#it almost feels worse and more isolating for this year to have been the first year for me to try professional mental health services

[bairdthereader]

Julio Spring, let's have a chat.

I find this man hard to write about because sometimes he makes himself exactly what his son needs, and other times he's almost damagingly quiet. Without knowing too much about Julio's past (I think I've read everything Alice has written about him, but for the purposes of this post I'm going to focus mainly on what we know from the show), it can be hard to parse his motivations and actions. But one thing we know for sure is that Julio is deeply concerned for Charlie.

The most poignant scene between them is obviously when Julio hugs Charlie after Harry's party. He can sense immediately that something is wrong, very wrong, but has the intuition and sensitivity to push aside the intense curiosity he must be feeling about why, or the details of what happened, and addresses the most pressing issue--Charlie's need for comfort and support.

Though we never see it on screen, or even much in the books aside from some narrative flashbacks, this must be a tragically familiar scenario for Julio; after all, he's been through at least a year or more of dealing with the aftermath of the bullying Charlie experiences. How achingly difficult must it be for Julio to repeat "it's going to be okay" to his son when he knows there's a good chance it might not ever be truly okay. The trust that Charlie must have in Julio to allow himself to fall apart in front of him indicates that Julio must have handled those past crises with enough care to make Charlie see him as a safe space. [And we can't assume that Julio is safe for Charlie just because he's his father--Alice makes it clear in other storylines that safety with family is far, far from a given.]

Julio has gone through this enough times that, when it's time to drop Charlie off at the cinema, he's clearly torn between allowing Charlie the freedom he needs, and the space to make his own judgments about what he can handle, versus his parental desire to protect Charlie from harm. The fact that he gives Charlie that space earns him a lot of respect in my eyes.

Afterward, he can tell that the conversation between Charlie and Ben was an antagonistic one, and that his concerns were valid. There's nothing worse as a parent than anticipating hurt for your child and then having that fear come true. But Julio doesn't push, or dig for more. Maybe he should have, but those calls are always hard to make, and even harder to judge from the outside.

A lot of Julio's tender and caring moments happen in the first season, so it's hard to watch in season two when there are many scenes where Julio is so obviously upset, worried, or angry, and yet does nothing. Sometimes, admittedly, it's hard to know what to do, and that's valid, but we need him to try.

We need Julio, who understands Jane and where she's coming from at least a little better than Charlie does, to step in and mediate when she's clearly letting her own past and her parents' critical behavior impact how she's interacting with her son.

We need Julio to follow up on his concern, that niggling worry and doubt that he has, about Charlie not eating and isolating himself.

We need Julio to object when he witnesses Charlie engaging in negative self-talk, to bolster his son with words of support.

Julio Spring is a good dad who cares incredibly deeply for a son he can't always completely understand, but there's room for growth here too. I really hope we get to see that in season 3.

*And fear not, the infamous hanky panky conversation will get its own post.

[chaseprice]

,

[milo-is-rambling]

I miss living with Millie wahhhhh

[gale-force-storm]

He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far.

Even if they are beautiful. And kind to everyone, not just him. And brave. And clever. And strong. And they love animals, and reading. And they have a wry sense of humour that he adores.

He won't. He can't. Besides all else, this is decidedly not the time. A bomb in his chest and a worm in his head and a weight on his shoulders and a shame in his stomach and a shattered heart he's still trying to gather the pieces of. Desperately clinging to the cloak of his past, wrapping himself in his former confidence, pretending it hasn't been worn threadbare with time in isolation and eaten ragged by the moths of doubt and fear and past mistakes.

He fell from grace so far so fast, but he cannot beg affection off the first hand to offer him help up, even if it is the first time he's touched another person in months. Even if that hand did send a sudden warmth through him and feel so right in his own he could almost cry from it.

...This is getting out of hand.

He can just be friendly with them, surely. How does one make friends, again? Shared interests? He mostly just has the one, so he'll share what he can. They pick it up quickly, and the warm magic that surrounds them is a balm on his soul. Right up until they imagine kissing him, and his heart skips a beat. It can't be. It can't be. They can't want him back. It's not possible. And how, after it all, after everything, is he meant to resist the overwhelming temptation of being wanted?

They don't let up, either. Lingering glances. Warm smiles. All but propositioning him at the tiefling party. If there is a single positive thing to be said about his year of orb-imposed abstinence, it's that the willpower he had to build up and the practice denying himself were the only things that enabled him to decline their advances.

Well, that and the risk of blowing up the both of them, along with everyone else in or near the camp.

The warm smiles and lingering gazes and casual touches still continue, though.

This is fine. He's fine. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, someone cared for him like this, and he can't do a damn thing about it, but he's fine. Everything is fine. As fine as it can be, anyways, given everything else about the situation.

He supposes he should probably be more upset about Mystra's orders. At this point, though, it's hard to feel like it's anything besides a way out. A relief that he can be good for something. One more miserable experience, and then he's done with it, and all their problems are solved. There are worse things.

Except.

They're so angry about it. Everyone is, but them especially. Arguing with both him and Elminster the entire time, insisting there's another option. That they'll find or make one. Whatever they have to do to keep him around.

Gods help him, but he does want to stay with them. Stay for them.

He sleeps that night, and awakens with a jolt, a groan, and a realization. He's glad that prestidigitation exists to clean himself up without leaving his tent and risking the others' notice. His body had, apparently, caught up with certain implications before his brain. Though from what snippets of his dream he remembers, maybe it was only his waking mind that had been lagging behind.

He wants them, and he can finally have them. Can give them as much of himself as he's able, in the time he has left.

He had refused, at first, the idea of falling for the first person to show him kindness. And he hasn't. He's fallen for someone who is so much more that that. And he will not, cannot, die without letting them know. If he has to leave them, and he fears he will, then he will not leave them feeling unappreciated, or uncherished, or unloved. Not when he can finally embrace the full depth and breadth of what he feels for them. Has felt for them for what can't have been more than a tenday or two, but feels like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

He will not leave without showing them the full scope of his admiration and appreciation and sheer joy at their presence. The full scope of how impossibly deeply he already loves them. Not while he has any say in it.

[hexiewrites]

I’ve been thinking a lot about late-deafened Steve, and what that actually would have looked like. Because the thing is: I love this head cannon. Boy got bashed around so much, ESPECIALLY on his left side, theres no way he didn’t come out of that with some long term damage. And I’ve been thinking about what that means for him, when his hearing starts to go, and how isolating that would be.

Except. Then I keep thinking about Robin.

Give me child-of-Deaf-adults Robin. Robin whose parents met at Gallaudet. Who were confused and upset when the doctor said, relief clear on his face, oh thank god, how lucky, your baby is normal, she can HEAR. Robin who grows up a in a Deaf home with a Deaf family. Who learns ASL before she learns English. Who never learns to be quiet because at home it doesn’t matter, so she can blast trumpet all day long to no complaints, and forever feels uncomfortable in places where she has to try to keep it down. Robin who grows up learning ASL and English and thrives, loves the way her brain works when it’s parsing languages, and starts teaching herself French and Spanish too, blasting day time Spanish soap operas constantly whenever she’s at home, shouting along with the screen. Robin who interprets for her parents, taking on burdens no seven year old should when she’s the one who has to tell her mom the cancers back. Robin who, four years later, gets to tell her dad that the surgery worked. The cancers gone. Moms gonna be ok. Robin who, at eleven, doesn’t know the sign for remission but she signs CANCER-one hand eating at the other like the disease that almost took her Mom-and signs FINISH, signs NONE, signs MOM-OKAY, MOM-SAFE, and is glad her dad can’t hear how loud her sobs are because even she’s embarrassed at the noises she’s making. 

Robin who doesn’t quite fit at home, the loud little girl in the odd quiet house (not that her house is ever quiet: if you dont realize you’re making noise you don’t do anything to tamper it), and who doesn’t quite fit at school, when she shows up in kindergarten signing instead of speaking and all the other kids make fun of her for years, call her spazzy Buckley and imitate the signs, crude and heartbreaking and she can’t even cry here because everyone can hear her. Robin who teaches herself to speak without signing, sits on her hands and tries not to internalize the hatred, but her fingers still twitch constantly along with the words. Robin who thinks she’s never going to fit in, and tries to separate out the two different parts of herself because it’s easier, most days, to pretend to be “normal” even though that feels wrong too.

Give me Robin, who knows Steve inside out and who knows what it looks like when someone can’t hear you but pretends they can. Robin who clocks Steve immediately, even though he tries to brush her off like he’s been doing to everyone. Robin who finally takes him home to meet her parents, explaining it all in the car (into his right ear, which is better than the left though still starting to fade). Robin who gives Steve the gift of understanding and hope for the future. Who holes up with him and teaches him sign, slow at first (because Steve has never been good at grammar, and he constantly furrows his eyebrows despite her pleas that eyebrows are important in ASL and he needs to use his face more or he’s going to confuse everyone, it’s the visual equivalent of lilting your voice up like every sentence is a question and it’s weird, Steve!) and then faster as he starts to realize how useful it is, starts to bring her lists full of signs to learn, starts to lean on and cherish the experience of this new way to communicate. Robin, who helps him practice lipreading even though she’s terrible at it. Robin, who finally convinces him to get a hearing aid and lets him sob into her shoulder when the doctor says it’ll help for a few years, but long term there’s probably nothing they can do, and then tells him to buck it up because there are way worse things than being a little deaf and besides, now the Buckleys will just have to adopt him for real because they did always talk about adopting a deaf child or two, if there was ever one in need.

Give me CODA Robin, whose never felt like she belonged until she nearly gets murdered by Russians with her best friend. Who brings Steve into her life, shows him Deaf culture, gives him a place where he fits. Robin who finally realizes that this is her place too, and it’s so much sweeter for getting to share it with the people she loves.

And then, after, give me Eddie knocking on the Buckley door and begging to learn ASL too. Give me Robin’s mom, somehow roped in to teaching him and the party, as they try to learn in secret to make Steve’s life easier (and their own, because ASL is god tier for pulling pranks from opposite sides of a high school cafeteria). Give me Dustin, excitedly telling Miranda Buckley to FUCK-OFF every week for months because he thinks he’s saying THANK-YOU and she finds it too funny to correct him. Give me Eddie trying to surprise Steve and ask him out on a date, but instead of signing HUNGRY, WANT YOU&ME GO AFTER WORK? he signs HORNY, WANT YOU&ME GO FUCK?

And give me Steve, who thinks about it for a long minute (partially because Eddie totally botches the grammar, but partially because he looks so hot, standing there nervous and trying to communicate with Steve in a way that will make him the most comfortable) before he smirks and signs back YEAH, and takes Eddie on the best goddamn first date of his life. 

[ginkgo-phyta]

Can I request Spencer (later seasons, post prison era) gifting his gf an initial necklace, but the pendant is his initial?

i.e.

"This is nice, Spence, but my name doesn't start with an 'S'."

"Yeah, but mine does, and you're mine."

Feel free to take it as far as you like 😏

A/N: ehehe yes ofc, i love thissss, but also a lil funny bc my name DOES start with an S :P so imma change the dialogue a bit. keepin dis sweet- there is a lil steamy moment for like two sentences however mostly this is fluff, hope you enjoy it, my love!

Fluff, no warnings (?), gender neutral language (im p sure, lemme know if i missed something!), 2.5k words

Spencer’s apartment is flooded with the music of joy; light jazz pours from an old style radio in the living room, your shared laughter tumbles into the rest of the place from the small kitchen, the sound of knives and forks scraping decorated ceramic plates signals the end of a well-enjoyed meal.

It was date-night for the two of you, a rare occurrence as of late due to Spencer’s teaching commitment. Initially, you were excited, thinking you would be getting more of him to yourself. You kept that thought to yourself, though, seeing how upset he initially was at not being able to help his team in the way he wanted to. That exhilaration was shut down particularly quickly as Spencer had begun bringing his work home with him. When he was working only as a profiler, sure he’d be away from you most of the time, but when he came home he’d spend all of his time present and in the moment. Now, at times, having him home almost felt worse than when he’d be away.

In the moment, however, everything was perfect. This is how you wished every night could be. The two of you bumping shoulders as you both prepare dinner; glasses of wine clinking with a cheers; old love songs serenading your flushed ears as Spencer pulls you into his arms to delicately waltz around the kitchen; his balmy eyes peering down into yours, speaking words of love and comfort. This serene feeling of domesticity was addicting. Life had been a whirlwind the past year, with it only being about six months since Spencer came home from prison. Things were jarringly different at first, both of your lives changing the way being wrongfully imprisoned changed Spencer, but you didn’t care. You could fight every battle life threw your way as long as your beautiful boy was by your side. Some days were more difficult than others, when Spencer would be reminded of the atrocities he witnessed in jail or what he had to do to survive. He’d isolate himself, snap at you, or push you away; but this evening was a good night- it almost felt like you had your old lover back.

“Dinner was delicious, angel.” Spencer beamed at you from the other side of his compact dining table, using his cloth napkin to wipe at the corners of his lips. 

“Well,” you chuckled, pushing out of your seat to collect both of your plates, “you helped me, that’s probably why.” 

Spencer quickly followed your movements, whisking the dishes out of your hands with a sweet kiss pressed to your cheek before taking them to the sink. “It was all you, beautiful.” he had whispered against your skin while leaving your side. 

You silently shook your head, picking up your wine and water glasses to be washed. “Should I dry?” you questioned as he turned on the faucet, pulling a tea towel from the cabinet below you. 

Spencer shook his head, “It’s okay, they can air dry.” he spoke with a little shrug.

“Okay!” you responded bright-eyed, throwing the towel down onto the counter next to you, a bit too excited at the prospect of not doing anything. Your reaction peeled an infectious laugh from Spencer's beautifully cerise lips, his nose scrunching involuntarily. You could stand there and just watch him exist for the rest of eternity. 

And you did just that for a minute, took in the sight of him humming along to the jazz standard wafting in from the other room, engrossed in scrubbing the food stuck to the pans you cooked in. His jawline and upper-lip were shadowed in scruff, trailing down the sides of his Adam’s apple. His hair was long now, wavy and pushed back from his face, exposing his strong forehead and giving you unrestricted access to gaze into his gentle cinnamon eyes. The years passing changed his appearance in so many ways, and you loved every bit of it. Your eyes trailed down to graze over the top of his chest, exposed by the first few buttons of his deep cerulean shirt undone; they moved over the slopes of his broad shoulders, and down to his arms working steadfast to clean up the remnants of your meal. It didn’t escape Spencer how you were drinking him in without a care in the world, paying no mind to his elbow occasionally bumping into your torso.

“You having fun there?” he teased with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes never leaving the task at hand. His words spurred you forward. 

You simply hummed in response as you moved to stand behind him, your front pressing firmly into his back. Spencer’s eyebrow arched questioningly, but he kept his mouth shut, simply letting you do as you pleased. Your head peeked over one side of his arm, hands sliding down until they reached the cuff of his sleeve. Deftly, you began folding them up, “Just helpin you,” you mumbled as a throwaway explanation, moving to his other side to do the same. Fingernails scratched at his newly exposed forearms, your muffled giggle turning Spencer’s smirk into a wide grin. “Done!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his abdomen before nuzzling your face into his broad back. Over the barrier of fabric, the running water, and the sound of his scrubbing Spencer barely heard you ask, “Didn’t I help so much?”

His chuckle sent vibrations into your cheek, “Yes, honey, you were a big help. Thank you.” Content, you pushed your face further into his shirt. 

The two of you stood like that for a few more minutes, Spencer trying his best not to move too much in order to keep you comfortable. You haven’t back-hugged him like this since before he was framed, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until this moment. He washed the dishes a bit slower than normal, reveling in the heart-warming scene. Soon, however, he was done. 

As soon as he turned off the water, you were off him, moving to pick up the once-forgotten tea towel and face him, leaning against the edge of the sink. “Thank you for your service, soldier.” you unseriously saluted before taking each of his dripping hands in his and patting them dry. 

A titter broke through his smile as Spencer reverently gazed down at you, the way your eyes twinkled under the soft-yellow lights of his old kitchen, your beautiful hands turning his own over to attack any remaining droplets of water, your eyebrows twitching reflexively here and there in focus. The first time he laid eyes on you all those years ago he was shot in the heart by Cupid’s arrow, and it has stayed there, firm in place, ever since. 

As soon as you were done, Spencer softly cupped your face in his palms, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as he tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down, pushing a passionate, yet gentle kiss onto your mouth. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away just enough to mumble, “I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you looked up at him in confusion as he pressed one more peck to your lips before moving into the other room, your hands chasing after him. Once his words processed in your brain you perked up, excitedly following behind him.

“You got me a gift?” You question, reaching where Spencer stood at the side table by the front door, right in front of the intricate, gold trimmed mirror you hung up just last week. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Spencer pick up the weekly newspaper, “Uh, you got me the…local paper?”

With a roll of his eyes, Spencer wordlessly pulled you to him by the waist, mimicking your earlier actions by pressing his front into your back. You stumbled a bit, catching yourself by grabbing onto the forearm wrapped around your torso, holding you up, Spencer’s fingers digging into your waist. You peer at him curiously through the mirror before he whispers in your ear. 

“Look,” he motions down with his chin, and you do as you’re told. Spencer moves the haphazardly folded newspaper to the side, revealing a glimmering deep emerald velvet box. From the size of it, you could tell it was some jewelry other than a ring. You gasped in shock, not even having seen its contents. “Spencer…” your voice was meek and unbelieving. 

He watched you through the mirror, his cheek pressed against your temple as he opened the box before you. Your alluring eyes widened to their limits, hands flying up to cover your mouth. Your gaze whizzed to meet your lover in the reflection, “You got me a necklace??” your words dripped with incredulity. Spencer had gifted you generously in the past- rare books, handmade accessories, clothing you had your eye on, tickets to see your favorite artists live- but never before had he bought you jewelry. You never minded, content with wanting the first piece he gives you to be an engagement ring. That being said, this surprise moved you immensely. You took in the gorgeous necklace shining proudly up at you. A dainty chain in the metal you wore the most, in the middle sat a heart-shaped locket, no bigger than the tip of your pinky-finger. Before you could speak again, Spencer shifted to open the locket for you, revealing two pictures. One was older, taken at JJ’s wedding; Penelope had been going around taking photos of everyone and as soon as she neared the two of you, Spencer scooped you up into his arms as if you were the bride. The moment frozen in time showed you in the midst of a bellowing laugh, clutching to Spencer’s shoulders in shock, with your boyfriend looking upon you as if you were an angel incarnate, an equally wide smile plastered across his face. The second photo was more recent; you had invited the whole team out to a picnic brunch shortly after Spencer was released and this time Emily was the one taking candid photos. The two of you were cozying up at the edge of the yellow gingham blanket, Spencer's arms wrapped tightly around your figure rested between his legs. In the photo, his hand was cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to bring your lips close to his, the snapshot proudly showcasing his grinning mouth just centimeters from your own with the sunlight stretching out in the background. 

“Oh, Spencer,” you were at a loss of words, your fingers hesitantly tracing the silhouette of the pendant, “It’s so beautiful, my favorite pictures…” you murmured. 

Spencer hummed and nodded in response, setting the box down to take the necklace out of its confines. He straightened behind you, stretching the necklace out in front of your face, “Let me put it on you, baby.” he whispered, mouth barely moving. 

You happily obliged as he brought the chain closer to your neck, moving your hair to one side to better allow him to clasp it behind you. Spencer watched you the whole time through the mirror while your eyes were fixated on the necklace. The cold metal of the locket hitting your warm skin caused a minuscule gasp to part your plump lips, but Spencer noticed it all. The way your chest rose and fell faster, chasing after your quickened heart; the way you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth; your uncertain hands grasping at his trouser legs behind you. Once the chain was secured, the locket resting perfectly in the dip of your collar bones, Spencer placed soft, warm kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, holding eye contact with you with each; even as he moved your hair to dutifully pepper the other side. You sighed as his arms returned to engulf your waist, tighter than before, your hands moved to rest on top of his. He noticed your eyelids flutter close just for a moment, taking him in, before they opened again and your gaze shifted back down to the reflection of the necklace. Your eyes glinted with uncertainty upon noticing the engraving on the locket you hadn’t fully processed earlier. 

“‘S’...” you spoke, reading the letter dangling from your neck. You kept your inflection steady, trying to make it seem like you knew exactly what it stood for, but Spencer knew you better than that. Before you could make any assumptions, he spoke up.

“For ‘Spencer’.” he stated matter-of-factly, his face moving up from your shoulder to rest against your temple again. 

You smiled at him, more confused than before, “But aren’t you supposed to put my initials on it. You know, cuz it’s my necklace?”

“No,” he murmured sternly against your hair. Spencer’s left hand slipped down to grab onto your right hip, his right hand traveling up your sternum to thumb over the locket before splaying out to rest just below your throat, the heart pendant resting on the back of his hand.

Another, louder gasp sucked through your lips as Spencer tugged you closer to him, your back arched a bit as it stretched, bum pushing into his groin. 

“I put my initial,” he started again, heading dipping down to mouth against the shell of your ear, his eyes looking at you in the mirror through his cocoa lashes had you biting your lip, “Because you’re mine. And now everyone will know it.”

Suddenly, you whipped around in Spencer’s arms, throwing your own over and around his neck, hugging his body close to yours. He stumbled back a bit in shock, grabbing onto your lower back to steady himself before a laugh shook through his shoulders. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you enthusiastically repeated, pressing kisses along his stubbled jawline with every word. “I love it so much, Spencer.” you pulled back all the way to stare up at him, gaze filled with genuinity. One of your hands remained on the back of his neck, the other coming down to fiddle with the locket, “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

His previously mischievous demeanor melted off his back as Spencer drank in how you dripped sweetness. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, honey.” His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I know things have been…complicated lately. I’ve been distant and cold, which I want to apologize for, but you’ve been beside me through it all. You’re my rock, and I just wanted to show you a bit of my gratitude.” 

You shook your head as you pushed up onto your tippy-toes to kiss him again, the hand on your locket moving to lightly scratch at the side of his neck.

“I’m all yours,” you muttered against his lips, tilting your head to the other side to slot yours upon them again. You pulled away after a couple seconds, “You don’t have to thank me, my love. I know you would do the same for me.” You pressed a few more kisses to Spencer’s supple lips before pulling back again, causing him to huff. “Are you mine?” you whisper.

Innocent doe-eyes coupled with a small pout had a quiet groan dragging from Spencer’s throat. He brought a hand up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb before tangling his fingers in your hair, 

“I’m yours, baby.” he nodded. “Only yours.” With that, he pulled you back in for a sensual kiss.

A/N: omg sorry if this sucks im so sleepy right nowwwww it took so long to write this for some reason i cant process words properly but i wanted to finish this! i loved writing this piece, and i hope y'all like reading it. ANON! how'd i do?

[2hoothoots]

(photographer voice) "okay, now let's do one where canon events play out slightly differently and everyone ends up in a significantly worse place because of it"

here's an au of an au because i have issues watched the genghis khan music video one too many times. lore dump + crops/bonus art below

Due to an unfortunate combination of chance factors, Razputin Aquato arrives at Whispering Rock one day late.

He finds the camp a ghost town. The campers are stumbling around, brainless; the counsellors, nowhere to be found. Ford doesn’t know what to make of this kid showing up out of nowhere – but he’s got promise, and with Sasha and Milla out of action, he’s their best hope. He gives Raz a crash course in what he needs to know, and sends him out across the lake.

Raz pulls through, against all odds. But he never gets the starstruck meeting with his heroes Sasha and Milla that he’d been hoping for; never gets to bond with Lili, or any of the other campers. It’s a harrowing and lonely experience for him, but one that ties a burning knot of resolve in his chest. If he works hard, he can be a Psychonaut just like he dreamed. He can save people.

When the alert comes through from Headquarters that Grand Head Zanotto has been captured, Sasha and Milla scramble the jet with Lili on board. They don’t bring Raz along – Ford’s account of his accomplishments is impressive, but without seeing him in action themselves, neither agent is convinced to bring him along on the mission. Sasha invites him to next year’s session of the camp – after all, he clearly has promise, and the Psychonauts are always interested in nurturing young minds.

Raz returns to camp next year with something to prove. He throws himself into his studies with a single-minded dedication, sparing little time to interact with any of the other campers. This time, he’ll show them. He’ll show them all.

Sasha, Milla and Lili are unable to locate Truman in the Rhombus of Ruin. It ultimately takes a week to locate the Grand Head, following an anonymous tip-off (later found to have been planted by Nick). It takes six months for the ruse to be uncovered. Ultimately, Nick is unsuccessful in finding any clues to Maligula’s whereabouts. Lucrecia will pass a few years later, surrounded by a family that has no idea who she really is. Ford never remembers the truth, and when Razputin is fourteen, he takes the secret to his grave.

Truman’s brain spends almost seven months in a box, under poor conditions with insufficient oxygen. When it’s finally returned to his body, he’s not the same man he used to be. He quietly steps down as Grand Head of the organisation, and spends years of his retirement in intensive therapy.

Lili is heartbroken. Her faith in the Psychonauts is shattered. She never returns to Whispering Rock again. Over the years, she becomes more and more withdrawn; isolated from her peers, estranged from her mother, and struggling with her relationship with a father who on bad days can’t even remember her name. The bitterness grows day by day, blooming within her chest.

She’s sixteen the first time she's forced to turn her powers against another person. Even in his current state, her father has enemies – old foes the Psychonauts can’t (or won’t) protect him from. There’s a raid on her house, late at night. It’s only by chance that she’s still awake. She breaks two of the assailants’ bodies, and when she twists her hand, the plants in her father's greenhouse writhe under her command and rip the third one to pieces. It’s the last time that house ever feels like a home to her. She cuts ties with the Psychonauts entirely, and never looks back; the next time they hear of her, it's under a completely different name.

Dogen Boole never returns to Whispering Rock either. He’s thoroughly traumatized by the events at camp, and his parents refuse to send him back the following year. With nobody to help him learn to control or harness his powers, his episodes steadily become worse as he gets older. Although reluctant, his family is eventually forced to reach out to the Psychonauts to help. Compton is still a nervous recluse, and nobody else in the organisation is quite sure how to handle Dogen’s powers. He spends his teenage years in and out of psychoisolation, and is subjected to more and more intense experimentation in the name of “treatment”. Nothing works. In the end, all he has to show for it are the scars.

His helmet is the only thing he can rely on to stop him mulching the cranium of anyone in a fifty-foot radius. There’s no place for him in “normal” society. Just like Lili, he’s driven to become a villain by a combination of circumstances, trauma, and a bitter feeling of hurt and betrayal towards the Psychonauts.

Raz enters the intern program at thirteen, and quickly graduates to the rank of Junior Agent. The Psychonauts he finds waiting for him is undergoing a marked transition from the organization it used to be. Upon Ford’s passing, the only member of the old guard still around is Otto. Hollis is a Grand Head forced to prioritize efficiency in order to keep the Psychonauts afloat after numerous losses and funding cuts.

Raz enters a passionate, determined boy, remarkably talented but who struggles to connect with his peers. When he gets his promotion at eighteen, he’s the most decorated junior agent the organization has ever seen. At twenty-six, he’s in the prime of his career, honed by years of training into an efficient, meticulous, ruthless Psychonaut.

He’s the perfect agent. As far as he’s concerned, that’s all he needs to be.

under-the-cut bonus, here's some tighter crops on the art, and also a couple extra bits and pieces:

dogen's helmet seals up like a pillbug most of the time, to stop his powers from leaking out when he gets stressed. i couldn't find a way to work it into the art while still making clear that Hey It's Ya Boy, but i think it's a neat visual. the extra pic of lili was gonna be a mugshot - at first i was planning to composit her art into, like, a dossier/file, but i couldn't make it work in the end

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie doesn’t exactly get high often, alright? He just indulges in his own supply when he’s feeling particularly stressed.

Okay, so he’s been a little fucking stressed lately. His supply is down to nothing.

And it wouldn’t be a problem, except he feels like he’s getting a cold, or a flu, or a fucking tumor. He’s been sneezing nonstop and he keeps getting hot flashes and it just doesn’t make any sense. He’s been holed up in his room for a week, not even coming out to see Wayne before he leaves for work. No way he caught something besides loneliness.

Wayne always has some Tylenol on hand, but what good does that do when he’s dying? There’s some allergy meds that Wayne always takes during the first bit of spring, but they could be expired for all Eddie knows.

So he’s dying. Alone. In his too-hot/too-cold room. No music to even soothe his soul on its way to its final resting place.

“Eds?”

Oh, now he’s hallucinating too? Great.

“Eddie!”

He turned towards his door but couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes, even when his hallucination spoke again.

“Jesus, Eddie. What the hell is going on?”

Steve was definitely not a hallucination. He was standing in Eddie’s bedroom doorway, hands on his hips, unfairly attractive scowl on his face, looking at Eddie like he was a lost cause.

He always looked at him like that when he was trying not to show he cared.

“If you don’t have drugs, leave me to die.”

Eddie turned back towards his wall and pulled the blanket over his head, regretting it the moment a drop of sweat made it’s way down his neck. He refused to let Steve see him like this. One near death experience was enough vulnerability for them.

“Wayne called and asked me to check on you. He said you were avoiding him. Any reason or you just felt the urge to see my pretty face?”

“Wayne shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know why he called you. Pretend he didn’t. Go back home. Say nice words about me at my funeral and try to mean them.”

He couldn’t see Steve, but he could feel his eye roll.

And Eddie knew he was being over dramatic. He was over dramatic more often than not. But he was having a rough week, his therapist would probably even say it was an isolation week, and now he was sick on top of it. Dramatics were his way of showing he’d survive.

“Are you sad or sick?”

“Yes.”

“Which one is worse right now?”

Eddie considered the question, considered his answer.

“Sick.”

“Stomach, head, or both?”

“Both. Everything.”

“Got a thermometer around or do I have to kiss your forehead to see if you have a fever?”

Eddie knew he was blushing. He’d never been so thankful for a comforter nearly suffocating him as he was in that moment.

“You’re not my mom no matter what the kids seem to think of you.”

“Thank god for that.”

Before Eddie could unpack whatever Steve meant by that, he felt the bed dip behind him and a hand touching his back.

“Let me check for a fever so I know what meds to get.”

Eddie hesitated. He hadn’t showered in at least three days. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. He was at his least attractive at this moment.

Letting Steve, the guy who he’d been in love with for almost a year now, see him like this? Hell no.

“Eds. Don’t make me call Wayne at work.”

Eddie sighed and pushed the blanket off of his head. He turned onto his back and glared at Steve. He ignored the fact that it took most of his energy to keep his eyes open long enough to do it.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I got all dolled up just for you, sweetheart.”

If Eddie had felt better, he may have noticed how Steve blushed, but unfortunately, he had already closed his eyes again.

He felt a cool hand on his forehead and sighed, relaxing back into his pillow.

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re burning up! How long have you felt this bad?”

“I dunno. Last night.”

Eddie didn’t want the hand to leave, it felt too good against his burning skin. He shivered when he felt another cool hand on his cheek.

“I’m getting some Tylenol for the fever and I’m calling Wayne to get you flu meds on his way home. Were you just gonna dehydrate and suffer in here alone?”

“Probably.”

Eddie waited for Steve to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to hide away or pretend he was fine if he wasn’t. He’d heard it plenty from his therapist and Wayne and Dustin and even Max when she felt like being nice. But he was met with a drawn out silence that made him nervous.

He peeked an eye open to see Steve staring down at him.

“I wasn’t gonna like, let myself actually die.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Uhhh…”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t be here. You know I can handle it. Right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

Eddie opened both of his eyes to see Steve pouting. Actually pouting like a child not getting their way. Over taking care of him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You’re not my babysitter. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“But I could’ve taken care of you.”

Eddie’s brain short circuited. He lost every ability to form a coherent thought.

“Eddie?”

This was too much. Steve was too much.

“Can you get me that Tylenol please?”

Eddie felt the bed adjust to Steve standing up and heard him walk to the bathroom across the hall. He took the separation as a small blessing so he could get the very few thoughts running rampant through his brain in some semblance of order.

When Steve came back with the Tylenol and a glass of water in hand, Eddie sat up in his bed.

He took the pills and chugged most of the water, ignoring the angry look Steve was shooting him.

“Thanks. You can go if you want.”

Steve, stubborn idiot that he is, didn’t go. In fact, he pushed Eddie over in bed to make room for himself.

As Steve got comfortable next to him, Eddie lay his head on Steve’s chest and splayed his arm across his stomach.

Might as well go all in if this is a hallucination.

“Just get some rest, Eds.”

Eddie let his eyes flutter closed. The last thing he remembers before slipping into his illness and medication induced sleep was a light press of lips against the top of his head.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Not really a sexual request but… thoughts on Daryl coming home upset? Like genuinely hurting over something or anxious about something. Personally I think Daryl would have some level of anxiety that every now and then can get bad so maybe something happens with that? Idk I just love your writing and wanna see your take on sad Daryl🫶🏻

UGHH I’ve been CRAVING some sad Daryl for a while I have this idea of Daryl having a mental break where he isolates himself from everyone because he has no clue how to properly communicate his feelings so instead he decides to stay in his own space and silently drown to death alone in his own thoughts.

Normalize holding adult men like babies because obviously thats what they are

I feel like lately my writing has been kinda bad?? 🧍🏾‍♀️Maybe this is just too short idk but something is OFF.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It had been two weeks since Daryl locked himself and your heart in the basement.

He needed some space, that much was obvious, but the worrying started the first week when Daryl didn’t touch the plates of food you or Carol would leave outside the door. He never left the room, never made a sound either. If it weren’t for the years of a living in an apocalypse, you would’ve thought he was dead.

Daryl felt dead, his bone weighing heavy with emotion and anger he just didn’t know how to get out. Years of bottling up everything now seeped through his grimy skin, mind running two miles a minute as his hands fisted his greasy matting hair.

He almost felt like a teenager again, rotting away feeling sorry for himself in bed while internal screaming at himself because lord knows he couldn’t do it vocally. He pushed everyone away, he needed to. Nobody needed to see him like this. Nobody needed to deal with him like this. Nobody needed to help him like this.

Daryl knew you and Carol left food outside his door, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to eat. Didn’t deserve to drink. He didn’t wanna open the door one day and see one of you standing there with a pitiful look on your face. He didn’t need pity.

He also didn’t need the jarring sound of pounding at said door. “Go ‘way” He mumbled, but instead the door creaked open, softly shutting. Maybe he should learn how to use a lock.

“Daryl” You voice was soft against his burning ears, however he felt a twinge of anger surge through him. “Get out. Don’t need anythin” He pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed and only glancing over at where you stood with your arms tightly folded. “It’s been weeks”

He knows. “So? Gonna be another weeks too, now leave” You stood firmly in place, not budging.

Daryl screamed at himself for trying to throw you out, you of all people. Only his internal monologue didn’t match the one coming out his mouth. “Dammit woman I told ya ta leave!”

You stared at him silently, taking a few steps towards him and not faltering when he stood up, merely inches from your face. “Don’ need ya in here feelin’ fuckin’ sorry makin’ me feel worse”

“Well if it makes you feel any shitter I feel sorry for you inside and outside the door” You shrugged up at him, looking at him with a more causal expression than anything. “Why are you pushing me away Dixon?” Daryl bared his teeth at the question, angry at himself cause he didn’t know why. “Why’re ya in here?”

“That’s not answering my question” You scoffed, and Daryl turned to frustrated kick the night stand. “I don’ hafta answer tha’ stupid fuckin’ question! Why can’ ya jus’ leave me tha’ fuck alone?” He began pacing around the room, trying to put distance between the two of you continued to stubbornly close it. “Because I give a shit? You don’t get to suffer in here alone because think you deseve it”

You shoved Daryl’s chest, and surprisingly he shoved back, tears burning hot in his eyes. “Why not?!”

Your face softened and you grabbed Daryl’s hands, holding them tightly in yours. “Fucking stop!” He tried pulling himself out your grip, shaking his head as more traitorous tears spilled. Daryl grunted as you pulled his arms towards you, causing him to stumble which gave you the opening to finally capture him in a tight hug. “Get offa me” He mumbled even as his body desperately melted against yours. “It’s okay sweetheart” You whispered the words and walked backwards, lying on the bed when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“Ya shouldn’t- Ya shouldn’t see me like this” Daryl buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling an unfamiliar lump form in his throat. He no longer felt anger, but saddness. He was sad, so sad that he didn’t know what do to other then straying away. His chest hurt, and he felt so vulnerable in your arms that he just exploded, body shaking as sobs racked through him. “I’m here now babyboy, it’s okay” You, quite literally, tangled your fingers into his hair, soothingly scratching the scalp as Daryl’s tears ran down your skin and soaked your shirt.

It hurt so bad yet felt so good to finally, finally let it all out.

You moved to sit up against the wall, bringing Daryl along with you and positioning him to lay across against your shoulder, brushing hair out his red as he sniffled. You wiped his tears with your hand, staring down lovingly at him as you stroked his cheek. “Tell me what's hurting you” You whispered, listening to his soft whimpers and snotty sniffles. Daryl leaned his head against you, eyes flickering up to meet yours as he searched your face. He felt so grateful to have someone like you, caring about someone like him.

“Jus’ everythin” He whispered back.

You kissed his forehead, letting your lips linger there. “Anything in particular?”

Daryl shook his head, soaking up every ounce of attention you gave him. Each tear was wiped away by soft fingers, followed by a gentle kiss.

For the first time, Daryl felt like a little kid, huddled up sweetly in your arms as you ran your hands across his back, slowly rocking his frail frame.

He cried harder than he ever has, muffling sobs into to the fabric of your shirt. You only stroked his hair and told him that it was all okay.

And he believed you.

Daryl could physically feel the love radiating off you, seeping through his clothes and filing his weakened body.

It was so peaceful in the room beside from Daryl’s sniffing, he felt like you were the only people left on earth. As he glanced up at you through clumped lashes, he wished that you were.

“M’sorry” He mumbled.

You quirked a bow. “For what?”

“Fer pushin’ you”

“Away or earlier?” Daryl shook his head slightly.

“Both” He responded.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Ugh. I guess I forgive you”

Daryl cracked a small smile, one of his fidgety hands reaching for yours. His fingers were cold compared to yours.

“I love you” You whispered, squeezing his hand in yours.

He searched your face, eyes glassy as they once again filled up with tears. “I- I love ya too”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[therandomartmaker]

(In Case I Don’t See You) Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight.

DPxDC

After a reveal, things go strange for Danny. At first, he thinks it’s just the lingering effects of having his vigilante identity out in the open. Sam and Tucker tell him he’s being paranoid, and Jazz doesn’t talk much with him because she’d left for college. She only listens to his words and talks him through the feelings, a steady presence.

It’s then that he realises that his ghosts had been showing up… regularly. Not erratic and randomly, they were almost scheduled; he’d checked once, and they had always shown up when the time was even. He’d said this to Sam and Tucker, Tucker looked concerned but Sam brushed him off. “They’d have to coordinate for that, Danny,” she said, “Do you really think Skulker wouldn’t take every chance possible to fight you?”

His ghosts were getting more agitated. It wasn’t hard to defeat them, they were just. Angrier. They also went down easier, but got back up faster. They also were disjointed in their banter, and it got worse as time went by, fights quieter and more… emotion filled.

It’s only when Danny spots several white vans nearby his fights that he realised he’d forgotten about the GIW.

Danny rushed home, to the portal- he’s unlucky, or perhaps rather fortunate, that he stumbles upon the GIW in his home, talking to his parents. It’s an easy decision to turn invisible.

“Keeping Patient Zero in the Truman cage is working well, but it might be catching on. Unscheduled fights give us more subjects, so you’ll be lent Subject-E and Subject-SK in two days, in the private laboratory, as they are currently useless in field and hinder the process.”

Patient Zero? Subject-E and Subject-SK? Useless? What process?

Truman Cage? …Danny knew that movie. Watched it with Jazz a few years before, because Jazz had a project on it, wanted to do inquiry on unethical ‘imprisonment’ and isolation.

Static buzzed through the air, and Danny heard the GIW agent pick up an ecto-proof walkie talkie. “Report, Patient Zero has been missing for two minutes, unknown whereabouts, may be heading or already at FW Household.”

Danny swore mentally, flying away to the roof of the Nasty Burger, still invisible.

Shit. What were they doing- what kind of shit had they already done?

…What could Danny do to stop it?

—

Batman stared at the report in his hands. Phase One of the Ghost Investigation Ward’s plan was going well, to capture and learn everything they can about ectoplasmic beings and a ‘villainous creature’ that has taken control of a small town in Illinois. Supposedly, the ‘creature’ was a volatile destructive being that repeatedly put the town through constant attacks.

Everything about it smelt fishy, and he’d found about the ‘GIW’ was flimsy, and a strangely large amount of money was being siphoned into it. The Fenton research being used was also something that shouldn’t’ve been published, biased and clearly contradictory in areas.

The information blockout was just asking for investigation.

sorry that this isn’t more for the story! I may write more for this, but idm this being used as a prompt post either! If you respond to this in a separate post, please tag me, i like to see what y’all make, don’t just link this post and run y’all. Also, i’m like 80% sure someone’s made this already or at least done something similar, so if someone could find and link that, that’d be awesome

On a side note; some notes for this specific thing, but freedom is encouraged and this is mainly for myself because ik i’ll forget about this.

The GIW learnt danny’s id before the reveal and figured out very quickly that they wouldn’t be able to do anything to him because he’s legally human and he hasn’t had biological testing to make sure he isn’t human. They got ghost confirmation via the fenton parents after the public reveal, but had already informed the fentons of the possibility of danny being a ghost and proposed the ‘Truman Plan’ to them.

The plan was to set up another ghost portal with coordinates set to the same area the fenton’s portal lets out and recapture whichever ghosts danny lets go there, and this works exponentially well. They gain a bunch of speech capable ghosts to experiment on, and decide quickly that they’d start ways to put them under control and make them stronger, in order to, eventually, capture danny.

Phase Two is weakening Danny and looking into his skillset and how to counteract it.

Phase Three is actually capturing Danny.

Danny figures out that the GIW has agents everywhere, bugs everywhere and nowhere is safe. The only people he is absolutely certain he can trust to not make the GIW aware he knows he’s entrapped is Jazz, Sam, And Tucker, but since the last tw oare in the bounds of the GIW, he can only talk to Jazz to plan (he flies up up up and calls because tucker had them up on a private network so the only risk was being overheard, really)

B only discovered the GIW while passing over recent government records, and sets up one of his disguises to visit the town, eventually.

He ‘just so happens’ to be bowled over by Danny Fenton one afternoon and sets up a white noise generator to tell the boy the JL was on his side. After all, something wasn’t right, here.

[honeypot96]

Hi,

I’ve never made a request before, sorry if I’m doing it wrong. Can you write a short about Sebastian from SDV insisting on walking you home from the saloon and then you inviting him inside for..things? By that I mean it can either be fluff or more, I just welcome more content in general! Thank you so much!!

Hi! I'm so sorry it took so long to answer. Work got really crazy all of a sudden and I haven't had a lot of time to write.

I may have gotten a bit carried away with this request lol. I hope you like it!

Warnings: a bit of angst if you squint, a dash of spice at the end (although nothing happens)

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Character: Sebastian

Breathlessness

Fall was finally over. The growing season was done and the first snow of the winter had started to set in.

With the new layer of ice and snow covering the farm came a chance for you to finally take a breath and relax.

Until now, you had been so caught up in tending to the crops and preparing for winter that you hadn't stopped to really relax. You had practically isolated yourself from the rest of the town. You didn't even have time to hang out with your friends, much to your own disappointment.

Your absence was especially noticed on friday nights when you would typically be at the Stardrop Saloon hanging around the pool table with your friends Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian.

They tried to have fun in spite of your absence, they really did. But, how could they when there friend wasn't there to enjoy the night with them?

And the quiet gloom that had fallen over the group was only made worse by the clearly sour mood that had come over Sebastian.

He tried to pretend he was fine, but Sam and Abigail both knew that was a lie.

Ever since you moved to Stardew Valley over a year ago, you had practically latched on to the trio. Sebastian, of course, took a bit longer to warm up to you. But, once he did, the two of you became practically attached at the hip. The two of you did everything together. It didn't matter if he was wandering along the lake on a rainy day or in his room working on his compiter, you were almost always right beside him. Now, without you around, he felt as if a piece of him was missing.

So, when you came trudging through the doors of the saloon out of the snow, Sebastian felt like his world had somehow clicked back into place. He swore that you had never looked more beautiful than you did in that moment.

You had bundled up against the cold and wind in a heavy coat, a knitted hat ( which was definitely a gift from Emily judging by the bright, multicolored pattern of it), and a pair of work boots which were caked in snow.

You shook the snow off of your boots as you entered and, as soon as the doors closed behind you, pulled off your coat and hat. You hung them on the coat rack by the door and wandered your way over to the pool table, saying hello to the other patrons as you went.

Just getting to see your smile again made Sebastian's heart feel a bit lighter.

As you drew closer, he spotted the flush that had come over your cheeks and face during the long trek from the farm to the saloon. He also spotted the way you were rubbing your hands together in an attempt to bring some warmth back to your work calused hands.

Sebastian, of course, was too busy gawking at you to see the confused looks Abigail and Sam were giving him. Apparently it was his turn but he was too busy staring to hear whatever snarky comment Sam had made.

Wondering what had their friend so slack-jawed, they followed his gaze.

Abigail was the first to react. She jumped up from her spot on the couch, calling out your name, and nearly knocked you over with the force of the hug she gave you.

Sam wasn't far behind her. He tossed his pool stick onto the table and went striding over to you with that familiar big, goofy grin plastered on his face. He said something to you ( Sebastian couldn't quite hear what he said, but it was probably something ridiculous from the way you laughed at him.) then pulled you in for a bear hug.

The two of them slung their arms over your shoulders and guided you towards their little meeting area, all three of you grinning like idiots.

When you made it to the entry, you broke away from them and moved around the table towards Sebastian. The poor boy was sure the whole saloon could hear his heart beat getting louder as you got closer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there you stood right in front of him.

Sebastian took this moment to study every detail of your face. His gaze moving from each little feature to the next.

He was in the process of counting the snowflakes that had begun to melt on your lashes when you finally spoke, breaking him out of whatever trance he had managed to place himself into.

"Hey, Seb. Long time, no see." The dopey grin on your face and that bright look in your eyes was all it took to make him melt right then and there.

Sebastian pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

"I missed you so much." He mumbled against your hair.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After your big entrance, Sam and Sebastian completely abandoned their game of pool. Instead, the trio crowded around you on the couches and did their best to catch you up on what all they had done during the fall.

Abigail told you all about the new video game she had picked up during your absence. She was clearly loving the game if her waving hands and the spark in her eyes were any indicator of her excitement.

Sam, of course, updated you on the band and how they had been doing. He even showed you a few of the songs they had written over the fall.

During all of this, Sebastian simply watched you, his elbow leaned against the back of the couch and his head propped up on his hand. Seb couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at his lips as he watched you talking and laughing with your friends.

Sebastian didn't see you often during the fall. However, when he did see you, you always had this intense focus in your eyes. It was clear that, even in those moments away from the farm, that your work was all that you could think about. It was so good to see you finally free of that burden, even if it was only for the winter.

It was at this moment, that Sebastian realized the three of you were looking right at him. Sam and Abigail had that stupid, all-knowing grin on there faces they always got whenever they caught him doing something stupid. Meanwhile, you looked like you were waiting for a response to something.

"Sorry, what was that?" Sebastian asked, lifting his head from his hand, having to physically shake the cobwebs from his brain for a moment.

"I asked if you had done anything over the fall." You couldnt help but giggle a bit as you repeated yourself.

"Oh.. um..." Seb fumbled for a moment, "Honestly, I haven't really done anything worth talking about." He scratched at the back of his neck, not quite meeting your gaze as he said it.

"Yeah, Seb was a bit too busy brooding to really do anythi- Ow!" Sam's comment was swiftly cut off with a punch to the arm from Abigail who was clearly biting back a shit-eating grin.

"Why? Did something happen?" As you turned your attention back to Sebastian, you immediately noticed the red flush that had come over his ears and cheeks.

"No, nothing happened. I just... I just missed you." Sebastian mumbled the last part, again, not quite meeting your eyes as he spoke.

Your gaze softened a bit and that big, dopey grin was back on your face.

"I missed you too, you dork." You chuckled as you leaned over and wrapped your arms around his torso, your face buried in his chest.

Sebastian was so thankful you couldn't see his face in that moment. Abbey and Sam, however, could absolutely see his face and were trying there hardest not to laugh at just how red he had gotten.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The four of you talked the whole evening. You probably would have stayed all night if Gus didn't tell you all it was closing time.

As you all stood at the door of the saloon and said your goodbyes, Sebastian couldn't help but feel a slight tightening in his chest.

"Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I walk you home?" The words left his mouth before his brain could even process the thought. Seb wanted to shove the words right back down as soon as he said them.

"Oh. I - yeah! I'd like that. Thank you."

"Okay. Cool!" Sebastian wanted to smack himself in the face. 'Cool? Really Seb?'

"Alright." The soft smile you gave him made his heart feel like it was about to come right out of his chest.

"Well, be careful you two." Abigail interjected. "Wouldn't want you guys to get caught in the snow."

Sam looked like he was about to make a smart-ass comment of some kind but thought better of it with a sturn look from Abbey.

"See you guys later." Sam gave you a big hug and gave Seb a pat on the back with a knowing grin.

With that final goodbye, the four of you stepped out of the warmth of the saloon and into the snow covered night.

While Sam and Abigail returned to their homes, you and Sebastian made your way along the cobblestone path leading out to the farm.

Despite the layers of clothing covering you, the cold still managed to bite through. Your body shook uncontrollably from the cold.

Sebastian, without a second thought, put his arm around you and pulled you against his side as you walked.

"Is this okay?" His heart was practically in his throat as the words left him.

"Yeah. This really helps, actually." Your response was so soft Sebastian could barely hear you over the wind.

His gentle grip on you tightened ever so slightly and began rubbing your arm a bit to generate a bit more warmth.

The silence that enveloped the two of you as you walked was a comfortable one. That was one of the things you always loved about spending time with Sebastian. On more than one occasion, you have trudged your way into Sebastian's room after a long day of work and plopped down on his couch without a word. And, of course, he'd just let you. Because, although he never says it outright, Sebastian wouldn't trade that time with you for the world.

When you finally came to the front door of your cozy little farmhouse, the frost had settled into your bones and wouldn't go away no matter how closely you clung to Sebastian.

"Why don't you come inside and warm up before you head back home. You must be freezing!" As you proposed the idea, you looked up and saw the snow clinging to Seb's hair and eyelashes and how pink his nose and cheeks were.

"Yes, please. If you don't mind."

You gave no response. Just a soft smile as you took him by the hand and led him into the warmth of your home.

Once the two of you had shed your coats and boots, you quietly guided him towards the big red sofa by the fireplace and gestured for him to sit. As Sebastian made himself comfortable, you set to work getting a fire going.

Once that familiar warmth had flooded the living room, you went to the kitchen and began boiling water. You pulled a pair of mugs and a jar with some kind of dried herbs in it out of the cabinet.

Once the tea was done brewing, you sat next to Sebastian and handed him one of the mugs.

As Sebastian stared down at the warm mug in his hands, he noticed that it was black with an intricate skull design painted on the side.

"I saw that mug at the Night Market and thought you might like it." You answered the question before he even had a chance to ask it.

There was a moment of comfortable silence that followed. It was only interrupted by the sound of Sebastian's voice.

"Thank you."

"For what?" You placed your mug on the coffee table as you turned to him.

"For... for being you, I guess." Sebastian looked up just in time to catch the beginnings of tears pooling in your eyes.

Before he could even ask what was wrong, you threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck.

"You have no idea how much that means to me. Especially coming from you." You whispered into his neck, the feeling of your warm breath against his skin giving him goosebumps.

After a few moments like this, you finally began to pull away.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but your words were cut short by the sudden feeling of lips against yours. You only tensed for a moment before you melted into the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut.

It was only a few seconds before Sebastian began to withdraw from you. But he didn't get very far, as you grabbed his face and pulled him back in for more.

Your kiss was filled with a passion that felt like fire running beneath his skin.

Your fingers slid effortlessly into his hair, then your grip tightened and you gave gentle tug. The low growl that came up from deep within Seb surprised even him.

In response, his hands found your waist and pulled you into his lap, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue inbetween your parted lips, desperate to taste very part of you.

Sebastian's warm hands found their way under you sweater, appreciatively feeling every curve of your body.

The action sent a shudder down your spine.

You, begrudgingly, were the first to pull away. And, as you did, you gave a playful bite to Sebastian's lower lip and tugged it ever so slightly.

Seb couldn't help but try to chase your lips as you parted. He'd have gladly drowned in your kisses if you'd let him.

Your forehead leaned against his as you both caught your breath, your nose brushing lovingly against each other.

You finally opened your eyes and were met with Sebastian's vibrant green eyes gazing back at you with an intensity you rarely ever witnessed.

"What's that look for?"

"I don't ever want to forget this moment." He replied with a breathlessness that made your heart practically flutter out of your chest. "Not a single second of it."

[oneshlut]

Hey, I just found your blog through a Varian headcanon and I’m in love! Could I humbly request a platonic Jax x reader where it’s the readers “birthday” (they day they came to the digital circus) and reader gets a bit down? I hope your day/evening/night is well, and remember to brush your teeth!

A/N: daaawww, hurt/comfort, my favorite (besides angst of course).. thanksies for the reminder--and for requesting, yesyes! hope you like what i did with this as much as you liked the var hcs :D (also super refreshing to see more platonic requests,)

OMG SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG LMAO

Turning.. Something (Jax & Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: It's your anniversary of arriving at the circus, your "birthday"! Unfortunately, birthdays at the circus serve only colorful cake and existential dread. Jax becomes worried for the first time in his life. (hurt/comfort)

Ah, holiday blues. Commonly associated with Christmas, of course, but also birthdays occasionally. Whether it be the fear of growing older, spending your birthday alone, or even being stuck in a digital reality where you can't remember your birthday so instead you have a one year anniversary as a stand in for a birthday. Whatever the existential crisis may be, they sure do suck! At least you can relate to Pomni now.

Birthdays in the digital world work a little bit differently than in the "real" world. Caine tries to track the time, but inevitably fails. Instead of celebrating your arrival once a year, you celebrate it when Caine feels it's been long enough. So your birthday is about once in a blue moon. However, when that blue moon hits, all the existential dread you left about 4 months ago all comes back to you. And suddenly the friends you've made.. didn't really matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. And, not to you.

That's where the isolating came in.

For the next few days after your "birthday", you didn't come out of your room for even a second. Surprisingly, your room was probably less colorful than the rest of the circus. Still colorful enough to give you a headache, though. You didn't have the motivation to leave either, it would all be the same anyway. You weren't close to abstraction, but you were definitely going to get there if you kept things up.

This thought worried Jax. And Jax never gets worried. At first, he brushed the situation off with comedy. Like he always does. With everything. But then as he's walking around the circus, he notices even less of you.

Jax isn't a bold person, but he definitely could be. This was one of those scenarios, one where he would take things into his own hands. Knocking on your door, he stayed patient for you to answer. Normally, he'd just yell for you to open the door when he wanted to hang out, but this was.. a different occasion.

Okay. Everything's fine. It's just been 22 knocks and they still haven't answered the door. He's sure they're alright. Not.

Eventually, his thoughts that wracked his head overcame him. With droopy ears and a heavy heart, he took out the key to your room, opening it with a slightly obnoxious creak.

If even possible, the sight of you curled up in a ball in the corner of your room had caused his ears to fall even farther from where they were before. Immediately dropping his persona, he fell to the floor on his knees to comfort you. Being probably the most serious he's ever been, he set a hand on your shoulder with caution.

You, on the other hand, felt horrible. First the horrid "birthday" you just had, and now you were just burdening someone else dealing with the same existential crap with your own problems. If only Jax wasn't so damn caring, then.. then. ..Hm.

Seriously? Jax? Caring about you? That sure wasn't on your birthday bingo card. If anything, you would've expected him to just pull a ton of pranks on you and make you feel even worse. Instead he was comforting you. Making you feel better.

Almost immediately, tears started flowing. Jax was saddened by the sight at first, but gave a bittersweet grin when you had launched into his arms for more comfort. Giving you silent sushes, he laid careful strokes on your back, making sure not to do anything more to upset you.

Somehow, you felt that your next birthday might be a bit better with Jax around.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for talking about my fights with my partner with other people?

I (18M) and my partner (17NB) have been together for a couple of years now. Like most couples, we've had our fair share of fights, some of them very serious. I have a problem with paranoia over if I'm doing the right thing or not, because I have trouble understanding right and wrong unless I've been through a situation myself or had the morality of it very heavily explained to me. Because of this, during several of our heavier fights, I would go to people that I trusted and show them the conversation from beginning to end through screenshots (me and my partner are long distance at the moment, so most of our fights have been over text), and ask them if I was alright or I was being a dick.

However, over time, this caused most of the people I was close to to hate my partner. Several of them believed my partner was abusive or at least toxic because of the fights they saw, and at least one was outright violently angry towards them, publicly making a post about wanting to hurt them (I apologized to my partner for this, and asked repeatedly that this person take the post down, made it very clear I wasn't okay with that, but they kept it up anyways.)

I tried to change their opinions by highlighting positive things about them, and repeatedly making clear the things I knew I had done wrong to them so it was clear any toxicity wasn't one-sided (please don't even try to question if I was really bad or anything like that. Had it happen before. Yes what I did was actually wrong. I have apologized and been working on it for a long time now, and debating if it was really wrong will not be helpful or wanted.) But even so, even now, everyone who knew even parts of me and my partners problems still hate them.

My partner has made clear to me that this hurt them. It made them feel isolated, and very alone. Because I had people backing me up and people to talk to, and those people hated them, while they didn't have access to therapy (which I also had at the time, and also do now) or people to talk to about it at the time.

I've apologized for that, and long since stopped telling anyone about our fights or problems. Partially because I found out it was hurting them, and partially because a few months after I had started doing that in the first place, things took a turn for the worse in our relationship and I always either didn't feel comfortable showing people what was happening anymore, or when I did, I ended up being asked to stop by the people I spoke to because what was going on was too heavy and often triggering for them to handle, which I respected. I also didn't have access to therapy for a while because I had just made a major move and my old therapist wasn't licensed to treat people in the area I'd moved to.

However, more recently, I opened up to both my therapist and my mother about everything that happened. Unlike with before, both of them got the full story, from the start of our relationship to now. I made sure to include everything I had done wrong (that I either figured out on my own or my partner told me about, I do worry that there's other things that I don't even know about yet) so that I didn't paint myself in a better light than reality. My therapist cried when I told her. Not full on crying or sobbing, but I could see the tears in her eyes the entire session. My mother was very angry. Both of them think it's for the best we break up. My therapist agreed it's toxic, which I know it still is, although I've been doing my best to make the relationship more healthy over time. She didn't outright say the words, but when I told her what my mother had to say about it, it was clear that she agreed with her that it was abusive. She wasn't angry the way my mother was, or as insistent about me breaking up with them, but she didn't think this relationship or this person in general was healthy towards me.

My mother, however, was almost violently angry. There was several parts of the story where she clenched her fists or had to pause to calm down. On top of that, when I brought up my partners disorder (it was heavily relevant to a large part of the story, as knowing they had it was necessary to really explain what happened for many parts of it), she started repeatedly telling me that she believed they're faking to manipulate me, and that "based on her years of research that wasn't how the disorder worked" (her "years of research" was an introductory college psych class over a decade ago, which barely mentions the disorder in question, so I don't trust that at all). This made me worry even more that I was being an asshole by sharing this, because I know firsthand how much it sucks to have someone not believe you about your own mental health. Not to mention, I have a similar disorder myself, so it felt wrong the way she talked about their disorder (I brought this up but she said it was different and she believes me, just not them. I'm pretty sure that's mostly because I'm diagnosed, and they aren't, due to not being able to get therapy). She also wouldn't believe they didn't have access to therapy because they live in a place with free healthcare, and didn't seem to understand that doesn't always apply to mental healthcare, especially when they're a minor and their parent won't get them therapy even when asked.

However, the reactions from both my mother and my therapist has made me start to question if telling people about our fights was really an asshole move in the first place. On the one hand, I know it hurt them, and that I hurt them in other ways on top of that. But on the other, if even middle aged adults, including one with a psychology degree, think it's so bad on their end, maybe telling them was a good thing. I don't want anyone to hate my partner, especially not when I know I was also toxic towards them and I don't feel like it's fair to treat them like they're so much worse than me, especially when my partner has said to me that I abused them (this was also shared to mother + therapist). But the way these recent events have gone have left me confused, and feeling like a giant asshole towards my partner all over again. So am I one for this?

What are these acronyms?

[pedrointofolklore]

Long story short

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks had passed since your steamy kiss with joel, and you wanted more. sequel to this is me trying.

warnings: smut 18+ mdni, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, joel miller has a big dick, emotional sex, brief mention of sex as currency (as part of reader’s backstory), allusions to depression and suicidal ideation, lots of fluff with a bit of angst, enemies to lovers (they’re in their lover era), extremely soft joel, joel is so disastrously in love, self-loathing due to a guilty conscience, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, ellie era (ellie is only mentioned)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: hey y’all. so part one did way better than i ever expected. thank you to everyone who has supported it. if you haven’t read it i highly recommend you do before reading this. if you have read it: enjoy part two! the title is once again a taylor swift song.

It had been weeks since you kissed Joel.

Neither of you acknowledged it. After the shitstorm that was Kansas City, your focus was making it to Wyoming on foot. Addressing one kiss wasn’t high on the list of priorities.

But you still thought about it. A lot. And it seemed like Joel did too.

Joel Miller wasn’t nice as a rule, but he was good to you. He confided in you, asked for your input, and did what he could to make you feel like your presence was important. Whether or not it was actually important, you just appreciated that he was trying.

And you were trying too. You were doing your best to be present, focus on the positives, and take a breath before sprinting headfirst into danger. Just as Tess would have done.

You couldn’t have predicted that Ellie would end up inspiring you. There was something about her that reminded you of yourself (which was ultimately cause for concern), but she was different in the ways that mattered most. She was funny and resilient and excited about things, even in this vile world she was living in.

You wanted to be more like her.

There was an abandoned, isolated cabin somewhere between Kansas City and Kearney—you weren’t sure exactly where at this point. It was a corroded, rotting structure, with shattered windows and wooden panels threatening to collapse, but it was better than sleeping outside in the middle of nowhere.

There were two beds and a couch inside. Ellie passed out almost immediately after calling dibs on the bed upstairs. The poor girl was exhausted. Meanwhile, Joel laid down on the couch and shut his eyes, pretending to go to sleep. This was clearly an act; he wasn't going to sleep, he was going to keep watch.

You hadn’t slept in a bed since the QZ, and though this bed was old and musty and probably infested with microscopic bed bugs, it somehow felt like the most comfortable thing in the world. This was the first time in so long it didn’t feel like you were in a rush. You could just exist and let your mind wander.

Letting your mind wander was something you typically avoided, but instead of your thoughts leading you down a trail of despondency, they led you to Joel. You pictured him sitting upright on the couch, scanning the area through fractured windows, clutching a shotgun and trying to stay awake. You wondered what he was thinking about.

If you still want it later, you can have it.

That was what he’d said to you. It was such a new feeling; wanting Joel, wanting anything. You thought about the kiss again, and a warm, tingly sensation spread throughout your entire body like ink seeping into wet paper.

It was later, and you still wanted it.

Joel was awake.

This wasn’t new. Joel hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in 20 years, but it had gotten worse lately.

He’d failed everyone in Kansas City, but most of all Ellie. It left him in a constant state of unease, just waiting for something else to go wrong. Even sleeping stressed him out now.

Then, there was you.

As everything around him gradually fell into shambles, it felt like he needed you more everyday. You were good and clever and really the only person in the world who made Joel feel like he could do this, and that terrified him. You were trying so hard, but he still had this paralysing fear of losing you.

Joel hadn’t forgotten what happened, and he hadn’t forgotten what he said.

If you still want it later, you can have it.

He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was referring to. Was it that he’d fuck you if you asked? He would, but he didn't think that was really what he meant.

He also wasn’t sure if you wanted it. Maybe the kiss had been just a random moment of weakness for you. Maybe you woke up the next morning and realised that Joel was the last person in the world you could ever want. The thought gnawed at him; infected him like some faceless monstrosity with razor-sharp teeth.

But if by some chance you wanted it—wanted him—he would give you everything he had. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, and certainly not your admiration, but you deserved to get whatever you wanted out of him. He would let you come to him, and he would do anything you asked if it meant keeping you here.

The sound of your door clicking open jerked Joel from his anxious ruminating. His eyes followed you as you sauntered over to the couch and plonked yourself down next to him, crossing your legs with an air of forced nonchalance.

“What are you doing up?” Joel asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “You’re also up.”

“Just keepin’ watch.”

“We’re indoors in the middle of nowhere, Joel,” you replied. “I think you can sleep for a bit.”

Joel didn’t say anything. He couldn’t get into this with you. He didn’t want to ruin the newfound trust you had in him by letting you know what a mess he was.

“Unless there’s something else keeping you up,” you spoke in a nervous whisper, like you were testing the waters to see if Joel would actually entertain this conversation. 

Of course he would. There were things Joel didn’t want to talk about—anything that had ever happened to him, for example—but the only thing stronger than his propensity to never let anyone in was the urge he had to never deny you.

“Just been worried about you, I guess.” 

Your mouth formed a constrained smile. It didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We talked about this. I’m fine now, Joel.”

“One talk can’t solve everything.” Or one kiss, for that matter.

“I’m not asking you to solve anything,” you replied, your tone becoming heightened. “Worry about the important things, like Ellie and finding your brother and—"

“You are important.”

He felt a rush of anger, but not at you. Never at you. He was angry at himself. Of course you felt unimportant when he’d spent so long making you feel that way. It wasn’t fair that he got to wake up one day and decide to stop being an asshole while you still had to live with the consequences of his assholery.

You sat there not saying anything, and Joel was certain that you were about to walk away from this conversation. The irony wasn’t lost on him; for two people who hated heartfelt discussions, you couldn’t seem to stop finding yourselves in the middle of them.

“Joel…” Your voice came out breathy and desperate. It was completely unexpected. He couldn’t describe the feeling of hearing you say his name like that. All he knew was that he wanted to fall to his knees at your feet.

“What do you need?” Joel asked. He hoped that he already knew the answer.

“I need you.”

He let out a shaky exhale—relieved and nervous all at once. “You have me, sweetheart. You know that."

Being naked on a grotty mattress with a fully-clothed man above you should have been horrifically vulnerable, but you couldn’t muster up any uncertainty with Joel. All you felt was an excited kind of anticipation.

You never expected Joel to be so affectionate, but he held you like you were something worth caring for. He took his time, kissing you slow and undressing you bit by bit until you were bare for him. You felt the same heated intensity you had that night in the woods, but without the crushing sense of urgency.

Your breath hitched when Joel trailed kisses from your chest down past your navel. He stopped at the lowest part of your belly, looking up at you with lustful, imploring eyes. “Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Please…” You already sounded embarrassingly wrecked.

Your body jolted when Joel dragged a finger through your soaked slit, gathering up the obscene amount of wetness that was dripping out of you and spreading it over your aching clit.

Then, without a word, he pushed himself up and off the bed. You looked at him in dismay, about to berate him for teasing, but your voice caught in your throat when he crouched down at the end of the bed and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you forward until your ass was lined up with the edge of the mattress, and your legs were thrown over his shoulders.

The sound that escaped you when Joel sucked your clit into his mouth was borderline feral. You didn’t know you were capable of making a noise like that—something between a pathetic gasp and a wanton moan.

“Oh f—Joel! Feels so good. What the fuck.” You were breathless and shaking and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Ssh, sweetheart,” Joel hushed. You clenched around nothing when his warm breath hit your drenched core. “Need you to be quiet. Can you do that for me, baby?”

He didn’t even wait for you to try and compose yourself before devouring you again. He had a lot of audacity to think he could tell you to be quiet as he tongue-fucked you senseless. And then, like he was trying to get you to scream, he prodded a finger at your entrance and slipped it inside.

“That feel good?” Joel asked, curling his finger as he pumped it into you.

You whined and pulled his hair harder. He let out a low groan and continued flicking his tongue over your clit, and it dawned on you that he wasn’t just doing this to make you feel good—he was doing it because he liked it.

He added another finger, and this time you did scream, but not before clasping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. It was too much now. His mouth and fingers were unrelenting, as if worshipping your cunt was his only purpose on this earth.

“Joel—F-fuck—I think I’m gonna come.”

“You can come, baby. I got you.”

Those three words were all you needed. You came hard, sobbing and writhing and crushing Joel’s head between your thighs as you tried to clamp them shut. He could not have given less of a fuck—he continued his onslaught between your legs until you were twitching with overstimulation and pulling him off by his hair.

You threw an arm over your eyes, trying to catch your breath and recover from that earth-shattering orgasm. You heard the faint clink of a belt, followed by the soft sounds of fabric hitting the floor. You opened your eyes when the mattress dipped, revealing a very naked Joel Miller.

This took you by surprise more than anything else. You never thought that Joel would take his clothes off for you, and you wouldn’t have asked him to—he’d done it of his own volition. He wanted to bare himself to you like you had to him.

Plus, he was hot. You would have been attracted to him no matter what, but he was so undeniably sexy. His arms looked like they were carved from marble. He was broad and strong, but still had a wonderfully human softness about him. And his cock. Your mouth salivated at the sight. It was thick and long and beautiful. You wanted to drag your tongue along the vein that ran down his shaft and taste the leaking precum at the tip.

“You done starin’?” Joel asked, blushing at the way you were blatantly ogling him.

You giggled and climbed into his lap, your knees settling on either side of his hips. “Stop being so pretty if you don’t want me to stare.”

Joel let out a genuine, light-hearted laugh—something you’d only witnessed him do a handful of times. You wanted to bottle the sound and keep it forever. “I’m pretty, am I?”

“So pretty.” You leaned forward and kissed him, painfully aware of his hard cock pressed against your inner thigh.

You reached down and wrapped a hand around his length, teasing the slit with your thumb and spreading the dribbling fluid. You pumped him a few times, noticing the way his belly tightened as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re so good, sweetheart," he spoke with a low, sultry tone, "but I really need to fuck you now.”

Joel had you pinned under him in a second, hiking your legs up around his hips while his cock bumped your entrance.

“Ready?” Joel asked.

You nodded eagerly and repeated what you told him earlier, “I need you.”

Joel lined the head of his cock up with your wet heat, stroking it through your folds and teasing your sensitive clit. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on your lips as he finally pushed into you.

The stretch stung even with how wet you were. You dug your nails into his back and tried not to wince, all while Joel planted comforting kisses around your face.

“It’ll feel good in a second, baby,” he whispered against your cheek. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay, Joel,” you assured him. “Don’t stop.”

He paused when he was buried to the hilt, giving you a moment to adjust. You weren’t completely inexperienced, but the sheer size of Joel was a lot to take.

But it wasn't long before the sting started to morph into pleasure. You felt keyed up and desperate and so incredibly full. “You can move now.”

His hands settled on your thighs as he pulled his cock out and slowly pushed it back in. Your walls fluttered around him, spurring him on. He did it again, this time plunging it harder and faster.

You gasped at the feeling, gushing around his cock and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. He set a steady, delicious pace, pounding into you the way you hadn't even known you'd been craving.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. Shit. So good. So fuckin' perfect.”

You moaned at his slurry of praise, angling your hips up so he reached even deeper. You ran a hand over his back and down to his plush ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Joel chuckled fondly and traced affectionate nibbles along your jaw.

It hit you all at once that you had never been this happy before. Having Joel in your arms, buried inside you, giving you everything he could was beyond euphoric. You didn't know if you would ever feel this good again.

And suddenly, he stopped. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Fuck. You were crying. “Nothing. Just don’t stop.”

“I need you to talk to me, sweetheart.” He made a move to pull out, but you panicked and tightened your legs around his waist to hold him there.

“It’s nothing bad. I just can’t believe this is happening,” you told him. Warm, pearly tears leaked from the corners of your eyes, but you smiled in spite of yourself. “It feels so good, and I’m just…really happy it's you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel cooed, kissing your tear-stained temples. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? So fuckin’ sweet. Gonna keep you forever, baby. Don’t worry.”

His mouth caught yours in a kiss that was both fervent and impossibly romantic. He tongue slipped past your lips, licking into your mouth with a tender intensity that had you mewling.

Joel resumed thrusting into you. His pace was slower, but his cock was hitting deeper. The warmth in your belly was quickly turning into a burning fire—a fire you wanted to keep on raging.

You were so close, and you knew Joel would never come before you did, but you were determined to hold out; to hold onto this rapturous intimacy as long as you could.

“It’s okay,” Joel said, as if he was reading your mind. “You’re okay.”

You couldn't stop it. Your walls tightened like a vice. You arched and trembled and clawed at Joel, muttering broken curses as he fucked you through your orgasm.

His hips faltered, his thrusts lost their rhythm, and you knew he was about to come. He probably needed to pull out. You probably needed to tell him to. But he just kept plunging his cock into you, and you kept letting him. His eyes were dark and pleading—he was begging you to let this happen.

You wanted him to do it. “Please, Joel.”

He growled a deep, rumbling ‘fuuuuck,' cock twitching and painting your walls with thick ropes of come.

He let out a contented sigh once he recovered and collapsed on top of you, burying his head in the crook of your neck while your fingers sifted through his damp hair. 

This would be over soon. Before Joel could give in to his exhaustion and fall asleep on top of you, he would remember where he was: in a decaying cabin at the end of the world with two people who needed him. Soon enough, he would stand up, dress himself, and go back to keeping watch.

You wished you could have this with him all the time. You wished you could fall asleep with him, wake up with him, and spend your days together with some semblance of peace. You didn’t want much, but you wanted that.

“Was that your first time?”

The thought only occurred to Joel when everything was said and done and he was cleaning you up. It made sense—you were young when the outbreak happened, you’d been relatively alone until you met him and Tess, and he could tell by the way your body reacted to him that it wasn’t used to such an intrusion.

“No, but it felt like it,” you replied. “It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to.”

Joel’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His mouth went dry, his jaw clicked the way it did when he was enraged, and he felt just about ready to kill someone.

“Not like that, Joel,” you said quickly. “I agreed to it. It was...I didn’t have anything else to trade.”

Joel was destroyed, but it wasn’t even a shocking revelation. He didn’t judge you for it—he’d turned to a lot worse in the name of survival—it just made him feel sick that you were ever in that position. You deserved to be cherished and taken care of, not used and discarded.

“Do you still do that?” He almost wanted to ask if you’d ever done it for his or Tess’s benefit, but he feared the answer would crush him.

“No. Not for years,” you replied. “It wasn’t that bad, honestly. It was only a couple of times.”

That’s still bad.

Joel held you close, stroking your hair and kissing your lovely face. Maybe it was because you had told him all of that while you were both still naked, but he felt like he needed to remind you that he adored your body, as well as the soul it carried.

He also felt like he needed to apologise. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“What for?”

“Just…everything. I hate the way I treated you.”

“I already forgave you, Joel.”

Your words should have been a relief, but they felt like a hot knife piercing right into his chest. “Why?”

“You apologised, and you changed.”

“And that’s enough?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I hurt you. I made you feel like you shouldn’t be here.” His throat ached as he swallowed down the emotion rising in him. He didn't want to sound as devastated as he felt, because he knew you would comfort him if he did, and this wasn’t about him.

“You didn’t make me feel like that, Joel,” you spoke with gentle reassurance. “I felt that way for a long time. Before I met you.”

“Okay, but I didn’t help.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s over now. I don’t want to keep harping on it.”

“What do you want?” Joel asked. It was a heavy question, and one you hadn’t considered in so long—he knew that because he hadn’t either.

You snuggled into him, so cute and cosy it made him ache. “Just this. Can we have this?”

Truthfully, Joel was terrified, and he knew it wasn’t going to stop. He used to think that having you close like this would make it harder, but there was a strange sense of relief in having this with you. He didn’t have to worry from afar anymore. He could hold onto you, and look after you. He had you right there with him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Joel laid with you until you fell asleep. He wanted to stay like that all night, sleeping with you curled up in his arms. He hoped that one day he would get to.

Right now, he needed to keep watch.

a/n: im so awkward about writing smut so if that came across while reading pls forgive me. im overall pretty happy with how this turned out. i might write some drabbles about this relationship down the road, but im leaving these two here for now. thanks for reading! p.s. in order to stay true to part one, im sick again posting this. (why do i keep getting sick??)

[icyg4l]

PAC: How to Heal Your Broken Heart

Hello beautiful people! If you are currently going through a romantic break-up, I send my love to you. 🫶 But here, I will give advice on how you can deal with your grief. I am not a therapist so if you feel like you need to contact one, I would highly encourage that you do that. If you resonate with this reading and would like a more personalized reading, please read my guidelines and message me privately so you can receive one. Without further ado, please select your pile!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You need to acknowledge that this was meant for you to happen! There is nothing wrong with being single, lovely. Sometimes things just don’t work out and that’s okay. Right now, it’s time for you to focus on bigger and better things without someone by your side. You could have been with your partner for years and one day things just ended. It happens. But the best for you to do right now is to get your hair and nails done. Get to know yourself as a person, not as a partner. You have so much personality, Pile One. You need to take up more space on your own. You don’t need someone to conquer the world with you. I feel like you honestly just have to get used to being by yourself so find literally anything to do by yourself. Read, go for a walk, buy yourself flowers, take yourself on dates. Spend more time making yourself the main character instead of finding ways to antagonize your ex.

Cards Used: Ace of Cups (RX), Four of Wands, Judgment, 7 of Discs, 9 of Swords, 9 of Cups.

extras: fancy dates. peach smoothie. alice in wonderland. benedict cumberbatch. “lumberyard.”

Pile Two: You got a lot of cards, which means that you need to listen up. Pile Two, when was the last time you’ve been outside with your friends? You may have spent a lot of time in isolation in your previous relationship. You don’t have to do that anymore. Your girls are waiting on you. It is best that you go to as many parties that you can find to avoid going back because you don’t need to be with a manipulative liar anymore. I would also suggest that you go to a jewelry store and go spoil yourself. The codependency in your last relationship was abnormal and it’s time that you realize it. I feel like this person took the light away from you and you’re slowly but surely gaining your power back. Your energy is similar to Pile One but I feel like the focus for you is to empower yourself. Adopt the mindset that things will work out for you. Assuming the worst possible outcome is going to work for you. You have to let yourself shine because no one is dimming your light anymore. Surround yourself with positivity and please please please make sure you’re around people that make you feel comfortable and like yourself. Right now is a crucial time for you. Treat it as such.

Cards Used: 6 of Discs, 9 of Discs, King of Discs, Princess of Wands, 8 of Wands, 4 of Cups, The Magician (RX), The Hanged Man, The World, The Emperor, Ace of Wands, 3 of Cups.

extras: “party hard.” tiger print. mr rogers. sofia the first. birthday pin. red dot.

Pile Three: I feel like this pile has to get their body in check. Have you been having physical health problems as of lately? I feel like you need to see a doctor. I am getting the image of someone with a fever getting their temperature checked. It’s almost summertime, this shouldn’t be happening! So first things first, take your Vitamin C. Once you take care of your physical health, you should affirm that everything will be okay. Expose yourself to new places, people and things. Take a getaway trip for the weekend, maybe longer. I think you should also write affirmations on post-its and put them up around your house. I feel like this pile went through a mutual break up but it still hurts. This will sound weird but you’ve been through worse so this shouldn’t break you, lol. I think that’s your spirit guides way of saying to stay optimistic about your situation. There’s an advantage in your situation. You will find more things to laugh about when it comes to your situation. Another thing that I suggest that you do is remove your ex’s energy; their clothes, pictures of them, any and everything. Get it out!

Cards Used: 4 of Discs, Temperance, Queen of Cups, Princess of Swords, 2 of Swords, 5 of Swords (RX), The Sun, 6 of Discs, The Star, Ten of Cups, Queen of Discs

extras: cameras flashing. candied yams. apples and oranges. dominoes pizza. hot flashes. quince.

Pile Four: I’m not going to lie, it may be time for you to consider taking the extra step to getting your mental health in check. If you have been feeling like ending it all, then please talk to a psychiatrist. They may prescribe you with medication. I feel like you need that extra boost. Shit feels stagnant with this group. It’s all about personal accountability with you guys. Yes, it sucks to have your heart broken but how will you fix it? How will you recover? I think you should get in touch with your family. It’s been a minute since you talked to them, hasn’t it? You might feel like they will mock you for going through it or say “I told you so” but they won’t. They’ll be angry about the fact that you were cheated on & manipulated. You were too good and too pretty for your ex, Pile Four. Any plans that you had with them are gone and it’s time to accept that. You may have a hard time moving on but it’s best that you are supported by those who have your best interest at heart. You absolutely can do it. Turn your pain into art. Make music, write poetry, draw something. Do anything to keep your energy moving and flowing. You should also get physical. I channeled Dua Lipa’s song for you as well. So get in the gym & build your physique, begin a cardio routine, just do it!!!

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, Ten of Discs, King of Wands (RX), The Empress, The Star, Death, 9 of Discs (RX), Ten of Swords, The Chariot (RX).

extras: agent of chaos. black ops. nike. “that’s not my forte.” acting. self-righteous. fake smile. eye bend.

[cloudmancy]

which is worse: d20 tumblr or d20 twitter?

this is such a funny question. frankly I prefer talking with my existing friends over discord over either of them but here's a breakdown of my experience with them

d20 tumblr

feels like a more isolating experience because of the way tumblr is set up in general as a platform. I follow relatively few people here, so all my interactions are from people engaging with my art (love you mwah) or asking me questions. nearly every time I go into a d20 related tag I regret it

I think frankly I disagree with 90% of the opinions on d20 here but because I don't have to see it I can just post my art and go

feels relatively static like there's not a good way to get everyone talking about a specific transformative fandom thing instead of only what's happening in canon because it's a looser more disconnected community

allows for longer posts and the search system on my own blog is great though. I love directing people to go through my tags or archived art

d20 twitter

incredibly, astonishingly, bad at recognizing jokes for people who are fans of a comedy show

way easier to interact with people which means most of the friends I make are from d20twt...

very easy to get everyone talking about one specific thing (ie fhsonas) because of how interactive Twitter is as a platform and how quickly word spreads

downside of this^ is that every time I express an opinion someone disagrees with they tend to assume that this is a majority opinion rather than like, 3-4 popular gay asian artists speaking their mind? when I complained about fhjy 18 battle on here I got interesting and thoughtful reblogs and everyone kept it respectful meanwhile on twitter people started making vaguetweets about how people who hated the episode were morons. stuff like us joking that oisin's grandma's whole mahjong group got murked getting 200 likes VS people directly shitting on us getting 1.7k likes and people going "wait... people are mad about oisins grandma for REAL?! she was going to kill people !!" getting 2k likes. clearly there is some sort of strange authority people put on your words whether or not you're actually just trying to have fun with your friends

I did talk about this more on twitter but I am not a fan of the CRitterfication of d20twt either. feels like much of the fandom is now watching because they're megafans of the cast rather than for the story which leads to some really big toxic positivity bias and the implication that criticism of the show == direct attack on the crew and therefore on THEM because parasocial attachment. I don't think it helps that for a majority of them d20 is their first big fandom experience aside from like... kpop or tswift because they have not developed a lot of the detachment from canon + not being parasocial + ignoring opinions you don't like if they're not directly addressed at you mechanisms that people who've been around have. sorry I'm not trying to fandom elder or whatever here I'm 21 years old but I think it's incredibly hard for me to interact with people whose entire understanding of canon depend on siobhan thompson's opinions like this

tldr;

d20twt has way less reading comprehension and critical thinking skills. better for making friends. I interact almost entirely with 30-40 of my artist friends. (my) d20tumblr experience is more chill and feels like I'm doing a seminar and people come up to ask me questions afterward. more isolating but easier to do my own thing. I do recognize and am fond of a lot of you but I've made one (1) entire friend who I can talk to off platform and not just see on the dash/my notes and that's just the nature of how tumblr works as a platform (it's terrible for conversations)