#hiiiii.

[missingstarter]

he started asking more and more lately

[sunshineram]

its. spooky month :)

[donnamorta]

Aaaaaaaah I’m melting lol (it’s raining).

[evilvarric666-archive]

*let's asks sit in the inbox for days and only answers them after they are no longer on topic*

[miraclemother]

HOLY CRAP I FOUND THE PASSWORD

[shadowedvales]

the late afternoon sun slants through the heavy curtains in thin ribbons, catching dust motes drifting lazily around becky's room like suspended constellations. everything feels softer in the glow, edges blurred, colours warmed, as the world briefly tilts into a dreamlike state. except, perhaps, for the frantic, fluttering rhythm of janessa ives' heart. for in the adjacent room, her own, hardly ten paces down the hall, dustin henderson waits. her aunt's space has been borrowed for courage as much as privacy— she stands before a full body mirror as fingers linger at the seams of her latest creation, tracing each careful stitch as if memorising them might grant much needed bravery. sewing has become a refuge, a comforting quiet in a more often than not turbulent existence. fabrics obeyed and threads listened. but today, all confidence wavers.

the dress is light blue, the kind of shade belonging to open skies and endless summers. it falls gently upon her frame, cuffs at her wrists and length below her knees; it's simple in silhouette yet earnest in detail. along the sleeves and down the sides runs her experiment: visible stitching, criss-crossed, deliberate and imperfect… like it was torn from a princess's wardrobe, straight from jane's very own collection of fairytales. she exhales slowly, smoothing the fabric one last time before departing with a carefully timed nod. every step is heavier than the last, like the house itself understands the gravity of what waits— not just her friend and his cherished opinion pondering her return, but the fragile, unspoken thing growing between them. the thing neither have yet dared to name.

she breathes in, steading herself against the door. "you can say if it does not look good," she announces in an almost comical rush, hand still on the doorknob, barely inside her bedroom. words madly tumble out lest her spirit falter completely. she closes the door behind her with a click, grants him a second or two to take in the sight of her, then quickly crosses the distance separating them. she lifts her arm, rather urgently, and places it directly in front of his face. a step closer and her knuckles would collide with his nose. the movement is abrupt, defensive in its boldness, as though proximity could shield her from rejection. "see? i tried new stitching. on the sleeves. copied it from my books." she pauses to regain herself, to release a sigh into the atmosphere. "...good?" then repeats: "you can say if it's bad." she has yet to tell him the purpose of this particular project… she only hopes he doesn't think it's silly when the truth is revealed.

you look... really pretty right now. @dussttin

jane's arm drops, strength suddenly leaving without any warning. a stark bloom of crimson spreads across her cheeks, deep and unmistakable and entirely unguarded. for a moment, she simply stands there, eyes wide, as if the praise is something tangible she doesn't quite know how to hold. she focuses on the tiny details one could only see up close: the faint freckles littering his features, the way his hair refuses to sit neatly, the slight parting of his lips as his comment settles. "really?" she stammers, voice smaller now, disbelieving. for a girl who has never known the touch of aphrodite's hand, hearing such a compliment from him fills her stomach with nerves seldom felt. the good kind. "thank you." she dares take it one step further, pushing for more: "you really think so?"

silence follows— not empty, but full. suddenly embarrassed by her prompting, the secret desire for dustin to continue saying things like that, jane clears her throat, a soft but decisive sound, and nudges their day back into safer territory. "um... help with accessories?" she asks, but once more, awaits no reply as she grasps his hand within her own, and pulls him towards her vanity. "i like matching jewellery with new outfits." she only releases him to retrieve a box filled to the brim with shiny relics, all perfectly arranged— elegant and playful pieces combined. some she made herself, others gifted over time. most owned by her mother, which becky passed down, believing they'd be in no better hands than her own child. a small, tentative smile appears, hopeful and a little shy. "want to pick something for me?"

[jackzix]

Roleplaying as a silly normal guy on main is so fun knowing a certain moot may be looking at this rn