Oly then does he manage to process her words.

“It’s raining?” he repeats as he instinctively raises an arm to place it over both of their heads.

When he glances up, he realizes in frustration that the clouds he saw when they arrived at the pond have ended up hiding the moon and have broken the magical moment he was sharing with Daisy. He purses his lips in annoyance. They’ll get soaked, and the flower he gave the princess will be ruined. 

She, however, covers her mouth to hide a giggle, amused at his reaction. Luigi, without a second thought, grabs her hand and runs away. She laughs heartily, letting him lead her, and Luigi guides her through the flora of the park and back to the city. He runs, pulling Daisy and catching her loud laughter, unable to help it, and takes her to the only place he can think of: his parents’ house. They enter and stand in the doorway, close to the ascending stairs, sheltered from the sudden storm that has burst over their heads. Breathing heavily, they look at each other, wide smiles on their faces, their hands still clasped together.

Luigi, lost in Daisy’s beautiful eyes, raises his free hand to check the condition of the flower, which, to his surprise, is holding firm, resistant to the rain. On impulse, Luigi begins to stroke the princess’ freckled cheek, and she widens her smile and tilts her head a little to enjoy the caress. Luigi’s heart fills with tenderness, and he, captivated, wishes to be lucky enough to see this girl every day.

He wishes to be lucky enough to kiss this girl every day.

“I had a very great time,” Daisy says softly.

“Even with the storm?” Luigi asks, giggling to hide his blush.

“Even with the storm,” she nods.

They laugh again, feeling deeply connected once more, and Daisy’s hand rises to rest on Luigi’s, who hasn’t stopped brushing her cheek with infinite fondness.

“Although...” Daisy stands on tiptoe so she can whisper in his ear. “What we were doing just before it started raining was my favorite part.”

Luigi is sure his whole face is now redder than Mario’s hat. He swallows, as his throat has gone dry, and notices his heart hammering in his ears. When Daisy looks at him, he smiles and nods in an awkward attempt to tell her that this was his favorite part too.

“We’ll have to do it again,” Daisy adds suggestively.

Seizing the fact that she was still on tiptoe and that their faces are close together, she rubs her lips against Luigi’s, just for an instant, just a quick caress of her mouth on his. For Luigi, though, it’s more than enough: he grabs her waist again and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Daisy gives a soft giggle, but immediately reciprocates his gesture and cups his face gently.

This time they’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Startled, they separate, although their hands remain in the same places, and they look up just in time to see Mario arriving, at full speed, at the hallway of the building.

“Wow,” he exclaims with a chuckle. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Luigi gives him an embarrassed smile and hopes that Daisy’s hands, still resting on his cheeks, hide his blush. She, without a trace of shyness, widens her smile and leans a little towards him, so that her hair grazes Luigi’s chin. His legs automatically turn into butter again. 

“I see the date went well,” Mario observes, smiling mischievously at them.

“Better than that,” replies Daisy, and her fingers begin to affectionately squeeze Luigi’s cheeks, making him feel the urge to laugh and hide underground, all at the same time. “Your brother and I are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Her words fill Luigi’s heart with so much joy that, not caring that his brother is present, he gives Daisy a fully beaming glance. 

“Does that mean I can treat you like a sister now?” Mario asks amusedly.

“Weren’t you already doing that?” replies Daisy, following his joke.

“Maybe, but I guess it makes more sense now.”

Daisy responds with a laugh, her hands coming down to Luigi’s shoulders. He manages to emit a nervous chuckle, and his eyes suddenly meet Mario’s, who, slowly, has continued to approach the door. At that instant, however, Mario stops, his gaze filled with understanding and affection, and Luigi’s heart swells in his chest, his smile a little hesitant at his brother’s sincere joy for him. Luigi nods slightly, hoping Mario catches the appreciation in his gesture and in his eyes, for, after all, his brother has helped him from the beginning in everything concerning his feelings for Daisy. 

Luigi would not be experiencing his exciting first date with Daisy were it not for his beloved big brother’s invaluable help.

Then Mario, not taking his eyes off Luigi’s, approaches him in two strides and gently pats his shoulder.

“See you later at home, Lu,” he says, a warm smile tattooed on his lips.

Luigi nods, feeling a little reassured by his brother’s familiar touch, and takes one hand off Daisy’s waist to place it on Mario’s shoulder.

And, for an instant, Luigi holds in his two hands the two most important people in his life and for who he would gladly give his last breath.

Not even realizing it, he tightens his grip around Daisy’s waist as he gives a light squeeze on Mario’s shoulder. His brother, after a final pat, slowly pulls away from him and turns towards the door.

Then Luigi realizes something.

“Mario,” he calls out to him, worried. “It’s raining. Didn’t you take your umbrella?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lu,” Mario replies, waving his hand to play it down. “The pipe is quite close. I won’t have time to get wet.”

Luigi smiles and shakes his head slightly, resigned. 

“You’ll catch a cold,” he scolds him affectionately.

“And then I’ll have two Moms instead of one, I know,” Mario says in the same tone, making both Luigi and Daisy giggle. “See you, lovebirds!”

And before Luigi or Daisy have time to answer him, he’s gone. 

Luigi sighs, the resigned smile still on his lips. His brother will never change, and he adores him for that very reason.

Then he turns to Daisy, who also turns her face towards him at that instant, and they smile at each other, knowingly, their cheeks reddened. There’s something Luigi wants to ask her, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Daisy, however, is faster in taking the initiative.

“Where were we?” she murmurs, running two fingers provocatively across his chest.

But Luigi, despite the embarrassment, despite the shudder of pleasure that runs up and down him, still needs to get something off his head, to ask her something about what she just declared in front of Mario.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles, and rubs the back of his neck for the millionth time that night. “Th-that thing about... us being... y-you know... b-boyfriend and girlfriend... W-were you s-serious?”

“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“Yes!” Luigi shouts, almost at a faster speed than when they were at the pizzeria. “Y-yes, Daisy, I-I mean, o-of course I do, I...” He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, trying to order the words he wants to pronounce. “Of course I want to go out with you, Daisy. I-I r-really l-like... you.”

She laughs softly, a bit blushed, and bites her lower lip, still running her fingers down his chest and sending shivers down his spine.

“I really like you too, Luigi,” she confesses, her voice a faint whisper. “You’re... so sweet. In every way.”

She places a tender kiss on Luigi’s lips, which makes his heart skip a beat. But before he can reciprocate, she pulls away for a moment and looks at him with sparkling eyes.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet Green Bean?”

Luigi jumps at the affectionate appellation and flushes again, but finds that he likes, no, he loves it that Daisy addresses him that way. A smile blossoms on his face and his grip around her waist tightens.

“I’m looking forward to it, my Desert Princess.”

She grins and, to Luigi’s surprise, reddens too. Captivated, he caresses her cheek as she watches him intently. Then he slides his hand into her beautiful, velvety auburn hair, taking care not to drop the purple daisy, and she cups his face again. And, lost in each other’s eyes, they lean in until their lips meet once more.

But this kiss, even if it is also intense and sweet and deep and passionate and intoxicating, tastes like a farewell.

“I’m already counting the hours until we meet again,” Luigi murmurs, pulling away for a second, only to kiss her again as soon as he finishes speaking, with greater intensity and passion.

“I was about to tell you the same thing,” she replies, resuming the kiss a second later.

And they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and his hands stroke her waist and her mane, and hers get lost in his tousled hair and encircle his neck, and their tongues dance a dance that both would like to last forever.

And in that moment, not being aware of it, they both inwardly promise themselves the same thing.

That, someday, it will be.

[glade-constellation]

I think I’m starting to realize that Nexus may be one of the most misunderstood characters in the show.

Am I a fan of Nexus? No, not really. I find him funny to watch because, besides EAPS Monty, he says the most out of pocket shit. Never know what to expect when he opens his mouth. But besides that, I just can’t find any interest in him.

That being said, I recently have been doing a deep dive of his character to prove a theory I had, which turned out to be partially canon in today’s episode. I didn’t think Nexus had the Ruin virus, I don’t think he ever had it. After watching one of the introductory episodes in EAPS, I started to theorize that Nexus became what he is purely because he is a Moon. I still think this is true, and was simply sped up by the harvesting of dark star power.

This might be a long post, so strap in.

So. Nexus. I don’t feel dramatic in saying he’s possibly one of the most hated TSAMS characters, or at least most of the fandom’s least favorite. A good bit of the fandom believed he was infected by the Ruin virus, or was just a victim of terrible story writing, because it just didn’t seem possible for him to go this far. Sure, he was deeply traumatized by Solar’s death on top of many other things, but that didn’t seem like it would turn him completely evil. I was also one of the people who believed the Infection theory, as shown by my many posts during Nexus’ corruption arc.

Funnily enough, it was Eclipse of all characters that changed my view of Nexus and who he is. During “Eclipse and Puppet meet the NEW SUN”, Eclipse makes a very big point in relating himself back to the original Moon. It’s something I remembered from Eclipse’s lore, but had never really sat down and thought over. I believe @/samoftheswamp had a post that I 100% agreed with. Eclipse has all the memories of the original Moon before the separation, but is only made up of the kill code and very small fragments of Moon coding-wise. Everything else about Eclipse in that regard was filled in by Sun. He then continued to tear apart his own coding to make Bloodmoon and Lunar. Despite all of this, due to his memories, Eclipse still very much considers himself to be the original Moon.

How does any of this relate to Nexus? Simple. The coding and memories. Despite Eclipse and Nexus being completely opposites in both of those things, Eclipse still falls in line with Moons far more than he does Suns. V4 Eclipse talks a lot about how much his old self, and even current self, acts so similar to Moons. Though he appears as a Sun, Eclipse is a Moon by emotional and psychological standards.

I would also like to point out that Solar specifically say the only reason he was different from most Eclipse’s was due to his Sun’s influence. Everything that happened to Eclipse also happened to Solar up until his Sun decided to try and help him. That means that Solar also falls under the Moon category.

Now that we’ve established who counts as a Moon, let’s get into why this is important. One thing every single Moon has had in common so far is their villain arc. Moon has had several mini ones, mostly influenced by other people. Eclipse was a villain up until very recently. Solar was almost a villain until his Sun stepped in. Killcode was a villain until his change of heart. Bloodmoon was just, a villain. Hell, even Cringe Dimension Moon went evil. And now we have Nexus.

Am I saying all Moons are destined to become villains? Yes, but no. I think all Moons have a possibility of becoming a villain, and it is their choice to be one or not. Every Moon we meet tends to go through some sort of catastrophic event that leads them to this choice. OG Moon was built with a kill code. Eclipse, Solar, KC, and Bloodmoon all were a piece of that kill code in some way, on top of other trauma in some cases. Nexus never had the kill code, but he’s been through several different instances of trauma. He literally woke up to the world under Eclipse’s rule. He also had to witness the death of someone he considered a brother in his very own arms. All of these characters have had an instance where they were able to choose between being good or evil. Solar shows that Eclipse didn’t have to be evil, his coding wasn’t fully controlling his actions. He chose to be a villain. Killcode was evil by design, but chose to become good, whereas Bloodmoon was accidentally created as a murderbot and chose to stay evil.

I really want to focus in on Eclipse and Solar real quick. A lot of these characters are antithesis of each other, but Eclipse and Solar are supposed to be the perfectly representation of “what if”. Solar’s whole existence shows that Eclipse chose the path he went on. Could he have been influenced by the kill code? Yeah, definitely. That’s totally an option. But Solar was just as corrupted by our understanding. The only reason he was able to become good was because someone stepped in. Someone treated him like a person and showed him a different way. Eclipse never had that, and ended up choosing the path of evil since that influence was never given to him.

All this to say, it is completely in character for Nexus to have chosen the path of a villain by his own volition. Moons have always been portrayed to have the ability to turn evil. It has never actually mattered what their coding is or what trauma they have been through, every Moon has had a moment where they have had to make a choice. Will they be a hero, or become the villain they were “destined” to be?

I do not think Nexus was of complete clear consciousness when making this decision. Not because of a virus or kill code, not even the dark star power he may have had a the time. It was simply his mental health. Eclipse and Solar are a perfect example of how mental health can completely change a character. Nexus’ entire life was made up of disaster after disaster, which he felt completely responsible for. When Solar died in his arms, it was his snapping point. He was standing on the edge, teetering between sanity and insanity. He felt as if his family abandoned him, on top of his already present self blame and hatred, and he fell. (It does not help that his family failed pretty spectacularly in helping him, but that is the reality of most situations like this. We as an audience were of sound mind when coming up with ways to help Nexus, but the Celestial family was not. They all had their own things to focus on, and couldn’t give Nexus the help he truly needed, despite them thinking they had. Hindsight is a bitch when it comes to scenarios such as this.)

I don’t like Nexus. The story they seem to be telling with his current character arc is the same as Bloodmoon’s, that some people just aren’t worth saving. I do not believe in this sentiment at all, and also believe Nexus could have been handled much better than he currently is. But I cannot deny that how he is acting is actually incredibly plausible. It is not out of character for him to have become what he currently is, even without outside influences. Him harvesting dark star power just happens to make his fall into insanity even more likely.

(I would like to add that none of what I just wrote was against the writers and/or actors in any way. This is a “forever” roleplay show made using VRChat on YouTube. I am in no way expecting greatness. I enjoy having Nexus and characters like EAPS Monty specifically because they play into my more out of pocket sense of humor. I would also like to reiterate that all of this is simply a theory, and how I view the characters of the show. You are completely allowed to have your own opinion! Also, if you read this whole post, thank you! Even if we don’t agree, I am grateful you put time into reading this extensive post.)