#calming masterpost

[skitskatdacat63]

"The Boy With The Thorn in His Side"(x) - The Smiths × 2023 Strollonso moments + pundits' reactions

[vaaaaaiolet]

how was your reblog so fast GIRL ISNT IT LIKE PAST BEDTIME FOR YOU HELLO!?@?!@?!

i had to submit my homework...i procrastinated until now...

[beevean]

...so wanna rant about Netflix Isaac for a few minutes ? :P

My calm and collected reaction when I read this ask.

I was just debating on how to write about Isaac and N!Isaac (or Abraham, as I prefer to call him). Unlike Hector and N!Hector (Caesar), where I could prove that the latter could have been like the former if not for terrible writing… I simply do not like Abraham. At all. The more I think about him, the more resentful I feel, which I know it’s not fair because 99% of my resentment comes from people shitting on Isaac to prop the guy. I honestly simply wanted to explain why Isaac is deeper than people give him credit for, and leave Abraham aside, since, as we all know, the dude has nearly nothing in common with his canon counterpart.

… but if you ask so nicely :)

So alright. I will primarily talk about my man Isaac, because I love him and he deserves more love; by doing so, I’ll also explain why there was zero need to turn Abraham into Diet Hector :)

Since this first part mainly focuses on the prequels, as a counterpart to Season 2, it’s better to start with the biggest misconception about Isaac, and what almost certainly lead to Abraham becoming what he became: his personality.

To give a summary of Isaac as most fans know him, he’s extremely flamboyant, theatrical, cruel, consumed by hatred, but also intelligent, strong and determined. He doesn’t appear much, but he steals the scene every time he does. He acts in theory as the rival, much like his predecessors Hugh and Maxim, but he’s far more antagonistic than either of them: he’s not a friend to be saved, he’s an enemy to be punished for his crimes. However, much like the other rivals, he’s strictly connected to the protagonist, and the story treats him as a victim in its more important moments.

Kou Sasakura, who was a hired writer, kept herself fairly close to the game: you can tell not only from the accurate Innocent Devils she drew, but because, well, there’s not much difference between her Isaac and the game one. He’s already dressed in his magnificent CoD outfit, he’s pretty much a dick to everyone who isn’t Dracula, he talks about troops of people dying with glee and boasts about embracing the “laws of heresy”: clearly, he has never been particularly sane to begin with. He’s an entertaining asshole, as he should be. That’s not to say he’s completely flat, though: there’s still plenty to say about this version.

Instead it’s Ayami Kojima, who worked directly on the characters (and clearly preferred Isaac), who wrote a mini-arc to actually show what the Curse did to him. And therefore, he starts off quite unlike one would expect. These posts explain how, in Kojima’s interpretation, a non-Cursed Isaac is an honorable warrior who respects Hector even in battle, cares about a fair fight, is just as compassionate towards his Innocent Devils as Hector is, and is even sensitive to his Lord’s plight. He also uses an elegant sword, rather than his iconic and brutal Chauve-Souris. This paints him as an even more tragic character, and gives weight to Julia’s words when she says that “[her] brother is in the venomous grip of the Curse”.

… but of course who even read Prelude to Revenge :^) certainly not our man Ellis :^)

Abraham has none of this. At the start of the series, he’s not charming, nor he has hidden depths. What you see is what you get: a stonefaced, serious, no-nonsense, contemplative man who hates humankind and trusts Dracula without question and beyond reason, the latter being literally the one thing that connects him to the name Isaac. He self-flagellates, which I can only assume it’s meant to reference Isaac’s BDSM aesthetic – Abraham even changes reasons for doing so between Season 2 (a self-focusing discipline, implied to be a result of the abuse he went through) and 3 (a religious practice), before dropping it completely.

On his own, he’s… fine, I just think he’s pretty dull because he has no quirks or anything that makes him stand out, but he didn’t irritate me as Alucard did. I enjoyed his utter trust in Dracula, which makes him far less approachable compared to the manipulable Caesar: notably, poor Godbrand didn’t even finish airing his grievances to him before getting swiftly killed, and never mentioned again. This establishes Abraham as being strong, efficient, fanatical, and even concerned for his Master’s mental wellbeing – no point in telling him what happened, right?

As someone who is presented as being Isaac, he irritates me: he feels scrubbed down, neutered, because Ellis or whoever was responsible for the personality change clearly thought there was nothing salvageable about Isaac, and removed everything that made him iconic save for the simpness. Well, they were wrong.

Isaac doesn’t get a childhood flashback like Hector, but we see the day he found Dracula’s castle, which tells us already his priorities. His past doesn’t really matter: his devotion to his Lord does. His blind loyalty is his defining characteristic.

Look at this little baby, so happy to have finally found a place that can welcome him and his little sister <3 he has no idea what fate has in store for him <3

But yes, Isaac’s very young age in this scene tells us a lot without actually showing us what he went through. Whatever happened to him broke him far more than Hector’s own traumatic childhood: poor kid can’t be older than thirteen, and he’s already bragging that he has turned his back against God.

In CoD, Julia says that she escaped from the witch hunts in Western Europe. We don’t know if she meant in adulthood or childhood. If the latter, then Isaac was probably involved as well.

We also see that he still cares about Julia, and he wants her to come with him. Sadly we don’t know what happened to her afterwards – if we go by their canonical ages, she’d be a very young child here – but she’ll be important later. Presumably, Dracula didn’t want to take in such a young, inexperienced witch, while Isaac’s more cursed powers could already be honed.

The other half of his flashback chapter in the MF manga sets up other important factors:

Isaac is learning to Forge Devils, but he has trouble with stabilizing them: Isaac is talented, but just not enough, and it’s not a surprise that being “stable” is what gives him the most trouble (we can infer Hector never had an issue with that, as he’s more levelheaded than his companion);

The Succubus taunted Isaac that he’d be surpassed by a new boy: this establishes his inferiority complex, and while this never comes fully into play in the same way it does for other rivals, the implication is that he always saw Hector as an adversary, and it bred even more animosity in his easily corruptible heart;

isaac is the gayest man in wallachia seriously have you seen how he looks at hector

So this is Isaac. What about Abraham?

Since Isaac’s childhood is far less defined, Abraham had to get his own unique tragic past. Admittedly, not much to point out here: he used to be the slave of a priest who abused him (because CHURCH BAD), but nonetheless Abraham fell in love with his master, and when he confessed, he got punished for it. After killing him, Abraham spent his life on the run, hunted by other people who wanted to kill him and worse, until Dracula personally rescued him. I like how this, much like the MF flashback, paints Abraham as someone who has the tendency to cling to his masters no matter what; and while I prefer the idea of Hector and Isaac knocking on Dracula’s door, I don’t mind the man himself actually helping Abraham. Indeed, Dracula treating him like an outright friend ensures that Abraham will be 100% devoted to him. (if only Dracula’s good relationship with Abraham didn’t come at the cost of the two of them shitting on Caesar…)

Speaking of Caesar! You can’t talk about Isaac without mentioning his crush relationship with Hector! And how it was turned in NFCV :)

Sadly, both mangas give us meager crumbs of what the two thought of each other before Hector’s betrayal, and they diverge quite a bit.

Not much to say about what very little is shown by the PtR manga: Isaac comes off as friendly… or as friendly as he can be:

That power... Perhaps you can become even scarier and crueler than me…

The two even have something resembling a heart-to-heart conversation: Isaac more or less attempts to calm down Hector when he’s in the middle of a morality crisis, although by downplaying his grievances. If the two were friends, they weren’t close ones, or maybe their different moralities were already driving a wedge between them.

The MF manga emphasizes the resentment Isaac felt for Hector, “from the moment [they] first met”:

When he has the confirmation that Hector is alive and has hidden himself on holy grounds, Isaac is ecstatic to face him, so much that he kills his own underlings to go against Dracula’s express order to bring Hector back to him. He is that determined to not only prove his strength to his Lord, but most importantly to kill the traitor with his own hands.

Of course, things may not be as clear-cut as he pretends to be :) He even tried to spare Hector, allegedly in the name of their Lord, but who knows :)

Yeah, who knows.

And CoD itself, while sadly barely touches on Hector and Isaac’s former relationship, gives us another little gem:

I know that Julia has some kind of divination powers, but this doesn't seem like the kind of information she could garner from them. He told her, didn't he?

I was, as you can imagine, immensely disappointed that Abraham and Caesar’s relationship is barely on the level of “coworkers reluctantly forced to share a building”. Abraham’s lack of respect for Caesar is not endearing at all: he treats him with condescension, he insults him behind his back (and to Dracula’s face, who seems to agree with him, and yet again I must ask why did he choose someone he thinks he’s a complete idiot as a General), but he still has time to make a joke about kissing him which at this point comes off as even inappropriate. Caesar, on his part, seems to ignore his existence until Carmilla reminds him of the fact. Not only this complete lack of chemistry is utterly boring, and doesn’t take advantage of the potential differences between the two characters, but it becomes a characterization issue later on.

This all culminates in the fateful moment when Hector and Isaac fight right outside the Castle, freedom and loyalty clashing! And its NFCV equivalent, which has Caesar being dragged against his will into Carmilla’s assault of the castle, and Abraham being yeeted away by Dracula. Yeah, the two don’t fight at all. Because why have a compelling relationship in this show when you can rely on snarky one-liners.

The exact events of the fight differ between the two versions, but they hardly matter in the long run. What matter is that the two fought to the death, Hector emerged superior, and Isaac discovered to his immense horror that, without him and Hector guarding the castle, Trevor Belmont and the others managed to slay Dracula.

Both versions are heartwrenching.

Not only the Curse that Dracula cast upon his death already reached his Generals, but Isaac had a full mental breakdown. You can tell he’s blaming himself for not protecting his Lord, and laments that he has to live without him – Lord Dracula was everything to him, and now that he has failed him to this degree, what else has he to live for?

Why, Hector himself. He can blame him. He was the one who ran away, he was the reason Dracula had to send Isaac in his pursuit. Sure, the Belmont is the one who physically dealt the killing blow, but maybe, if Hector remained loyal, the two could have defeated him together. Even in CoD, Isaac doesn’t direct his fury at Trevor (in fact, in the Japanese version, he even compliments him), because Isaac’s main concern isn’t not him: it’s his former friend who turned his back on him and their Lord.

And what can I even say about this masterpiece from PtR?

I won't let you say that your rebellion has nothing to do with this! Had you cut off my head as well, I would not have seen this… Hector!

Isaac crawled back in shame using his broken sword as a cane, fully expecting to be punished by Dracula for once again proving how inferior he was to Hector. He did not expect to come back to this.

Not only Hector deliberately left Isaac alive, which comes off as a humiliation (interesting contraposition to the MF version, where it’s Isaac who grants Hector mercy in the name of Dracula – they will both regret their decision)… these pages really convey just how much Hector’s defection has taken away from Isaac. In one fell swoop, he has lost his beloved Lord, the only place he could call home, the closest thing he had to a friend, and the work of his lifetime. Is it any wonder that even in this version, he seems to regret that he has to live? Is it any wonder that he’d be fueled for three years with pure hatred for Hector?

In short, Isaac has every single understandable reason in the world for wanting Hector dead.

What’s Abraham’s reason?

First of all, Abraham is, technically speaking, also partially responsible for the fall of Dracula’s castle. While Isaac lost everything through no fault of his own (yes, he killed his underlings in the MF manga and that’s fucked up, but that did not influence the chain of events at all), Abraham was also roped by Caesar into asking Dracula to move the castle under Carmilla’s request. His first reason for agreeing was even “it will stop her from making mischief”, which is a nice way to say “Iook I just want her to shut the fuck up”. Agreeable, surely, but I feel less sorry for him.

But that’s not the issue. The issue is that the Hector vs. Isaac fight simply did not happen, because Caesar did not flee on his own (because he was prevented from having agency), so Abraham was sent away by Dracula when the assault started, out of concern for his soul (or because Dracula wanted to die in peace), and Abraham only knew that Trevor, Sypha, Alucard and the Styrian forces were attacking, not that Caesar was involved.

Thematically, I like that Abraham chose to die for Dracula, but Dracula denied him the choice. He’s a tool, and he’s not even allowed to die on his own terms – much like Isaac, who was forced to live. But I’m still not satisfied.

So, Abraham gave zero shits about Caesar, knew that Carmilla was bad news from the start (but still agreed to her idea), didn’t actually see how the battle ended, actually saw Trevor and the others storm in with his own eyes, and didn’t know that Caesar “betrayed” Dracula.

Why in the fuck is he so pissed at Caesar? What weight does his revenge plan have?

This is what happens when you shoehorn a plot point you read on the wiki without understanding the context. Abraham by all means should either blame himself, or blame Carmilla exclusively. His animosity makes far less sense, and I don’t feel as sorry for him.

On top of this, his loss doesn’t feel as severe. Yes, he was separated from his Lord/friend and the castle, but he still had his immense power (even his Forging knife; he didn’t even have to, for example, find himself another weapon while living vulnerable in the meantime), and he actually has lived in the desert before, meaning he knows how to move and what to do. He also is not afraid of travelling among humans, while Isaac couldn’t let himself be seen even if he wanted to (he looks very visibly “wrong” for the average Middle Age person, and that’s not including the possibility that he was known in Wallachia). He did not lose his entire life: there is simply a big obstacle in his way.

Before I move on, two interesting scenes to compare are the different versions of the Hector vs. Isaac fight, mostly for what the latter says.

In the PtR manga, Isaac seems to be genuinely resentful of how humankind treated him:

Were we known in the human world, we would be chased away with stones… A place where we can exist… a place to cling to… Where was it?!

This is fairly in line with what you would expect from him: humans hated him, so he hates human in return, and this is why he’s outraged that Hector would even dare to turn his back to their Lord.

But the MF version has a slightly different flavor:

I pointed out different times that Isaac seems to put more focus on how humans did not respect Dracula enough than how they were cruel towards Hector and him. And indeed, Isaac rarely if ever expresses outright misanthropic views, in the same way Dracula does. This is a more interesting approach, in my opinion: Isaac genuinely doesn’t care about mankind, he’s not motivated by spite against them, he’s only motivated by the love and gratitude he feels for the first creature who showed him respect. And if said creature orders him to slaughter humans, oh well.

I have already talked extensively about Isaac’s “tool” mentality, so I won’t repeat myself. Long story short, Isaac nearly dehumanizing himself and refusing to have his own agency outside of Lord Dracula acts as a contrast to Hector, whose main goal is to gain agency over his own life.

Needless to say, Abraham gets this only halfway through. Yes, he also starts the series believing to be Dracula’s tool. Unlike Isaac, though, he spends two season unable to shut up about how much he despises mankind and considers them the root of all evil and believes that by exterminating mankind the world will be full of love. His dialogue gets incredibly repetitive in no time flat. Abraham is not endearing: he's pretentious.

So I suppose it’s time to jump to the three years between CV3 and CoD/Season 3.

In short, my man Isaac is not coping well with the divorce :’D

This post by @the-crow-binary is a great breakdown of Isaac’s mental state in the MF manga. The Curse has taken a hold of him already, and he’s ranting, obsessed, shaking in fear and rage: an absolute mess.

Still better than how we find him in PtR:

Mmh… So you can make that kind of face… I've gotten a lot better too... How many times has the moon waxed and waned, I wonder? That’s a nice expression… I'm happy. Good pain is proof of life. I won't grant you the peace of death so easily: live, spit blood, and then…

Lord Dracula is with us!

As I have pointed out, in this version, Isaac rotted the entire time completely alone in the ruins of his old home, easy prey for the Curse. He had nowhere else to go, and apparently he didn’t consider to find his sister again. Anyone would have gone mad, even without Dracula's help.

(side note, I love love love how this manga justifies Isaac's iconic outfit by showing that Hector ruined it first, and then Isaac let it fall off his body, no longer in the conditions to care:

Hector broke Isaac's outfit. Hector broke Isaac's mind and heart. It's so interesting how Hector truly is the villain in Isaac's story <3)

And speaking of broken heart! I'd be remiss if I didn't mention this small detail of Isaac writing Hector's name on the sole of his boot. Whether you interpret it as a hex or him expressing twisted romantic feelings, one thing's for certain: Hector is at the forefront of Isaac's thoughts. I cannot stress enough how personal Isaac's revenge is, much like Hector's own revenge quest will be.

This is how we feel the weight of his devious plan to get revenge on the man who took everything away from him, by taking his hard-earned happiness away as well.

So how’s Abraham doing?

This is the part of the show where he turns from secondary antagonist to full protagonist and darling of the narrative.

Season 3 is where Abraham supposedly starts his super compelling character arc, moving away from being Dracula’s tool and giving himself a new purpose. Allegedly, his ingrained misanthropy gets constantly challenged by actually experiencing human kindness, although sadly the lessons don’t quite stick. On paper, this sounds very intriguing, not unlike Hector learning what love is thanks to Rosaly (hint hint). However, I find the execution laughable at best, and irritating at worst.

This is what Abraham does in this season. He decides that he wants a big army, which means killing humans. He travels. He meets a kind shopkeeper that gifts him a mirror that tells him where to go next. He’s stopped by guards because he has an army of demons: Abraham is sad that they’re not as kind as the previous person and kills them. He travels. He boards a ship with an intriguing captain, who manages to tell him that committing human genocide would deprive the world of happiness. He’s stopped by guards because he has an army of demons: Abraham is sad that they’re not as kind as the previous person and kills them. He travels. He talks with a philosopher demon who tells him that CHURCH BAD. He meets a woman that tells him where to go next. He kills a bunch of people and kills a magician.

This is… not really an arc. Abraham allegedly takes one step forward, and then immediately one step back. He doesn’t get better nor worse. He just talks a lot in the meantime pretending to be deep.

Now, I do like the scenes with the shopkeeper and the captain, those two are well written; I also like Miranda as a look on what Abraham could become if he gets consumed by despair, ironically acting as the Isaac to Abraham’s Hector (hint hint). But this scene, one of the most popular ones for Abraham, pisses me off.

Abraham wants to travel with a giant army of demons in tow. The guards insist that he must turn back because, well, giant army of demons. This is literally the second time in a row that this happens, hence the famous “is this the definition of insanity?” quote. Oh, but not because Abraham is stupid in expecting that humans would move out for him, but because poor thing, he really had hopes that humans could be good, but no, they keep hurting him! By doing their job! Oh no, they are slightly aggressive to the dark wizard who can control demons, how awful of them!

Sure, Abraham is correct in saying that he literally can’t turn back because he’s at the harbor, and yes the guards had no chance against Abraham, but the way this scene is framed, we’re supposed to feel sorry that poor little Abraham got confirmation that all humans are stupid and evil after all, and really, is it any wonder that he snapped and killed them all?

This is what Isaac would do. Slaughtering a bunch of humans because they were “fucking rude” to him? It’s just as cartoonishly evil as Abraham fans accuse Isaac of being. Except that in his case, it would be clear that he’s batshit insane, and not in the philosophical way Abraham pretends to be.

Abraham ends Season 3 in the same place where he started, and I have no idea how he managed to become this popular.

Most insultingly, Abraham isn’t allowed to lose. Abraham isn’t allowed to be set back. In the season where every character suffers, is traumatized, or loses something (Caesar and Alucard being by far the worst victims), Abraham ends the season happily killing brainwashed people to then kill a generic magician to get to a magic mirror that would lead him directly to his destination, along with the army of demons that he created by killing people, after a lady he happened to meet told him about the existence of said mirror.

People in NFCV can smell magic? Well, I can smell favoritism.

But okay, he’s still a bad guy, right? I’m not meant to sympathize with him, right? I’m just in for the ride because he’s “cool”, right?

Enter CoD/Season 4.

You, who gave up your powers and became the lowest of the low, nothing but mere scum.

Sadly, CoD has a severe dearth of Isaac appearances, after the iconic first cutscene. He is as I described him in the beginning: an utter bastard. However, I appreciate his overall plan that sets up the whole plot.

There is a lot of speculation and holes-filling to do here (I suspect he had Death’s help, at least when it came to the Infinite Corridor part of the plan, but we have no proof), but the point is, he has all the means to inflict a most terrible punishment on Hector, by taking advantage of the Curse that he’s spreading and that consumed him, and also by taking advantage of Hector himself. The two knew each other well: Isaac knew that Hector would be unstoppable in his quest for revenge, to the point that he felt confident enough to spell out his plan, which is to guide Hector so that he can regain his cursed powers (even drawing schemes to explain how to Forge, which is hilarious when you think about it). What would Hector do anyway, give up? That’s not like him. Isaac knows this. The only part he omits is that he needs those immense powers not just to make their fateful match worth it, but to break the seal that prevents the castle from resurrecting. A very clever spin on the classic “get stronger so that our fight will be worth it” plan.

(contrast this well-thought out plan with Abraham getting everything he wants on a silver platter.)

We also get a cute moment where he retreats at the sight of Julia, almost as if he was afraid of hurting her, implying that he can feel more than smugness and rage.

Sadly, the end of his story is not a happy one. By the time he faces Hector like he wanted, his former friend is absolutely livid that he had been played like a fiddle… and more important, he regained all of his strength. Which was more than Isaac’s. Oops, that part wasn’t very well thought-out. But it’s not Hector who kills him: he saves himself from the Curse taking complete hold of him just in the nick of time. No, it’s Death, who decides to use the “other one” (even making fun of him in the process) to resurrect Dracula. Either the ritual or Hector slashing his possessed body to pieces puts an end to Isaac’s madness. Despite Julia’s best wishes, Isaac never rose from the darkness that consumed him. He constantly chose loyalty to Dracula and hatred, and that doomed him. Furthermore, his own name acted as an omen: much like the Biblical Isaac, he was set to be sacrificed in the name of the closest thing to a God he worshipped.

As for Abraham… at this point in his arc, it’s pointless to compare him to Isaac, because he has officially turned into Hector. By reversing Isaac’s downfall, the writers accidentally recreated Hector’s character arc of finding agency for himself, killing the person responsible for his pain (well, he wants to, but Carmilla in true #girlboss fashion peaces out on her own terms), and then moving on from Dracula, accepting to live in full. It’s. It’s Hector. Except worse.

What else can I say? Abraham got his revelation off screen, during a time-skip: now he wants to create, to do good in the world like when he killed the evil magician. He sets out to invade Styria to kill Caesar, but then changes his mind at the last second, and even tells him to not go with his plan of resurrecting Dracula. No internal struggle, just a ton of words. No mention of all the people he has gleefully killed for petty reasons. No remorse at all. Not an obstacle he had to overcome. Not even an ounce of self-loathing that at least made Hector more sympathetic. Abraham fails at being a good reinterpretation of Isaac, and fails at being an interesting anti-hero with a solid journey.

To be clear, I'm not saying he should have died like Isaac. Again, at this point I accept that he became Hector. But his happiness simply doesn't feel earned. He got what he wanted after a fairly small loss (Dracula died, sure, but he never got confirmation for that), and he had his character development offscreen. His narrative is a rushed version of what Hector was allowed to be through two mangas and a game, and yet he's the one hailed as the best character of all time.

Just to cap it off, I can’t help but complain about how dull and forgettable Abraham’s design is. He’s literally just a man who walked into the set and stole Isaac’s full Devil Forgemaster outfit. There is no reason for him to be associated with red (his magic), since the Red Oni Blue Oni dynamic with Caesar has been lost. His tattoos do not convey anything, and we rarely see them in full anyway. Also why does he have a different crest on his back???? IT'S A UNIFORM! It drives me mad! At least try to understand the source material for fuck's sake!

Isaac is iconic. He’s immediately recognizable in the Castlevania cast, but still fitting in thanks to key elements. He doesn’t look fully human, with his bright red hair and yellowish eyes: he doesn’t have the typical Kojima pretty face, but he has more distinguishable features such as a big nose: the tattoos tell a whole story about him and it’s fun to imagine what they symbolize – high pain tolerance? A desire to defile his own body to spite God? Some arcane symbol, the result of a ritual? And then there’s the Devil Forgemaster crest forever embedded in his back, representing his full devotion and the fate he could not escape from. He truly looks like everything Hector isn't.

This post got long. And again, I didn't even care to talk about Abraham, because I don't like him one bit and because I love Isaac independently from this overhyped character. But hey, you asked, and I ranted with great pleasure :P

also have this absolute banger

does abraham have a sick ass theme? yeah didn't think so

[profsilverleaf]

Pokeblogging Archival: Team Calm

This post is meant to be a summary of events involving and following the plot of Team Calm. There are a lot of of characters involved in this story.

If any information here is wrong, or if there is something missing that you think should be added, please tell me so I can make corrections.

The Beginning

Mysterious packages were sent to several people. All included an egg and an incubator. They were told that they were chosen for a giveaway, where they were given "Ultra-Domesticated" Pokemon. Some people who were sent eggs were Vanilla, Angie, Victoria Gonzap and Professor Lemon.

Professor Lemon (@prof-lemon) in particular was very concerned about this mysterious group and their intentions. Lemon has a conversation with a member of Team Calm through her asks. Here, here, and here.

Team Calm (@team-calm) soon creates an official account. They explain that their goal is to create "Ultra-Domesticated" Pokemon, who lose their prey-drive as well as being more social.

It is revealed that Team Calm have multiple Cosmog. There are people who are interested in adopting the Cosmog. Team Calm has tried to create UD versions of Cosmog (despite it not being dangerous in the first place) but these efforts don't work.

Team Calm mentions that they also have a Lunala. It was raised from an egg, and evolved when the leader "borrowed" the moon flute in Alola. They say that the Lunala is at their Kalos base.

There is a brief mention of manipulating DNA to create UD Pokemon. (This will be important later)

Prof. Lemon starts Team Violence in opposition to Team Calm. The goal of the group is to raise awareness and understanding of Pokemon who are seen as aggressive. As well as creating fund raisers for shelters and conservation.

Kalos Base Investigation

A professor-in-training living in Kalos named Silverleaf (@profsilverleaf) sees the mention of Lunala being at the Kalos lab and decides to visit it. An additional post about Silverleaf's thoughts on Team Calm. He sends a message to Lemon about what he is going to do.

He's not the only one that intends to visit the Kalos Lab. Leinwen (@untitledswanna) also wants to visit but was told to wait until Silverleaf was done. She decides to go with Silverleaf, but in disguise.

Silverleaf and Leinwen meet up and go into Team Calm's base. Silverleaf keeps Team Calm distracted while Leinwen sneaks around.

During this time Silverleaf periodically sends updates to Lemon about the investigation. Here and here.

Lemon was privately informed that she would be sent a Mawile that would have something important relating to the Kalos investigation. She was then sent a UD Mawile by Leinwen. Lemon got the information that was in a flashdrive that the Mawile was holding.

Lemon makes a post telling everybody about what Team Calm is really doing to create UD Pokemon. Which involves experimentation on eggs to change the Pokemon's DNA. Most of these Pokemon do not hatch or die shortly afterwards.

Someone suggests raiding Team Calm to Miku (@champion-class-hatsune-miku), who makes it part of her pride month performance event. They are going to raid Team Calm's Alola base since that area is where the performance is being held.

*will post the next bit (the actual raid stuff) soon in a reblog to this portion of the story*

[itd-be-gay-if-you-didnt]

Sherlock Mpreg miscarriage on the Harry Potter Train AU Masterpost

whenever i see another tiktok girlie talking about how she wishes to have been a fangirl in 2010s i feel like a seasoned veteran overhearing a foolish youngin boasting about wanting to go to war for glory and adventure. you naive little idiot. you know nothing. you understand nothing. you weren't there in the trenches. i have seen things, terrible things. i cannot plug in my phone charger at night without being plagued by the visions of Him

[creativepromptsforwriting]

How to show emotions

Part VIII

How to show helplessness

slightly open mouth

downturned mouth

eyes slightly more open

being hesitant in their movements

shrugging shoulders

wringing their hands

crossed arms to protect themself

buckling of the legs, becoming instable

speaking softly and shaky

How to show optimism

openly smiling

relaxed face

bright, attentice eyes

steady and natural eye contact

open and upright posture

energetic and animated movements

speaking in an upbeat and positive tone

walking with a spring in their step

walking confidently

How to show anticipation

bright and open eyes

looking around

sweaty palms

trembling hands

heart racing

fidgeting with their entire body

crossing and uncrossing one's legs

having restless legs, rocking them

drumming with their fingers

bouncing on one's toes

shifting from one foot to the other

pacing around

fussing with clothes

How to show amusement

eyes twinkling with mirth

chuckling

bursting out in laughter

eye contact to share their amusement

being open and relaxed

a genuine smile

raised eyebrows

crinkling around the eyes

tilting of the head

slapping their thigh

playfully nudging other characters

How to show respectfulness

standing tall with good posture

maintain steady, appropriate eye contact

avoiding direct staring to not make them feel uncomfortable

speaking in a calm and measured tone

showing attentiveness by listening actively

using polite language and manners, not interrupting or talking over anyone

no crossing of arms and relaxed hands

More: How to write emotions Masterpost

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[sm-baby]

PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR MORE JINGLE CONTENT

(Calming down slightly, I wanna see if they can share masks)

THE SIBLINGS EPISODE - idle animations 🎲

ko-fi🎀 || The Sibling Episode MASTERPOST🎭

The girls have idle animations now because of you!! It was just gonna be for gangle but more came in my head!!

GANGLE and JINGLE:

RAGATHA and RANDY:

POMNI, POMNI, and POMNI:

i love the idea that the siblings take on a bit of a " support role" in an RPG hehe X3

[notjustjavierpena]

Sundays

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Season 2 of The Last of Us ruined my life, so here is my attempt at fixing my eternal wounds. Lord knows that everyone deserves better. I spent four weeks trying to perfect this. It might be the best thing I’ve ever done. Please be kind and patient with me ❤️

Summary: Joel’s Sundays are for early morning patrol and making babies with you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic fluff, soft but haunted Joel, banter, teasing, Star Wars reference, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, breeding kink, one use of daddy, emotional and filthy sex, creampie, aftercare, cuddling 

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65911807

Sundays

On Sundays, Joel does the morning patrols while the rest of the town sleeps. When someone asks why he has volunteered to do them, he lies and grumbles something about nobody else wanting to get out of bed during the weekend so he has to. Yet he always wakes up at the crack of dawn without complaint, showers in the miracle of hot water, fixes himself a cup of coffee, and reads his book - they have recently emptied a library on an extensive supply run and they found The Shining on dry shelves - with his glasses perched on his nose. He likes it; the quiet time for himself while feeling your presence in the house as you sleep under warm blankets upstairs. His morning routine always ends with taking off his glasses to put them on their designated spot on his nightstand and kissing your beautiful hair, watching your body curl up contentedly underneath the covers or if he is really lucky, you turning onto your back and sleepily muttering a demand for a proper kiss. 

He goes back down, ties his well-worn leather boots on a dining chair, holsters his handgun, throws his rifle over his shoulder, and then leaves with a quiet click of the door. 

The Spring air bites slightly in the morning but he doesn’t mind, appreciates the way it wakes him up a bit more and sharpens his focus. He misses you the second he steps out the door, thinks about your warm and soft skin while he checks the front of Ellie’s house, and then walks towards the stables, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. He listens for anything out of the ordinary - can’t be too careful - and even checks the fences surrounding the horses, the weak spots he keeps meaning to patch up himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it right.

Patrol is as usual. He doesn’t expect any danger and thankfully doesn’t find any either, but he is a man of habits and old habits die hard. His free hand rests near the strap of his rifle in case of anything out of the ordinary, but the only time he needs to be on his guard is when Callus, his horse, gets frightened by a rabbit in the bushes along the trail. He calms the animal with a broad, soothing hand and kind words. He thinks about Sarah, about how she would have loved the nature here, and rarely anymore about how her blood felt on his skin.

He is gone for a few hours, three maybe but no more than four. He does all of his usual inner checklists and rides past each checkpoint, all the while thinking about your hair still messy from sleep, your bare foot sticking out from under the blanket.

On his way back, his thoughts continue circling around you. It’s almost dangerous how much he lets his mind drift; how easy it is to get lost in wondering what you’re up to on his way home. He pictures you in the sun coming in through the windows of the house he built for you with hands that have killed but now get to cradle your face too. He loves you most bathed in morning light that makes your skin glow. With a half-laugh, you said you’d be doing housework today, dragging your fingers through his hair last night whilst tangled up in his body. 

He wonders if you’re humming to yourself while mopping the floors or fighting extra stubborn dust bunnies underneath the couch. What are you wearing? What are you thinking about? Is it him? Are your souls really so entwined that your thoughts are full of him whenever his are so full of you? Joel doesn’t even know if he believes in that sort of thing - hearts beating in sync like that - but you don’t give him a choice sometimes, a feeling that not even Ellie has ever teased out of him.

When he arrives home, he smiles with his eyes closed at the twinkling sound of the wind chimes hanging on the porch ceiling. There is dust on his boots and his bad knee has started to ache from the slow change in temperature over the last few hours but he feels content. He removes the rifle from his shoulder to leave it by the door and then toes the boots off carefully. 

He inhales the smell of home deeply in through his nose before holding his breath to listen for any sound of you. His brown jacket comes off right after he has noticed the quiet movements upstairs that make the house creak just a little. However, it’s not the noisy floorboards but your soft curse that makes him climb the staircase.

A younger version of him - a version that was newer to you - would have first thought that you were up to something sinful and private but Joel now knows that the near-silent swear is one of quiet frustration. You don’t hear him at first, too busy muttering to yourself about the fitted sheet that keeps slipping from your fingers as you try to tug it down over the corner of your shared bed. 

“Shit,” you curse again quietly, bent across the bed in a kneeling position with one knee on the mattress and the other stretched out behind you. 

He knows he should announce his presence like the gentleman he is but he is too busy trying to catch his hitching breath from the sight of your gorgeous body. The swell of your hips and the dip of your back have his old ticker beating in his chest like a kick drum but it is, more specifically, the choice of your underwear that has him feeling downright lightheaded. Hugging your hips are a pair of lace panties and they’re see-through and barely there but most importantly cute. You probably picked them up from the trading center without much ceremony, drawn by their aesthetic rather than their practicality, and then forgot they existed until laundry day arrived. He can understand why; they are so impractical that they almost piss him off but it doesn’t outweigh the near-laughable way he is already hardening in his jeans.

“Hey baby,” he finally says from the doorway, his hands shaking slightly with how hard it is to not just walk up and grab at your hips as a greeting. 

“Joel,” you jump a little in your spot and look at him over your shoulder, the sheet still hanging between your fingers in a secure grip, “You scared the shit outta me!”

“What are you wearing?” He asks simply instead of apologizing, trying to act nonchalant as he walks to the side of the bed but you pick up on the strain in his voice. 

You glance down at yourself with a sigh but it just makes your ass jiggle, “Oh, these? They’re my last clean pair right now since I’m doing an epic pile of laundry today. Sun’s coming out. Perfect day for hanging it outside.” 

“They’re–” he replies, gaze fixed on your ass. His voice continues in the same strained tone but he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. 

“They’re awful,” you help him and start struggling with the corner of the sheet again, “Feels like my ass is being flossed by lace.”

Joel snorts at that, “Should take ‘em off then.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You snort yourself, finally managing to pull the sheet over the edge. You flatten it with your palm, caressing it almost as if you’re apologizing for the roughness you’ve caused it and so it looks like it hasn’t been a battle to secure. Then you flop onto your back, stretching your arms out behind you to hold yourself up. The grin on your face is mischievous and sexy yet subtle, the position you’ve put your body in pushing your chest out so he can see your breasts through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He thought he wanted you badly during his patrol but looking at you now, he thinks he might lose it if he doesn’t touch you soon. 

“You’ve got me. Take them off,” he murmurs with a smirk but when you playfully don’t follow orders, he starts leaning down over you slowly with his sore knee dipping into the mattress. You try to crawl back, squealing but he has taken on bigger things than you.

“Joel,“ you stop him by planting your bare foot on his chest but the way your leg bends at the knee just exposes that soft, intimate skin between your legs. He wants to dive into you but he’ll humor you for a moment.

He grabs your ankle to make you laugh but his mind betrays him by reminding him of how fragile his existence here with you is. Jackson remaining completely untouched by reality is a fantasy. He doesn’t tell you, never would tell you how easily it could all go wrong again, because you deserve the fantasy more than he does.

“Joel,” you repeat his name and he comes back to you if only briefly, watching your loving grin with a deep ache in his chest. He hasn’t felt this kind of ache since Sarah’s mother, a tell-tale sign that you are the real thing for him, that he built this house so you can fill it up with love and life. 

Life. It seems almost bordering on insanity to be thinking about children at his age in a world so broken but your eyes sparkle in the town square where mothers carry their babies in wraps while trading cartons of strawberries. You deserve to nurture someone other than him because your soul has so much to give. 

“If you’re not going to do anything but overthink,” you hum teasingly when time has passed and Joel feels embarrassed for having been lost to his own inner world. His thumb presses into the curve of your Achilles heel, tugging your body closer to himself by wrapping your leg around his waist instead.

“You’re the only person who talks to me like that,” he chuckles softly while his cheeks are slightly crimson. 

“It’s good for you,” you shoot back him and it is the truth.

“Was just thinking ‘bout how you do so much that I don’t deserve,” he says with his eyes roaming over your face and chest for a place to kiss. He chooses the column of your throat, “Cooking, cleaning… Lovin’ a man like me.”

“It’s not about deserving,” you muse and sigh at his stubble on your skin, “Do you want me?”

What kind of question is that? He wants you so much that it sometimes feels like it would be easier to live in your veins, to replace his tired and aching bones with yours if it meant never being without you. He sounds psychotic, sounds like something that he read in the string of horror novels he has gathered by now because they feel oddly comforting when there’s something worse on the other side of the gates. 

“Forever,” he replies simply. He would rather die than not have you.

“Not too much to ask for if you ask me,” you reach to cup his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones until he closes his eyes at the feel, and then pull him to your lips. You kiss him gently for a moment but with how much Joel wants you, he quickly lets it drift into something else, something more. He kisses you with all that want in his body, needs it to stop prickling underneath his skin. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He murmurs against your mouth, checking in, the question heavy with care for you. 

“No,” you whisper back into another kiss, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, “I was waiting for you.”

“What if, after this, I take you down to the market?” Joel starts descending his lips on your body. He mouths over the mound of your breast, nipping at your sensitive nipple as it strains against the fabric of your top in its arousal, “Could get you fresh strawberries. Or blueberries we could throw in pancakes.”

You let out a soft moan that’s mixed with a breathy laugh, “I’m ovulating.”

“What?” Joel’s voice has gone scratchy. He stills his touch, moving to look up at your face to see what emotion is playing on your features. He didn’t even know you were keeping track. At first, he doesn’t understand your point but you’re quick to let him in.

“There’ll be babies all over the town square,” you grin down at him, cheeks warm with playfulness as you glow, “Just saying.”

“Maybe one of ours one day?” Joel tests the waters.

“Yeah?” Your grin turns into one of unabashed glee.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it if we made a baby,” he answers quietly and moves his palm up under your top to lay it flat against your belly, “We could try. I mean, we’ve been dancing around it for months now, haven’t we?”

“Then don’t pull out,” the way you say those words, like honey dripping from your tongue, makes Joel swear under his breath and his cock jump. He watches the dizzying sight of you shimmying out of the lace underwear before spreading your legs to give room for him. Looking between your legs is like he’s been offered something holy by the devil himself, your slit already glistening and ready for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he smooths his hand down your belly to grab the hem of your top again, easing it up your body. You lift your arms over your head to help him get it off, the movement of your body making your tits shake. He moves backward on the bed, kissing his way down your sternum while squeezing your right breast. You arch slightly into the touch, taking it with a soft release of your breath.

Joel revels in you, revels in the fact that you have allowed him something that he hasn’t thought about in decades because the world did not allow it. He wonders if he’ll be a good father again after all these years of never letting himself think of being something to someone so tiny and fragile, dependent. Ellie had already been a mouthy teenager when he got her, and while she had relied on him, she had had one hell of a survival instinct and hadn’t needed any cradling. A newborn will be different; they will need parts of his being that he hasn’t touched since Sarah was handed to him in the hospital. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to cradle his newborn with hands that now only know how to pull a trigger. He doesn’t know if it is like riding a bike, that it will happen naturally the second he sees them, but he knows that he wants it. God, he wants it. 

“What are you doing?” You question when he is suddenly between your legs, his feet out over the edge of the bed, and it makes him stop dead. Maybe he should stop having these thoughts when he makes love to you. 

“What do you mean?” He asks as he is halfway down on the floor to get in position. He furrows his brows in confusion. 

“You do realize that this is not how babies are made, right?” You giggle in response, sweetly enough to make his cock twitch. Oh, that’s what you’re playing at.

“Ain’t it?” He smirks.

“No!” You snicker. 

“Then I guess I’m just doing this for fun,” he replies and swings your legs onto his shoulders. He yanks at your hips to pull you towards his mouth, “C’mere, you.”

You squeak with giggles and Joel’s heart dances to the sound. However, your laughter switches to a moan the second his mouth touches you and covers nearly the whole of you. He doesn’t need to think about it anymore, has learned what you like by now from the countless times he has eaten your pussy like it was his last meal on this godforsaken earth. 

“Shit,” you gasp towards the ceiling and cross your ankles on the broadness of his back. He swears that he can hear it in your voice how your eyes roll back when his tongue caresses you in soft strokes. You taste so good that he moans into you, lapping up every drop of sticky sweetness with his tongue. 

“I know, baby. I got you,” he pauses briefly to suck on two of his fingers to wet them, following it up by turning his hand toward the ceiling and then sinking the digits inside of you. He expertly presses them upward, curling them into the spot that immediately has your hips jolting. 

“There,” you tell him with a whine, twisting your hands in the freshly-made bed sheets with a curse that he doesn’t know if is directed at him or the stupid fitted sheets slipping from the corners again, “Joel— ah, don’t stop!”

You gasp as he rubs into that spot over and over again, pairing it with his mouth circling in on the place you need it the most. Your clit is hard and sensitive, perfect for wrapping his mouth around and sucking until his cheeks hollow. 

“Oh God… Oh God,” your pitch rises as he works you open on his hand. At some point, you lose yourself enough in it to start tightening your legs around his back and shoulders. It makes your pelvis lift off the mattress until your back is beautifully arched, makes your cunt press firmly into his mouth for any friction. He grabs your thigh with his free hand for leverage and groans softly into you, taking the reward of sinful pleasure shooting straight to his cock from the way you fuck yourself on his fingers and mouth. 

Outside, the heat can’t compete with the warmth coming off of your body. He can hear another gust of wind blowing through the wind chimes around the porch, mixing with the sound of the city waking up and coming to life. He could die right here, he thinks, between your beautiful thighs with skin that smells just faintly of your homemade lavender oil but right now mostly of sex. It wouldn’t be bad, hell, the whole town would say that he died doing what he loved. 

A hand tangles in his hair now. You have relented on the sheets in case you’ll rip them, and Joel takes each painful sting of his follicles with pride as you balance on the edge. He sinks his fingers deeper, works his mouth faster to get you to tip the scales and come so hard that the world fades away from the both of you. 

It happens a moment later. You hold your breath for just a few seconds, completely quiet as you concentrate while the anticipation within your body crackles like electricity he swears, he can feel. 

Then you cry out in relief, throwing your head back and squeezing your thighs around his head so the sound in his good ear blurs as well. He can feel your muscles clamp down on his fingers, near-arrogant pride swelling in his chest from how skilled he is in making you feel good. 

He keeps his mouth on you as long as you allow him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your sensitive and goddamn pretty clit until you protest with a whimper. When he draws back, he keeps fucking you through the aftershocks with his fingers and dares look up at you, heart beating out of his chest and his dick hard enough that it is aching. His fingers are wet with your come, making your cunt squelch in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Attagirl,” he breaks the silence with a praise in his easy southern drawl, letting his fingers slip out finally, “You liked that, huh?”

You hum approvingly in your afterglow and he can’t get close to you fast enough. He crawls up from the floor, grunting at the way his knees remind him of his age, and moves up on the bed. He slots between your legs again like he was made to fit there, kneeling between your thighs. You look soft and dazed, chest still heaving from your high. 

“I love you. Every damn inch of you,” he murmurs softly. He looks at your face, how you smile with your eyes closed and your nose is slightly scrunched up as the sun dances over your features through the window. You’re glowing. Simple as that, no other word for it, like you will when carrying his kid, and he should tell you that you’re the only peace he has ever found. He should say it to you but he cowers each time. It feels more weighted than telling you that he loves you. 

“I know,” you whisper back eventually, eyes blinking open and your hands reaching for his belt. The metal clinks as you undo the buckle, a smug little grin on your face. 

“Alright, Han Solo,” he rolls his eyes for show and then moves over you, the devil in his eyes. He wipes his slick chin and lips on your face, making you laugh in the way that is enhanced by dopamine. He bumps his nose into yours, “Think you’re funny, huh?”

“Little bit,” you smile and get the fly open. You reach inside and wrap your fist around him, the playful air in the room settling immediately when you stroke him lazily, “But I’m just trying to get you to take your clothes off.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans while you run your thumb over the slit of his dick, “You’re killing me. Gimme a sec of this.”

You give in and let him have this for a moment, stroking him with practiced flicks of your wrist until his hips start to rut so he can fuck your hand. He moans as he stares down between you, the muscles of his neck and shoulders wound so tight from trying not to come that it is a miracle his old bones haven’t snapped in half.

When you feel him near the edge, you squeeze around the base to halt his orgasm. You’ve started to breathe hard alongside him, clearly worked up by the sounds he is making for you. 

“Fuck me,” you beg him, your voice stutters as you frantically try using your free hand to yank his jeans down over his hips, “Please, Joel, I need you inside me.”

He thinks about how worked up you must be between your legs after holding out for so long. Knowing how wet you get from touching him like this, you must be soaked for him and ready to be taken care of like you deserve. It means that Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, already tugging his jeans and underwear just far down enough for what matters. 

However, despite the rush of getting undressed, he still takes the time to reach for one of the newly-fluffed pillows resting against the bed’s headboard. 

“Up,” he says without further explanation but you know what he wants to do, would probably trust him with your life even if he just gave you a look. When you lift your pelvis in the air without question, he slides the pillow underneath you so your hips are tilted just right for him to reach deep. 

Your legs are spread, your cunt practically served on a platter for him with how it is raised slightly in the air, squeezing around nothing as if begging for him. He looks down at your face as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, coating the very tip in a mix of precome and your shiny slick. 

You aren’t watching him though, too busy chewing on your bottom lip with your eyes glued to how the head of his cock sinks into your wet heat. When he starts stretching you with his thick girth, your mouth falls open in a soft moan. 

He places a hand just above your mound, holds you there while he bottoms out with a growl. Then he rocks his hips once then twice, setting up a pace that gives the both of you time to indulge in each other. You are snug around his dick as he fucks you, slick heat that makes his skin tingle and his breath stutter. The remnants of a southern gentleman in him know that he shouldn’t compare, but no other woman has ever made him unravel so much during sex, has ever made him feel so powerful and powerless in bed. 

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demands to regain some form of control, staring down at your face contorted with pleasure. 

“You,” you gasp feebly, “It’s yours.”

When he fucks you like this, you are his. He doesn’t need to second guess this fact, knows it just from the way your bodies are connected like they know it too. 

He reaches for your thighs, his knuckles going white as he lifts them onto his hips. You lock around him by instinct and force him forward, so he has to brace himself with a hand beside your head. The angle makes him go deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing at your cervix and your greedy cunt flutters like it wants to do the impossible and pull him further in. 

“Look at me,” he says in a voice that reveals just how good you feel to him, watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, “Say it like you mean it.”

You stare up into his eyes, your brows furrowed as the tip of his cock drags along the front of your walls. He is in there deep, focused on coming just where it matters. Meanwhile, you have to concentrate on forming words, needing to start over several times with how close you are to babbling.

“It’s– ah, fuck. It’s your pussy, Joel. I’m yours,” you cry for him, your pitch close to, but not quite, the one of a wounded animal. The difference is the lack of hesitation; you are both so sure of each other that it makes him ache all over and ignore the sweaty strain on his old back. 

Your hands scramble to touch him but you make a noise of complaint when his chest is covered by his shirt, the barrier a nuisance when you want all of him. He shed the flannel earlier along with his jacket, but right now, it is the soft fabric of his t-shirt that you’re pulling at to get to his skin. 

He dips down to let you pull it over his head, it slipping down his arm unceremoniously until he can grab it with his fist and toss it over his back. Your trembling hands find his skin immediately and it makes you sigh with relief. Your nails drag through the hairs on his chest, leaving red streaks in their wake until you grab the flesh of his sides. 

He sees how your eyes roam over his torso, where scars tell stories of a life much more complicated than this. You have loved each one of them so many times that he doesn’t feel insecure about them anymore, have traced them with your fingers and kissed them enough to get him to believe that he is more than the events that brought them. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly and settle a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him into your arms. He braces himself on his forearms, kisses you like he isn’t inside of you, and has missed you for a weeklong patrol, still taken aback when you say things like that. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your lips and you whimper as his cock pulses inside of your body. You look at him with fiery love and lust, the stare so intense he knows that this will be over soon because he can’t hold back anymore. 

His next thrusts are slower but rougher, harder and insistent in touching the parts inside you that make you barrel towards the edge. He can feel the difference between all the other times he’s been buried in your cunt to the hilt and this time. While the air is still thick with labored breaths and whispered cries for a higher power he doesn’t know if he believes, this is not just sex; this is about taking the very best parts of you and mixing them with the leftover parts of him that he has found aren’t fatally broken because of you. 

The sound of his name pulls him back to you. His pelvis has aligned with yours with each rock of his hips, the spot just above the base of his cock grinding into your twitching clit. 

“I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna come,“ you choke on air, “Please, Joel. Don’t stop, baby.”

“I know, honey,” he moans at the way you flutter around his length, voice cracking at how you feel better than a Texan summer. You’re so wet it sounds filthy when he fucks you, barely pulling out anymore and letting you soak his dick while he switches to simply grinding. For a moment, he is even scared that it’ll set him off before you’ve had your second fill, “Jesus, yeah, I can feel it.” 

Your orgasm hits like a runaway train. The hand resting on the back of his neck slides down to squeeze his shoulder, fingers denting his skin as you seek something to cling onto in your state of ecstasy. You come so hard that air is knocked out of him from how tightly your cunt grips him, his whole body shuddering like he’s the one losing it.

He presses a lingering kiss to your gorgeous neck while your head is thrown back, feeling the rapid beats of your heart under his lips. Your free hand cradles him like you’re meant to be a mother already, making it irresistible for him not to inhale your scent of lavender from the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.  

“You feel too good, baby, ’m not gonna last,” he grits out against your sweat-slicked skin, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

“Don’t want you to last, want you to put a baby in me. Gimme a baby, Joel,” you beg him and bury your nose in his temple. You squeeze him tighter in your arms, whining from oversensitivity as his thrusts start to intensify toward the end, “Wanna make you a daddy, baby, please, I’m ready.”

Daddy. The word coming from your mouth makes Joel snap. He pushes his hips against yours and comes with a groan, the head of his cock flush against the very back of your cunt. In his life, he has witnessed wildfires and his climax spreads through his lower belly just as fast. His breath is stuck in his lungs as he fills you to the brim, his tongue wanting to say filth but only your name comes out. It’s good enough to make a grown man tremble without remorse in the embrace of his woman. 

After a beat, his body sags from exhaustion. When you let go of his shoulder to run your hand over your hair, your nails have created little crescent marks on his body. He grunts as he rolls off of you in fear of crushing you underneath his weight. You whimper at the loss, a few heavy drops of his seed landing on the pillow still beneath your hips. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs as a haze settles over the both of you, the sweat on his skin turning slightly chilly. He holds his arm out to invite you into the space that always holds you perfectly and you oblige without a word. He’d lay here forever with you if he had to, would embrace being trapped here with you until they had to send out a search party. 

He is still breathing hard when you lay your head on his chest, draping your arm across his body whose stamina isn’t what it used to be. You don’t comment on it though, simply hold him while the sheets get dirty again from the mess between your thighs. While the world fades away around you, Joel decides that he’ll help you do the extra load of laundry. 

Without thinking, his fingers absentmindedly start tracing up and down your forearm in a soothing motion. You swing a tired leg over his body in response, attempting to get impossibly closer despite already practically melting together with him in the post-orgasmic heat you share. 

Outside, a young child shrieks with excited laughter and Joel nearly tears up from how new the sound seems even though it is a daily occurrence in the little town. He must know if you feel the same. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks and breaks the quiet, still caressing your arm gently. 

“Just thinking,” you reply and splay your hand on his chest, brushing your thumb over his nipple without thinking. You kiss him where you can reach. 

“About?” He pushes, looking down at the top of your head as if he can read your emotions like that. You probably could with him. 

You crane your neck to stare at him with a little tired smile, “Babies. You. How much I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” he answers smugly, arching an eyebrow with a smile. He thinks another confession of his devotion might set his chest alight and right now, you don’t deserve to have his guilt winning.

“You asshole,” you dissolve into a burst of laughter while his smile turns wolfish, your body curling in on itself on top of his chest. He loves your laugh, the way you nearly snort and feel embarrassed by it. It makes him settle a hand on the base of your skull and drag you into the sort of kiss from a person who’s learning to trust joy again.

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[luna-loveboop]

Four days left :D

HI

SO, I'm doing three of these for Time, what his physical age is, what his mental age is, and how big the gap between is. Posted yesterday, today, and tomorrow- I'll put the links (lol links) in below. I wanna know what y'all think!

Quick refresh, there's a longer explanation below-the Hero of Time's mental age is more than his physical age by the time it took for him to complete his journeys. Due to time travel, he ended both Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask in the same body as when he started.

Evidence so far in Lu on Time's age:

-he is the oldest

-his mental age is different than his physical age-his mental age is MORE THAN his physical age. The difference is determined by how long his adventures were. This is because he time traveled- adding years to his memory and life lived, but ended up in his original child body by the end.

-He had to 'grow up again' with years of life from his journeys not shown in his physical age, hence the difference.

-Jojo put him as 'an older adult age' because in his games he was a child, teen, then child again, then more child while not changing from child, then we next saw him as the hero's shade, which is a skeleton ghost thingy, aka really old.

-the boys take bets on his age and apparently think he's 60 (making 60 an essential option in the polls)

-idk if you caught in there- from 'Malon 2', Epona was specified to be an older adult horse in Lu, having lived with Time from a fairly young horsie in Majora's Mask. So for numbers, this factors into his age because the time since his journey is comparable to Epona's. For reference horses live to 30 years on average.

Aaand I will be copy and pasting the explanation on his poll posts, sorry, I don't want to write this out every time.

-this does not account for his 7 year sleep at the beginning of Ocarina of Time. His sleep did not have an effect on his current bodies physical age, nor his mental age. For his total time with years he has lived (outside of this poll), that would add seven years.

All the art and words are from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :D

And yes, the intervals for age options are indeed random, I got tired trying to figure out the number jumps ToT

<Time 1

Time 3>

.

...here's a doodle from when I was taking a break on trying to figure out numbers for this (child?adult??)'s age-

:D

[somerandomdudelmao]

Part 2 :l

Oh no he was so traumatized by the terrible experiments. He was so destroyed and frightened.

Okay but. What if he was happy? What if he came out of the horrible lab joyful and calm and positive. What then?

Previous Next

Masterpost

[clockwayswrites]

Birb in the arms. Part 24

Masterpost, CW: mention of blood, dissociation, panic attack

“I liked this sweater,” Danny bemoaned softly as he watched Alfred’s startlingly sharp scissors slice through the knit.

Alfred hummed sympathetically, but didn’t stop in his butchery of Danny’s clothing. “A lost cause from the blood if not the wings.”

“Right.” Danny tightened his hands around the mug of tea he had been presented with shortly after he’d been sat down at the kitchen island. He should drink it, he knew, but the adrenalin crash was hitting him hard right then and the warmth of the mug was comforting.

Danny held back a flinch as Alfred started on the dress shirt.

If the wings… stayed, Danny would have to figure out clothing to accommodate them. That would be a pain. He didn’t want a whole new wardrobe.

“Arms out now,” Alfred ordered.

Danny listened, mostly because it was easiest to, and the remains of his dissected clothing was pulled off and taken away. Danny hunched forward and returned his hands to the mug. Alfred started to methodically, but gently, to clean a away the blood.

“Fortunately, the skin seems remarkably well healed around the wings. Do you normally heal swiftly from their emergence?”

Normally.

As if he normally had wings.

As if this was just a thing that happened to him.

But it was, wasn’t it? Or it was now. He just had wings. That was a thing.

This is what he was now.

More dead than alive.

Always dead.

There was a warm hand on his cheek.

He was much more warm now. The blanket wrapped around him might explain that. Or the hot water bottle that he was practically curled around. Or the person he was leaning against.

Whoever he was leaning on was talking.

The steady, calm flow of words rumbled under Danny’s other cheek.

He could fall asleep like this. He shouldn’t though, part of him thought. He should… shouldn’t he be doing something? He tried to pay attention to who was talking. There were more people in the room, Danny realized, but who he was resting against was doing most of the talking in a steady, rhythmic sort of way.

Danny knew he should be worried about where he was and what just happened, but he wasn’t.

He just snuggled closer to the warmth.

The voice paused, chuckled, and then asked something as the thumb swept soothingly across Danny’s cheekbone.

Danny made a little noise of question.

“Maybe not so with us, then,” the voice said.

Oh, it was Bruce.

The wings.

The attack.

The boys!

Danny jolted up. He didn’t get far with the arm wrapped around him, tucked carefully under his wings that struggled against the blanket.

“They’re safe. Damian and Tim are right here with us. You kept them safe.”

“Please do not injure yourself,” Damian said, voice a little soft, almost hesitant.

It was enough to still Danny.

“We’re okay. You just, um, had a bit of an episode in the kitchen,” Tim explained.

“You dissociated,” Bruce clarified. He had a book in the hand that was around Danny and he closed it quietly to set aside. He must have been reading to them. Bruce cleared his throat almost hesitantly. “We thought it best not to leave you on a cold kitchen floor.”

They were in a living room of some sort, Danny realized as he became more aware of everything around him. He was struggling to get his normally quick brain kicked into gear. Once again he was aware he should be worried about things, notably the fact he was apparently basically in Bruce Wayne’s lap, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be concerned right then.

“Much warmer,” Danny agreed, words a soft mumble. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone but yourself,” Damian said with a little scowl that made Danny smile. That only made Damian scowl harder. “Clearly you are not equipped to take care of yourself. You will stay here for a few days.”

“Damian,” Bruce said as a mild reprimand that didn’t mean much with the way his arm tightened ever so slightly around Danny.

Danny just chuckled and let himself close his eyes again. “I’m okay, chickadee. Just tired.”

“You were tired before the attack,” Tim pointed out over Damian’s indignant noise.

“Mhum.”

“Is… I mean,” Tim said in a start and stop. “I just think that’s why Damian is concerned.”

Danny chuckled softly. Obviously only Damian was concerned.

“This is not humorous, Fenton!” Damian snapped.

“Damian,” Bruce admonished back.

“It’s okay, know he’s just worried,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. With quite a struggle and Bruce’s bracing hands, Danny got himself sitting up and facing the boys.

They occupied opposite ends of a sofa. Damian tucked into the corner with a vicious scowl on his face. Tim, on the other side, kept glance between Damian, Bruce, and Danny all while trying to look like he wasn’t looking.

“I was tired even before the attack,” Danny said. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. Bruce’s hand was still bracing him up between the wings. “There’s… a few weeks a go, there was an incident I ended up in the middle of. I was exposed to some of Ivy’s pollen and apparently that and who knows what else triggered a… change. In me. And my… meta status? Powers. State—in the state of what I am.”

Tim looked at Danny a little more directly as he asked. “Did you know before it? That you were a meta?”

“Lab accident when I was fourteen,” Danny said with a wry smile. “I’ve known for a lot of years and while I won’t pretend that it was easy at the start, everything had settled into a balance. So, for things to change so drastically out of no where… I’ll be honest, I maybe have been struggling to cope with it some. It’s not that I find it funny or don’t recognize that it’s a concern, Damian, I just sometimes have to laugh about it.”

Damian assessed him with narrowed eyes. “The wings are new.”

“The wings are new,” Danny confirmed. “I’ve already spoken to my doctor about it, one that’s been looking after me since I was fourteen, and we have thoughts but not many answers. This…”

Danny sighed and looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers. The small feathers that had covered his hands were gone. The talons back to nails (though maybe still a little sharper than they should be). The wings were still heavy on his back.

“There’s a lot of unknown in this,” Danny said, “and that can be scary. I didn’t think that I’d have any more changes to deal with, not at this age. When it was first triggered… the transformation was fully into a bird but giant. I’m really, really hoping that was an outlier. We think it was but…”

“None of this will change your place at work,” Bruce assured Danny. “W.E. is firm in its support of meta.”

“And we aren’t scared of you,” Tim added quickly. “We have meta friends. I mean, I can’t say I won’t have questions like how functional are the wings or stuff, but, um, that’s just how I am.”

Danny chuckled lightly. “I get that. And I once things are a little more… stable we can answer some of those. Right now I’m just trying to manage.”

“Then you will stay here,” Damian insisted.

“Damian…”

“It is easier to manage troubles if you are not alone,” Damian continued, “or so my family is always trying to convince me.”

“It would be easier if you didn’t have to worry about cooking or things, wouldn’t it?” Tim added with a set of puppy dog eyes that Danny was sure got Tim everything he wanted when he was little.

Danny smiled softly at the boys. “I don’t want be a burden or bother to you all. This isn’t your issue.”

“Tch,” Damian sniffed. “We were not your issue today, but you still protected us and in doing so caused this episode. Us providing you a space to heal is the least we could do.”

“Damian is right,” Bruce said, finally adding his thoughts to the argument. “We owe you so much more than that, and having you around would not be a burden or a bother. Take at least tomorrow off and plan to stay through Sunday. You can see how you feel then. And besides, the rest of the children come over through the weekend. They would pout if they missed you.”

“Grayson’s pout is rather unbecoming,” Damian agreed with such a somber air that Danny knew he was going to say yes eventually.

“Alright… thank you, I’ll say for a few days. I will need some things from my place though.

“Oh, make a list,” Tim said, pulling out his phone to type away on. “Jason can grab them on his way in. He’s really good at picking locks.”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed wearily, but with a deep fondness under the sound.

Danny just found himself laughing again. What a family this was.

[otaku553]

Good company in a moment of calm

(Spade Pirate Sabo AU Masterpost)

Here are some extra thoughts on the making of this comic! This one is meant to sort of flesh out their pre-reveal dynamic a tiny bit :)

There’s some amount of Sabo that is still kind of terrified of fire for reasons he doesn’t know (because amnesia) but Ace is also fire, and it’s comforting and warm in a way that he’s not used to fire being. While the beginning of the comic is practically drowning in blues and cool moonlight, as sabo’s attempt to distract himself from the fires in his dreams, the later half is meant to take a warmer tone with Ace’s arrival, accompanied by the sunrise.

I think that Sabo is a bit hesitant to lower his guard around Ace because he keeps getting dreams (vague snippets of memories that he thinks are dreams) about someone similar to Ace as a child and after Knowing that he has trauma from whatever happened to his past he’s not sure he wants to dig it up if there’s the slightest bit that it could ruin his current relationship with his captain. That and his association with fire.

The next comic I have planned is the first meeting between Sabo and Ace, so the comics are going to jump around a fair bit!

Altogether this took about 10 hours so I definitely need to figure out a way to simplify the comic process lmao

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: Messages from your future spouse

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on things your future spouse wants you to know. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel > FREE READING [NEW]

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

I'll protect you whenever you need it. I'll teach you to love yourself, I'll teach you confidence, and whatever problem you may be facing, will be facing, I'll help you get through it, you'll never be alone again.

You're beautiful, you're absolutely beautiful, please don't say those things about yourself, please don't think those things about yourself. Don't compare yourself to others, it's not good for you. Everyone is unique, yet everyone is beautiful. If you want to find love and beauty look at yourself in the mirror.

I'll be there, every step of the way, and when you know what you want to do in life I'll be standing next to you to support you and help you. Whatever you want to succeed at, you'll be able to do so.

Pile 2:

I'll share. I'll share my happiness, my wealth, my connections, my family. I'll share it all with you, because you are just as deserving of such an accepting and comfortable situation as I am. You don't need to worry about all those things that hurt you in the past anymore, I'll make sure they won't ever harm you again, we'll find you proper help if that's what you think you'll need.

You'll be able to take a hold of your own life again, and figure out what you want, you, not anyone else, you. You'll be able to understand yourself, control yourself, and thrive on yourself, and I'll love that about you, that independent need to thrive and show itself from time to time.

You'll love my family, I have a few sisters myself and they can't wait to share all their stories with you, and do things with you; go shopping, go swimming, go to restaurants, etc.

Pile 3:

I can't wait to see you improve on the things you love[for some art related]. I love to see you enjoy your hobby like that, I love to see you enjoy life in general like that. Whenever I see you smile my day is made, my heart is calm and I'll admire you from afar, hoping you won't notice me watching.

The self-improvement you'll make will be impeccable. You'll grow so much confidence, do things you would originally be too scared to do. You'll actually be able to unpop yourself, and I can't wait to see you turn into the beautiful butterfly that you are, I can't wait until you realize how much of a beautiful butterfly you are.

You'll have so much joy and need to experience new things, to go on adventures, to live, and I'll do so with you, I'll walk all ways with you.

I can't wait to do our nightly walks with our dog, to look at the stars and point out what the patterns might look like. I can't wait to see the shimmer of the moon in your eyes, and to get completely lost in them, I can't wait for that life.

[thatdruidgal]

Favorite Recipes

Witchcraft Recipe Book Masterpost

Here are all of my favorite witchy recipes compiled from all corners of Tumblr 🤗

Drinks

magick hot cocoa — @leodrune

heal your heart tea — @dumbass-mothcraft

energy boost tea — @mercurys-daughter

energizing tea — @witchy-studies

headache relief — @themanicnami

cleansing potion — @themanicnami

calm and happy tea — @the-starlight-witches

quincy's golden milk tea — @this-possum-cries

new years manifestation tea blend — @infernalwitxhcraft

dandelion dreams tea — @little-witchys-garden

healing apple cider [upg] — @thatdruidgal

samhain cider — @starsofdarknebula

samhain tea — @starsofdarknebula

good night lavender tea — @thecactuswitch

yule spell in a mug — @fairy-magick

Foods

lughnasadh herb bread -- outside source

litha orange honey cake -- @gardenfoxywitch

rosemary-honey shortbread -- outside source

enchanting flower and herb spread -- outside source

lavender earl grey cookies -- @coinandcandle

cozy butternut squash winter soup -- @kitchenwitchtingss

homemade butter thins crackers -- outside source

fire cider chutney soup [upg] -- @thatdruidgal

Remedies

fire cider -- outside source

four thieves vinegar -- outside source

Infusions

herb-infused oil -- outside source

rose oil -- outside source

pine needle spray -- outside source

cleansing spray -- @tears-of-amber

florida water cologne -- outside source

Misc

incense -- @magnoliawitchcraft

autumn incense -- outside source

cleansing salt — @theaetherwitch

Original post here

Like what you see? Consider supporting me! ko-fi.com/thatdruidgal

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Part V

"I need to know that you are okay."

"There is nothing I appreciate more than your comfort."

"You're an angel. You truly are."

"I will always be right here."

"There is no problem we can't fix."

"I know it hurts right now."

"Please, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

"I'm right here, I won't leave you."

"Give me your hand. You're safe with me."

"Don't worry about anything now."

"The hurt is just temporary."

"I'm here now, so just let go."

"Please, I need you to calm down."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here."

"I will make it alright. I promise."

Hurt/Comfort Masterpost

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[fishnapple]

What attractive about you

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

AVENTURINE 

You have an emotional intensity that can elicit fear and awe at the same time. Some people might be too intimidated by you, not because you're loud and aggressive, but they're intimidated by the emotional storms that are brewing in you, yet you appear utterly calm, like the eye of the storm. They would wonder what it would be like to get dragged into it, to be swept off their feet. Your bravery and serenity are like wings that let you soar high or plunge down to any depth. You are a dichotomy of light and darkness. Like a solar eclipse or bright starry night.

I think you have a certain inclination or feel a pull towards the painful and ugly sides of humans. You want to stare them in the eyes, crush them, rise above them, conquer them. It's very daring and methodological at the same time. People would feel that they can be an utter mess in front of you, you won't shoo away the ugliness of their heart, but you hold it in your hands and transform it. They know that you're not invincible, that you have wounds just like everybody else. But you always look up, beyond any prison that humans subject themselves to. Many people would have their lives changed by you, just by being in your life.

But you're not just intensity alone, you also carry lightness. You can be cut throat and ruthless in one setting, but generous and merry in another. Your mind is full of magical stories, fairy tales that span far into the future. You keep your daydreams to yourself and only reveal them at the most unexpected moment. Render every witness speechless and in awe. That rare moment of tenderness will haunt people's minds, making them seek for more. Your silence acts as a backdrop for the twinkle in your eyes. Your apparent simplicity in the way of life is the sign of devotion to only things that are meaningful. 

ROSE QUARTZ 

This might sound weird but it's your nervous energy, when you're worried or anxious about something, when you're being fussy. This seems oddly adorable or cute to some people. You might be a worrywart, who tends to speak a little faster when you're nervous. This rouses the desire to calm you down in other people. 

Your calm state is also very attractive because you're being present, you know how to enjoy the small things, to appreciate the sensory pleasure of the five senses. When you're worried, you can forget about this energy for a while, but once you've calmed down and regained your serenity, you're very soothing. Like a lake regaining its smooth shining surface after being disturbed by the rain. With your appreciation for the five senses, you have a talent for handcrafts, anything that requires the skills of hands and good eyes for aesthetics. When you're set about organising something, you do it with great efficiency and tact that one can't help but exclaim 'flawless'. Maybe that's why you're prone to nervousness, because you're such a perfectionist and people around you love that energy so much.

When you speak, you deliver a message, not empty words that can be ignored. When you're passionate about something, you can be very fluent and persuasive, like a wise teacher. The things you choose to pursue might seem too daring or shocking to some, but you're steadfast in your track and unknowingly get a few followers along the way.

RED JASPER

Right away, people can see your ambitions, to go far in life. This group is quite masculine in energy, very lively and energetic. A lot of people would find you very attractive when you assert your will, when you go after what you want without any fear or reservation, like a warrior, a pioneer. But you're no fool, you don't charge forward blindly, there's strategy in your moves, like a hunter. When it translates to romantic situations, they wonder what it would be like to be pursued by you, to be the target of your desire. Only the brave can rise up to meet your challenge. So I think you also attract masculine people. Those who are equally strong and ambitious. 

You're also very attractive when you're protecting something or someone. When you show your compassionate side, for a cause, a greater goal. You show your support by concrete actions that get results, not just comforting gestures. You have a fierce love for the underdog, the weak, the unfortunate. 

Your vision of a better world can be your greatest motivator. You live your life with idealistic visions, but you don't just dream, you also do. Your appeal is the power you wield, over yourself and your surroundings. You're willing to work hard, as long as you deem it necessary. Maybe you're a touch workaholic, but you work towards a goal, not just a mindless grind. The sense of direction is very clear. If you believe in past lives, you can say that in the past, you were a soft, passive person who relied on others for support. But in this present, you're your own power, your own supporter. This independent energy is very attractive.

A little random thing, you might have a favourite comfort food that others find very endearing. It adds a touch of softness and joyful air to your otherwise strong energy.

TIGER'S EYE

You're the kind of person who people would want to have in any community. You can be a people magnet without realising it, without any conscious effort, maybe the only conscious effort that you have is to be yourself, to live life authentically. You attract people simply by being yourself. Your light is very visible, the natural confidence is vibrating through the air.

You're disciplined and responsible, but you're also gentle and kind. You're confident, but you also encourage the same attitude in people. People can feel that you would make a good parent, a good friend, a good neighbour. You're caring and want to protect and help people, but you do it with practicality. You don't just offer empty words, you back them up with actions. Being with you is both safe and inspiring. You inspire others to take more care of themselves, to stand up for themselves, you help people become more independent and come into their own powers. All these just through you chasing your own path. You have a strong sense of purpose, the person you believe in the most is yourself, and that makes people want to believe in you too, even when you haven't achieved your dreams yet. 

Talking with you is never boring. You can tell the most silly jokes, you can recount the most bizarre adventures, you can recite the most romantic poem or muse some really intense thoughts that surprise people. But you're also an avid listener, you listen with intensity, with childlike curiosity, you can even weep along the story, feel the pain and happiness behind every word. You make people feel heard and give them the compassion that is rare to find.