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livingemkayde · 9 months

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ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

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estinininininen · 2 months

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*takes deep breath* first fanfiction posted online in nearly twenty years. Final Fantasy IV, i dunno how many words, probably around 2000? unbeta'd. just after the sealed cavern debacle. Cursing and referenced violence. Edge POV, but it's actually about Cecil, Kain, and Rydia:

Kain's betrayal has split them into pairs: Cecil and Rosa, and Edge and Rydia. They each stare at the others as if they have gone mad.

"He's not usually mean, or, or, or cruel like this! You've known him for long enough to see that!" Rosa says.

"I don't know him at all," Edge says. "Bastard always hid his eyes and never talked to us!"

"He was struggling against the spell," Cecil says. "He didn't mean to do this. I'm sure of it."

This pauses the argument, because Cecil is the only one sitting hunched over, resting to recover from blood loss. Edge stares down at him. He feels his face twisting with many emotions that will be obvious even behind the veil. Pity, anger, disbelief.

Quiet until now, Rydia pipes up. "He's not like you, Cecil. He's not good deep down."

Rosa turns away and does not try to hide or stop her tears. Cecil huffs at Rydia, for a moment almost like an indulgent parent unable to scold a child, instead of the focused holy warrior Edge has grown to rely on. Considering what little he knows of Cecil and Rydia, the thought of him patronizing her, on behalf of this Kain guy, for a moment it makes Edge want to - want to smack Cecil, or bundle Rydia in his cloak and take her away. Snatch that holy headband right of his pretty face and huck it in the lava.

There is some great sin hovering over him and Rydia, and also Kain, Edge knows. None have answered when Edge questioned what it is, what Cecil did to her, how Kain fit into it. Rosa deferred to them. Each said what amounted to, That's for the others to share when they're ready, and even if Edge weren't a ninja he'd know that was a desperate trick to hide from the problem. It was only a step removed from "Ask your mother," and then being told "Ask your father."

Edge had wanted to ask the Eidolons. He was going to, but then he saw how Queen Asura and King Leviathan looked down at the two Baron men, bowed low and motionless before them, far longer than necessary. He decided not to, and told himself it was for diplomatic reasons, not wanting to test the new connections between Eblan, Baron and the Summons. It was not because he was scared reopening that wound would get him or the two fools blown to bits. Not at all.

Into the puckered silence, Rydia says, "Well, he's not. Kain's not a good person. I haven't forgotten what he . . . what he said to you at Mist."

Cecil's head snaps up. "What?"

"He threatened you," Rydia said, whispering. Her eyes are looking at Cecil and also at some distant memory. "He threatened you, he told you to kill me, and it was before he was under Golbez' thrall."

Rosa turns back to them, jaw dropping. Edge is certain he's done the same, but he's a terrible politician and can't hold his face so he's not sure.

"I was seven," Rydia says. "I was a child, and you were the one who did the right thing, and Kain wasn't going to so, so I don't, I don't want to hurt you or Rosa but he is not a good person-"

"Rydia!" Cecil says. "Rydia, no, that's not right-"

"I had ears, Cecil," Rydia says. "I was seven but I could hear you." She curls her fists at her side. Rydia is not actually quick to anger, Edge realizes. All the bantering and frustration she has with the prince of Eblan is nothing compared to how furious she is now. She is just as quiet when ready to kill.

But Cecil is still going on. "That's not what happened. No. No!" He shakes his head. "He was threatening me," he says.

Total silence falls.

"He was threatening me," Cecil says, and hangs his head.

"What?" Rydia says.

"What?" Rosa says.

Cecil looks up, open his mouth, then checks himself, slaps his hand on the ground, and looks back down.

"Will someone please explain to me what the hell happened at Mist?" Edge says.

Rydia's brow furrows into little lines that even in the strange moment Edge can't help but find cute. He is not prepared for what Rydia says next. "Kain and Cecil killed my mum's Eidolon, which killed her," she says.

Edge looks toward Rosa, who does not seem surprised.

Cecil sighs. "We were ordered by Cagnazzo, pretending to be King Odin, to open the way to Mist and deliver a package. He ordered us not to open it until we arrived and presented it to the town leaders for all to see. It was a bomb ring, and Golbez must have been watching us for the moment to set it off."

Cecil is good at compartmentalizing and military summaries, but Edge see this is hard for him. He rocks backwards and looks up at the stone ceiling of the cave entrance. "The first blast ignited almost the whole town, and then living bomb monsters came out of the ring and began hunting down the survivors. Kain and I were safe in a small circle near the ring, but smoke was going to kill us if we stayed or tried to help anybody. So we ran."

Edge looks towards Rosa again. It is still knowledge she has heard before. Rydia's face is like glass, still and smooth but ready to shatter at a moment.

Cecil continues. "On the edge of the village we heard a girl crying next to a dead body. Bombs were still flying behind us, and people who left the town were chased down. I think the only reason Kain and I lived still was because of the ring protecting us from its effects - but I don't know. I will keep guesswork for later. The girl cried that her m, her moth-"

Cecil swallowed and lowered his face to wipe his eyes with one hand.

Rydia spoke. "I told you she died because someone had killed her summon."

Edge fears for a moment the paladin has cracked, because Cecil laughs. "Well, you were saying that to - to anyone who passed by, more like. It's really been ten years for you, hasn't it? Rydia, I'm sorry, it's not been so long for me, and I can still-"

"Keep it together, man," Edge says. He thinks this was the right thing to say, it's not right for Cecil to need comfort from Rydia, but Rydia's focus for the first time snaps to Edge and almost burns a hole right through his skull. He withdraws. Rosa sits down next to Cecil and puts her hand in his.

"Tell me what you mean by Kain threatened you," Rydia says.

Cecil says, "Kain said we needed to kill you. The king wanted you dead. And he drew his lance. That's what you remember?"

"Yes," Rydia whispers.

"I was between you and Kain. He was preparing to attack me if I listened to him and tried to hurt you."

Rosa gasps and says, "You wouldn't have done that, Kain knew that-"

Cecil cut her off. "No, he didn't know that. When it came down to it, I was a dark knight who had just come back from kill- . . . from murdering civilians in Mysidia and stealing their crystal. I had told Kain and everyone I saw in Baron that I felt it was wrong but I had still done it."

Cecil stops and Edge knows he is about to roll around in his guilt like a pig in mud, but the story is not done. Rydia cuts off Cecil's reverie. "You pushed Kain back," she says. "Away from me."

"I pushed Kain back and said I wouldn't hurt a child. Kain said that he thought I'd say that. I don't think you heard that. Kain's an ass, I'm not denying that, but he thinks quick. The fire was there, bombs were flying, and you seemed ready to bolt. If he wanted to save you, Rydia, he couldn't wait for me to figure out my loyalties. I had the bomb ring."

Rydia exhales through her nose. "And you hadn't realized yet this was what Cagnazzo intended."

"Until Kain said so. If I . . . if I had been alone and saved you . . . Well, I wouldn't have made it that far, Kain is the only reason I . . . but if I had been alone, and thought, halfway through returning to Baron, 'I can't come back with this child' . . . I'm not sure what I would have done . . . "

Edge snaps.

"You silver-haired bastard," he snarls. "You would have killed her?"

He will not forget Cecil's expression for a long time. "The king was the only father I had ever known," he says. "I didn't think I would ever kill people begging me to just leave, but I did. I already had. For him."

"You are fucked in the head," Edge says.

"Yes," Cecil says.

"I knew you were the dark knight that attacked Mysidia, but wow. And what, you think a different guy who says he's your father cancels out this shit? Wipes the slate clean?"

"No," Cecil says.

"Would you do whatever I asked if I said I was your father?" Edge says.

"Edge," Rydia says. "It's between me and Cecil."

Edge continues, because he can't stop the fire building behind his eyes, and if he doesn't speak it will come out as something even worse. "Holy dipshit," he says.

"Right," Cecil says.

"Edge!" Rydia says. "Shut up and leave him alone. This is the part I've worked out with him already. Numerous times. You're not my, my protector or whatever it is you're trying now," she says.

"What? You think that - that I'm trying to - ? That is the last thing on my mind," Edge says. "There's too much at stake, here, way more than I realized when I first met you lot, and it turns out the man I've been trusting, everyone's been trusting, to stop Golbez is an asshole who couldn't figure out it's wrong to kill a child without his even bigger asshole friend pointing it out?"

"Edge, you're not listening. He did figure it out," Rydia said. "Wait, no, I mean, he didn't really need to ask that question. Of course he didn't. He's Cecil. Have you met him? Haven't you noticed he gets upset if he has to kill a bug?"

Cecil opens his mouth to say something. Rosa hushes him.

Edge's calm center of ninja training is gone. He is gone. His parents are dead, Eblan is in ruins, and Golbez has all but won. He has found emotional limits he didn't know he had and smashed through them like a rampaging chocobo. He yells, "Well I am definitely not flirting with you just because I'm a little concerned! That the man! Who ruined your life! Is here and you don't seem to care-"

"He did ruin my life," Rydia says, as if talking to a child. "And then he saved it." Then she crossed her arms and stared Edge down.

"Rydi-" Cecil says.

"Cecil," Rosa says, in the tensest tone Edge has heard yet from the white mage. Edge sneers down at her. "Well I'm glad someone has him on a leash," he says, and turns to leave the sealed cave.

"Where are you going?" Cecil asks.

"Fuck you!" Edge says. He starts walking. But he feels, dripping at the back of his anger, something like beginning awareness he has . . . not overreacted, but overstepped some boundary with Rydia. He will not call it a "mistake," yet.

"Edge," Rydia calls out to him. "Don't go far."

-------------------------------------------

Rydia shakes her head after Edge leaves. "What a . . . What a baby. I don't know the word for it."

"He'll calm down," Rosa says. "I think."

They are silent for too long, and it is jarring when Rosa speaks again. "Do you want me to step outside?" she says. "If you two need to speak?"

Rydia looks at Cecil. "I don't think so, no," she says. "I love you, Rosa," she adds. It is Rydia's way to be open and calm with her feelings, and say them when they occur to her, more Eidolon than human in manners. Rosa is still startled enough that she doesn't say anything besides, "Oh, I uh, I love you too, Rydia."

The weight that Cecil always presses down on himself to move forward has come back. "We shouldn't spend too much time here. The wound has closed and the potion helped the bloodloss. I can recover on the Falcon now."

"Don't push yourself," Rosa says.

"We must tell King Giott. We have all but lost," he says.

"I can't believe that about Kain," Rydia says. "You really think that, that he decided he was going to fight you that quick?"

"Ah," Cecil says, as he shifts to stand up. He presses a hand to the wall. He feels much older than just turned twenty-one. In hindsight, Kain being ready to fling himself against Cecil at a moment's notice looks bad. His thoughts swim. He is not sure if he has improved Rydia's opinion of Kain at all now.

"I wish you had told me earlier," Rydia says. "I would have forgiven him, if he asked. And now he's gone . . ."

Dancing under the stones of their feet, deeper than the foundations of the earth, is the ever-present knowledge Rydia has not said the words "I forgive you" to Cecil yet. Or maybe that is just him. He hopes Rydia has not assumed he already knew if she does or not. He has not asked her.

After today he is not sure he can.

#ffiv #ff4 #final fantasy iv #final fantasy 4 #kain highwind #rydia #rydia of mist #cecil harvey #rosa joanna farrell #edge ffiv #edward geraldine #asura ffiv #leviathan ffiv #closes eyes and hits posts like defusing a bomb

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anime-grimmy · 1 year

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Trigun hyperfixation has an iron grip on me and I desperately need to get my head to think of something else. Especially cos I crave so much for good stories but to my suprise, a lot of (vashmeryl) fanfics I read are extremely samey, especially the post-anime ones.

That being said, while reading, I was actually suprised to see a few scenarios or themes never explored? So I thought, since I can't get my brain to focus anyways, might as well drop some vashmerly hcs and prompts.

the one I'm most suprised has not been explored at all is Meryl and Milly trying to teach Vash how to actually talk/flirt with women. I still dunno how Vash came to be known as a womamizer in the og anime cos he is abyssmal when it comes to flirting. So, after an especially embarassing rejection, Meryl picks a fight with Vash as usual and he's all like "yeah, then you show me how it's done." Not one to chicken out on a competition (and with avid encouragement by Milly) they set up a fake date. I can totally see it going really funny, Meryl trying her darn hardest to act like an actually interested date but can't help herself from cringing and and scoffing at how stupid Vash' approaches are. So basically, it would be a mix of silly flirting and a lot of bantering. By the end Meryl admits that he's not half bad if he just turns down the goofiness a bit, mentioning if he just ties up the night nicely he might even score a second date (she means in general, not realizing that it sounds like she's implying a date with her). Cue Vash doing the only smooth move in his life and stealing a goodnight kiss, asking "well, did it work?"

less of a prompt or headcanon, but in all the scar-centric fics Ive read, not once is it mentioned how Vash has a literal cage over his heart? Ive always loved this little design aspect, since it so obviously shows Vash fortifying his heart and keeping everyone out. I can also see Meryl being all smug like "well, im small and nimble, and the spaces between the bars are wide, I can easily slip through"

another funny thought about the metal grids on his body would be them cuddling but Meryl's hair gets caught on the metal and now they have to akwardly maneuver out of this situation

Meryl uses any and all situations to be taller than Vash. Since she is so much smaller than him, she usually stands when he sits, especially when they argue, tries to be just a few stairs above him or walks a few more steps up a slop so she can peer down on him. Not that her presence isn't big enough already, but she for sure tries her hardest to assert dominance.

To her dismay, Vash likes to use this moments to pick her up. I dunno why, but since Meryl is so small I can see Vash just enjoying it to pick her up and twirl her around. Lugging her around like a pretty looking sack of potatoes.

Vash is a human pretzel. He will contort his body in ways to hug as much of Meryl as possible.

Meryl becomes incredibly good at ignoring Vash if she needs to work. She could be sitting at her typewriter, only noticing Vash has her in a vice grip when Milly asks if she isn't distracted.

Despite how spiky it looks, Vash' hair is actually pretty soft and fluffy, and once Meryl finds out she uses any opportunity to run her fingers through it. Vash doesn't mind cos he totally digs the head scratches (humanoid typhoon? more like humanoid doggo)

when traveling together, they usually share a thomas cos Vash can't ride for shit. Vash likes to be dramatic and complain about it (cos he's a big boy thank you very much) but he can't deny that he wholly enjoys being cuddled up behind Meryl for hours on end.

Welp, just some food for thought cos my brain is in Trigun overdrive. These are specifically based on the 98 versions of them but I have a whole lot for Stampede as well haha

#trigun #trigun 98 #rambling #headcanons #vashmeryl #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe

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strawbubbysugar · 4 months

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Hero In Shining Flannel

Y/N x June Sullivan (and hopefully Hello and Goodbye later lol)

CW: Indications of toxic relationship, mentions of bullying/harassment, as well as self-deprecating/depressive/anxious thoughts

_____________ Put under a readmore - PLEASE READ THIS ITS SO AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH IVE READ IT A DOZEN TIMES!!!!!!

<3<3<3

Buzz.

Marshmallow🧡: Why didn’t you invite me??

A small pit forms in your stomach as you see the text message pop up on your phone. Of course you made another mistake. But…couldn’t you go to the mall by yourself? Is there an unspoken rule that you have to bring your partner with you everywhere you go?

You have no clue. Social rules and relationship rules are confusing and hard to maneuver. Sigh. You adjust your body on the edge of the fountain to a more comfortable position and text them back.

You: Sorry about that, I was just gonna do a quick purchase and leave. I know you like longer trips to the mall but I’m not feeling up to that today

The 3 bubbles pop up on your screen, indicating that they are typing. Not soon after, another text appears.

Marshmallow🧡: Dude it only would’ve been like an extra 20 minutes or something. I’m really hurt that you didn’t bring me with you ☹️

The pit grows larger. You furrow your brows at the “20 minutes” part of the text. Last time they said “20 minutes”, the two of you were there for an hour, and you almost had a meltdown right there in the mall because you needed to leave and get out of that overstimulating environment and they just wanted to keep shopping. But you were their ride, you couldn’t just leave them there. It’s a good thing you had your earbuds with you so you could ground yourself in your music. If you hadn’t had them…well. Let’s just say the trip would’ve gone a lot differently, and not in a good way. That trip only reinforced your rule of “always have earbuds or headphones with you”.

With a resigned sigh, you do the only thing you can. Your fingers shakily type out your response.

You: I’m sorry that you’re feeling hurt. I’ll invite you next time I promise.

The 3 bubbles appear again, and your body tenses in anticipation. After about 30 seconds, the bubbles disappear. You wait for about 10 seconds. Maybe the message is just taking longer to send from a spotty connection or something.

You realize after another 20 seconds that you’re probably not getting a message back for awhile. That’s bad, right? That probably means they’re really mad at you. Your stomach feels like it’s going to implode in on itself.

You hate this. You’re not cut out for this. This is just like high school all over again. Why can’t you do anything right? You should’ve known that they would see your location and want to come along. Why didn’t you invite them in the first place? You know they have anxiety about being left behind! What is wrong with you?? You’re a terrible partner. You don’t deserve-

“Hey, you alright?”

Your eyes snap up to a young blond man standing above you, looking slightly concerned. No no no, you can’t burden a stranger with your issues! You put on your best smile, hoping it’s convincing.

“Oh yeah, I’m good! Thanks for asking.” Please go away, I can’t talk to anybody right now…

The young man’s eyebrows furrow, and he looks like he’s pondering something. After a moment, he gives you a kind smile.

“I dunno if most people who are doing okay cry in the middle of a mall.” He sits down on the edge of the fountain next to you, facing towards you.

Wait, you’re crying right now? When did that happen? Great. Now you’re crying in public and making a stranger worry for you. Goddammit.

Before you can say anything, he speaks again. “Look, you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’ll totally listen!” He taps his fingers absentmindedly. “Or maybe we could go get a smoothie or something and not think about it.”

You just look at this guy, dumbfounded. He would just…do that for you? You try to think and make a decision in the span of a few seconds. You’re now really stressed about the situation with your partner, and you were planning on leaving the mall as soon as possible to get to a safe and controlled environment. But on the flip side, this guy is offering a distraction because he saw you were upset. You get a very kind aura from him, if you’re reading him correctly. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? You know you’d just spiral in anxiety if you went back home right now, anyway. Maybe a good smoothie and talking to someone who isn’t Marshmallow will be good for you.

You can’t bring yourself to keep up the forced smile, so you let yourself just look as anxious as you feel. “I mean…I guess a smoothie sounds good. But…you’re sure? I don’t want to get in the way of your mall trip.”

The man waves his hand dismissively. “It’s no problem at all! I want to help if I can. I’d much rather make someone feel better than mindlessly wander around stores.” He stands up and offers his hand to you with a sympathetic smile.

You take his hand and he gently helps you up before letting go. He puts his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the light, squinting and looking around. “Alright, smoothie smoothie smoothie, show me…smoothies.” He mumbles in a slightly silly voice.

You can’t help but sniffle and chuckle a little bit. “Do you…not know where it is?”

He looks at you, not dropping his smile at all. “I’m gonna be so honest with you, I don’t even know if this mall even has a smoothie place. I just assumed there is one. ‘Cause there’s gotta be, right?”

You softly chuckle again and gesture for him to follow you. “Well, you’d be right. It’s this way.” The two of you start walking down the large corridor towards the food court.

“So,” The man begins. “It’s not lost on me that I’m a total stranger offering smoothies. In our generation, that’s like, unheard of I think.” He chuckles before continuing. “So I just wanted to say here and now that if you get uncomfortable or your social battery dies, you can totally tell me to leave. The last thing I want is to make your day worse. So just do what’s best for you, alright?” He gives you that kind smile again.

You return his smile. For real, this time. Not forced. “Thanks. I appreciate that. A lot.”

“Of course!” He chirps. He suddenly sticks his hand out to you. “By the way, I’m June.”

You shake his hand politely and tell him your name. “Nice to meet you, June.”

You two break the handshake and he just doesn’t stop smiling. His positivity is infectious. “Likewise.”

The two of you walk in semi-comfortable silence for a minute or so until you make it to the food court. You scan for a moment before pointing off to the left. “There’s the smoothie place. Well, it’s not only a smoothie place. But you know what I mean.”

You look over at June, and notice he’s still staring around at the food court, and he’s finally lost his smile. Your brow furrows in slight concern. “June? You okay?”

That breaks him out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Yeah,” He shakes his head a bit and smiles again, though this time it’s a bit…sadder than before. “Just kinda reminds me of my old food court.”

He starts walking towards the smoothie place, and you quickly catch up and keep pace with him. “Oh, so you’re not from around here then?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. New around here, kinda getting a lay of the land.”

“Oh! I’d be happy to show you around.” You offer, surprising yourself. You can’t believe you just offered to do that for a total stranger. He could be dangerous, for all you know! But looking at him in his little blue flannel jacket and those headphones around his neck, the way he fidgets and speaks, and just the overall positive vibes he emits, you can tell. He’s a trustworthy dude.

June’s eyes light up upon your offer. “Oh shit, really? That’d be awesome!”

“Sure!” You smile.

The two of you order your smoothies and find a quiet table to sit at and chat.

“So-“ The both of you start at the same time.

“Oh sorry, you can go!” You say first.

June shakes his head. “Nah nah that’s okay, what were you going to say?”

“As much as I want to say ‘no, you go’, I don’t want us to be going in a circle for who knows how long,” You giggle. “So, alright. I’ll go. I just wanted to say ‘Welcome’, I guess. I think that’s what one is supposed to say in situations like this?” You look away, feeling like maybe that’s not the right thing to say.

“But like I’m not saying that specifically because I feel like I’m supposed to, I genuinely am welcoming you here because you seem cool.” You awkwardly freeze, expecting June to laugh at you or make fun of you.

“Thanks! I appreciate the welcome. And for being called cool!” He smiles. “Always nice when people boost my already overinflated ego,” he obviously jokes.

You both laugh for a few moments. It feels…really nice. “So what were you gonna say?” You ask, taking a sip of your smoothie as June answers.

“Ah, I was just going to ask what you do around here. Job, school, that kind of thing! If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shake your head. “I don’t mind at all! I work part-time at a general store kinda near here. It has a dumb name. ‘Everything Ya Need’.” You roll your eyes with a smile just thinking about it.

June snickers a bit. “Ah yeah, I remember seeing that place and loving the name!”

The two of you smile wider at that. “That’s actually really close to where I work. That new repair and parts place, ya seen it?”

You nod your head. “Mhm! Yeah, I know that place. Haven’t been ‘cause I haven’t had a need to, but I think it’s good we’ll have a shop like that around here. Do you like working there so far?”

June puts his chin in his hands and takes a large gulp of smoothie. “Oh definitely!” He nods. “Couldn’t ask for a better job or coworkers.”

“Awe, that’s so good to hear!” You smile, genuinely happy for him.

“What about your job?” June asks. “Do you like your coworkers?”

You clench your teeth and look away for a couple moments. “Um…I guess it’s not as bad now that this one dude got fired. But the store was so desperate for people that at first, they didn’t fire him even when he was literally harassing and bullying me. And you might be thinking ‘well, why didn’t you quit?’ And it’s because I was too scared to. I know my tasks there, I know the people, it’s comfortable. I didn’t want to have to do more job searching and the terrifying interview and go into the unknown where I would have no clue what to expect. Sad, I know.” You sigh and take an ashamed sip of loser smoothie.

June’s eyebrows furrow in sympathy, and he gives you a reassuring smile. “Hey, come on now. That’s not sad, I totally get it. The comfort of routine and the fear of the unknown are super valid. Even if a routine may have something that hurts you, it’s easier…and feels safer to stay with that than to risk doing something new that could…go wrong.” His voice and his smile oddly faltered a bit by the end there. His blue eyes cloud for a moment, seeming distant, as if he’s remembering something.

“Right, yeah. You get it!” You try to break him out of whatever potential bad memories he might be reliving. “Thanks for validating me.”

June’s eyes flicker back to you, and his cute smile comes back.

Wait. What did you just call his smile??

“Of course!” He says, and you hope to heaven above that your face looks normal.

“So, um…” you try to think of something to talk about before you start accidentally making yourself blush more or something. “Is it alright if I ask you why you don’t tie your shoes? At least, I assume it’s on purpose, given that you’ve had a couple chances to tie them. If that is a rude question or too intrusive, I apologize!” You try not to wince at the anticipation of him getting upset with you for asking him that question.

After June swallows a sip of smoothie, he waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, no it’s not rude! You’re all good. I just don’t like them feeling uneven.”

Your eyes widen, and you subconsciously lean a little towards him over the table. “Wait, you hate uneven shoes too?? Oh my gosh, I’m so glad I’m not alone in that!”

June tilts his head to the side a bit with a reassuring smile. “Of course you’re not alone in that!”

You look down at your slip-on shoes, just wanting to peek at them due to them now being the topic of conversation. “Well, that makes me feel better. Nobody I know has ever talked about it. I’ve been late to class a couple times because I had to re-tie my shoes like, 4-6 times to try to make them feel even. It’s so annoying. I’m very thankful for slip-on shoes, that’s for sure.”

June takes another sip of smoothie, and you follow suit. “Geez, yeah that’s rough. I’m glad you got some slip-ons, though!”

“Thanks! I’m glad that I know a fellow even-feeling shoe enjoyer now. It’s validating as hell,” you chuckle, and June chuckles with you.

The nice moment between you two is interrupted by a loud buzz from your pocket. June looks at you curiously as you tense up.

“Oh boy.” You slowly start pulling your phone out of your pocket, cursing your hand for shaking.

You take a moment to gather the courage to look at it, and…you slump down in your chair with relief when you see it’s just a text from your mom asking how your day is going.

“Oh thank fuck,” you exhale.

June looks at you curiously, but obviously seems conflicted due to not wanting to intrude on your personal life. You give him a knowing look.

“It was my mom. I was worried it was going to be my partner,” you take an awkward sip of smoothie.

June’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly, but he quickly composes himself. “Oof.” He also takes an awkward sip of smoothie.

You’re not liking the tense silence now, so you decide to move on. “I don’t really want to spill all of my relationship issues onto you when we just met, even if you’re willing to listen. Which I appreciate, by the way. I’d like for you to associate my presence with…well, not trauma-dumping, that’s for sure!” You chuckle.

June looks a little concerned again for a moment, but lets it go. “I get it. I’d probably do the same thing in your shoes. So…do you want to not think about it for a while?”

You nod your head eagerly. “Definitely. How about that tour I offered?” You ask, slightly desperately.

June shoots you a solid thumbs up while sipping his drink. “Sounds good to me!”

After the finishing of smoothies, you and June throw your cups away and start walking around the mall. You show him your favorite shops, what kinds of other shops are available, and the quietest times of the week. Luckily, June has no problem having a fast tour of the mall so the both of you can leave and explore the quieter town.

As you walk around, you two pass both your workplace as well as the shop June works at, and you end up exchanging some work stories.

“Yeah, I have a knack for scaring the shit out of Matt,” June laughs. “I swear that I try to let him know I’m there before I tap his shoulder! He’s just so easy to spook.”

You giggle at that, imagining a gruff and rugged 40 year old man jumping 10 feet in the air from a little shoulder tap.

“Poor Matt!” You can’t help but smile.

June waves off your sympathy. “Ah, he’s fine. Don’t worry about him!”

“Okay,” you laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You end up telling June a couple of work stories that don’t involve the guy that harassed you, or basically just any negative stories in general. I don’t want to be a Debbie downer. I gotta make sure I’m somewhat pleasant to be around so that I don’t ruin things right out of the gate with him.

The more you walk around town with June, the more you properly forget about your partner being mad at you, and the anxiety in your stomach subsides for a while. Talking with June feels really nice, he’s super understanding, and the conversations flow so easily. You have trouble remembering the last time you had such a pleasant time with someone other than Marshmallow. You furrow your brow as you think about the fact that you don’t really spend time with anyone other than them. Even if you’re with friends or acquaintances, they’re there.

Don’t ignore their anxiety. Their last partner really messed with their head, it’s okay if they want to come with you to places. How selfish can you be?

You’re pulled out of your spiral when June says your name.

“Huh? What?” You ask, hoping you didn’t space out for too long. Ugh, June must think you’re such a scatterbrain!!

“You good?” He asks, with that concerned look again. You hate making him look like that. You want him to smile, you don’t want him to worry about you.

“Yes, thank you.” You smile and shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it. “Um, so…ah.” You gesture to the park that the two of you are currently walking past. “This park is a nice place to chill and relax, at least when there’s not too many people. It’s nice to watch the birds.”

June looks around at the park’s trees with a soft smile. “Hmm. Good to know! Love me a good birb.”

You chuckle at that, focusing on his smile. “Well,” you clap your hands together gently. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, it’s been-“ you check your phone’s clock and your eyes widen. “Holy shit, 2 hours. Damn.” Time really flew by, it felt like 45 minutes…

June holds his hands up reassuringly. “Hey, it’s no problem at all! I really appreciate you taking me around town and showing me where stuff is.”

You nod at him with a small smile. “Absolutely!” You hold out your hand to him, offering a handshake. “Well, June, it was really nice to meet you! Thank you for being kind enough to check in on a distressed stranger. You’re a good dude.”

June returns the handshake, his face looking slightly bashful. Adorable, you can’t help thinking to yourself.

“Of course! Wasn’t just gonna pass you by. It was really nice to meet you as well!” He smiles politely, but it doesn’t look forced, to your relief.

You and June let go of the handshake, and you point your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “I’m walking this way, which direction are you going in? ‘Cause I don’t wanna do that thing where we say goodbye and then we awkwardly end up walking in the same direction.”

June laughs, and it’s a wonderful laugh. Not one of judgement, not one of teasing, but one of understanding. He points his thumb in a different direction. “I totally getcha! I’m going that way, so we’re good on that front.”

“Okay, cool. Well June, it’s been a pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you around town again sometime.” You shrug casually, hoping you’re giving the correct signal that you don’t expect him to give you more of his time, but letting him know you’re open to spending more time with him.

“Yeah, for sure! That’d be cool.” He gives you a friendly wave and gently says your name. “Take care!”

You grin and wave back at him. “You too!” You watch him walk away, and let out a quiet, contented sigh. You watch June stick his hands in his pockets, just looking at stuff around him as he walks, as if everything he passes deserves to be acknowledged and observed.

You don’t want to be weird, so you turn towards the direction of your apartment and start walking home. Instead of having anxiety again about your partner as you make your way back, you instead think about June. The way he made you feel so validated and understood. How he didn’t judge you, how he was laughing with you, not at you, and how it felt so easy to talk to him. You can’t help but feel really happy at the possibility of seeing him again sometime.

Even if your relationship never makes it past acquaintance status, even if you never talk with him again, you’re thankful for the time you got to spend with him today. He made you feel a little less alone, and made you feel better about some things you were either ashamed of or worried about.

You look over your shoulder, spotting him one last time as he grows further in the distance. Your lips curl into a small smile, your heart feeling full.

Thank you, June.

#submission #so(u)l project fanfic #IM SO INSANE I CANT BELIEVE I GET TO USE THAT TAG #THIS WAS SUCH A WONDERFUL GIFT AND SO CUTE AND FUN AND AAAUGH #BEAUTIFUL

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

Text

A/N ::: Here's where the fun starts? I mean, I enjoyed it. Though it took me 4 damn days to get this thing on here. But it's a busy ass time of year. So, I am a little sorry that it took so long because someone asked if there would be another part and I think they were looking for more? Or hoping that would be the end of this lol. Idk. Anyway, here's part V. Hope you all enjoy it.

C/W ::: Kats & F!reader. Language, angst, smart-assery, flirting, nudity, touching, little bit of teasing. I'm tired. It's 12:32 on Christmas morning and I need to get to bed. If I missed anything gross let me know. But only if it's REALLY gross. Thanks!

WC ::: under 2,700 ish

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part VI

Part VII

You turned away from him and put your hand over your mouth as the sobs escaped. Katsuki walked up behind you and put his hands on your shoulders. "Look, y/n. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was just mad. Please, don't - don't cry. You know how much I hate it when you cry. It makes me feel like shit. Like I did somethin' wrong. Or, or hurt ya or somethin'. Fuck, y/n. Fuck."

He stood at your back and contemplated hugging you again. He wanted to. You weren't the only one missing the other's touch. But it didn't feel like the right thing to do. You were both raw. Both wounded.

He backed up and you turned to look at him. You couldn't hold back your tears. "Katsuki, you did hurt me. You didn't want me to come to your hero events. You didn't want me to come to your work events. It was always a secret that we were together. Always a secret because you'd get embarrassed by me or whatever. I couldn't keep doing that. I couldn't be someone you were ashamed of. I didn't want to be."

Katsuki's mouth dropped open. "Ash-? Ashamed? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I was ashamed of you? You think I didn't want you at those events with me? You're insane." He looked at you, shaking his head. "Y/n, I never once asked you to be anything but yourself. I loved you, I still love you, for who you are. I never wanted you to be something you weren't. That's why I never asked you to be more than that. I knew you weren't into the hero shit and that was fine."

"That's a bit of a stretch, Kats. I was into you. And you're a hero so you have to be into the 'hero shit'. All I ever wanted to do was support you and be there for you and ... and ... why am I yelling about this. Why now. God. It doesn't matter, anymore. Does it?" You stared at the floor, greatly regretting your choice of words. You had no idea what you were doing here anymore.

You looked back up at Katsuki and saw him staring at you like he was ready to explode. "Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, you fucking idiot. You know me. You know me better than anyone. You know that I never once wanted you to be someone you weren't. You know that I love you for who you are. You know that."

He walked up to you and grabbed you by the shoulders. "I ... I -" You choked on a sob and held your breath. "I don't know that. I don't think I've known that for a while. Katsuki, I love you. I really do. But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep being this person you seem to think I am. I can't keep feeling like I'm not good enough."

He looked around the room like he was desperately searching for something and his eyes finally landed on a plate in the sink. He stomped over to it and pulled it out only to slam it on the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You yelled, gesturing to the shattered pieces on the tile. "That's the good china!"

"You think I give a shit right now, y/n? 'Cause I don't. I don't give a shit about the dumbass plates. An' I dunno why you keep bringing up this shit about how you had to be my secret. I thought that was something we agreed on in the beginning that I wouldn't go broadcastin' the fuckin' love of my life all over the goddamn place. You're a literal walking bullseye for all of the assholes out there that want to hurt me. Or lure me in. I ... Jesus fuckin' shit, y/n. Why're you just now bringing this shit up?" He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms and laughed an uncomfortable laugh. "How long you been holdin' on to this for. Huh?"

You couldn't answer him. You just looked at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and your bottom lip quivering.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. You don't have to tell me. But you do have to take responsibility for this shit show you're starring in. I can't believe I let you back here. I can't believe I let you back here. God. Fucking. Damn it. You should leave." He turned and walked toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

You heard the shower turn on and you knew that he needed a moment. So did you. But since when did you do what was best for you and him lately? Why start now?

Not even bothering to knock on the bathroom door, you barged in and stared at the naked man that stood before you. Once you were able to tear your eyes from his ridiculously beautiful body, you collected your train of thought and began yelling at him.

If there was one thing that really drove you crazy about Katsuki, it's his ability to remain unfazed by some things that are said to him. Whether they're said out of anger, hatred, frustration, or whatever. He could turn his receptors off at a moment's notice and just stare right back at the person blankly. Complacently.

"It takes a special kind of asshole to pull off the audacity that you walk around with all the time. You know that? I don't know if this is all your parent's fault or if this was some shitty personality trait you picked up on your own along the way. But you are such a shit that I can't even look at you right now!"

"Ah! But see, you weren't looking at me. And why'd you come in here if you can't even look at me right now? See, I think, that you can look at me. I think you want to look at me. You done starin' at my cock though, babe?" He asked you, in a deeper than usual voice. "Y'know, s'all yours, still, darlin'. Wann'it?"

Your chest was heaving at how angry you were at him right now. And for just a split second, you smiled. He cracked your armor and made you feel something other than the hurt that was boiling over in your gut.

"Oh-hoh, you fucker." You exhaled a chuckle. "You stupid fucker. You know what. I'm done. I'm just done. I don't want any part of your shit anymore. I'm leaving. I should have left when you told me to. But I'm a dumbass and just can't leave well enough alone. It's just -"

Katsuki interrupted you, "It's just ... you wanted to see my cock again." He tilted his head down to see your eyes. "Am I right? You don't gotta lie to kick it, baby girl. You never had to lie to kick it. Now, why don't we talk about what you really want to talk about. My fat ... hard ... cuh-ah-k." He punctuated each syllable with exaggerated annunciation.

You choked on the glob of spit you were trying to swallow. But what didn't go down your throat before, surely wasn't going to now. Now that he'd pointed out that his cock was, indeed, hard.

It was true. You did want to see his cock one more time. You missed it so much. It was so perfect. You couldn't believe that it was yours to play with anytime you wanted. The thought made you blush. Even standing here with the man you'd been with for 3 years. He still made you blush.

The thought occurred to you that maybe you two just needed to fuck it out. Get this frustration out of your system. But you knew it went well beyond angry sex.

"Tempting, Kats. It's all real tempting. Boy. And when you're being so romantic and sweet about it too. May I? May I try to appeal to you too?"

"Fuck. Yes. Appeal until you're blue in the face." He smiled and looked completely amused by your willingness to go along with this. "You think I'm gonna say no to ya? I told ya. It's yours. It's all yours. Take it, baby girl. Take it all. Just like I took your heart. An' I'm not fuckin' givin' it back, ya asshole. Callin' me an asshole. Tch."

"Shut up, shut up. Ok. Lemme see if I can be half as charming as you were just a minute ago. *ahem*", you cleared your throat before you started in on your attempt to show him just how stupid he sounded to you.

"You wanna see my cuh-n-tuh? You don't gotta lie to kick it, big boy. Just tell me what you're thinking about, c'mon ... whis-per ... to ... meee. Tell me what you really want. You want my tight ... wet ... pus-sy?"

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck. "You think you're so damn funny, don't ya? Well, you're not. You're not cute right now. You're not being very funny. And you're asking for it. I'm fuckin' tellin' ya, you're gonna get what you have comin', ya little brat."

"Oh, am I? Well, what's that, big boy? Are you gonna make me laugh? Tickle me with your words? Huh? Oh, wait, wait. Let me say it like you would. HAHHH? You sound like an old man when you say ‘huh’." You laughed at your own joke and started to walk away.

He reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into the bathroom and slammed you into the wall, kicking the door shut so it slammed again. This time seemed so much louder to you, though.

You grunted at his brusque movement of shoving your back against the wall. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. But you were surprised that he could want this in the throes of fighting for your future together.

He looked down at you and smiled, his mouth slightly open. His breath hot on your face. "What's so funny?" He asked you. "What's ... so goddamn ... funny?"

You were aware that he was trying to rile you up. And you could throw yourself out the window right now for playing into it. He knew how to move around you. He knows how to move around you to get what he wants. Hell, half the time, in the past, he could just look at you the right way and you'd be bouncing on his lap while he sat with his arms outstretched on the back of the couch. Watching you like you were the only other person on the planet.

The memory made your body flush with heat. It started in your core and spread to your thighs and cheeks. You noticed your heart was beating faster than it was when you were screaming at each other. There's just something about quiet Katsuki that always got you.

He bent over and ran his lips along the shell of your ear and said, "I'll ask you again, baby cakes, what ... is ... so ... fuckin' ... funny? I think you want me to drag it out of you, yeah? You remember what happened the last time you were bein' sassy to me, don'cha? I had a good time that day. Can't say for sure if you did or not. But if memory serves me righ', you came 7 times that hour. God, you were bein' a smart ass. Was it 7?" He rubbed his chin against your shoulder. The stubble raking across the soft fabric created a scratchy sound that made you squirm.

You turned your head to look him in the eye and said, "It was 8, actually." You smirked and watched his expression change from lust to surprise.

"It was ... hah. I must've missed one. Well, then, I should try harder. No? Maybe I'll make you laugh. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just make you moan and cry my name."

You closed your eyes as he ran his hand up the inside of your thigh. "Stop playing with me, Kats. This isn't ... this isn't how it should be." You couldn't believe you were saying those words. But they were the truth. This wasn't how it should be.

But it was how you both wanted it to be. You knew it. You knew that neither of you had the willpower to stop this. To turn away from it.

"You want me to stop, darlin'? You want me to walk away from you, go back to the shower, and pretend like this never happened? Is that what you want?" He was so close to your face that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

You shook your head, still looking him in the eye. "No. I don't want you to stop. I want you to make me laugh. And moan. And ... and cry your name. But, Kats ... just, don't fuck with me right now. Ok? Just ... don't. Please. I can't handle it right now."

"Ok. I promise. No fucking with you. I'll keep it real. If I'm gonna laugh at you, I'll laugh because you're being funny. I won't fuck with you. I don't wanna make you mad at me. Not right now. Just wanna make you ... happy. Make you feel good. Make you feel like you used to. Like you should. Like we should."

You closed your eyes and nodded. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that this was just something that you two needed to get out of your systems. Something that had been building for weeks and was now about to spill over.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, pulling him in by the waist. He kissed you back and lifted your leg up, pressing his hardness against your thigh. The feeling made your head spin. It made your body ache for him.

He grabbed your hand and guided it to his cock, letting you wrap your fingers around it. You felt him flex and harden even more in your grip. You sighed and bit your lip. You wanted him so bad.

"Take it off." He said. He took a couple of steps back and looked at you, serious as hell. "Take it all off. Let me see you." He watched you.

You stood there, still pressed against the wall, and pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the ground. You reached behind you and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor on top of your shirt. You slid your pants and underwear down your legs, stepping out of them and kicking them away.

You stood there, naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to say or do something. But he just looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize every curve and angle of your body. Like he wanted to remember what you looked like.

"You're so goddamn beautiful, y/n. So fuckin' beautiful." He took a deep breath and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "You ready for me?"

"I - yes. I'm ready. Are you? Are you ready … for me?"

"More than you could ever imagine." He stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. He laid you down and looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he started to kiss his way down your body.

He licked and sucked at your skin, leaving marks in his wake. He knew that he shouldn't be marking you up but he couldn't help it. He wanted everyone to know that you were his.

In whatever way he could have right now.

He would take it.

And he would leave it.

_________________________________

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

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focsle · 1 year

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I was wondering if you've picked up any information on items like wedding rings or other love tokens among the whalers that you study. I've read your essays talking about domestic scrimshaw items, which are fantastic but -- I dunno! Wedding rings don't necessarily make sense for men doing hard work with their hands (and I know they go in and out of fashion) but I'm curious if there was something of the sort! Thank you for your aaaart and haunted whale men.

I feel like so many of those domestic items ARE the love tokens! Especially the yarn swifts that had so much labor poured into them, and the busks that, in addition to being an intimate object worn close were carved with all sorts of entreaties of love and remembrance to the woman it was made for. That so many of these scrimshaw pieces were these incredibly intricate domestic items (that would mostly be used by women at this time) that demanded so much patience and artistry speaks to the craftsman’s love. There are so many emotions carved into those things—ugh, I find such poetry in them.

I haven’t come across any wedding rings myself, but that isn’t to say there never was one! Here are some scrimshaw rings—they were likely just adornments, but who knows, they may have been love tokens too!

Men wearing wedding rings wasn’t a common phenomenon in the US until the 20th century. But whalers still remembered their loved ones left ashore in varying ways. Usually in the form of daguerreotypes, once the technology existed.

I always think of 2nd mate of the Arnolda, Benjamin Boodry writing on the May Day tradition of hanging a basket of flowers on the door of a sweetheart (in his case, a woman named Helen):

“I wish I was there to hang her a May Basket. I believe I should get into a 2 bushel basket and hang myself if she would take me in. here I set in my state room the door shut and my whole family of Daguerreotypes around me and my Accordion in my hand and I try to imagine myself in old Mattapoisett.”

Another mate, John Wilson, of the Wave talked about how his wife’s miniature gave him solace.

“it is hard and I still trust we shall yet get something if it is Gods will and far from home and far from home but the Image of my Wife is my only Consolation. The Island of Fyal [Fayal] Bearing E. NE. good Night. Lat 38 25.”

He mentioned sometimes speaking to his wife’s portrait while on the voyage. Whalers would hang them in their bunks so they’d be able to look upon them when they woke up. I’ve come across logbooks that had a portrait of the keeper’s wife pasted in the front cover, or poems about her. I came across a logbook keeper who held on to a cake a woman had baked him before he left, and was dismayed to find it spoiled when he finally went to eat it on his birthday. There were captains that brought some of their wife’s belongings with them, and talked about burying their face into them and weeping. Most of the ways I’ve seen whalers remembering their wives were less tangible than the scrimshaw tokens they made for them, but man did they still think about them. Physical token or not, their minds continually turned back to those they left behind.

Letters were some of the most prized objects of affection. Silliman Ives, of the Sunbeam, wrote about the importance of receiving letters.

“Speaking of letters leads me to remark that of all the people in the world, it seems to me that a sailor prizes a letter the most. Expected letters form the subject of many conversations for weeks before the ship goes into port. How many each one thinks he shall get, and who will be the writers. Speculations are rife as to the health of those from whom they are awaiting news. And if it is known that Jack, or Ben, or Dick were paying particular attentions to any certain young lady, previous to sailing, or if they are supposed to be engaged to get “spliced” when the voyage is concluded, many jokes are cracked at their expense, and numerous are the wishes of their messmates that they “may get good long ones, and chock full of love.”

Nothing plunged a fellow into greater despair than coming into port after months at sea and receiving no letters, and nothing seemed to make him happier than when a letter did arrive (that is, if it brought good news). Old letters were clung to, sometimes from seasons’ past. They’d be read over and over again. There was even a market for selling the love letters they got to men who didn’t receive one, as whaler Ezra Goodnough once described:

“I sold a letter I received from a young lady of Salem and the only one to that I have received this voyage for two heads of tobacco, it being a very scarce article.”

Whoof, this was a long way of saying I haven’t come across any wedding rings yet, men likely wouldn’t be wearing them at this point, but they really did cling to their pictures and papers!

#asks #autumnsneedle #awhalin

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alphabetboyluvr · 2 months

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Ok so I saw that long ass post that anon sent you about the vote thing on Wattpad, and while I don’t agree with some of what they said where they told you what to do (which they shouldn’t have done, they were rude) I do actually agree with them where they said people don’t tend to look at the votes when deciding whether or not to read a story. I actually think the whole vote thing is just something only authors care about, not readers.

As an avid reader on Wattpad, I do give votes just because authors like it- but I don’t actually give a shit about how many votes a story has when I’m looking for my next story to read. I look at the number of views- which I think you’ll find most readers do, even though the view count can be skewed.

Either way, I do think the whole vote thing should be taken off Wattpad as to the majority of readers, they really don’t care about it and it doesn’t give a good representation of how good a story is

I've been thinking about this all a lot ever since the last anon came in. I'll probably avoid answering questions about this topic again, but there does seem to be disconnect between the writer and reader standpoint, so I'll try and explain my thoughts as best I can without waffling for ages lol

my answer is to this ask, but also to the topic in general, and thoughts I've had regarding that last anon.

it's a really difficult topic to discuss because wattpad has an algorithm that is never really explained to writers. i cant say its important because xyz - i can just give you my own experience. ive been on wattpad for 11 years and have seen it through many changes. i used to use the activity tab to find new stories, and i honestly think getting rid of that was detrimental to the user experience tbh.

as it stands, we don't know what the algorithm favours, so we have to do what we can.

and what can we do? we can tag our work, we can acquire reads and votes, and then we can do more laborious things such as entering award books run by other users and engaging with our readers in various ways.

the tag system, and trending stories under those tabs, are really skewed. for instance, I don't think any of my stories have ever made it onto the fanfic tab, nor have I ever ranked highly under tags despite having really engaged readers and metrics which would suggest I would be.

so, unlike what the last anon said, my stories haven't always been 'out there'. word of mouth, and some stroke of luck tiktoks, are what's pushed them more than anything. so in that way, yeah the desire for votes is flawed—but personally I don't think read count is indicative of quality. if we're thinking about it from a marketing standpoint and conversion rates etc, votes a far more indicative of quality and I'd rather be known for quality over quantity.

the last anon also specifically noted the number of reads/follows I have on wattpad, and suggested that I shouldn't care because those numbers are high—which, respectfully I disagree with. if I didn't care in the early days, I wouldn't have pushed myself to make it to where i am. you can't just expect me to switch off that part of my personality. I'm ambitious and I really care about the things I create.

my girliepop oc's tend to have ambitious streaks and personal goals that they work hard for. they take after their mother, in that sense.

i think what confuses me the most is why it irks people, when you boil it down. its a tap on the screen for readers—and having just uploaded an 11k chapter that took hours to write, to edit, to craft, only to then be told its not worth it? i dunno man, it's just mean lol.

you can think these thing by all means, but don't come into my space just to be cruel. sometimes it okay to keep your opinions in your group chats.

the system is flawed, but I don't think you can blame a gal for just trying to work with it in the only way she knows how

#like at the end of the day none of this matters #none of it at all #i just take such offense to labelled as greedy lmao #its really bothered me lol #ask #sorry to this anon tho cause i went on a big ass tangent

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officialweezerelections · 9 months

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I hear u want to hear about WEIRD ANIMALS yes?

Well have i got a WEIRD ANIMAL for you!!

(i know u know about this cause. Its a bird. And also was in the bracket if i remember right (to be fair ive been just a TAD confused as to wich bird poll blog this is ever since u changed ur url lol), but i dunno maybe i can give u some new info! And maybe not, but hopefylly you'll put up with me anyway!)

I give you-

(Drumroll please..)

The

BEARDED

VULTURE!!!!!!

Anyway this is my FAVORITE. BIRD. And more people need to talk about her!!!!

So first of all there's the main thing they're known for - being the ONLY known vertabrate whose diet consists mainly (between 70 and 90 PERCENT!!!!!!) of BONE!!!!!!

ALSO however! This bird is POSSIBLE evidence of non-human animal using COSMETICS!!!! Y'see, they are naturally mostly white in coloration, but they roll in iron-rich mud and dust, thus dyeing their feathers a rich red color! Interestingly, Bearded Vultures, a primarily solitary and somewhat territorial animal, seem to be more respectful of and submissive to others of their species who have more red to their feathers. Though it is worth noting, as these birds live in very high altitudes, that we havent been able to observe them in the wild enough to prove the connection between dyed hue and perceived dominance.

Also i seem to remember in some poll (genuinely cant remember if it was urs or not) the Bearded Vulture was beat by a bird whose main notable trait was commiting fratricide - something that the Bearded Vulture ALSO does! The mother lays two eggs, one egg hatches about a week before the other, and upon the second egg hatching one chick (almost always the older one) kills and eats the other. I dont usually share that bit cause it would turn a lot of folks off from my Favorite Bird Ever but it really bothered me how that poll went down lol (lighthearted) (not actually mad)

Anyway, uuuuhhhh i think thats it -

-WAIT!!!!! I just remembered something else about them!!!!!

So they eat bones right? And some bones are to big to swallow yeah? So, like any strong-legged bird would, they pick up the too-big bones, fly way up high, and then drop them on rocks to break them into edible peices.

Seems pretty normal yeah?

Well (allegedly) they also do that to turtles/turtles to access the meat on rare occasion.

Still not that weird? I completely agree!

However, (allegedly) a Bearded Vulture once killed a greek playwright by the name of Aeschylus by mistaking his bald head for a rock and dropping a tortoise on it from a great height!

Anyway yeah thats all the main things

Except you know, for their apearance

(Why are their EYES like that? Ive tried to look it up but cant find anything. Some of the PRETTIEST (round-pupiled) eyes in the animal kingdom tho, no question)

Anyways yeah, sorry if this is all stuff u already knew, but, uh. YEAH!!!

Thanks for letting me rant about my funky lil guy!!!

I DID KNOW ALL OF THIS ALREADY BUT I LOVE YOUR ENTHUSIASM AND I LOVED READING ALL OF IT AGAIN!!! Bearded vultures are so darn pretty. Also you can be genuinely bothered with how a poll went down, I’m still a bit upset with the results of my first bracket. (final girl showdown) 😔

I keep thinking of things I could add on but you’ve pretty much said it all! I guess I could say that the bearded vulture is a card in Inscryption? The power is equal to one half of the player’s bones. I like that little detail.

-🪿

#mod gf #bearded vulture #asks

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bananafire11 · 4 months

Text

vent

please dont read if youre not in the right space rn. heavy on anger and feels. just wanna type it out somewhere and this blog is my safe space so

i am so fucking angry right now. like the kind of anger thats pent up and bubbles beneath the skin and is ready to implode out at any fucking second and i hate it so much. i dont feel like i have very good reasons for feeling this way either. or maybe im downplaying those reasons, i dunno

i dont want to bother any of my friends with this shit. i feel guilty because ik they have their OWN struggles. ik feeling this way is silly because i help them through so much, and am so glad to do so. but theres always this doubt.

anyway. on discord, i put my status on DNIUC sometimes because i just need space and ik that most of my close friends will see this and know to be careful that day. or if they text and im slow to respond, ik they understand. but theres these friends who KEEP spamming. and its driving me FUCKING MAD. one, who is very close and gosh i love them so much, sends me so much every day. youd think after the first few times i didnt respond, he'd get the fucking jist and think "ill stop there" but instead he KEEPS ON. ITS OVERWHELMING. and the subject of these texts isnt bad or anything, but its always about him and his bf. i dont have the energy to talk about them 24/7. im beyond happy for him, that hes happy. but FUCK. im asexual and never have been in a relationship, and sometimes it feels like a fuckyou to me?? ik he doesnt mean it that way at all!! but!!! idk, sometimes its like theres a longing for a bf of my own. but i dont want to settle. ill wait for the right boy. right now, hes not here. and im not actively looking for a relationship, i have so much shit going on. so, i usually ignore this guys dms as long as i can. i feel guilty, but at the same time fucking furious that i even have to do it in the first place, if that makes sense. i love him dearly, but it's forced me to just put my status on 'invisible' so it looks like im offline. better to avoid people, ig.

theres another guy, who isnt as close, but ive made great friends with thus far in the time ive met him over a game i enjoy. but again, doesnt know when to stop. why are you texting me when it says dniuc!!! YOU ARENT CLOSE. ive explained 'close' is friends ive known for a year or so, which isnt exactly true actually... but i needed to tell him something that wouldnt hurt his feelings. after i clarified for the second time, he let up. but still. people are fucking annoying and its so FRUSTRATING that i love them because that makes shit so complicated.

then, family. ive been snowed in with my mom and sister for over a fucking week and I NEED OUT. i never thought id say this but I WANT TO BE AT SCHOOL. AWAY FROM HOME. my neighbors, who are more so aunt and uncle to me and my sister, let me go over and stay hours with them when i need it. but i dont feel like trecking thru the fking snow to get there. last night i stayed over and watched a favorite movie of mine with them and it was great, but having the energy to do that feels exhausting tonight.

im trying to distract myself with art, but its not working like it normally does. and its goddamn hard. tried videogames, youtube, but nothing is bringing me true relief. but i dont want to sleep either. ugh.

vent art, anger.

#banana brain blurbs #vent post

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thesolemnhour · 11 months

Note

What about ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together for Agria and Woljif?

great minds think alike @gutterspeak! ❤️❤️

CW: The Mercy sidequest in Act IV, Latverk is a capital c Creep

Latverk was… an uncommon horror, even for the Abyss. Please, won’t you help those girls? He begged. Send them to me—I can help them.

Agria had opened her mouth to—she’s not really sure what she had meant to say, looking back. Placate him? Agree? But something had stopped her dead in her tracks. Something cold had opened up in the pit of her stomach, a sense of overpowering dread. And Agria hadn’t known that man from Aroden, could never have guessed what was wrong with him, but… she knew exactly what that feeling meant. Every young woman does, she imagines, but aasimar girls would do very well indeed never to ignore that gnawing unease.

She can still picture her mother’s face the first time someone had asked for a lock of Agria’s hair.

It’s all in the past now.

They can’t stay at the Nexus for long. There's only enough time for the briefest of reprieves. There’s just too much to do. She has to go back out into that gods-forsaken city; she knows she does. She just doesn’t know if she has the strength.

Agria lays on her back, staring at the cave ceiling and desperately imagining the way the stars looked back home. She traces the shapes of the familiar constellations with her eyes. She could still see some of them even in Alushinyyra, but they were alien, wrong, placed at strange angles and pointed in wrong directions. Picturing the Cosmic Caravan--her Cosmic Caravan, Aunt Dalla’s, not another mockery this place makes of something dear to her—makes her so homesick that her chest squeezes with the weight of it.

Lost in thought, she never notices one of her companions joining her.

When she turns her head languidly away from the ceiling, she finds one Woljif Jefto assessing her intently. The look is—concerned, and not in the way his looks once were. It doesn’t say, ‘Does my only ticket out of here really have what it takes to get the job done?’ She knows what that feeling looks like even more acutely than she knew Latverk’s hunger. His distress is not clinical; it looks ready to crawl up his throat and suffocate him.

He’s worried about her. They hold eye contact for long enough for her to realize he has no idea how to ask her if she is okay.

“Tell me—“ She begins, but the words catch before she can finish. For a moment, she doesn’t want to live in their horrifying present; she wants to think of a beautiful future. Flicking her eyes back to her imaginary stars, she continues, “Tell me about what you’ll do once we get out of here.”

If he is surprised by stubborn avoidance of the elephant in the room, he doesn’t show it.

“Fight more demons, looks like.” When Agria heaves a most beleaguered sigh, he continues, “I dunno! I’ve never had options before.”

She abandons the cave ceiling—her misbegotten imagination—to roll onto her stomach and face him directly. “Yes, but it could be exciting! You could do anything you ever wanted to do.”

“Eh… You know how it is,” he drawls. For tieflings, he means but doesn’t say. “You don’t wanna get too hung up something somebody could take away in a second.”

“Live in the dream with me, just for a minute.”

“Maybe I could… start that magic shop? Seems like we’ve already got a decent start on the merchandise.”

Agria nods enthusiastically, “There’s an open niche for jewelers now that Sunhammer is gone. You could Fyllemen out of business.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” He asks with a laugh. “Then he’d be the one sneakin’ in to see my stuff.”

“I like it,” she says approvingly, “but we could think even bigger, too.”

“Bigger like what?”

“Well… What’s something you always wished Kenabres had but never did?”

Woljif is quiet for a moment, lost in thought. His eyes dart away from her, but she can see the look in them all the same. “What, like start a charity or something? You really think I could do that?”

“Yes,” she insists softly. “Isn’t that the point of all of this? To make things better?”

“Well, sure, chief, but not even you can fix all of Mendev’s woes.”

“No, not me,” she agrees, “but I think we could get a damn good head start on them.”

“Whatever you say,” he snorts, but his eyes are soft. “How about you?”

“Hm?”

“What are you gonna do once we get outta here?”

Agria hums in thought, picking at a nail thoughtfully. “I’ll finally work up the nerve to go to Ustalav—“

Woljif stops her with a feigned wretch, “Ustalav? Your grand dream if you get out of here is to go… to Ustalav?”

“I almost went once, but I was too afraid to go by myself. I keep hoping I’ll meet someone who can tell me how to move around there without--stepping on anyone’s toes.”

“Why?” He asks, bewildered.

“A lot of the Old Sarkorians fled there! I think that their descendants might have interesting things to say.”

“Ustalav. You might as well just stay here!”

“No,” says Agria, voice firm and optimistic. “It will be fun. I will enjoy it.”

Woljif scoffs, “After this? Someone oughta take you somewhere nice.”

“I invite you to it!” Agria chirps, thoroughly delighted by the opportunity to flirt shamelessly.

He barks a laugh, as genuinely amused as he is nervous. He surprises her, though; he rises fearlessly to her challenge: “We should hit the beach! Folks say Augustana is nice in the spring.”

She gazes at him, arms tucked under her pillow, as he props himself up onto his side, both of them lost in the joy of the fantasy. The moment is impossibly soft for a cavern in the Midnight Isles.

“It’s a date,” she declares, offering her hand to shake on it. She is embarrassingly hesitant to let go. When she finally does, she returns it under the pillow where she squeezes it for a moment with her other hand. The relief of the moment fades away when she says somberly, “We have to go back there.”

“Of course,” he says in a placating tone that she recognizes as her own, one she has used on him one too many times. “We’ll get back out there in just a minute. But for now, we’re takin’ a break. Just give it a few minutes more, huh?”

“Okay,” Agria answers to find she can’t raise her voice above a whisper, as she lowers her head into her pillow. It couldn’t hurt to rest for just a minute, could it? She feels a curl wander haphazardly onto her forehead. She blows air at it for a moment, determined to clear it without needing to open her eyes, before she feels a fingertip tuck it gently behind her ear.

“Okay.” Woljif whispers back emphatically. She drifts away into a dreamless sleep only seconds after the word leaves his lips.

#ag tag #pwotr pals #commander x woljif #taylor writes #mind the warnings! nothing too bad esp if you already did the quest but take care of yourself!!#also apologies to the nation of ustalav which caught some unfair strays here #agria lebeda

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