#hes in my head aaaugh

[urpersonalpublicgalaxy]

hrrnfhhhfgffhhr he's on my mind again

rough doodle of the gay. trying smthn new

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also was revisiting a little bmc bway interview ft. william last night & him saying his favorite part of the show was probably doing the agtikbi reprise scene on the couch at the party & mentioning the Nonverbal aspect of jeremy & christine's interacting / communicating there & a way of exploring/depicting Love & Affection in a way you don't always see everywhere and like aaaarghhhhh so true good lord that specific scene. and Again the bway obcr version Existing and being like that, it's just like. winded exhale yeah obsessed 5ever thank you all

[sanchoyo]

my dog turned 14 the other day!!! 14 years old in human years... I've had him since he was a pubby and hes 14... woaw....🥺

[brighttears]

The Mirror

Joel Miller x f!reader, Found Family Joel x Ellie

Summary: In Jackson, Joel and Ellie have settled down, and you’ve joined their little family. You and Ellie have bonded over poking fun at him, having no idea how much you’re really hurting his already wounded self esteem. Tommy and Maria step in, and eventually, he finds the courage to speak up for himself. 

Word count: 10k

Warnings: implied age gap, angst, mentions of Sarah, very sad Joel hates himself, is made fun of for his age and briefly weight, Ellie and you are pretty mean, brief pissed off Joel, Joel cries. Happy ending!!!

A/n: hello from my official first story back, finally finishes this request i started before i dipped out for a bit. Worked very closely with them, @anotherpedrolover to get it just right :3 This is less of an x reader and more of just playing around with Joel and his relationships, which has been super fun. Hope you guys like ~8k words of our favorite poor little meow meow suffering teehee

—

It’s become a ritual for the three of you to sit in the living room many evenings, starting with you and Joel encouraging Ellie to read more, followed by a speech by her on hypocrisy and fairness, whereafter the two of you gave in just to calm her down. It’s quite nice, though, sitting around and reading silently. 

You were the one to suggest it, once you felt like you did have room to suggest things, a few months into moving in with the two, having met them nearly a year beforehand here in Jackson. Ellie met you first, then almost literally pulled him to meet you. 

Neither he or Ellie had been that social, keeping mostly to themselves, Tommy and Maria being the only exceptions. You were different, though, that’s what Ellie said, and that’s what Joel came to see, too. He’s not exactly sure what to call that thing, the thing at your core that pulled him in. But it doesn’t matter much, because now you’re here, and he’s never loved a woman as much as he loves you.

As he glances up at you, leg hanging over the side of your chair opposite him, face focused on your book, he can’t help but smile at the spark of warmth he gets at the sight. 

Naturally, Ellie has her legs stretched out over Joel’s lap, him resting his book over them as he sits on the couch. 

She didn’t start being this affectionate until a few months into Jackson. Not all that gradually either, the first few bear hugs genuinely shocking him, but he couldn’t be more pleased with the development. He’s had to get used to affection again himself, coming both from Ellie and you. Now that you live together, he finds himself entwined with you, in one way or another, every single night, and he has found himself indulging more than he has in anything in ages. Nowadays, he eats every touch up like a stray dog. Things like this, Ellie’s lazy legs over his, makes him feel like a father again. Things like twin idling hands over every part of each other you can reach makes him feel like a husband. Nights like these, all gathered in the living room, makes it feel like you’re a family. 

However, his bladder refuses to let him soak up the moment anymore, so he breaks the peaceful silence, sliding Ellie’s legs off of his lap, “Alright, kiddo, I gotta interrupt ya for a minute.” As he gets to his feet, Joel groans automatically, nearly limping on a stiff knee for a moment as he turns around the couch and towards the hallway.

Watching him walk away, Ellie pouts, before a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Look, look, I’m Joel.” Once she sees him looking at her, she groans, dramatically loud, pushing herself out of her seat slowly, then proceeding to walk even slower, one heavy foot at a time with her back curved and an imaginary cane in her hand. “Aauuh, my back, my knees, aaaugh,” she says with a gravelly voice, face twisted down. Immediately, you’re guffawing. Joel shakes his head as he watches, then looks down to pinch the bridge of his nose with a hint of a smile on his face. Though the impression is pretty funny, he doesn’t love the fact that it’s supposed to be of him. 

“I’m 58, not 80, asswipe.”

“Come oooon,” she laughs, “that was spot on.”

“You do groan like you just got punched in the gut every time you get up.” You chuckle. 

Despite how much he loves the sight, looking at the way you and Ellie grin and laugh with each other suddenly hits a chord in Joel. You’re laughing with each other, at him. It feels like neither of you give a damn about him in this situation at all. He’s just something to make fun. And, is that really how you see him? Senile? 

Joel shakes it off, making himself chuckle, not wanting to ruin the fun, labeling himself as overly sensitive. “Can’t even take a piss in peace.” He mumbles as he turns and walks away, leaving you and Ellie in giggles behind him. 

In the bathroom, he stares at his reflection. Gray, wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes, littered in scars. He guesses it really is the best thing, for you all to be in Jackson, because he doesn't have many more years left out there on the road. He’s lucky he hasn’t gotten himself or Ellie killed, god knows there were more than a few close calls, like when she had to shoot that kid, or had to nurse him back to health when he didn’t see that last guy coming at the university and got himself impaled. He’s too old for that. He’s too old. 

You’re much younger. It confuses him often, why’d you want to be with an old man like him, but he has decided to take what he can get at this point. You haven’t left yet, so he’ll enjoy it while he can. But how many years does he have left of that, if you do stay? With you and Ellie? 

He can barely recognize himself. When did he get this old? His joints ache in changing weather. He has to put significantly more effort into getting up, and yeah, he does groan like he just got punched whenever he does. One day, if he even gets that far, he will need a cane. He won’t even be able to go on patrols. In just a few years, he’ll be useless. He won’t be able to keep anyone safe at all. Hell, he’s probably at this point now. Slow and deaf and weak. 

At least Ellie will have you. But… eventually, you’ll have to take care of him, too.

It all becomes too much. He looks down, and turns the light off. 

—

Tonight is game night at Tommy and Maria’s, the game of choice being Monopoly, both Ellie’s favorite and least favorite, depending on whether or not she wins, though you’re all pretty competitive. She’s in the lead tonight, standing over the table to aggressively shake the dice, then, when they land in her favor, pretty much ending the game, throwing her hands up in victory with a very loud succession of yes’s. Joel, who had been right on her tail, throws his hands up with a dramatic “Aaawww,” a smile under his mock disappointment. 

“Another loss for Joel,” Ellie tells him, smiling, then bows, “thanks to yours truly.”

“That was the luck of the dice, Ellie.” Joel points out, leaning back in his chair. 

“No, that was me beating your ass. You can’t keep up with me, old man.” She smiles, throwing up more air punches. Everyone’s laughing, and Joel tries his best to, but there’s that line he hates. Tommy, however, can't miss the look under his brother's half hearted chuckle. 

“Hey, Joel, help me get some wood for the fire.” Tommy cocks his head to the back door, and the two leave you, Maria, and Ellie inside to chat and put the game back away. 

They start at the woodpile, taking a few logs to the back porch, but at the door, Tommy pauses, setting his small stack down. “Hey, Joel.” Joel places his logs down, then straightens to look at him. Tommy purses his lips, pausing. “Looks like they’re gettin’ along pretty well.”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down with a light smile. “Sure are.” 

“They sure do like to take the mick out on ya.” Joel tries to hide behind a chuckle, but Tommy sees through him like a pane of glass. “Doesn’t seem like you’re havin’ as much fun with it as they are, though.”

“Ah,” Joel waves his hand dismissively, still trying to smile, “it’s all in good fun. I don’t mind.”

Tommy sighs, stepping forward to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, making him look at him. He draws his brows together, keeping his voice quiet, “You can be honest with me, Joel. I know it’s botherin’ you.”

Joel looks down at his feet. “You’re right I mean, I don’t love their fun bein’ at my expense, but… if they’re havin’ fun and gettin’ along, who am I to stop them?”

“Nah, Joel. It shouldn't be like that. You gotta set up some boundaries or somethin’.”

Joel shakes his head. “It’s no big deal. As long as they’re happy, I don’t care.”

Tommy sighs. “Yeah, well, I care, and I know they do, too. I know it’s hurtin’ you, and I know they would stop doin’ it they knew.”

Joel raises his gaze to look at his brother with genuine eyes. “If they’re happy, I’m happy.”

Pursing his lips, Tommy shakes his head. “You don’t look very happy.”

Brushing it off, Joel chuckles, looking down at his feet again. “Well, I’ll work on that, then.”

Tommy's expression remains the same, almost pleading. Quietly, he urges, “You should tell them, Joel.”

After a moment, Joel replies quietly, “Yeah, yeah.” 

Knowing full well that he won’t, Tommy sighs. After a pause, he sighs again, then picks the logs back up and goes back into the house. 

Joel keeps his gaze on the ground, considering his brother’s words. He imagines the conversation, the hurt and disappointment on the face of two of his favorite people, the shame he’d feel, and the resulting quiet in the house. 

Tommy has talked to him about his bad habit of putting himself last, but he has yet to understand why that’s a problem, why he would deserve it being any other way. 

Though he tries to keep it out of his mind, he thinks about it every day, how he lied to Ellie after Salt Lake City. Sometimes, when he looks at her, that’s all he sees, and he sees the same thing in the mirror. He betrayed her. And he can’t find a way to tell her. So, doesn’t he owe her his own suffering? He can repent without telling her by letting her be as mean as she wants, even though he knows she doesn’t mean to be. It's better than how she would treat him if she knew what he did. 

He feels so disconnected from her already, but he can’t stand to lose her. That’s why he did what he did in the first place, both the killing and the lying. He just can’t. 

He deserves this. He’s a liar, he's weak, he's old, he’s not fun like he used to be. He can’t keep up. So, why should he say anything? What makes him deserve to stand up for himself? Why would he deserve any respect at all? 

He just can’t lose her. Or you. Even if this is how it is from now on, being made fun of, it’s better than nothing. 

Joel takes a deep breath, picks up the thick, heavy logs, and walks back through the door, wiping the sour look on his face as he enters back into the sound of banter and laughter. 

He does pretty well, his training of keeping himself hidden away with a composed mask paying off. Still, it’s on his mind. 

It’s impulsive, really, when he poses the question casually to Ellie, “You really think I can’t keep up with you? Gettin’ too old?”

“Pff,” Ellie chuckles, elbowing him. “Don’t get me wrong, you can hold your own, but look at those gray hairs. You could be my grandpa.” To Ellie, it’s funny, but Joel’s guts twist. He laughs it off. 

He slinks to your side then, sliding his arm around your waist. You offer a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek. He leans into it, but swallows hard. 

“Hey uh,” he tries with you, “Little Ellie said she thinks I could be her grandpa. Makin’ be feel like a manther.”

“Manther?” You crinkle your brow, a hint of a laugh on your lips.

“Yeah, you know,” he cocks his head, self conscious. “Like I’m uh, too old for you.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his cheeks. “I like the gray.” That’s all you say before turning back to the conversation. Though you lean into his side, it doesn’t make Joel feel any closer to you. 

He is an old man. And that’s about it. 

He doesn’t deserve either of you. He’s not enough.

He has no idea what he’s doing here. 

—

It’s a slow, quiet morning in Jackson, Joel still sleepy as he sips his coffee, sitting at the breakfast bar as you pour a cup of your own across from him in the kitchen. Despite the seeming dullness of them, mornings like these are one of Joel’s favorite things. Simply peaceful, no dreading the day, he’s allowed to be only half awake. With the love of his life to share it with, and Ellie to come join you whenever she decides to pull herself out of bed—because she’s allowed to take her time, now, too. Joel looks at you, standing with your back against the counter with a mug in your hand. There’s a light smile on your face, but you’re looking at the floor, which is curious, and then you wink, but he barely has time to register it before Ellie comes jumping up from the other side of the counter, yelling “BOO!” right in his face.

“Jesus fuck—” he yells on impulse, almost flinging coffee on himself as he lurches back in his seat, eyes wide, instantly completely awake. You and Ellie immediately erupt in laughter, Ellie leaning over the counter at him with a wide grin. “Jesus, Ellie.” He sighs deeply, closing his eyes and taking a breath as he leans back in his chair. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, old man.” Ellie giggles while you continue in your fit of laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel rolls his eyes, sighing again as he leans wearily over the counter, trying to catch his bearings and calm his pulse.

Still laughing, you and Ellie high five. “That was good,” you giggle at her, then look at him as he rubs his eyes, a faint smile still on his lips. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when the two of you are laughing like this. “You’re too easy, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.” He chuckles lightly, “So much for a peaceful morning. Christ, one of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack, Ellie.”

“Aw, you can handle it.” She replies, going around the bar to slap his shoulder, still grinning. “Besides, I know CPR.”

Joel looks at her, attitude in his voice when he asks, “Do you?” Because he knows full well that she does not know CPR.

“Yeah. It’s like that song, you know, the one that goes, being alive, being alive,”

“You mean stayin’ alive?”

“Yeah, whatever, that.”

“That’s a song, Ellie, not CPR. And you don’t even know the damn song.”

“Well… she knows CPR.” She points at you, “Right?”

You nod, an amused smile on your face, “Yes, I do.”

“Then you’ll be fiiiine.” Ellie slaps Joel’s shoulder again, and he gives her a look, brows raised.

“Well, I would prefer not to have to get CPR at all.”

“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten used to being boo’d by me by now.”

“Boo’d?” Joel scrunches his raised brows.

“Yeah, you know, BOO.”

Joel looks at her, hiding amusement with a mask of the fuck are you talking about. Then he shakes his head, going back to his coffee. “I swear to god, you two.” He mumbles into a sip, holding in a chuckle. 

“Aw, come on, you love it.” You say with a smile. He raises his eyebrows at you, answering flatly, “Sure I do.” Which only makes you and Ellie laugh more. 

With Ellie in the kitchen, the morning is no longer quiet, now filled with banter and conversation. Joel stays mostly quiet with his coffee, observing. He really was enjoying the peacefulness, and it takes a while for his pulse to calm, but what’s important is the two of you; you’re his favorite show. He loves nothing more than to see you two happy. And you fit each other very well—you can actually keep up with her. 

You’re his favorite person, and probably Ellie’s favorite, too. The two of you are thick as thieves, and have grown to love making fun out of him. But it’s good, it’s good that you’ve bonded over it. That’s what matters. Because you two are far more important than he is. 

—

Joel is exhausted tonight, though the patrol wasn’t too much. A few Infected at the tree line, not much more, but his sleep hasn’t been the best lately. It’s starting to get chilly again, and he has been looking forward to getting home to a warm house, and to hopefully catch Ellie before she goes to bed. 

When he enters the house, he can hear familiar, faint giggling from upstairs. He smiles at it, hanging his coat on its hook by the door before starting up the steps. The quiet chatter is coming from Ellie’s room, and his smile only grows as he pushes the door open with his knuckle. 

The two of you whip your heads to him, sitting cross legged on the floor. 

“What’re you two gigglin’ about?” He asks with a smirked smile. 

“Nothing.” Is Ellie’s immediate reply, a mischievous smile plastered on her face. 

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel’s heart falls, but he keeps it to himself. “I take it I won’t get to hear about this then, huh?” He tries to keep the smile on his lips, though his chest is starting to ache. 

“Yeah, it’s just between us girls, you know.” You smile like Ellie. 

“Oh. Ok.” He clears his throat, feet shifting out of the doorway. “I guess I’ll uh, leave you two to it then.” All you do is smile at him, a dismissal of his presence, and he backs out of the doorway and leaves for his bedroom. 

As he unties his boots, Joel’s heart gets heavier and heavier. He kicks them off, changes, and slides into bed, wanting the day to be over. But his mind won’t obey, keeping him from sleep once again. 

It used to be between him and Sarah. They’d have all kinds of late night talks, granted it wasn’t a school night. He knew everything, all the teachers she liked and didn’t, every crush, why the book she was assigned for homework was stupid. And he’d talk about work, everything that was going on, the deadlines that kept getting impossibly tighter, how the apprentices were doing. 

They’d talk about where they wanted to go on vacation, what colleges Sarah was daydreaming about despite her youth, whether or they should get a dog or a cat, what it would be like if Sarah’s mom was still around. 

Everything. 

On the road, he and Ellie would talk about plenty of stuff. They got close. He remembers when they were riding to where the Fireflies were supposed to be, before he got stabbed by that bat and almost died and then Silver Lake. And then how thought everything was solved right after, and how it wasn’t, and then Salt Lake City happened. 

It’s a completely different world. From 2003, from just a couple years ago.

Now, Ellie’s here, in this big community. She’s in school. Living in a house. About as normal as one can get these days. 

But it’s not like it was when he had another young girl living with him. He misses that. He misses Ellie. 

But at least she has you. 

But he wishes it was him. At least, partly, him. 

But it’s not. 

He closes his eyes. 

—

“Joel!” Ellie cries out, violently ripping Joel out of sleep, and he’s instantly on his feet. When he hears your voice crying his name out, too, every cell in his body is in a panic, almost falling as he races down the stairs. What could have happened? Have Infected broken through the gates? Is someone attacking you? Did one, or both of you, get injured? Is he about to lose one of you? This place is supposed to be safe! 

When he finally sees you, he’s befuddled. 

You’re both smiling in the kitchen, bacon searing in a pan next to one of scrambled eggs. 

“We made breakfast!” You announce, both of you giggling. 

Joel swallows, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Are y—is everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah, we just wanted to let you know that we made breakfast.”

Once the shock has worn off, anger bubbles up. He feels it register on his face, but tries his best to reel himself in, swallowing hard. You made him breakfast. You made breakfast for all three of you. That’s a very nice thing to do. All you were doing was waking him up. You weren’t trying to hurt him. You didn’t know how it would affect him, how it would nearly make his life flash before his eyes. That’s his problem, not yours. 

“Y—don’t—just, come wake me up next time.” He states, trying to keep a hold on his sternness. 

“Jeez,” Ellie raises her brows, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

Joel sighs through his nose, looking at you, but all you do is shrug with a smile. He swallows. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice. “Mornin’, just us.” Tommy calls out, he and his wife smiling back at a confused Joel when he opens the door. 

“I invited them for breakfast this morning, remember?” You say as you come up beside him, a hand instinctively rubbing his back. 

“Oh, I uh,” Joel glances between you and the couple at his door, “must’ve forgot. Come on in.”

“Forgetting a lot these days,” Ellie teases as she sets plates out on the table. Her tone is teasing, but Joel can’t help the tightening of his jaw at the reminder of his failures. When he flicks his eyes back up, he’s me with Tommy’s, and he knows he’s been caught red handed by the concern in them. He switches his gaze right back to the floor, making his way to a seat at the table. 

“Wow, look at this spread,” Maria comments, smoothing the cloth napkin under the silverware over her lap, a move that only makes Joel think again, what am I doing here? Cloth napkins alone are something that hadn’t crossed his mind in just about two decades. And despite Maria’s innocent move, paired with her eventual attempt to make him feel more welcome into the community, the resentment he feels for her hasn't quite let him go. So… civilized, so proper. Better than him.

“Well, make sure you serve yourself first, Joel likes to hog bacon.” Ellie returns as the five of you settle down at the table. 

“I do not,” he counters, tone mild, though slightly wounded. 

“Do to.” She raises her brows as she spoons eggs onto her plate, “You’re gonna need to get a bigger pair of pants soon, swear.”

To his dismay, you’re chuckling when he looks at you. And when he sees the obvious concern in his brother's eyes, he decides it might be best just to keep his head down. So, he hardly says anything at all, despite Tommy’s repeated attempts to bring him into the conversation. He’s busy arguing with himself in his head, still partly angry, but feeling guilty, too. He wants to be pissed. It was a rude awakening, but it was meant to be harmless. It makes him feel like he doesn’t belong here, like his head is still stuck out there outside of the walls. But he should still be on alert, nowhere is really safe, not even Jackson. What if you were hurt? What if something had happened? He needs to be ready. And you two were being reckless, calling wolf like that. But you were just trying to call him to breakfast. It was innocent. You’re both innocent. 

And then the fact that he forgot that Tommy and Maria were coming over this morning. He almost can’t believe himself. His mind, his sharpness, clarity, and memory, that he’d relied on for survival, is he losing it? Fucking senile. Fucking weak. Fucking stupid. Selfish, just by being here.

It goes around and around like that, and in the end, he can barely finish his food. Ellie’s earlier teasing doesn’t help, either. She’s right, he has gained some weight since arriving in Jackson, but who can blame him, after being close to starving so often? Well, Ellie can, apparently. 

But she means nothing by it, right? And you’re not laughing because you agree, right? 

“Hey,” Tommy startles him out of his spiral, cocking his head towards the kitchen when Joel looks up at him, “come help me with the dishes. Least we can do for these ladies making a whole meal for all of us.” 

Nodding, Joel gets up to help gather plates and follow his brother to the kitchen. Tommy stays quiet for a few moments as he wipes the plates that Joel washes, but he knows he’s in for a lecture sooner or later. 

“Joel.” He finally says, keeping his voice low with the help of the running faucet to keep the conversation quiet. “You gotta say something.”

“About what?” Joel mumbles, keeping his eyes focused on rinsing a soapy plate. He hears his brother sigh.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s fine, Tommy.” He nearly snaps back. 

His brother turns to him, “No, it ain’t.” When Joel doesn’t look up, he sighs again. “Look at me, Joel.” Finally he does. “It’s just not right.” Tommy shakes his head, tone both with genuine concern for his brother with a lilt of anger towards you and Ellie. When Joel notices it, he straightens, almost puffing out his chest. Holding himself back from shoving his finger in Tommy’s chest, he replies sternly, “Now don’t you go blaming them for my fuckin’... sensitivity—” 

“Stop, Joel.” Tommy takes a breath, taking the last clean plate from his hands and slowly drying it as he speaks. “It just hurts me. To see them treating you like that. And I know they don’t mean it like that, and I know that they don’t know. And that's why I’m tellin’ you, you have to speak up for yourself. Please, Joel, if not for your sake, then for mine, and for theirs.” He points his finger back towards the living room. 

Joel huffs, looking back down as the faucet runs over the clean plate. “I'll deal with it.” He says eventually. 

Tommy lets out his own huff, pausing. “Alright.” He replies quietly, pausing again before making his way back into the living room. After a moment of watching him go, Joel turns back to the sink, shutting off the tap and swiping up the towel to dry off his hands. “Can’t catch a fuckin’ break.” He mumbles to himself, thinking about what a wonderful way this is to start off his day.

—

This weekend, it’s the second Miller household’s turn to host game night, and after a very loud game of Uno, the five of you have settled down in the living room for a drink—except for Ellie, that is, who, like every time a bottle is opened around her, begged for a glass and rolled her eyes when she was told, no, you cannot have a glass of whiskey on the rocks. 

The brothers are stood chatting about the latest fixer upper with their elbows on the mantle while the girls are huddled up on the couch. 

“Figure we got about a month left.” Joel concludes, and Tommy nods in agreement, and then their attention is brought to a burst of giggles. It turns the corner of Joel’s lip up, and he inquires, “What so funny over there?” 

The giggles stop, and all three of your heads switch over to his question. 

“Private,” is all Ellie says, and you have to stifle a giggle. 

Having been told that twice now, Joel’s heart falls, but irritation quickly bubbles up. Flustered, his lip twitches, and he hardens his brow. 

“Ellie,” he starts, adjusting his arm on the mantle, voice sharp like the glass in his chest, “it’s rude to have a private conversation when we’re trying to all have family time here.”

“Jesus,” Ellie rolls his eyes, only piquing Joel further, “manners!”

“Manners—“ Joel starts, ready to set fire to the entire living room, wounded and now humiliated in front of his brother and his wife, but she interrupts him, “Yeah, manners, we’re over here trying to have a private conversation which you are interrupting. Goes both ways, old man. Don’t get all mad at me cause you’re still so un-domesticated.”

Her tone isn’t serious, but her words make him feel hollow. He shifts on his feet, torn between anger and shame, then glances at Tommy. His brows are upturned, his lips a thin line. Joel’s chest tightens, now frustrated and only further embarrassed at snapping. He hasn’t done that in a while. He’s trying. He’s trying to learn how to be calm. How to breathe. How to be polite. Keep his cool. 

But his lip twitches, and his mind goes blank. 

“Ellie, knock it off.” He nearly growls. Her eyes widen, brow raised. “Woah, there,” but then you cut in, softer voice almost pleading, “She’s just being a teenager, Joel.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what teenagers are like. Doesn’t mean we have to put up with the bullshit.” 

“Joel—” Tommy tries. Joel turns to him, face scrunched, “Don’t Joel, me, Tommy. Am I the only one gettin’ fed up with this shit?”

“What shit?” Ellie cuts back in, face scrunched just the same. 

Joel takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “The shit where you disrespect everyone who—” he pauses. Everyone who’s put their life on the line to put up with you, is what had tempted his tongue. Thank god his teeth had the instinct to bite his tongue when they did, because it would have been something that he didn’t mean, that he didn’t even believe. He glances around at every set of eyes turned to him, all looking like they’re bracing themselves. He falters, lets out a breath, then heads straight for the kitchen. “Fuckin’ bullshit.” Comes out under his breath.

Opening the fridge to set an ice cube that he doesn’t need into his near empty cup, he takes a breath, forcing it out through his nostrils. “The fuck is his problem?” He hears Ellie whisper from the other room, and that’s when the anger slips away to make room for the crushing guilt, and he finds himself unable to move, chest knotted and heavy.  

“Hey,” he hears quietly at his side, turning to see Maria leaning against the doorframe. 

Snapping back into reality, he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, knowing ignoring her is unacceptable. He’s just not in the fucking mood.

“Hey.” His voice comes out gruff. 

She comes around to his side, forcing him to turn with his back towards the living room. She glances back at it, then lowers her voice. “Tommy talked to me about—“

“Course he did.” Joel grumbles, closing his eyes and swiping his hand over his forehead.

“Yeah,” Maria cuts back in, tilting her head with sharp eyes. Then, she closes them, bowing her head for a moment before coming back up with a forced, calm expression, a strategy he envies deeply. “He did,” she begins again, “because he cares. Therefore, I care. Ellie was rude. And I apologize for that.” Joel closes his eyes and shakes his head, but as soon as his mouth starts to form a rebuff, she cuts him off again. “Can you just let me finish, Joel?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, lowering her tone. “She is the one who doesn’t have manners, she’s the one who has never lived in a civilized community. Not like this. Not like the world before. Because of that, she also doesn't understand boundaries. So,” she sighs, tilting her head again, “being in the position you are, it’s your responsibility to teach her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing because she never learned. You have. You’re a good man, and a strong man.” Joel is taken aback by her words, not expecting a compliment from her, especially not paired with the earnestness in her eyes. “You deserve kindness and respect. Not to say you need to discipline her, just… let her know. How you’re feeling. That she’s hurting you.”

Joel is so tired of saying he’s fine when he isn’t so many times in the last week that he decides to just keep his mouth shut for a moment. After a moment, he nods, staring down at the dregs of gold left in his glass. 

“Thank you.” He eventually mumbles. 

“You're welcome.” She returns with a tight lipped but genuine smile. Then, she pats his arm, and walks back to the living room, announcing, “Hate to be the one to say it, but it’s bedtime.”

As they bid their goodnights, Joel is almost absent, besides the feeling of tension in the air like static whenever Ellie nears him. 

In his head, there’s shame, first and foremost—for snapping at Ellie, to have a problem that Tommy had to talk to his wife about. For not seeing what Maria saw, too wrapped up in his head to see the bigger picture; by letting her down, again.

But there’s something on his mind, too. An idea of how to fix it. Having his head grabbed and forced to look through the lens of being responsible, not just a victim, flicks a switch in his head. The first occurrence of a drive to actually talk to her about it. Now, it’s for her. He can do that. Because he’ll do anything for her. 

—

The next night, Joel pauses in front of Ellie’s door, careful to stay out of the line of light coming from her bedside lamp. He raps his knuckles softly on the door, “Hey, you got a sec?”

“Yeah,” Ellie calls back, followed by the soft thwap of a closing book, “come in.” 

His steps are hesitant, almost awkward as he makes his way to the bed, permissed to sit when she brings her legs up to fold under her. 

“Listen, baby girl,” Joel starts, eyes on the floor as memories of talks with Sarah that always start with that very phrase. “I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Mhm?” She nods, innocence in her eyes that make his gaze land straight back on the floor. 

“We just… uh, boundaries.” He attempts at purpose in his voice. “You gotta understand, when, uh, y’know, you can’t just go around teasing people all the time.”

“I don’t tease everyone, I just tease y—“

“Yeah, I know. But you can’t make that a habit, alright? It can hurt people's feelings, sometimes.” 

This is the best Joel can do, unable to openly speak on how he feels, tell her that she’s hurt him. But Ellie won’t let him off that easily, her tone softening, sounding almost like she’s just a kid, which she is, but barely ever shows. “I hurt your feelings?” 

It comes out so small, fidgeting with her fraying sleeve, and that’s what he focuses his eyes on, afraid that if he meets hers, he’ll freeze at the sight. That he’ll see guilt. But he has a purpose. He can’t let himself trip. 

The words pauses and strains in his throat a couple times before he can manage them out. “Yeah, sometimes.”

There’s a pause. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I know kiddo, I,” he pauses to sigh as guilt washes through his chest, I deserve it ringing in his head, but then he thinks back to Maria’s words. Then, it hits him. Ellie also needs to learn how to speak up for herself. To know that when someone hurts her feelings, she should confront them—using her words instead of her fists—and that she shouldn’t feel sorry for doing so. “It’s alright, I know you’re not trying to be mean. And I—“ he stops himself again, fidgeting his fingers as he lets the shame pass through and out of him before he speaks again. “Sometimes, I…” he nods, like a nervous tick, eyes safely on the floor as he forces the admission. “I struggle. And I know you know that. And I’m sure it’s been hard on you, too, Jackson… it’s a big adjustment. Haven’t seen anything like this in a long, long time. Having all these people around—friendly people. Sit down meals with real portion sizes. And just… a home. And I love it, I do. But, uh, it’s just… I’m not used to… being… settled down. I’m used to runnin’. Used to fightin’. I startle easy, honey. And sure I shove food in me. And I am getting’ older… but…”

“Takes a lot to get to 58.”

He looks at her then, pausing, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“I know I’ve never actually said it, but… I respect you. Really.” She nods. 

After a long moment, processing and recovering from that unanticipated sentiment, Joel nods back. “Now, listen—“ he starts, leaning his elbows on his knees, “I’m not asking you to say yes sir no sir, just… cut me some slack, sometimes. Alright?” 

Pretending to think on it, Ellie rolls her eyes around the ceiling with a frown before looking back at him and nodding, a small smirk spreading across her face, making Joel’s lips tug up almost automatically. “I think I can manage that.” 

“Now look, I,” he waves his hand out, “I don’t want this to be, you know, like you can’t have fun, I like you talkin’ and messin’ around. Highlight of my day. Sometimes.” He shrugs lightly, getting a small chuckle out of her. “I just… would be nice to… be included.” He nods at her, chest tightening at the vulnerability. “Y’know?”

“Yeah. I get that. How about we just team up on your girlfriend?” She smirks. 

Joel shakes his head, chuckling. “Or maybe we’ll just team up on you.”

“Psh. As if you could cut through this thick skin of mine. Do you have any idea what kind of zoo FEDRA school was?” She laughs, brow raised. 

“And I’m sure you gave ‘em hell.”

“Well… towards the end, yeah.” 

“So you toughened up, huh? Weren’t born like this?”

“Well…” she shrugs. “Not really.” Ellie looks down, tracing spirals on her sheets. “I was real sensitive as a kid.” This makes Joel pause. He imagines her, younger, quiet, reserved, but not in a cagey way—soft. Soft enough to get picked on. He’s not quite sure what to say, but she breaks the silence. “So I get it. And I know it’s not… that bad, but… I don’t want you to think you’re anything less than my favorite person.” The edges of her lip tug up, peering up at him, and Joel’s heart aches, not in pain, but something else that he can’t quite put his finger on. For a moment, he’s frozen, but then he blinks, and retreats his gaze to the floor. “Well, that’s an honor.” He replies quietly. 

Ellie chuckles, even though it wasn’t a joke. “Well, you’re very welcome. Guess I shouldn’t call you old man anymore, so, what, just, Joel?” Her face twists up, making him chuckle at how unacceptable that seems to be. 

“Joel’s fine.” He smirks. 

“Ugh, that’s so boring. How about… cowboy? That’s not disrespectful, is it?”

Joel chuckles again, shaking his head. “No, I wouldn’t say so.” He smirks at her, “Kinda has a nice ring to it.”

“Right?” Ellie replies brightly, and the look on her face makes Joel feel like there was never anything wrong in the first place. He pauses on her smile, one rising to his lips at the sight. That’s my girl. 

After a moment of trying to memorize that smile, he sighs deeply, then pats her leg. “Alright, kiddo. Time for bed.”

“Yes, sir.” She replies, a smirk on her lips. He smirks back, rolling his eyes. 

A smile sticks to his lips as he walks back to his bedroom, relief flowing through him, and this time, after writing I love you on a sticky note to stick on your pillow, it’s not so hard to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. 

He did something, something a father does. He did right by her. Like he used to do right by Sarah. 

—

That relief didn’t even last to the morning. Instead, doubt ripped at him. Fear that he’d stepped too far, telling her that she’d hurt him. It’d been hard to meet her eyes all day, afraid to see guilt in them, but she was out and about all day anyway, avoiding him, he assumed. 

He can’t stand the thought of losing you or Ellie, but isn’t he starting to already, even if it’s just in his head? He doesn’t feel anywhere near as close to either of you as he once did. Though you still have good times together, though there’s still plenty of love, and you’re still all very much a family, he feels like he’s drifting farther and farther away from it. Like he’s starting to just be looking in through a window, putting on a mask.

More than anything, he wants to keep his family. Desperately, he wants the closeness, the unity, the love. The family. Not just the household, the family. 

He loves the two of you like he’s loved no one else, not quite like this. With the world the way it is, it’s a different breed of sacrifice than for the one he had before. And he needs the two of you to know that, how much he loves you. But he wants to feel loved, too.

With that last realization, something snaps inside Joel. 

I want to feel loved, too. He almost whispers the thought out loud, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as the tears slip out. Though he’s alone in his room, both you and Ellie are home, and he can’t let himself get caught crying. He sniffles and looks back up, staring into the dark of the night through the window, but it only reminds him of how alone he feels, fueling more tears. It almost startles him, and he shut his eyes quickly—he’s still not a cryer. He must not have realized just how much he was hurting until now, recognizing that he doesn’t feel nearly as loved as he loves. 

You deserve to feel loved, comes a ghostly voice in his head, and it sounds like Sarah, and then he sees her, peering up at him like he should know this, because there’s her face looking at him with those big brown eyes and that light smile and all the love in it, and he clenches his teeth and tightens his body, quieting his shaking sobs. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out with a hiccup. “Get your shit together.” And he does try, taking a deep breath and looking at the ceiling, but the tears keep coming, beading at his chin. 

Weakness. That’s what’s pouring from his eyes. He was weak, and that’s why Sarah died. He was weak, and that’s why Ellie ended up unconscious in that hospital in the first place. 

Too deaf and too slow. 

Even when he was two decades younger, he failed. 

All he does is let them down. 

And look at him now, crying, because he can’t, he can’t tell you the truth, because he’s a coward, and he’s weak. 

“Fuck,” heaves out of him as he presses the heels of his hands in his eyes, until it hurts, until he’s seeing stars, and his teeth hurt from the clench of his jaw. 

He deserves it. But he’s still hurting them. Everything he does is wrong, even when every instinct in him says it’s right. 

I let you down, I let you down, he tells Sarah, he tells Tommy, he tells Ellie, he tells you. 

That’s who he is. At his core, he’s a disappointment. No matter how hard he tries—

“Hey,” he hears you at the door, and quickly tries to compose himself, almost slapping his face to wipe the wetness off of it with a quick sniffle. “Hey,” he responds, glancing at you, then planting his gaze on the floor, heart starting to race, being caught red handed again. Immediately, you’re at his side on the bed, but he keeps his gaze turned away, trying but failing to be inconspicuous. But your presence alone in the moment is enough to sprout more tears from his eyes, not from guilt but just from that thing you do to him, making him feel safe enough to be honest, vulnerable. To cry. And then your thumb is on his cheek, brushing the tears away. He clears his throat, still turning away, but he knows he can’t hide now.

“What’s wrong?” Concern drips from your gentle voice, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Nothin’, I’m alright.” He clears his throat again, though shame starts to boil him, from the crying, and now the lying.

“No, you’re not.”

He sighs through his nose.

“You’re a shit lair.” You try to jest, but it’s just another knife in his chest. Back in the most gentle of tones, you sound almost like you’re begging, “Joel, tell me.”

He swallows thickly, eyes still on the floor. “I don’t know, it’s just, uh,” he tries to clear his throat again, but his face falls, brow drawing up as more tears streak his cheeks. 

“Joel, Joel,” you reply instantly, pulling his face to meet your eyes, and he watches your face fall like a ball of lead when you see his pain, then begging him in a whisper, “please, tell me what’s going on.” 

It pushes the confession out of him. “I—I don’t wanna make you feel bad, but I just, I just,” he huffs a sigh, “I just feel like the three of us, aren’t as close as we used to be. With—with Ellie, I know that we were on the road, so, we kinda had to be, and with you, ya know… I don’t know. Things have just, changed, and uh,” his voice breaks, but he tries to regain control with a shaky breath, turning his gaze to the floor. “Jackson is a good place, for Ellie, and for you, for all of us, and you and Ellie are close, and that’s good, it’s good. I don’t wanna be ungrateful, I don’t—” you, sensing his back turning on his own feelings, urge him again, voice gentle as a petal, “Joel, tell me.”

He pauses, looking back at you, then confesses, “I just feel like I’m, not who I used to be, to you two.”

You’re visibly taken aback, brow drawing up. “What do you mean?” You nearly whisper. 

He closes his eyes, lip starting to wobble. “E—Ellie talks to you, and that’s good,” he nods, “it’s good, it’s, great, but uh… she doesn't talk to me like that, and uh, I used t’, I used to have… those conversations, with Sarah” Joel’s head drops as soon as her name leaves his lips, and your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him immediately to your chest. His heavy hand slides up your side, holding you halfheartedly. There’s the sorrow and shame and pain, but feeling your body against his offers some comfort. It’s followed closely by more sorrow, now allowed, and the words continue to fall out. “An’ uh, you an’—an’ I, I dunno, it’s just, changed, an’, like I said, it’s good you’re close to Ellie, it’s my favorite thing to see, but, but I—”

Before he can finish, you bring him to face you again, cupping his cheeks with your thumbs brushing over the wet streaks, eyes full of sincerity. “I love you.” 

Joel closes his eyes, nodding again, leaning into your touch. “I know, I know you do.” He looks at you again, “An’ I love you, too, an’ I need you to know that, an’ that’s why I, I haven’t said anythin’, but I… I don’t want you to feel bad,” he shakes his head, “I—” he stops himself abruptly, sighing deeply and shaking his head again. “Nevermind. Forget it. I’m bein’ a child.” Joel stands up, on his way to retreating straight through the front door and into the cold night, but your grip on his arm surprises him. 

“Joel.” When he looks at you, you pause, expression dripping with sympathy, but the first emotion that comes out of him is disgust.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me.” He answers immediately, pulling his arm away and looking at the ground. “You know I can’t stand that shit. Doesn’t even fuckin’ matter. It’s nothin’. Just… lost my… composure. It’s fine. It’s nothin’.” He goes to leave again, but is caught just the same, this time you coming to your feet to pull his arm. 

“No, it is not, Joel. You don’t get like this if it’s nothing.” You tug his arm again, trying to take his attention. When he looks at you again, he pauses at the pleading in your eyes. “Joel.” You whisper, “Tell me.”

He swallows thickly, and reluctantly comes back to sit on the bed. 

It’s another sharp battle in his mind as he does, the familiar self hatred, but now there’s the guilt of shutting down with you. There have been many conversations, and a promise made. He can’t break it. He can’t break your trust again. So, he speaks, though the words feel thorny in his throat. “I love you. I love seein’ you happy. More than anythin’ I love seein’ you and Ellie happy. You two are everythin’ to me. I want you, always. Life would be nothin’ without you, and without Ellie, and I jus’—I jus’ want you two to be happy,” his voice breaks again, “and that’s why I—I didn’t want to say anythin’, I don’t want to ruin your fun, y—you can joke around, I want you to, even if it’s at my expense I—I just kinda wish I was… included.” Pain lilts his last word. Suddenly feeling childish again, he drops his head. “I shouldn’t be whinin’.” He shakes his head. 

“Joel—”

“You’re right, anyway, I’m old, an’ fuckin’ sensitive,” the sourness of the word is obvious in his voice and on his face, “I’m weak an’ everythin’ you two say is true, I,”

“Joel—”

“It’s true, and I shouldn’t be gettin’ this worked up about jus’ some jokes, I’ve just gotten fuckin’ soft,”

“Joel—”

“I’ve jus’ been lettin’ myself go, I guess, I fuckin’ deserve it, shit, I deserve much worse, for all the shit I’ve done,”

“Joel.” Your forceful tone breaks him out of his rant. “No. You don’t, and I’m sorry—”

He hangs his head, “No, I—”

“Joel.” You move his head to look at you again, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, and I should have—you’re not weak, and you don’t deserve us making fun of you. I just didn’t see it, and that’s my fault, we were being mean,” Joel tries to protest, but you speak over him, “we were, you’re just so damn good at hiding how you feel, and I just wasn’t paying attention. And that’s my fault. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be giving you such a hard time all the time. And that is not what I meant by saying you’re sensitive. That is not a bad thing, Joel.” You sigh, looking into his eyes with yours full of love. “Sensitive doesn't mean weak. It’s humanity. I love that you can be soft. And that’s not a small ask. You are not a bad person. With what the world is now, there are plenty of people who have done much worse. Joel, you still have a heart, and it’s full, and you’re giving, you’re self sacrificing, Jesus, Joel, you’ll do anything for people you love. And yeah, it gets messy, but it’s love. You have been through so much. But you still have your heart. And I love it more than anything, Joel. More than anything. I love you,” you pause to kiss his forehead, “I love you to pieces, Joel, I adore you, and I want you to know that. And I haven’t been showing that. And that’s my fault. None of this is on you, love.”

“I just want you two to be happy…” Joel whispers, looking into your eyes.

“We want you to be happy, too.”

“I just don’t wanna ruin your fun—”

Ellie’s voice interrupts, “We want you to have fun, too, Joel.” You both snap your heads to her standing in the doorway, looking almost small, fingers brushing the edge of the door she’s cracked open. 

“Ellie…” Joel hangs his head, voice dripping with shame. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She comes almost charging in, sitting at Joel’s other side to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He leans into it immediately, turning to wrap his arms right back around her. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, and he holds her tighter, sighing shakily. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She says, muffled into his shoulder. Then, she whispers, “I just didn’t know. Thought you just knew that you were the shit.” This gets a small chuckle out of him, warmth filling his chest as he holds onto her, her small arms wrapped around his shoulders. She buries her face further into the crook of his neck, and Joel sighs deeply, knowing that Ellie is the most precious thing on this planet. 

After a moment more in the embrace, they pull away slowly. Joel looks at the floor, sighing, and smooths his hand over you and Ellie’s knees. 

“I love you two more than anythin’.”

“And we love you, too.”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“Not enough, though.” You tell him, folding your hand into his and squeezing it. “Like Ellie said, you're the fucking shit.” You smile, though there’s still the upturn between your brows and wetness in your lashes. “And you deserve to be shown that.”

Joel sighs, looking back at the floor. “I don’t want this t’… mess everything’ up, I want you guys to have your fun,”

“Oh, we can’t stop having fun.” Ellie smiles, “But it’s not fun without you.” Joel smiles back with a small chuckle, squeezing her knee. She puts her head on his shoulder and sighs. “We love you, Joel.”

“I know. An’ I love you, too.”

A silence falls, a blanket of calmness, but it feels warmer than ever. Though he broke down in front of both you and Ellie, he’s relieved that he did. Honesty is freeing. It’s all out on the table, and the only thing he got out of it was love. No anger, no shaming, but kindness, care. Love. 

As he sits, a contented smile raises to his lips. He feels the warmth of his family. He sighs. His family.

—

Coming home from his last late night shift of the week, a tired Joel stamps his snowy boots on the mat inside the door, breathing out a relieved sigh. The house has felt warmer ever since the heart-to-heart the other night.

“He’s gonna love it.” Comes your voice from upstairs, raising his curiosity, so he hangs his jacket and starts for the stairs. 

“I hope so.” Is Ellie’s quiet reply, but he can still tell it’s coming from his room. 

When he walks in, you flip your heads around, Ellie’s hands on a frame being hung on the wall across from him. 

“Hey.” He says, confused.

You turn to him with a smile, “Welcome home, Joel. Ellie has a surprise for you.” Ellie attempts to smile, but is obviously shy. She finishes hanging the large frame and steps back, eyes staying on Joel. 

Instantly, he can recognize what it is, and his breath hitches. On the wall is a pencil sketched portrait of him. Almost in shock, he walks closer. The likeness is amazing, but still with the penciled brush of her distinctive style. “Damn, Ellie.” He says quietly, trying to keep composed. “This is amazing, sweetheart.” 

“That’s what I said.” You say, a smile in your voice. “I guess she’s so used to seeing your face so much she’s pretty much memorized it.”

That hits home. 

“Thanks.” Ellie replies, still shy. He glances at her, then pulls her close to his side as he looks back at the drawing, unable to keep his eyes off of it. 

“When did you…”

“It took a few days.”

“Ellie…” tears start to well up in his eyes, so he clears his throat. “Damn.” He sniffles. 

“I’m glad you like it.” She replies, face squished against him with her arms wrapped around his middle. 

“I love, baby girl, I love it. I love it.” He kisses her head, squeezing her tighter. After another moment of staring at the piece, he looks down at her, met with a smile, and he chuckles at the remaining shyness, tickled at the idea that she should be anything other than extremely pleased with herself. This little girl is talented. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She replies, smile widening. 

He looks back at you then, at the smile on your face, pride in Ellie, adoration at the moment he’s sharing with her. “C’mere.” He says, offering his other arm out, and you oblige almost with haste, laying your head on his shoulder with his arm around your waist. 

“It really is amazing, Ellie.” You tell her. 

“Took me a few days, and a lot of erasing, and swearing, but I think it turned out alright.”

“Alright,” Joel chuckles, “Ellie, I—” when his eyes find the ghosted outline of that scar hidden in his hairline, he can’t finish his sentence, the start of a sob catching in his throat. He sniffles and sighs, rubbing her arm. “Damn. Means the world to me, Ellie.”

“Well, you mean the world to me.”

He looks down at her again, but all she does is press her cheek into his side. He half chuckles, half sniffles again, chest full to the brim with gratitude and joy and love. The feeling of being loved. 

You both love him, and he knows it, he does, but it’s been foggy. But this gift from Ellie, knowing how hard she worked on it, and that she didn’t even need a reference, she just knows his face, is just something else. 

He can get in his head about things, you’ve helped him to realize that, but he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of getting out of it. 

But this does. He sees his graphite reflection, coming from Ellie’s loving little hands. He’s important. He means something. His purpose and meaning is love, it’s family, it’s you and Ellie and Tommy. 

And everything everyone has done to try to help him see it. Tommy’s urging, Maria’s wisdom, your care and concern, and Ellie’s work. 

Reflecting on it, the love becomes more and more clear. 

All the smiles he sees from you Ellie, her first impulse still to laze on him in the couch, the touches and kisses from you as natural as the air itself. Tommy, able to read him like a book, nearly begging him to stand up for himself, because Tommy thinks he deserves better. Maria stepping in, not to scold, but to empathize. Your immediate amends, the tugging of his arm. Pulled in by the ones he loves every day. 

Whether he thinks he deserves it or not, the most important people do. And he has it. It would be foolish to push it away. And he just doesn’t need to anymore. He has his home here. And he wants it more than anything. And he’s earned it. So he’ll take it. In Jackson, what else is there to do but live in this love?

In his graphite reflection, he sees the love that belongs to him, and feels the warmth of it at his sides. 

[chaoticprussia]

The people are wonder, what are your 4 favorite countryhumans ships?

OKAY SO this is actually really hard. so im gonna actually do 8. but split in two. so 4 for romantic ships and 4 for platonic ships. because the list changes depending on the context.

romantic

1. soviet/third reich - THESE TWO MAKE ME INSANE OKAY their dynamic drives me mad. i have so many thoughts on these two its crazy. if i actually tried to type out my thoughts i would never get this post out.

2. russia/germany - sorry for being basic. but the fandom is right. rusger goes hard as fuck. theyre literally soul linked or some shit. their families are forever intertwined. it makes me sick. love them.

3. germany/poland - ANOTHER GERMANY SHIP in my defense hes like the best character. and gerpol goes so hard. theyre so interesting. poland hates him so much for what his family has done to him but germany is just so… different. so fragile. so weak. hes not like them hes so much more. god they are so interesting.

4. soviet/america - OKAY THIS WAS A HARD PICK but i have a soft spot for sovame. its like rusame but 10x better. do you see the vision. AAAARUGHH ENEMIES TO RIVALS TO LOVERS COLD WAR ADDITION WHEN??????? I LOVE GAY PEOPLE!!!!!!!! RIPS MY SHIRT APART WITH MY BARE HANDS RRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

platonic

1. CANADA/AMERICA CANAME AMERICAN - I FUCKING LOVE TGEM SO FUCKING MUSH THEIY MAKE ME NAUSIOS THEYRE TGW BROTHWRS EVER FUUUUCK i fucking love america and canadas dynamic. they make me so so very ill. i love them dearly. brothers… punches the floor in agony. AAAAARRUGHHHH

2. germany/austria - this ones a given. theyre practically attached at the hip half the time. austria cares so deeply for germany its crazy. he feels like its his moral obligation to make sure germany doesnt lose himself in his own head. they make me ill. aaaugh ger is his beloved……

3. america/mexico - worlds worst roommates. they hate each other but in the way you hate your best friend. they annoy the fuck out of each other but mexico always makes sure to make extra food for ame. and ame always indulges in mexicos dumb interest of the week. and they were roommates.

4. bangladesh/nepal - i have no idea what the fuck is going on with them but MAN i have feelings. theyre besties okay? normal guy and his weirdass mountain monster friend. best friends.

I HAVE SO MANY MORE SHIP I LOVE I CANT PICK MAN if you asked me my favorites tomorrow i guarantee the list would change. im a multishipper at heart. i love putting characters in a box together and shaking them around. FUCK PICKING MY TOP ONES IS SO HAAAARDDD

except for caname. that one will forever be my top favorite platonic ship. i love them dearly. brothers.

[disticfiction]

Barcus moaned, his body tensing as Wulbren's chest pushed against his back. It was always like this. For some reason, he was never allowed to face his partner, but he stopped asking why a long time ago. Instead, he gazed down and swallowed as Wulbren's hand pumped up and down his shaft.

"Spread your legs wider," he groaned. "Your knee's in the way."

Barcus obliged, his cheeks bright as he moved his legs further apart, has ass brushing against the table as he instinctively bucked his hips. He couldn't help himself, chasing each stroke as if he worried it'd be the last.

"Augh..."

"You're close," Wulbren grinned. "I can tell. I can always tell."

He tightened his grip, causing Barcus to whimper. He always knew exactly how to touch him, and exactly what to say. As his cock throbbed, he arched back, resting his head on Wulbren's shoulder.

"Oh gods!"

"Yes, that's it. Almost there." He pumped faster, being sure to rub his thumb around Barcus' sensitive tip, making him squirm.

"Ah! W-Wulbren!"

He chuckled as he brought his lips to the older gnome's ear. "Don't tell me you're leaving me, Barcus. Say it's not true."

Barcus grit his teeth, his eyes squinting shut. "W-Wulbren... please. I'm sorry. I—aaaugh!"

The hand pumped harder, faster, a second one reaching down and cupping his balls. At that Barcus gasped, his eyes rolling back and toes curling. His cock had always been small, even for a gnome, but that only made it easier for Wulbren to manipulate.

"Hold it in. That's the deal. If you cum, you stay in the Underdark."

Barcus shook his head, his balls scrunching with a warning of his impending orgasm. He couldn't tell if Wulbren was serious, but his tone certainly conveyed amusement, whether intentionally or not. He knew Barcus wouldn't be able to hold out, the tension building with every stroke.

"Nnngh! Ah!"

"Don't do it, Barcus. You'll lose everything."

Barcus moaned loudly, every inch of Wulbren's hand enveloping his throbbing little member. He squeezed and rubbed it so perfectly, so intently, his foreskin adding to the sensual friction. That was Baucus' favourite thing about Wulbren—his hands. They were soft and steady, but also rough and textured, hitting every nerve with unfair precision.

"Augh! Wulbren!"

"Don't do it."

"I can't! Aaaaugh!"

His cock spasmed, shooting load after load of thick gnome jism across the table, staining the wood. It always felt good, but that night it felt better than usual. Perhaps because it was mixed with sorrow, or perhaps it was the way Wulbren's thumb teased his delicate hood. Whatever the reason, the pleasure trounced him in an instant, his legs flailing as his cock rippled with ecstacy.

Wulbren grinned as he kept pumping, peering over Barcus' shoulder to admire his handiwork. He was relentless, milking the older gnome's climax as long as possible, squeezing every drop from his tender tip, until he finally went limp in his arms. Satisfied, he turned Barcus sideways and laid him against the table.

"Well. It seems you lost the wager. I guess that means you'll be saying. Right?"

Barcus whimpered, barely able to lift his head. He needed time to recover, and Wulbren gave it to him. After what felt like forever, he slowly sat up, his arms trembling as he leaned against his knuckles.

"Wulbren, please... come with me. I think we could really make something of ourselves up there. A home. A future."

"What?" Wulbren stepped back, a look of disgust painting his features. "You can't be serious."

"I am! We could open a shop together. With your leadership and my expertise, we could become the most celebrated alchemists in Baldur's Gate."

"How can you say that?" he hissed. "When gnomes are seen as lesser by so many in that city? Yet you'd serve them?"

"Better than scavenging around down here, waiting for the duergar... or a pack of drow to attack and enslave us."

"So you'd really just run away? Abandon your home? Your people? Your kin?"

"Wulbren, please. It's not like that. It's just... after our village was pillaged, I couldn't—"

"Don't." Barcus paused, Wulbren's eyes burning with a fury he didn't dare exacerbate. "I lost everything too, my baby sister included."

Barcus flinched, his guilt mounting. "Wulbren, you cannot imagine how sorry I am. But if you'll only listen—"

"But I refuse to run away, especially to a city where those damned Gondians are favored by the populace!"

"Not this again," Barcus winced. "Wulbren, please tell me you haven't been fraternizing with—" He dropped his sentence. The glint in Wulbren's eyes confirmed his fears. "Wulbren... I've begged you to stay away from the Ironhand Gnomes. They're a bad bunch."

"You don't know anything, Barcus."

"I know plenty!" he argued. "I know they're devious, power-hungry, and sadistic. Their... 'cause' isn't for the good of gnomekind, it's only for themselves."

"Lies!" Wulbren clenched his fists, his shoulders stiff. "They're inventors! Loyalists! Freedom fighters! Everything those thrice gods damned, thieving rock gnome parasites wish they were!"

"Wulbren... do you hear yourself? Those gnomes are gnomes, just like us."

He grit his teeth. "They are nothing like us, Barcus. If not for them, we might still have a place in the city. If not for them, the Ironhand clan's reputation wouldn't be—!"

"Enough!" Barcus' voice jittered as he looked away, his pulse racing. "Enough, Wulbren. Please. This... feud has gone on long enough. And what has it accomplished, hmm? Nothing. Nothing at all. The Ironhand Gnomes say the Gondians stole from them, the Gondians say the Ironhand Gnomes slandered their work..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "But only our ancestors know what truly transpired, and the Ironhand Gnomes made their bed when they pledged allegiance to Sarevok Anchev." He sighed, shaking his head. "What a tragically sordid affair."

Wulbren fell silent, his rage apparent, but restrained. As he stewed in his violent thoughts, Barcus shimmied to the edge of the table, hanging his head, his hands folding into his lap. For a while, neither spoke, the hostility in the room almost too much for the older gnome to bear.

"That hatred will destroy you, Wulbren. Just as it destroyed the Ironhand Gnomes in the first place," he finally said. "If you really want to restore your clan's reputation, then come with me. Do it the right way. With patience and kindness, and a little hard work."

Wulbren scoffed, audibly, but he didn't respond. He kept his eyes on the floor, his body seething.

"Please, Wulbren. Let's not leave things like this. If you really want to restore people's faith in the svirfneblin, come with me." He held out his hand, longingly. "Let's show them that we're more than a militant group. More than our mistakes. We can make a positive impact, without bloodshed."

He smiled, hoping and praying that the man he cherished most would reach out, take his hand, and choose the path of dignity. Their friendship had endured so many hardships, so much pain. They had been together since they were children. Surely this couldn't be the end.

"I'm not going with you, Barcus. I can't." Wulbren frowned, crossing his arms as he watched his friend's soul break into a thousand pieces. "And you're a fool for suggesting it. I thought you knew me better."

Barcus gasped, his stomach clenching. "Don't... don't say that, Wulbren. Please. I do know you."

"No, little Barcus. You never have."

Barcus' face flushed, his throat collapsing. That wasn't true. He knew Wulbren blamed everything on the Gondians, but he'd started to turn on everyone lately, even his own mother for not seeking revenge.

Blinking rapidly to keep from crying, he reached across the table to his backpack, then pulled out a familiar amulet. Though wounded by Wulbren's comment, he forced a smile and held it out, pushing it against his chest.

"I made this for you," he said. "In case you rejected my offer." Wulbren frowned, but accepted, taking the amulet into his hand. "It's the symbol of our friendship. A reminder that you're never alone. And that if you ever need my help, I'll be there."

Wulbren stared at the amulet for a moment, then growled, slowly crushing it in his fist. With a horrified gasp, Barcus went to stop him, but suddenly his anger faded. Without a word, he opened his palm, the amulet undamaged, and gave Barcus a smile that was almost too convincing.

"That's very thoughtful, Barcus." He stepped closer, pushing the older gnome down on his back. "I'll have to give you a parting gift as well."

With a grin, he pulled a coarse, wool cloth from his pocket. Then, without any warning or preparation, he tightly wrapped it around Barcus' soft and tiny cock.

"W-Wulbren, what are you—?"

He cut him off, sliding his hand up and down while gripping the cloth, moving it in tandem with his bizarre ministrations. But the pleasure was instant, Barcus' cock pitching after only a few indecent strokes. He cried out, his head arching back as his teeth clenched and eyes squinted shut. The tightness of the fabric created an almost claustrophobic sensation that only served to heighten his arousal.

"The texture really is something, isn't it?"

"Ah! Ugh!" Barcus moaned loudly, unable to hold back. "W-Wulbren! Ughn! What is that?!"

He thrashed against the table, increasingly lost in the sensations coursing through him. Whatever it was, it felt incredible, the crude weave rubbing into his sensitive skin, pulling his cock painlessly.

"Displacer leather. Bristly, but supple. A true marvel of contradiction."

He gripped Barcus' cock a bit harder, earning a guttural wail. He always knew exactly how to touch him. How to make him squirm. How to make him scream. And poor Barcus was naturally so tender. The surprisingly violent up and down sent neddles of pleasure through his cock, his balls clenching.

"Wulbren! Ah! I'm going to cum!"

"I'm aware."

And he did, crying out as a flood of white burst from his core. But Wulbren kept going, squeezing the tiny gnome's cock a bit harder. Barcus screeched, the sensation going from pleasant to painful. He tried to kick Wulbren off, but his legs were too weak.

"Shut up, Barcus. Just deal with it for a few seconds and it'll feel better than ever."

Barcus shook his head, writhing on the table as Wulbren's arm flexed. Tears welled in his eyes, drool rolling down his chin. It didn't feel like seconds, but at some point the pain did come to a grinding halt, replaced by a pleasure Barcus could only describe as celestial.

On the cusp of insanity, and pure, unadulterated ecstacy, he looked up, meeting Wulbren's gaze, but he saw something foul looking back. Something cold. It wasn't passion or worry or love, it was anger. This wasn't a parting gift. It was promise that no one else would ever be able to make him feel this good. And with his crippling sexual anxiety, Wulbren knew he'd never trust anyone else to try. He'd only ever been with Wulbren. He only wanted Wulbren. No one else mattered, and no one knew that better than Wulbren himself.

Barcus' eyes flickered as he realized the truth. This was a punishment.

"Wulbren... you—aaaaaugh!"

As reality hit, his mind suddenly scrambled. A flash of white, followed by a pleasure so intense, he wasn't sure if the accompanied scream was silent or too loud for his ears to process. It felt amazing. Rabid, even. His cock twitched and spasmed through every wave, stream after stream of hot, sticky seed gushing onto his chest and stomach.

And then, for a moment, he blacked out.

When he opened his eyes, he could feel his body shaking, his muscles quaking with the aftershocks of post-orgasmic bliss. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but Wulbren's hand was still wrapped around his now hypersensitive cock, his semen still warm as is rolled down the tip of his shaft. It took a while for everything to come into focus, his chest heaving as he tried to recover, but when it did he noticed the crease in Wulbren's brow. The emptiness in his expression.

"W-Wulbren..." He took a deep, laboured breath, his head reeling. "I..."

The younger gnome said nothing, carefully unwrapping the cloth like a bandage, and that movement alone was almost too much. Barcus moaned as the material clinging to his cock pulled away, revealing a deep shade of red, his member swollen and convulsing. Everything about it felt savage and delightful.

So why did his heart hurt?

Something wasn't right. With a grunt, he tried to sit up, but a torrent of pleasure rushed up his spine and caused him to fall back, his mouth hanging open and fingers scratching against the wood beneath him. His entire body melted under the pressure, enraptured by the sensations that hadn't yet subsided. But tears welled in his eyes.

"W-Wulbren, please..."

His vision blurred as his friend turned away, slipping the amulet he'd been given into his pocket. Not around his neck, but tucked away, out of sight, as if insulted by it. Again Barcus tried to sit up, but again he failed, falling back with a moan. His cock felt like it was burning from the outside in, throbbing with every beat of his heart and pulsing with every breath he struggled to take. It felt amazing, as if he'd been branded by a fiery hot iron that left an imprint without damage.

He knew he would never be the same again.

"Goodbye, Barcus."

Without another word, nor a hint of forgiveness, Wulbren suddenly left the old gnome laying limp and exhausted on the table, ignoring his desperate whimpers as he closed the door behind him.

[blimbo-buddy]

get smudged.

(your smudge design lives rent free in my head. he's my roommate even)

AAAUGH FUCK I GOT TOTALLY SMUDGE'D

DOLLYBEAGLE HOLY FUCK THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU DREW HIM FANTASTICALLY HE LOOKS SO CHEEKY. Baby ears lil baby ears flip em up FUCKING TURN HIM INTO MASA

SMUDGE MASA TORTILLA PRESS. FUCKING HELL THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH MAN It's a christmas miracle! :)

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 1

Next

*contains shipping*

“Hey, Scar, you alright? You’ve been locked in there all day yesterday, and you didn’t even come out for breakfast! Y’know, Scott was over and brought us a couple treats, I thought that maybe..” Sausage continued on, but Scar wasn’t in the mood to keep listening. The pain in his back rippled from its starting point in the middle, all the way up to his neck and down to his thighs. He was sick with pain, and he certainly didn’t want to eat. No different position, stretching, walking, anything , could relieve him. All he could do was lay down in the dark and wait for Mumbo to stop sulking.

“Bad flare up. I’m fine. Just need to rest,” Scar choked out through gritted teeth, forcing a smile despite the fact Sausage was on the other side of his door.

“You don’t want any company?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“ Yes. ”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Feel better soon, Scar!”

Scar waited until he heard the heavy footfalls of Sausage’s boots leaving before he dropped his smile, releasing a long, pained breath. He was so aware of his teeth in his mouth, tingling in ways that weren’t painful, but deeply uncomfortable. He felt every nerve in his lower back fire up and buzz in waves, traveling further than seemed fair. Scar hadn’t considered this before deciding on a plan to wipe out his old crew. Live or die. That’s what he was prepared for. Not this. He glared at Mumbo, or rather, his ghost, laying next to him on the ground, blank eyes fixed on the ceiling. Mumbo’s own form was in quite a state of disrepair as well, drifting apart in pieces lined by the orange cracks that splintered through his body like shattered glass.

“What’s your problem?” Scar slid his head over the side of his bed to stare down at Mumbo on the floor, “Are you just going to sit and mope for the rest of your f-aAaugh-” Scar crumbled as an intense wave of pain spasmed through his lower back, stealing his breath. When the pain eased, Scar looked back to see a small smile on Mumbo’s face.

“Does that make you feel better? Seeing me like this?” Scar growled, but his anger only fueled the fire of his pain. He took a deep breath.

Mumbo spoke despite the fact Scar couldn’t hear him and gestured with a cracked hand, ‘So-so’

“I guess anyone could’ve seen that coming,” Scar sighed, settling back down in bed. It hurt. He turned onto his side. That was worse. He rolled onto his back, and then onto his stomach. There was no getting comfortable. At least with Mumbo somewhat appeased, the pain had eased slightly. After about ten minutes though, it was back to unbearable levels. He moved back to look at Mumbo.

“What can I do to get you to leave me alone. What do you want? The rest of your crew is probably having fun plotting my imminent death, why don’t you hang with them?”

Mumbo’s head tilted to face Scar’s, eyes narrowing in passive thought. The ghost tried to sit up, making a frustrated pouting gesture when several pieces of his upper body stayed on the floor. Maybe, another day, Scar would have laughed. But now, he only watched, daring to hope.

“Right,” Scar grunted as Mumbo seemed mostly put back together, but shrunk back with an aggressive point from the ghost, “Guess I’m not in a place to be impatient, but I hope you understand,” Scar forced a smile, but it broke quickly with another spasm of pain. He buried his face in his mattress, muffling his own whimpers. When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see Mumbo pointing to something on his shelf. He buried his head back into his bed.

“Not the stupid- no. I am not doing the ouija board with you. I’m not giving you that power over me.”

Mumbo did not move.

“Anything else! We all saw what Pearl did to Kyle when the Kestrels got me that as a joke. Those scratches still haven’t healed! It’s hard enough trying to convince them ghosts aren’t real or haunting me or- come on!” Scar couldn’t crush the desperation that slipped through his tone, but the threat of his pain destroyed every facade. Mumbo wouldn’t care. Scar had given him every reason not to.

Mumbo furrowed his brow and spoke, enunciating clearly so Scar could get a reasonable idea of what he was saying. ‘I’m not Pearl.’

Scar had no choice. Mumbo moved to let him through as Scar left his bed, eyeing him with intense focus. Scar couldn’t help feeling like a prey animal under scrutiny like that. He stopped at his shelf to look at his door, biting his lip.

“You won’t call them, will you? I don’t know how these things work.. I don’t want all four of you at my neck.”

Mumbo shook his head. Scar wasn’t sure he could believe him, but he couldn’t dwell. At this point, maybe dying would be better than the rest of his life spent in this pain. He took the ouija board from the shelf, setting it gently on the ground. Fear bubbled up in his stomach, and he didn’t know anymore if his shaking hands were solely caused by weakness and pain. Mumbo sat across from him, gesturing for Scar to begin. Scar put his hands on the planchette.

“Right then. What do you want?” His voice failed when he tried to force any ounce of authority through it. As Mumbo’s hands slid over his, he felt them, solid and real. Mumbo seemed surprised as well, letting out a small gasp of shock. A gasp Scar heard.

Scar yelled, scrambling backwards from the ouija board. His heart raced- his heart - he was alive. He was okay. Mumbo looked up with wide eyes, hands still resting on the planchette. When he spoke, Scar couldn’t hear him. Ah. Good..

“You can touch me.”

Mumbo gave him an exasperated look, nodding. Scar didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted. ‘Now come back.’

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. But desire to ease the fire in his back outweighed any amount of fear he felt. Scar scooted back across from Mumbo, who moved his hands so Scar could place his own down first. Mumbo’s were solid. Cold. It was a cold that crept all the way up his body, from his fingers to the tips of his hair. As it washed over his back, he felt a deep relief. The pain wasn’t gone, no, but it didn’t feel important anymore, like it had suddenly been placed into the background of his senses.

“This is weird,” Scar managed, closing his eyes. His own voice sounded distant as well, but the fear that had gripped him had been washed away with his pain. He was relaxed. For the first time since he reached the faction isles, he didn’t feel the looming threat of vengeful ghosts. Ironic, considering he was sitting across from one of them. He opened his eyes again when Mumbo squeezed his hands, and startled when he saw him speaking. No sound.

“What? Why can’t I hear you?” Scar said, squinting.

“I don’t know!”

Both of them paused, staring.

“What’s happening?” Scar’s voice was flat. Mumbo looked just as confused. He opened his mouth as a test, speaking slowly, as if the ability might be taken from him at any moment.

“I think.. you have to ask me questions. Makes sense with the ouija board I guess. We might be able to touch each other because of our connection? This definitely didn’t happen with Pearl and Kyle.. not that she waited very long before trying to maim him..” Mumbo trailed off, closing his eyes, “I feel so warm.”

“I feel cold. It’s.. it’s really nice.” Scar hung his head lightly, reveling in his relief. Mumbo squeezed his hand again. Oh right. Questions.

“Back to it then. Clearly you wanted to talk, so..” Scar stopped, distracted by a wave of nostalgia. He had always enjoyed the proximity of the Boatem crew; close as friends, but also the way they had held hands and hugged and enjoyed each other’s company. This- communication between him and the dead- this wasn’t even supposed to be friendly; this was business ! But company the same. Scar shook his head. He burned that bridge. He escaped. But.. until now, he didn’t realize how much he had missed this.

Scar gritted his teeth, struggling to choke down emotion welling up in his throat. Just because the ghosts of his old crew hadn’t moved on, didn’t mean he needed to dwell. He wondered absently if he had to be touching the planchette to keep in this state, where his physical needs were suspended. A state where ghost crews and pain didn’t matter. His body moved before his brain could consider itself, shifting one of his hands slowly out from under Mumbo’s palm and sliding his thumb over the top of his old friend’s hand. Mumbo flinched, pulling the same hand away and grabbing Scar’s wrist. He gasped, trying in vain to pull away from Mumbo’s grip.

“You’re stronger than you were before,” Scar breathed, another wave of cold washing over him. He hadn’t realized it could be better. His back- even his eye and his throat and his stomach- every discomfort he’d been cursed with for all these months seemed to fade into a distant memory. He felt Mumbo’s nails in his arm, and realized he had forgotten to ask a question. “What was it.. you wanted?”

Mumbo’s gaze flickered back and forth from Scar, indecision flashing across his face.

“I don’t.. what are you doing, Scar.” There was no question in Mumbo’s voice.

“I’m not sure. When you touch me I feel cold. It’s a good cold, it takes everything away. It makes me feel.. above it all,” Scar paused, remembering last minute to finish with a question, “How does it make you feel?”

Mumbo’s lips parted, looking quite startled. He furrowed his brow, clearly thinking of how to put it into words. “I forgot what it was like to feel warm. It’s something I’ve imagined.. dreamed about even- not that I sleep but- it feels like I’m alive.”

“I want to be colder. I don’t want to feel anything at all,” Scar veered forward, eyes alight with wild excitement. Mumbo jumped at Scar’s sudden proximity. Scar felt his breath. Mumbo’s breath. “Do you want to feel alive?”

“What are you asking, Scar?” Mumbo’s voice raised with Scar’s own, looking more frightened than Scar had seen him in a long while.

“I want to kiss you. I want this to consume us.”

Scar couldn’t hear what Mumbo said next; he hadn’t asked a question, but he got a pretty good idea based on the alarmed expression on his face.

“I know. I know. It’s crazy. But what’s stopping us? Grian and Pearl and Impulse- they don’t have to know. We don’t have to take it any further- I don’t even know if we can. I don’t care. I just want your body on mine.”

Mumbo opened his mouth to speak, but once more, no words came out. Apparently he had to end with a question, but he didn’t have time to ask before Mumbo was kissing him, hand still gripped tightly around his wrist. It was so delightfully cold. He tried to lift his other hand, still resting on the planchette, but Mumbo’s own pressed firmly on top of it, as if to say don’t let go .

“Well either you better release your hold on my wrist so I can pull you closer, or move in,” Scar mumbled against his cheek, letting Mumbo’s cool touch sink in. He was hungry for it, he needed it , and he’d do anything just to feel out of his own, broken body. Mumbo let go, allowing Scar to drag him in.

No one’s lips had ever tasted sweeter. No tongue more enticing than his. It was everything and a beautiful nothing all at once, and Scar never wanted to let go. He didn’t need to, he didn’t even need to breath-

Mumbo broke away panting, eyes wide as he put his free hand to the rise and fall of his chest. “Shit, that’s.. what‘s wrong?”

Scar stared. That wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. “I didn’t.. I didn’t ask you anything. I can hear you.”

“What? No way! That’s awesome!”

But when Scar started to respond, Mumbo didn’t react to his voice, caught up in his own excitement. Mumbo didn’t.. hear him. Scar yelped, fear shattering the trance. Mumbo’s eyes widened as Scar started to pull away, coming to the same conclusion just too late. Scar’s second hand left the planchette, and all at once; the heat, the pain, all of it , slammed back into him. He laid on the ground, eyes shut tightly. He breathed. He was breathing. His back ached. Scar opened his eyes to see Mumbo staring, looking equal parts concerned as he looked disappointed. But Mumbo didn’t look sad. And Scar’s back wasn’t throbbing anymore.

“Ah. Good deal then?” Scar sat up as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and reached to lift the ouija board from the ground. Mumbo blinked in alarm, reaching forward only for his hand to pass directly through Scar’s. Mumbo spoke, words flying from his mouth rapidly, but as usual, Scar couldn’t hear them. Scar smiled to himself as he put the ouija board back onto the shelf.

“You liked that, did you?” Scar turned back, pleased to see Mumbo looking very embarrassed. As well as a lot of other emotions, he was sure. Scar had plenty of his own thoughts, most prominently, oh no. “Well I liked it too,” Scar said, forcing a grin. Mumbo gave him a mortified look. He dropped the smile and turned his attention back to the ouija board on his shelf. “Geez. This won’t work. So we’re definitely keeping this between us, right?” But when he turned around, Mumbo was already gone. Well, that checked.

Scar closed his eyes, allowing himself to linger in the moment. To live in a world where he would ever be able to do that again. But, no. His old crew hated him. Mumbo hated him, as he should! Scar had moved on, he was done with them. Just because he’s stuck with their ghosts, doesn’t mean he had to be stuck in the past too. So what if he was stuck with their damn curses? He would cope. He always did. And anyway, with Mumbo in a better mood, maybe his back pain wouldn’t be a problem for a while.

[mblue-art]

Happy birthday! My brain is like a boiled potato, so the quality isn't perfect, but I tried my best to write you a little birthday gift! May you have a lovely day!! 💖

Gifts and words of congratulations had been exchanged with laughter and joy as the day passed much too quickly, and yet as the first stars of the night began to twinkle in the sky, you found yourself swept away as Lust took your hands and twirled his way out of the room; you kept close as giggles erupted between you both.

He’d been an absolute delight throughout the whole day, greeting you with breakfast on the bed in the morning, a lunch at your favourite café at noon, a wonderful dinner picnic held atop the hill overlooking the ocean, and finally, a superior evening with friends where cakes of all types had been served. Truly, Lust had done his best to assure that this day had been the most wonderful for you yet, and you couldn’t see how it could become any better than this.

As you walked onto the balcony with him, you came eye to eye light with Cross, who stood nervously beneath the fairy lights. He’d been working to ensure the day had been perfect as well, though he’d preferred to stay in the background whilst Lust took the reins. However, now, when it was just you three, he regained some confidence as he relaxed his shoulders and allowed his eye lights to roam over your body.

“You look stunning,” he said, and although he might have mentioned it earlier today, it still made you blush.

“Thank you, Cross. You look quite handsome yourself,” you said, though laughed a little as Lust gave you a pouty but cute glance. “And so do you.”

Lust grinned as he pulled you further along, stopping only once the three of you were together. Cross brought your hand up to kiss your knuckles, and as he pulled you and Lust in for a warm embrace, he kissed the both of you softly, lovingly. And once it ended, Lust did the exact same thing, causing butterflies to form in your stomach as both of these silly skeletons didn’t spare any expense to shower you with love.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Lust said, giving your cheek an extra little kiss as he nuzzled in against Cross’s broad chest together with you once you all settled down onto the outdoor sofa.

“Happy birthday, my heart,” Cross added, kissing the top of your head before getting comfortable against the pillows cushioning his back.

Your throat felt tight as you laid with them both, comfortable and warm by their side as the day slowly came to an end. Their arms were around you and keeping you safe, and as your eyelids felt heavy with sleep, you finally allowed yourself a moment to relax and fall into a blissful sleep; knowing you’d wake up with either Cross or Lust carrying you inside and towards bed.

WH WH VALACRE HI!!! 🥺⁉️‼️ valacre wrote thing,, for Me,, ,??

[reactions under the cut]

—

lusttt 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💜💜💜 // awh hes so sweet!!!

!!whZHDBWHSHCCROSS IS ALSO HERE // WWWAAAA THEY WORKED TOGETHER IM-!!! 🥺💜💙💜💘💘💘

AAAUGH THEYRE BOTH CUTE WWAITTTT 😭😭😭

😳😳😳

WWRAUGHHH MAHAL KOOO MI CORAZONNN /WAILS/ 💘💘💘 // (i dont think im ever going to recover from C calling me that, ohmylord /lh)

—

Valacre this is very lovely, thank you,, 🥺🥺🥺 you took ur time to write this for me and i appreciate it lots thank u thank youuuu

(´；ω；｀)💙💙💙

[mysteryshoptls]

R Idia Shroud Halloween Personal Story

"Leave it to me to do something so rad～"

[Ignihyde Dorm]

Idia: I finally finished my Pumpkin Knight costume～!!

Idia: Whew… Playing the limited-time events in my online games and making my Halloween costume at the same time was a crazy high difficulty quest...

Idia: And every time I went to check for details on how to make the costume, I'd end up watching the movie again.

Idia: That's "Pumpkin Hollow" for you. It's definitely a movie that'll live on forever in the horror genre.

Idia: Mysterious incidents start cropping up in a peaceful village surrounded by fog, and the villagers are found dead.

Idia: The two detectives dispatched to uncover the truth of the matter confront the culprit, the pumpkin-headed Pumpkin Knight!

Idia: There deliberately wasn't any CG used.

Idia: Not only can the determination and passion be felt in every single special effect technique crafted by the director,

Idia: That twist in the end where one of the detectives became mesmerized by the cursed pumpkin that they ditched their job to become a pumpkin farmer was absolute perfection!

Idia: This is definitely how B-grade horror movies should be!!

Idia: Totally makes sense why it's such a cult classic with all the core fans.

Idia: So that I can pay the highest of respects to the original version, I made every single part of the costume from scratch.

Idia: Taking into account that I'll be walking in the parade, I used a durable and lightweight urethane-based material for the helm and armor.

Idia: And the ivy that I've attached to the hem of my armor is made from super elastic silicone material. It reproduces that realistic contour and volume of ivy perfectly.

Idia: K, so, it'd be bad if anything super catastrophic happens… Like not being able to move around, or it breaking apart.

Idia: So I'll just put the cursed pumpkin over my head… like this.

[puts on helm]

Idia: Alright, let's take this thing out for a trial walk. There'll be a ton of people on the campus grounds, so… It should be safer there.

[Woods Behind Campus]

Idia: The mobility of the elbow part is pretty good, and the joints are sturdy enough.

Idia: Hmm, yeah, this is pretty comfy! Leave it to me to do something so rad～

Idia: (Only, the head portion needs adjusting. Because I tried to make the inside seem hollow, it's hard for me to see.)

Idia: (Maybe if I put a small camera on the top of the helm and display the outside on a head-mounted display…)

Idia: [mumble, mumble…]

[bam!]

Idia: Ack…!?

Idia: Owww… What did I even trip on? I have to improve this so I can see where I'm walking…

Leona: Hey, you, get off my stomach already! You got some nerve tryin' to use me as a cushion.

Idia: Eek, that voice is definitely Leona-shi! S-S-Sorry, I didn't think anyone'd be here!

Idia: I'll quickly get out of your way…

[clatter, clank]

Leona: Ow! Hey, quit jerking around, you pumpkin prick! You just yanked my tail!

Idia: Eh, your tail!? I can't see at all with this helmet on…

[removes helm]

Idia: (Oh shoot～ Leona-shi's tail is caught in the ivy!)

Idia: (Didn't think trying to be faithful to the original would bite me like this…)

Leona: Tch, so it's you. You make a rare appearance in the wild, and're just causing problems. Hurry and do something to fix this.

Idia: Aaaugh…

Idia: (What a scary voice! He's definitely angry!)

Idia: (This has gone from the "My hair got caught in his clothes and we made a connection…☆" trope to "The delinquent's tail got caught in my armor and now I'm in big trouble"!)

Idia: (No, no, this is no time to be thinking about that.)

Idia: J-Just wait a moment… I'll remove it right away…

Idia: (I say, but I think it's a little impossible for me to untangle it from this position, isn't it? My arm's range of motion is too narrow, so I can't reach it at all.)

Leona: …

Idia: (Aaaaargh! It's impossible! The more I move my hands, the more it gets tangled!)

Leona: Grr… Stop touching my tail already.

Idia: Uh, aren't you able to move your hands a bit easier than me? Can't you even help a smidge?

Idia: But anyway, isn't it your fault that you were sleeping here in the first place? I bet you were definitely slacking off…

Idia: 'Sides, it should be your fault for blocking the path like that… What, you trying to show off your long legs? It's not my fault, you should be the one to apologize, Leona-shi…

Leona: …Hey, I can hear everything you're saying.

Idia: WHA!? J-Just joking… Heehee.

Idia: (Riiiiiiight. I forgot beastmen have super good hearing.)

Leona: Sigh… Get a move on, you're so slow. Don't you have any scissors or something on you?

Idia: I-I do. I brought a whole set of tools just in case something breaks… Wait, huh!?

Idia: (No way, is Leona-shi gonna cut his own fur!?)

Leona: Ugh, fine, I'll help ya just this once.

Idia: (You serious? He's gonna pull off a move that only the super cool guys in comics would do!?)

[snap]

Idia: Eh? Snap?

Idia: HYAAAAAAA!!!!!??? YOU CUT OFF THE IVY I WORKED SO HARD TO MAKE!!!

Leona: You were having problems getting out, so I cut it for you. You should be thankful.

Idia: …

Leona: Man, you sure are lucky that I was the one you tripped over, huh? If you had run into anyone else, I don't think you would have gotten off scot-free like this.

Leona: Sheesh, that's what you get for wandering around with a stupid pumpkin over your head. What a pain. See ya.

Idia: …......

Idia: …E-Excuuuuuse me!? Did he just say the Pumpkin Knight was stupid?

Idia: He's gotta be totally blind to not notice the majesty of this primo design and figure…!

Idia: This is exactly why I hate all the ruffians in Savanaclaw…

Idia: Honestly, I can only feel pity for those that can't understand how awesome the Pumpkin Knight is.

Idia: He better remember this! I'll show up a perfectly upgraded outfit before the parade!

Idia: And I'll make even him acknowledge just how cool the Pumpkin Knight really is!

Requested by Anonymous.

[articskele]

In honor of Homestuck Day here are some thoughts:

- Like I said the Onceler would be a Thief of Life. Stealing the life of the forest for his own profit, the life aspect also involves luxury, thieves lack in their aspect and actively seek it out, it works!

- Ok LOVING the idea of Entre being a Doom player

- One as a Blood player fits The Brand yadda yadda but also. THe bonds and connections between people. Him offering to kill Bitter, him giving advice to Entre about the voices, the whole closet incident leading to 72 and Dave being chosen as leaders. Rocky jokingly proposing One as leader. Something something closeness and isolation and people keep coming to see him and. ough. Not sure what class tho, def a passive one

- Maybe troll Swag had axe shaped horns by default, but in his business era he had them filed into dollar signs bc of course he did, he's Swag, and then during Truffula Flu the ends get snapped off.

- Ok lowkey I'm thinking Swag as a Heart player. Bulletproof Heart, him being "bulletproof" and identity and the self and what sets him apart from the rest. Him being the glue that keeps everyone together bc no matter what happens he's the constant. Things may change and people may die but there will always be Swag, right? This post about Swag's possible ending, turning the theme of the self on its head, he's not special he's not a hero- AAAUGH

- Alternatively, Rage player. Rage being truth, the hard truth of the situation, telling it like it is.

- Still thinking about Doom player Entre. HEIR OF DOOM OH MY GOD THAT'S SO METALLLL

- Not sure about Rocky. Maybe Time?? The drive to keep going keep fighting even when you're a dead man walking, even when you're running out of time, even when rock has gone out of style and video killed the radio star and the killjoys are dead you keep going god dammit. Your show isn't over.

[2af-afterdark]

So Cursed I Left it Untitled

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Simeon/Main Character

Characters: Simeon, Main Character

Additional Tags: afab!MC (she/her), Cringy sex terms, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering

Summary: Simeon and his girlfriend are in love, but they disagree on how to speak to each other in more intimate moments. Simeon decides to try and teach her the correct way to show a bit of modesty in her speech.

A/N: This is so cursed. I had a thought about Simeon and reverse corruption (innocentification?) and I had a bunch of enablers who were like "yes, write the cringe". I hate them all (affectionate). Seriously, this is supposed to be kind of cringy. If I had the thought, you all have to suffer with me.

Word Count: 1380

He loved her, he really did. He enjoyed her company and adored being in the same room as her even when they were both completely silent. She made him happy beyond belief, but there was one issue between both of them that he couldn’t get over.

"Aww, don't you want to play with my perfect pussy?" She winked at him with a cheeky smile and her hands put together to look like a heart, playing up her adorable charms as she sat nude in front of him.

He wished that she was more demure with the way she spoke. He knew when they started dating that she was more… forward with her language than he was accustomed to, but he didn’t truly understand just how extreme her speech could be compared to his own when it came to talking about such sensitive matters.

"That's such a vulgar way of speaking," Simeon sighed, "Can't you be more couth about it?"

"It's sex, Simmy. It's better to just say what you mean rather than beating around the bush." She shifted her weight to sit in his lap, back pressed against his chest as she ground against the bulge between his legs, "Speaking about beating around the bush~"

She really was quite vulgar sometimes, much to the angel's chagrin. He was supposed to be holy and yet he was dating a woman that made him question that fact constantly. After all, if he was able to tolerate the filth that came out of her mouth, what did it say about him? If only he could wash her mouth out with soap.

Oh, now that was a devious thought truly unbecoming of his halo. Not a bar of soap, but a good old carrot and stick all the same. It was fine. As long as he was doing it all in the name of teaching her modesty, he was sure his sins could be forgiven.

“Alright.” He spread her thighs apart so she was exposed for him before dropping his hand to stroke against her sex. She was already wet, even though all they’d done until now was banter back and forth. He had to admit, even if she was vulgar, she was captivating.

"Please, Simmy!" She cried as she rolled her hips against his palm, trying to angle his fingers just right to finally drive them inside, "My pussy- aaaugh" she was planning to say 'My pussy wants you' but before she could, Simeon pulled his hand away and slapped her already sensitive sex before continuing with what he was doing.

"We really do need to work on your vulgarities. There are more tasteful ways to ask for what you want."

She groaned as he rubbed away the soreness of his slap, his fingers catching against her swollen nub with each stroke, "Not now, Simmy. Just put your fingers in. Please?"

He kissed the side of her head, laughing at the faint blush crawling up her ears as she kept her gaze focused on the way his fingers continued to tease her, "Not until you learn to ask politely."

"But I did," she whined, "Please? I want you to stretch open my cu- ugh." Another slap shut her up before she could get the word out, "Oh come on."

"I said to ask politely."

“I said please.”

“And you continue to use such awful language.”

“What should I say then?” Obviously, nothing she said would appease him. It was better to just ask what he wanted from her.

“It’s easy. You have such a delicate flower here and yet you refer to it so crassly. You should have more decorum than that, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t be serious, “I am not calling it something that cringy.”

“I’m not forcing you.” The hand not between her legs reached up to cup one of her breasts, playing with its weight and running his thumb across her pebbled nipple, “But nothing is forcing me to follow your wishes either.”

Simeon was careful, slow, and meticulous with his movements. He was sure never to push into her, even as he felt her dripping across his fingers and her body shift to try and coax him further. All she was doing was riling herself up more than she had already been and they both knew it.

“Simmy…” She pleaded with him through desperate pants and groans.

He hummed innocently, “What is it?”

“I can’t take this…”

“You know how to ask for what you want. Be a big girl and use your words.”

She threw her head back against his shoulder, chest heaving as she whined and whimpered, "Fine. Please play with my precious flower. Are you happy now?”

He chuckled into her ear, “See? Was that so hard?” With one last swipe across her slit to make sure she was really ready, his fingers pressed against her wet entrance, slowly pushing into her and curling to rub at her inner walls which quivered at his touch, "My poor Little Rose. It’ll feel better soon.”

Two of his fingers sank in all the way to his knuckles, stirring up her insides and making her eyes roll back in her head. The feeling of finally being stretched open around him was all she had wanted; his fingers scissoring her open while his other hand pinched at and rolled her nipple between his fingers. His mouth trailed kisses along her neck, sometimes letting his teeth scrape against her skin and making her gasp in surprise.

She was so close to the edge and about to tip over; he could feel it.

He pressed his thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves, stroking it slowly so he could push back the hood and watch her shake at how quickly a new stimulus was added, “Shall I play with your cute bud too?”

“I hate you so much,” she moaned out, her walls clamping down around his fingers in contradiction to her words.

“Is that a no?” He flicked his finger across quickly, laughing quietly as her thighs trembled.

“No…” Her face twisted into a pout before responding, “Please play with my bud.”

She didn’t have to ask twice before he began rubbing circles around the spot making her twitch, savoring each jolt her body made as the pleasure wracked through her body.

It wasn’t much longer before her orgasm tore through her, shaking against him as he refused to stop pumping in fingers and toying with her body through it.

Only once she finally stopped moving in his arms, chest raising quickly as she struggled to breathe, did he finally pull out. The glisten on his fingers piqued his interest as he stuck out his tongue and licked it off.

He hummed approvingly, “I should have known that such a pretty flower would make such delicious nectar.”

She only groaned, too tired to do much more than weakly protest, “Seriously, stop. I’m amazed I didn’t go dry listening to that kind of talk.”

“You did very well tolerating it.” He pushed her out of his lap and onto her back, arms now pressed between her and the bed below as he settled between her legs, “Keep it up and I may even decide to pollinate that precious flower of yours.”

She hated it. Somehow those euphemisms were worse than anything else she could have possibly said, but it didn’t stop her face from heating up as she watched him reach down his hand and begin to open up his pants to free his erection. It was thick and hard and already leaking from him imagining what it would be like if his length had been inside of her rather than his fingers.

She moaned, hating herself for still wanting it despite knowing how awful the phrases he was making her use were, “Please…”

“Please what, My Little Rose?” Simeon smiled down at her, dragging his length through her slick as he teased her slit, purposefully bumping against her bud just to hear how she moaned for him.

“Please pollinate my precious flower.” She despised the warm feeling that bubbled up in her belly asking him in that way, but it felt so good.

And it felt even better when he pressed his tip against her entrance and pushed into her.

[floatin-croc]

I got fecking lazy AAAUGH

The au will still continue, I will also post doodles and designs (I have lots of aus, just can't work on them all at once)

I might feature one of my other aus, you can call it... Into the incredi-verse :v

Warren will still be in every au, I can't take that mf off my head urrrgh. He won't interupt much tho, but he does have a link to (almost) every characters, I will dig more into lores and stuffs.

Anyway, have some sharks

These fishes are all Warren's, just different skins and species.

They have human features cuz, why not?

[bemorekleinman]

thank you for the tag @alligatorbloodmp3!!

tagging 10 people you would like to know better (except mine are open tags to whoever would like to fill this out!!)

relationship status: coming up on one year with my bf!! instagram friends will know him as the guy behind the weird playbill names so y’all have proof he is very fun and cool :D

favorite color: generally it’s some shade of blue, but I am a fan of quite a few purples as well!! maybe I’ll just say my favorite color is Dear Evan Hansen Blue for fun

song stuck in my head: currently nothing, surprisingly! it’s usually a kpop song nowadays tbh 😭😭 but as of the past day or so I’d say I’ve been alternating between the new waterparks album (stream intellectual property‼️‼️) or the falsettos soundtrack because MAN that musical goes hard

three favorite foods: ooooooh definitely udon and dole whip,,,,,, and I’ll say breakfast sausage because I was thinking about it yesterday for some reason

last thing I googled: “kim yong soo actor” LMAO okay let me give the lengthy explanation 😭😭 so I have been obsessively keeping up with the current korean production of death note the musical because I LOVE IT SO MUCH AAAUGH but anyways the father of one of the actors unfortunately passed away so naturally he’s stepping out of the production for some time but the way instagram translated the korean caption made it sound like the ACTOR HIMSELF died and they were just causally going “oh yeah that happened, we’ll put in a replacement for a little while, sorry for the inconvenience haha” and I was over here like “HUH????”

dream trip: OOOUGH hard tie between japan (hopefully I can go next summer after I take some japanese classes??) or greece because I want to visit my friend there lol <3 OR anywhere that they’re currently putting on a (legal or not) production of dear evan hansen. hey wait tumblr folks HAVE I TALKED ABOUT THOSE WITH YOU GUYS YET?? BECAUSE WE SHOULD

anything I want rn: for everyone reading this to have a good day!! and for the issues in my friend group to get resolved painlessly and without any crying lol OH and also for me to not fail anatomy 🫶🫶

tags: like I said, open tags!!! will give @ujustgotghostbusted and @bloodykora a tag if they want to do it but no pressure!!

[deepseaphantom]

Aaaugh it’s a lot of yelling about my shit life

I hate this stupid house!!!! It’s rotting from the inside out and we’re rotting along with it!!!! There’s a hole in the bathroom floor there’s a hole in the crawling the dishwasher is broken and my dad won’t get it fixed I fucking hate this place but I can’t escape!!!!! I am trapped!!! With a racist transphobic father!!! I can’t trust anyone in this family cause I vented about my mom (she sucks) on insta and my aunt (her sister) saw it and told my grandma (her mom) about it and she called me disgusting!!! I can’t tell my dad anything cause he sucks and thinks I can’t be a lesbian cause I’m nonbinary but also thinks I can’t be non-binary cause I’m a lesbian!!!! Fucker thinks cause I was born premature and have aspergers (I do not use this word anymore) that I’ll develop slower into things!!!! He fucking told me that when I told him I was asexual!!!! My sister said that if I went on testosterone it would make me more angry and violent and has called me a idiot and a bitch multiple times (so has my dad) and my mom is absolutely awful!!! I haven’t talked to her in years cause she kicked me off tone health insurance and she also told my sister to KILL HERSELF?!? And my sister still continues to talk to her!!!! And I can’t talk about how our father was/is emotionally abusive!!! I’ve gotten over fights with my dad before cause he won’t use my name or pronouns(saying shit like they isn’t a singular pronoun) or him spouting racist shit and I would go to my sisters place (there is no where else to go) and I WAS AT FAULTIM THE ONLY GAY AND AUTISTIC LERSON IN THIS ENTIRE FAMILY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH UIS TRANSPHOBIC ASS AND IM THE BAD GUY!!!!

Fuck I don’t even trust to tell them anything anymore about stuff I like cause they’ll chuckle at it and they’ve made fun of me so many times (calling me a bitch and idiot) that I do not trust them

I fucking hate being autistic in this fucking family I don’t fit in at all

I’m the only artist in the family (everyone else are lawyers or some sorts political thing or scientist)

I’m autistic )either I’m the only one who doesn’t try and mask or truly I’m alone)

I have nerdy interests (transformers)

I am nonbinary !!!! There is no one else in this fucking family that is gay!!! (I don’t count my mom I don’t care if she dated and moved in with a lady for a bit ((they broke up)) she fucking kicked me off the health insurance when I came out to her as non-binary!

And I get fucking interrupted all the goddamn time!!! All the fucking time!!!! I try and talk about something I like and I can literally see the interest fade from my sisters eyes I try and talk about how I was bullied in middle school and my dad has the gall to say if I smiled more I would’ve had more friends and he won’t shut up about hoe he regrets not letting me quit basketball and says I would’ve made friends that way!! I fucking hated basketball!! I got hit in the head 3 fucking times!!

And I fucking can’t have negative emotions in this house or not want to be touched or else my dad will get mad at me! I have no privacy since my room is essentially a hallway with doors and one doesn’t close properly ! He can just come in and talk to me about whatever the fuck or kiss me on my head and I don’t want that sometimes!!! And I have to pretend that I’m not incredibly dissatisfied with my life cause if I tried to explain to him how I feel and how I literally can’t do anything he says some shit like just do it! Make a list! FUCK!!!!! iCANT I FUCKKNG CANT

NEITHER MY DAD OR SISTED KNOW ME AND I BARELY KNOE MYSELF!!!!! But fuck I know if I was the person my dad and sister thought I was I would’ve killed myself already

[sunflowerwilds]

🌌(i like this emoji.) mug and sylvan?

MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

Mug: like imura, mug was also a dnd oc- he actually replaced imura in a campaign lol. the idea behind him started when i was reading up on dnd gods and thought it'd be hilarious to have an undead life cleric whose god gave them divine protection because of their strong faith, even if their existence goes against the god's dogma... this idea bled into ASHES itself but has definitely changed a fair bit to fit the new context. for starters he's not "undead" anymore.

mug's original inspiration was ken amada from persona 3 as i was playing the game at the time. i really liked the "that kid who had sacrificed their childhood for one reason or another and were more "mature"" trope. mug doesn't have it now, but his original weapon was also a staff based on ken's spears. im rereading ken's wiki as i write this and man- mug still draws heavy inspiration from him without me even completely realizing it. good character, love him <3 -=-=-=-=-

MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

Sylvan: this fucker came out of nowhere. the first thing i decided on was his name, the second thing was that he had red hair. the rest has been a roller coaster for his entire development. his design. his role in the story. my old drafts of him sucked!!! he wasn't even gay!! he just kind of .... existed with no narrative purpose other than "hone's childhood best friend". making him gay literally saved his character (thanks sapphy <3). now he has so much stuff on him that it warranted a four chapter side story to the main story that i'm writing simultaneously. he wants to be an attention hog and i'm letting him!!! aaaugh!!!!!

he has no inspirations that i'm aware of!! literally manifested out of thin air and lives in my head. he should be paying me rent!!