#ON MY MOMMA ITS CANON | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

penvisions · 8 months ago

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by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.

Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.

“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.

“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.

“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”

“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”

Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.

“Maria, what is this?”

“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.

“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”

“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.

“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch. When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.

“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.

“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.

After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.

“Now, the horse you two lost.”

Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.

“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”

“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”

“That’s correct.”

“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”

“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”

“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.

“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.

“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”

“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”

“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.

“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.

“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.

“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.

But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.

His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.

“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”

Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.

“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”

“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”

“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”

“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.

“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”

“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”

“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.

“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”

“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.

“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”

“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”

“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.

“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”

“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”

“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-

“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”

“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.

“It’s no problem, I can-“

“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”

“I really don’t’-“

“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.

The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.

“Shut up.”

“Oh brother, you got it bad.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”

“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”

“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”

Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.

“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”

Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.

“What do you mean?”

“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”

“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.

“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”

“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.

“Tommy.”

“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”

Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.

“They blame her for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”

“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”

It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.

It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.

It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…

But his brother didn’t know anything about that.

Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.

The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.

Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.

A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.

“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.

What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.

Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.

He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.

“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.

“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“

“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”

You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.

“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”

“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“

“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”

“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.

“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”

“Joel-“

“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”

And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.

It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…

Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.

The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.

Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.

“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.

“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”

Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.

Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.

He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.

And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.

“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you.”

“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”

“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”

“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”

“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.

“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear.

“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”

Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.

He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.

Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.

He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-

The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.

With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.

He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.

But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.

Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.

He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.

He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.

“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.

The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.

He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.

The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-

He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.

Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.

He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.

Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.

The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.

“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.

“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”

She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.

“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Of course, anything to be of help.”

“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”

“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”

“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”

“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“

“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”

“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”

“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”

Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.

Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.

Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.

You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.

The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.

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strongheartneteyam · 1 year ago

Text

Get your shit together so I can love you.

Pairing: human!jake sully x female!human!reader

CW: angsty, so angsty, established relationship, MIGHT BE TRIGGERING for some audiences, disabled person feeling insecure about their body, fluff, crying, yelling, cursing, sexual language, hurt, comfort, sexual content, mentions of sexual fluids, foreplay, mentions of fingering, jake touching reader's pussy. Please, tell me if I'm missing something 🥲

Author's note: This AU is set on 2009. Jake is just a regular 24 year old former marine who ended up losing the movement of his legs permanently after an unfortunate accident that happened while he was fighting for his country, amidst a terrible, unforgiving war. The reader is a 21 year old regular human girl. There is no sci-fi or aliens involved. I totally understand if it's not your cup of tea as it's almost not canon at all to the Avatar Universe. I guess I just kept most stuff canon to Jake as a character. As I said, it's an AU. Just call me Miss Marvel and call this a version of Jake that exists somewhere in the wide multiverse 😂 guys I'm way too sleepy and exhausted that I'm starting to sound a bit drunk... gonna shut my piehole up now. I hope you guys like it. ✨ I need to sleep ughhh ✨

Not proofread. Sorry, my babies, momma is always too tired n running low on time.

❃

I tapped on your window on your darkest night

The shape of you was jagged and weak

There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway

You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself

But do you know you're demolishing me?

And then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave

Renegade (Big Red Machine feat Taylor Swift)

❃

You walked to your boyfriend's house, watching the starry dark sky above. It was a full moon night, its pale light bathing your skin as you thought about how you missed Jake. You had just gotten back from a family trip yesterday and hadn't had time to go over to Jake's house to see him yet. You were so anxious to see his face again that you didn't even bother to call him to let him know you were about to come over.

When you got there, as soon as you opened the door with the copy of the keys Jake had given to you, you saw a miserable looking man sitting on a wheelchair, staring at the wall, eating a burger and fries and drinking beer. You swore to God one day you'd slap his hand and tell him to eat healthier. He ate junk food and drank way too much. His face was grumpy and a little sad at the same time. But it was your Jake. It didn't matter to you that he always looked like he was done with everything, he was so freaking handsome and charming, so, you could get past his moodiness. At the end of the day, you loved him so very deeply it made you feel like there was not enough space for so much love inside your body.

"Hey, babyyy!" You say, locking the door behind you "Sorry for not calling before coming over. I'm gonna stay the night, okay? I missed you so much..." You walked towards Jake and kissed his warm cheek, leaving the keys on a piece of furniture nearby

"Hi, baby. I missed you like crazy. I'm so glad my girlfriend is back here with me." He smiled at you. That was the first time he smiled, in a truly happy way, that night. You were the light of his life, he always felt better when you were around. He had missed you like a mad man, especially at night, when he looked at pictures of you/the both of you together on his black laptop. "And I gave you the keys for a reason. No need to say sorry. It's not like I go out on Wednesday evenings anyway.. Or any night of the week" He laughed in sarcasm. "I'm always here at this time." You laughed a bit and he took another bite of his burger

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, ok? Be right back" you said loudly as you walked to the bathroom

The day you and Jake had decided to be in a serious relationship, after you let the words "I love you" slip off of your mouth, by accident (you didn't even know if he crushed back on you, let alone reciprocating your feelings), Jake was so insecure, thinking you were just playing him, that it took him one week after that happened to finally say "I love you" back. You were getting sadder and more impatient as time passed. When he finally did, it was through texting. When you saw the message in your cellphone screen, your heart raced like a wild horse in a big forest.

ত

Later that night, you and Jake were cuddling, half sitting, half laying on the couch. Jake watched a movie on the television as you tried to read a book. But your attention span was equal to zero. You felt your boyfriend's warmth beneath your body, so comforting, so inviting. You wanted him so bad. You two had been together for almost one year and no sex had ever happened. You were starting to think that maybe he didn't find you that attractive, after all. That thought was like a rusted knife digging into your heart.

You closed your book since you couldn't go past the same sentence you were reading and re-reading all over again, too many times.

You moved your body from where it was and sat on top of Jake's legs, straddling his lap, taking him by surprise. He looked at you wondering why you suddenly gave up on your book if you had been bugging him for months about how bad you wanted to read it, but, you preferred reading a physical copy, as you told him, so he bought a copy for you that he found on sale just so you could stop talking to him about the same thing over and over. But he was actually just kidding, inside his own mind. He bought it for you because he knew you were gonna get really excited, just like a little child, and thank him by showering him with kisses. He loved being kissed by his pretty girlfriend.

"The book wasn't interesting enough, babe? Weren't you dying to read it?" He chuckled and then smiled, placing his big, warm hands on your thighs, making the small, thin hairs of that part of your body stand on end

"I just can't concentrate right now. That's all..."

"Is everything alright?" He noticed the angst in your expression

"Jake... We've been together for almost one year now, and... we haven't had sex yet. Don't you... don't you feel the need to do it with me? Do you still feel attracted to me? Why do you never try to initiate anything other than kisses and caresses? You've never even tried to touch my boobs... and you told me you loved them, over texting"

"Wait, slow down a bit" Jake asked of you and you stopped to breathe a little "Of course I feel attracted to you." He put a small lock of your hair behind your ear, so he could see your beautiful face better "I want you so bad... so fucking bad, you got no idea, girl. You drive me insane, my girl. I can't resist you when you're sitting on my lap like this" He caressed your face softly, light blue eyes staring at your own

"Then don't. Don't resist me. You don't have to. You just have to let me kiss you and touch you and show you how wet you make me, without even doing anything crazy, just by touching my skin like this and letting me sit on your lap."

"Baby, I...I can't" Jake looked down, sadness clouding his beautiful face. You hated to see your boyfriend like that. Why didn't he realize he didn't need to be so insecure? You loved him, all of him. No matter how badly he always talked about his legs or the fact that he couldn't do even basic day to day activities easily, because of his disability, you didn't care. You loved him. Freaking loved him to death.

"Why not?!" You were desperate for an explanation

"I could never be all you need. I wish I could but that's wishful thinking. Don't fool yourself, (y/n)."

Your eyes got filled with tears and you felt a lump forming in your throat. It was like your chest was sore, bruised from his harsh words.

"You are all that I want! All that I need, Jake! Why can't-"

"Don't make it harder than it already is, (y/n)!" The blonde guy interrupted you, his words colder than ice, burning your skin, already so sensitive from from taking all the hurt Jake was causing you by not letting you just simply love him right, be his girlfriend... "Get off me, please." So freezing cold...

You were a crying mess already, so, you felt so weak you just obeyed him and stood up, leaving him free from your body. Jake transferred himself from the couch to his wheelchair as fast as he could. He then started wheeling himself away from where you were

"Please...Please!" You say, chasing your crazy boyfriend like an idiot, while he moves his wheelchair fast towards his small room "stop being so insecure and just lemme love you." Jake stops, his freckled pale arms turning the wheels around so he could look at you

"Why do you insist on being tied down to a cripple?! Don't you get it?! You are so, so damn beautiful, (y/n). Your smile, your hair, your body... Jesus, your fucking body... You're so hot. You deserve... a man who can give you all that a relationship can offer. I can't be that man. I will never be him. I'm sorry you don't get it, but it's time for you to move on!!!" He yelled. You've never seen Jake so angry. His face was red, his eyes were gleaming, tears starting to roll down his face. He felt like his heart was breaking in a billion little pieces. He'd rather go through war, become traumatized and then have his spine injured all over again, because, honestly, it would hurt him less than what he was doing to you right now. But he knew he had to do it. "I love my (y/n) so much, I always will. But she should be happy, free from me." He thought

"Stop running away from me, Jacob Sully!" You ordered, as soon as you catch up to Jake, getting inside his room, your breath heavier than normal "I'm warning you, I will take you in my arms, no matter if you say you're too heavy, and I will lay you on this bed, against your will, if that's what I need to do so you will stop pushing me away! And don't ever call yourself a "cripple" again! I swear to God, you're testing me tonight! I won't let you speak like that about yourself. Never again! Do you understand me?!" You almost screamed

Jake sighed heavily, in defeat. With both arms, he started to support himself on his wheelchair, moving his body to the bed.

One he was settled there, sitting down with his back against the cushioned bed frame, he spoke: "Baby, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that... it was wrong. You don't deserve that. Please, forgive me." Looking at you with those eyes he had you on your knees, every single time.

"It's okay..." You looked hurt but your forgave him. You wanted to try and forget that had ever happened.

"I love you... so much."

You gazed at him and felt a need to comfort him

You sat on his bed, beside him and held his hand. After some time, you and Jake were cuddling, you sitting on his lap. He brought his mouth to yours and kissed your lips. You missed his kisses so much that you got wet so easily, just like a virgin would.

Jake grabbed the back of your head with care and deepened the kiss, using his tongue to massage yours. The way he kissed you was leaving your lips slicked with his saliva. You moaned and he held tight on to your waist, heavy breathing, his warm breath colliding with your own, the two of you getting drunk on each other. His lips were crushing against yours and that felt so amazing.

Out of nowhere, he stopped the kiss and when you tried to kiss him again he gently pushed you away, seeming uncomfortable.

"I gotta stop, baby... I can't pleasure you more than this..." he looked defeated

"Of course you can. You have fingers and a mouth, don't you? Then put them to use, baby. Your girl is begging you to pleasure her. Don't you want to help me out a bit?" You started to kiss his neck gently but sloppy. You breathed his scent in. It was so familiar, so comforting to you. He smelled like home. Home, for you, was wherever Jake was, right by your side.

Jake was starting to slowly give in and he let out a breathy moan. You felt happiness creeping in your head, your heart beating faster.

Jake did something that in his mind, was so damn bold. He dared to touch you in a very intimate way - he was as nervous as a teenager having his first sexual experience - moving his hand from the bed sheet until it got to your entrance. Jake's breath faltered as he touched your coated folds gently, his chest tightening while he looked at your face. His light brows furrowing, his demons still trying to convince him that you could not be turned on because of him.

"Sweetheart, you're so soft... just so... so wet." He was getting shaky, aroused as hell, feeling how wet you were for him

He was finally ready to just relax and enjoy the moment, as he touched your coated pussy.

"Wait a bit, will ya?" You ask, getting off his lap, standing on your feet and then stripping down to him. Your clothes were laying on the floor, as you felt a little shy but excited to see his reaction to seeing your naked body for the first time.

"Fuck, my baby. How did I get so lucky? Your body is so fucking perfect...." He put his hand up in the air, towards your own hands and you grabbed it and let him sit you back on his lap.

Jake started to touch your breasts softly, his mouth slightly open, desire scorching his insides. Your skin burned so good beneath his fingers. Then, he placed his big fingers on your slit

"God, this fucking wet pussy..." he was having trouble breathing but he loved the way you messed with his head

"I'm all yours, baby. Please, just let go and make love to me. I need you so bad it hurts me physically." You begged him to put an end to your misery

"Is that what my babygirl really wants?" He murmured, his voice low and sexy, ringing on your ears

"Yes, my love. Please... I'm so wet, Jake... only for you, my baby." You felt his fingers touching your pussy and your body became limp

"I love your pussy, baby. So velvety, warm and juicy. Can't wait to slide my fingers inside of you over and over again until you're all sweaty and whimpering"

❃

#human jake sully #human jake sully x female reader #human!jake sully x reader #human!jake sully #jake sully x female reader #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully fic #jake sully avatar #human jake sully x reader #human!jake sully smut #jake sully smut #avatar fanfic #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #kxamtxomaw writes

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tinytalkingtina · 2 months ago

Text

Born to Run

Part 1 of Running with the Devil, a Steddie role reversal series

4k words | Rating: E

Tags/CW: Role reversal no upside down AU with some canon divergence, Jock/Track Star!Eddie, Metalhead/drug dealer!Steve, appalachian Eddie, confident bisexual Steve, Eddie has a sexuality crisis but is in denial, Eddie's sleeping mind decides to take matters into its own hands, wet dream (contains spanking and public humiliation), running of both the literal and metaphorical kind, child abuse referenced indirectly (physical beatings that happened in the past)

Read now on Ao3, and be sure to read @little-annie's Part 2 from Steve's POV, "Metal Health will Drive you Mad"

The sex dream within this fic is brought to you by the Week 4 prompt "slap" of the @steddiesmuttyseptember event

Eddie was always a runner. If you asked Wayne, he apparently skipped straight from crawling to toddling around as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. When he got older, it was a release valve, for everything and anything shitty in his life.

He didn’t have to think about his mom pulling a disappearing act, or his dad getting himself arrested (again). The world would narrow until the only sounds he could hear were the rushing in his ears and the smack of his sneakers on pavement.

Running had brought him to where he was now, as he clawed his way up the proverbial high school ranks. Anyone at this party would look at him and only see the triumphant senior captain of the track team, fresh off a successful meet. Every keg stand, every heroic retelling of a close race, every sloppy makeout session with a cheerleader, kept the attention on the Eddie of the present.

No one needed to remember the wide-eyed weirdo with patched baggy clothes, nearly ten when his classmates would only turn nine that year.

All around him, the crowd ebbed and flowed between the alcohol and the bonfire, the flickering flames and shadows making it hard to tell who was who. Someone stumbled into Eddie, breaking him out of his brooding.

“Whoops, sorry Eddie! Guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.” Before he could say anything, the giggling cheerleader pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. (He knew he went on a date with her about a month ago, but her name eluded him. Tina, maybe, or Vicki?)

He forced a grin back. “Of course you didn’t mean it sugar. Gonna hold you to that ‘kay?”

The girl possibly named Tina swooned at the tiny bit of accent he'd carefully slipped in. Just a touch could be charming to the fine folks of the Midwest, even if what he ended up using was way less Appalachian hick and more refined Southern gentleman than his momma's family had ever spoken in their lives.

As soon as her back was turned, he let the smile slide off. His post-meet high wore off too quickly tonight, and it left him well, twitchy.

An arm slung itself over his shoulder. "Ed my man, this party is wild! Your best work yet dude." Tommy grinned at him, already drunk. Neither of them commented on how close Tommy was pressing himself into Eddie. Or how Eddie wasn't quite moving away. But then again, the two of them had perfected the art of leaving things unsaid after what happened sophomore year, how close they had come to—no.

"Heh, yeah. Hey, where's Carol? She's gonna be pissed you abandoned her."

"Please, Carol's fine. She's busy talking with Lisa Carmichael. Speaking of which, she's really into you. Come on, get your dick wet, you deserve it after that 800 meter. We're fucking going to states!" His last sentence was said much louder, and a chorus of cheers and whoops predictably echoed back from celebratory partygoers. The twitchiness grew.

"I dunno man, not really feeling it tonight." Eddie tried to subtly back up a little bit, but Tommy just swayed forward into his space again.

“Trust me, you won’t be feeling like that when you're balls deep in a nice tight—"

"Tommy will you just fucking stop? What's with your obsession with my dick huh?"

A look of fear and hurt flashed across Tommy's face for a second, before it was replaced with a scowl. Fuck that was the wrong thing to say and danced way too close to the thoughts about—nope, they were not gonna talk about that.

Eddie carefully pat Tommy on the shoulder instead of thinking. "Shit sorry, it's fine, you're just looking out for me, right? I appreciate it, just not uh, really in the partying mood for some reason."

Tommy managed to recover his grin. "Oh, duh, why didn't you say so? That fucking freak Harrington finally showed up about thirty minutes ago. Sure he's got something that'll make you unwind a bit. Here, have one on me.”

Eddie wanted to snap that he didn’t need pity money. He got the kegs supplied just fine on his own, hadn’t he? But Tommy was still holding himself tensely several steps away. Tommy, who in sixth grade biked over every other day even after his parents had told him to stay away from the trailer park. Who “accidentally” always had a second pudding cup tucked in with his lunch for sharing. Whose summertime freckles were just starting to fade but Eddie knew still trailed down all the way to his—.

Besides, maybe weed would take the edge off whatever ugly thing kept rearing its insistent head inside him tonight. Help him forget about the looming pressures of the future and the things he wasn’t going to think about, help him feel normal again.

“Thanks Tommy, I’ll try and relax.” Eddie grabbed the money and set off down the path towards Skull Rock, where Harrington always held court. The chill wind rustling through the trees was a welcome respite to his overheated skin.

The walk over to the next clearing was only a few minutes, but by the time Eddie came upon it, the thrum of bass and general teenage debauchery had faded into a low murmur.

Instead, Skull Rock reverberated with the sound of tapping and gentle humming. Eddie’s heart picked up a little.

Steve Harrington made him nervous. It wasn’t necessarily how loud the guy was. Eddie could understand the need to fill a room up. He could vaguely remember a quieter pre-pubescent Harrington before his dramatic transformation, dressed in tiny polos and khakis and halfheartedly kicking around a soccer ball. Now, his entire wardrobe consisted solely of black and red accented with flashy gold rings. The thick combat boots he wore constantly made him tower over everyone else, and the ever-growing collection of tattoos scattered on his body thoroughly scandalized each and every teacher. What they all meant was a perennial topic of discussion amongst the student body.

A voice echoed down from one of the boulders: “Oh hey, look who showed up, it’s Eddie Munson himself! Heard from your sidekick Hagan you’re the reason Hawkins is going to States.”

Steve was stretched out, lounging on the top of the rock, a pair of drumsticks held loosely in one hand.

“Yup, we are. First time in five years actually.” The state championships. There would be college recruiters there, and with them the promise of scholarships that’d get him out of this town. Somewhere far away from the looming threat of the plant bending his back prematurely like it had Wayne’s. Somewhere no one had heard the name of Al Munson.

“Well then.” Steve practically purred as he smoothly jumped down to the ground. He gave his drumsticks a twirl before stashing them in his pocket. “You sure got ‘em, didn’t you Tiger.”

Yeah, there it was. Seemed like sometimes, Harrington could see right through him, like he knew about how his thoughts occasionally strayed to—nope.

Eddie crossed his arms and tried to keep his face neutral. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you know it’s polite to thank someone when they compliment you?” Steve’s eyes sparkled with amusement. The fucker was toying with him. Worse, he was enjoying it.

Summoning every ounce of cockiness he possessed, Eddie stood up straight. Sure, this close Harrington had several inches on him, but it didn’t matter. Only one of them could throw the party of the year, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the unpopular weirdo in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you be the one thanking me? I let you sell your shit at my party.”

“Got a mouth on you, don’t you.” Steve smirked. “Tell me Munson, what’s stopping me from taking my goodies to, say, the basketball team’s next rager and skipping out on your little get together entirely? Don’t have to dirty my shoes at their parties. They choose to host at a house.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Hey fuck you man, not all of us have—”

“Didn’t say I minded,” Steve plowed on, interrupting him. “Maybe I like the fresh air and the…view. Just like to enjoy them peacefully.” He stood there with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in expectation.

Eddie could feel his face flushing but he held his ground. “Never stopped you from helping yourself to our beer.”

“Free shitty beer, just what I look forward to.” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “I gotta say, wasn’t really expecting you to come here. Don’t you usually send someone else to get your fix?”

Eddie shrugged. “Needed a change. And we both know you overcharge Tommy.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Steve barked out a laugh. “But he deserves the asshole tax. Just weed for you tonight? There’s all kinds of ways to unwind if your usual methods are leaving you…unsatisfied there Munson.”

Vividly, Eddie was reminded of the graffiti scribbled on the walls above the urinals near the gym: Score a touchdown, then score with SH. More often than not, Steve could be found spectating the games, quietly dealing underneath the bleachers. On occasion, one girl or another could be seen emerging from underneath and brushing dirt off her skirt. But there was that other rumor, one that no guy would ever admit to having personal experience with. That if you won, Harrington would give anyone weed for free if they got on their knees for him and—woah there. What was wrong with him tonight?

“Th-think the weed is jus’ fine, ain’t lookin’ for much else.” he stammered out. Shit, why did his accent have to slip now of all times? “I mean, weed is all I need. Those fucking pricks from Greencastle got under my skin.” Assholes thought they were so big, mocking his out of style sneakers. Those shoes hadn't stopped him from shaving half a second off the regional record, but he couldn't help but still feel the barbs from their insults lodged under his skin, festering.

Steve cocked his head as he stared at Eddie with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally he broke into a disarming smile. Eddie couldn’t remember ever seeing Steve sincerely express happiness, at least not from this distance. He would have remembered how prett—how his eyes lit up.

“I’m in a band you know. Pierced Scepter. We play down at this shitty dive bar and yeah, usually it’s a crowd of four drunks and the bartender, but it doesn’t matter. Being on any stage is…fuck it’s awesome. But sometimes it’s a little too much to just pack it all up right after. So I come out here to scream my head off, get it all out. Better off terrorizing the birds than picking fights when my parents are around.” Steve unconsciously rubbed his palm as he laughed humorlessly. “Saves on the screaming matches at home and the. Well.”

“Didn’t realize rich folks got their own hands dirty like that.” Carol’s parents had left the task of punishment to her nanny, preferring to swoop in with carrots after the stick had been administered.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure my dad would say something about how ‘real men are responsible for disciplining their kids so they don’t get soft.’ Though what he considers ‘soft’ changes a lot based on his mood. And whether he’s wearing a belt or suspenders that day.”

“G-d, who knew our dads have something in common then?” Eddie snorted. “Never could keep my old man happy, was always doing something wrong. He took the belt to me so often in third grade I barely could sit down the whole year.” His first time in third grade anyway, the one before he was whisked away to the safe haven of Wayne’s trailer.

“And…I have absolutely no idea why I told you that.” He barely talked about his dad to Tommy and Carol for crying out loud. On visitor’s days he always made up some lie about why he and Wayne were driving close to the state penitentiary.

Steve let out a weird little braying bark of a laugh and shuffled his feet. “Right, you didn’t come here to cry over our daddy issues. Gimme a sec to get your stuff.” Steve reached behind to grab the lunchbox he carried his goods around in. As he did, his jacket slid open enough to show the exposed line of his clavicle above the low-cut collar of his tee. Eddie swallowed hard. Against his will, his eyes dipped lower, noticing a design over the top of his pec in black ink. Oh, a new tattoo.

Eddie squinted trying to make out what it was. “It’s been a while since you gave O’Donnell a reason to lecture us on the ‘decaying morality of the modern day.’ Is that a two headed monkey?”

Delight flickered over Steve’s face. “This? Yeah, it’s new. Supposed to be Demogorgon, the ‘Prince of Demons.’” At Eddie’s blank look he chuckled. “He’s a monster from Dungeons and Dragons, you know, the fantasy game we play in Hellfire Club. It was the final battle of a months long campaign and our characters were trying to escape Demogorgon’s lair. Most of the party was close to death, but at a chokepoint, my character took a last stand and gave the others enough time to escape. Everyone else got out, even if the bastard got me in the end. So, I got this as a tribute to my character's sacrifice.”

Eddie spoke without thinking. “Oh, that’s kind of similar to what Gandalf did: facing off against the Balrog to save the rest of the Fellowship.”

Forget fleeting glimpses of real smiles. The look of surprise Steve gave him was almost comically out of place on his face. “You’ve read Lord of the Rings?”

“While ago, yeah. The Hobbit too.” Back when he first moved in with Wayne, the man had found an absolutely beautiful illustrated set at a rummage sale. Eddie smiled to himself, remembering how excited he’d been to get his first real present ever. “Spent a whole summer running around during the day, then staying up way too late reading all night. My uncle had to confiscate my flashlight eventually.”

A snort from Steve jolted Eddie out of his memories as he realized who he was talking to. “Don’t tell anyone that Harrington, or else,” he ordered as he flushed for the second time that evening, “The rest of your dorky club of nerds better not start bothering me in the hallway just because I’ve read Tolkien. Not going to step in to save them if they forget their place.”

Steve’s expression shuttered as he stood upright. “Right, wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation with the rest of your jock buddies.” Eddie was taken aback by the bitterness in Steve’s voice. “They might explode if you admit to having interests beyond banging chicks, sports magazines, and beer. Your secret’s safe with me. After all, who’s going to believe the Freakshow? Here.” He shoved a baggie in Eddie’s face. “That should be enough for about a week. Now get lost before I double the price.”

Eddie opened his mouth to apologize. But the artificial sneer on Steve’s face made him lose his nerve. He just held out his money as he snatched away the weed. “Thanks, uh, have a good night Harrington. Help yourself to something from the kegs.” He almost made it to the edge of the trees before Steve’s voice called out to him: “Hey, Munson!”

He froze and turned. Steve had clambered back onto Skull Rock, moonlight and shadows making him look otherworldly and malevolent, towering over the clearing. “Keep that attitude of yours in check next time, or else I might take my services somewhere else. But, if you need more help…unwinding, well. You know where to find me.” That knowing smirk was firmly fixed back in place on his face.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He finally gave into his impulses and ran.

He didn’t think about those plush lips drawn back into a genuine smile as he quickly navigated back to the party. He didn’t think about those amused eyes seeing right through him as he knocked back a few cups of beer and danced a little with anyone and no one. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about that tattoo surrounded by chest hair as he staggered home to an empty trailer and collapsed into his bed.

“You look so good there, kneeling for me Eddie.” Steve looms over him, those ringed hands on his hips. Eddie realizes he’s naked in the clearing and flushes with embarrassment. When did he take off his clothes?

Any thoughts on how he ended up here are derailed when the wind caresses his body. Oh. Tendrils of air race over his exposed chest and glide over his heavy balls and dripping cock.

“And look how much you’re enjoying it too.” He’s never been this turned on in his life, and it’s all because of Steve. All for Steve. He’s powerless to prevent a moan from falling out of his mouth.

“You act so big at school, like you’re the top of the food chain yeah? A real king of the jungle. But you and me, we know better. You’re not a scary tiger at all are you. No, you’re just a cute little kitten.”

Eddie can’t help but whine as he spreads himself wider in invitation.

“Yeah, thought you’d like that.” Steve crooks a finger and gestures for Eddie to follow him. “Come on kitten.” Eddie begins to get up, his legs tingling with pins and needles.

“Mhm, no. I like you better down there. In fact, I think you should crawl.”

He shudders but obeys the sound of that voice, would do anything for it. He stays on all fours as the path unwinds before them, until they come to a door. Eddie moves as fast as he can to follow Steve through, tumbling into the void within. He flails, plummeting until a familiar wax-polished wood rushes up to meet his palms. Eddie doesn’t dare get up from his hands and knees as he lifts his head but-

The gym is filled to the brim.

Their classmates sit silently, blank looks on their faces as they stare. They’re waiting for something to happen. White hot shame courses through his veins as he desperately tries to cover up.

The voice cuts smoothly through the haze of his embarrassment: “Look at them kitten, they’re all waiting for a show. Let’s give one to them.”

Steve nudges him onto his back. He grabs his wrists and pulls them away from his body, exposing Eddie to the crowd. No! His face is on fire as he tries to fight it, but he can’t seem to break free, his strength sapped away. Steve tightens his hold on his wrists.

“Settle down Eddie, let them see you. You love this.”

He knows Steve is right. He can’t hide how hard his aching cock is, slapping against his belly as he squirms. But he can’t help it, they’ll all know. Faint whispers drift down from the stands as the crowd watches him struggle.

“Please, don’t make me do this,” he begs, but the words get caught in his choked up throat.

“I think you’ve forgotten your place. Maybe you need a reminder that you can’t hide, not from me.”

Steve hauls him up and easily slings him over a shoulder. Eddie lays there limply, frozen and whimpering. He’s unceremoniously dumped on top of a teacher’s desk right at the center line. Hands come up to squeeze at his nipples, hard. Just the way he does when he’s alone. His cock twitches and drools even more from the groping.

Eddie blinks, and suddenly the bleachers are that much closer.

“Be happy kitten, all the attention is on you! Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Oh G-d. Every eye is fixed on him, the buzzing of interest growing louder.

“No, I don’t want this, I don’t want you!” He shouts as loud as he can but the words come out muted and garbled.

Steve barks out a cruel laugh. “God, you’re pathetic. But then you’ve always been so good at lying to yourself haven’t you? You were the one who kissed Tommy, not the other way around. But when he went in for more, you pushed him off and ran away.”

Through the blur of tears, he can just make out Tommy’s face in the crowd, wearing the same accusatory and hurt look he had two years ago.

Steve leans down to nibble at his ear. “And,” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. “Let’s not forget how in the back of your head you imagine me shoving you against a locker and making you take it. Or sometimes, I threaten you with my knife a little out in the woods, yeah?”

Without warning, Eddie is manhandled over Steve’s lap. “Good news, guess today’s your lucky day kitten. I’m going to make you take it until you admit to everyone what you really want.”

SMACK!

The first slap to his ass sounds loudly, echoing around the gym. Eddie nearly swallows his tongue trying to keep quiet. The spectators in the stands let out a gasp for him.

But Steve doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until Eddie feels like his ass is on fire.

He finds himself pleading for Steve to have mercy, slipping back into the accent he tries so hard to keep a lid on normally.

“Ha, there he is, finally. You can dress yourself up in a varsity jacket all you want, but we all know what you really are. Just a piece of trailer trash. You can’t run from this you dumb hick. Tell me what I want to hear.”

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t. “Fine, then take your punishment.”

Smack after smack rains down on his ass. The pain builds and builds, and the crowd gets louder and louder. But underneath the humiliation, he remains hard and grows even more desperate. Every slap sends him thrusting, his cock trapped between Steve’s muscular thighs. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ha! And you jocks call me the freak. You’re the one humping my leg and yowling like you’re in heat. Pain turn you on kitten?”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge.

He cums to the sound of cheers.

Eddie woke with a jolt and a gasp, his whole body pulsing in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced.

Trembling, he curled up into a ball and let the tears fall. This was nothing, just a passing thought his brain had gotten attached to. All he had to do was survive the year, and then he could be finally free of Hawkins, and the living ghosts that haunted him.

If only that had been the last time he dreamed of Steve Harrington.

Two weeks later, Eddie woke with a fuzzy head and even fuzzier memories of the night before, vaguely remembering a ringed hand stroking his hair. On his nightstand was a glass of water, some Tylenol, and a note from SH telling him to take it easy.

After that his dreams changed. Sometimes he wasn’t humiliated at all, and those tattooed arms kept him safe and cared for. It felt worse almost, to have his subconscious offer up such happiness, only to snatch it away when he woke to an empty bed. He didn’t dare spend the night in the arms of a girl at her house, worried he’d reveal himself for the freak he was.

A full month of torment and countless hours of lost slumber later, Eddie finally had had enough. He grabbed his keys and tore off in the direction of Steve's house, praying that Carol wouldn't see his van in her neighbor's driveway at this time of night.

As he rang the doorbell, he didn’t know what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t the sight of a sleep rumpled Steve answering the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Somehow, seeing his bare hands felt more intimate than the lack of shirt did.

“Munson? Gave me a heart attack, thought my parents were back a day early. What are you—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupted, wide-eyed and feeling slightly crazed. “Can we talk?”

Ao3 link

It's finally here! This began life as a brain worm that Annie and I have turned into a whole fully expanded universe. We can't wait to write more with these two :D

Tagging a few folks who showed interest in the original Wiggly Wednesday post (but please feel free to ignore): @eyesofshinigami @augustjustice @griefabyss69 @hairstevington

@dreamy-jeans137 @eriquin @hbyrde36 @hotluncheddie

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the runner divider!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #role reversal au #stranger things #tinawrites #role reversal steddie

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allastoredeer · 6 months ago

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What's is yours Hazbin hotel ships?

So, I am 100% an Alastor multishipper. I will ship him with anyone. Be it for angst, fluff, smut, or pure unadulterated crack (current favorite crack-ship is Adam/Alastor because, come on, does that not sound like the most unhinged pairing??? The most unlikely of two people to get together? I love thinking about how I can make a ship between them work 😈)

So, yeah, I'll stick Alastor with anyone because he's my little rag doll. Current favorite ships I have for him are radioapple and staticradio. I'm also getting really, really fond of radiorose (also, just recently, I found out about Emlastor - Emily/Alastor - and guys, that ship should not be as cute as it, but HHHHHHHHHH it was love at first sight for me. I saw one comic about them and I was sold, no refunds, no returns).

But as for non-Alastor ships:

Carmilla/Velvette - Favorite dynamic is Velvette developing a crush on Carmilla and acting on it in the most horrid, disaster, disrespectful ways because, as much as she judges Vox, she is just as much of hot mess as he is when it comes to having overwhelming, complicated feelings for someone.

Charlie/Vaggie - come on, this is Hazbin's power couple, how could I not love them with all my heart?

Carmilla/Zestial - they're so wholesome ^.^ (Carmilla is Zestial's sugar momma and anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong)

Lucifer/Lilith - divorced or not, complicated or not, they're a powerhouse of a couple. I don't blame Heaven for being worried. I would be too.

Adam/Lute - they're so ride or die for each other, I can't help but find it endearing.

Velvette/Vox/Valentino - the Vee's give me so much poly energy, it's insane. Love that for them.

Husk/Angel Dust - they are cute. I like them whether their relationship is romantic or platonic. While, its more of a minor ship for me, they still make my heart all soft and goopy.

As I'm writing these out, I'm realizing I like a majority of the canon ships 😂 Sir Pentious/Cherri, Husk/Angel, Charlie/Vaggie, Lucifer/Lilith, like - Hazbin Hotel really came out strong with their pairings. I haven't come across one that I really dislike. Like, there are ones that I'm kind of meh about, but overall they knocked it out of the ballpark.

Annnnnd, I think that's all of them. I feel like I'm forgetting a few, so maybe I'll add them if I remember later.

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inconspicious-random-thoughts · 10 months ago

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Daddy issues?

I still can't get over episode 5, its my favorite so far.

I know there's a million theories going around why Alastor acted the way he acted. I share the same theories... Lilith (possibly Eve) has Alastor on a leash. Since Lilith walked away from Lilith and seemingly have reason it transfer to Alastor to react hostal to Lucifer. Or maybe Alastor was just simply pushing Lucifer buttons to step up. But I was rewatching it again and maybe its not deep into a conspiracy hole or a scheme at all. Maybe its sooo much simpler then that. Alastair just genuine hate the guy.

Alaster known to be a momma boy when he was alive and I believe its canon his father was absent from his life or an abusive prick. I can't remember. Alastor has daddy issues.

He find out during the episode it been years since Charlie and her dad spent time together or even communicated properly. Alastor saw Charlie's dad another deadbeat. Alastor internal personal opinion of Lucifer that he didn't deserve a second chance. So Alastor already formed an opinion before he met Lucifer. "Sometimes a birth parent is a dud" As Alastor pointed out, it was Alastor, not Lucifer that stood by Charlie side and supported her from the beginning. Something Lucifer should have done in the beginning but didn't. So Lucifer to suddenly get called upon and swoop in, left a sour taste in Alastor mouth.

Alastor has own personal grey moral code. But I bet ya if both these guys were alive at the same time and human, Alastor would keep a steady eye on Lucifer as a target and waiting for a reason to move in on a kill.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel episode 5 #hazbin lucifer #hazbin headcanons #hazbin theory

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ellilyre · 8 months ago

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I finished ToA not long ago and I wanted to write down some thoughts/scenes that stick with me

(in chronological (ish) order, watch out for spoilers)

Theres an italian girl at camp ! It means Nico gets to practice and speak italian ! (which probably haven't happened in about 70 years)

Will introducing Nico as "my boyfriend". I already knew they would be canon, but reading that line felt weird /pos

Apollo sees Solangelo and think of himself and Hyacinth

That night when Kayla and Austin disappeared and Apollo left to look for them, it probably was the first night Will ever spent alone in his cabin

Apollo's insane body dysmorphia. He's a god, he can always take the physical form he is the most comfortable and confident in... Until now. He is stuck in a body that isn't his, he feels ashamed, when he sees certain traits in others he find them charming or pretty, but when it's on him then it's disgusting. He complain that everything is this body's fault (ex. he wouldn't have been touched by the Eurynomos if it wasn't for his chub.)(I could go on for hours)

Lityerses ! I love that guy. Idk why i love him that much. He is my best guy.

Apollo's reaction to Commodus' name. His flashback of him. So painful he was physically sick.

Apollo talking Helios out of killing them, because he just want to be free, not to hurt them.

APOLLO ATTEMPT TO KHS TO STOP THEM ?? IM A SUCKER FOR SOME GOOD PAINFUL SELF SACRIFICE.

Jason. I'm not talking about Jason. I can't speak about Jason.

Frank and Apollo ! They are so fond of each other !!!

Apollo heard all of Frank's prayers when he was unclaimed and wished he could've adopted him.

And Frank respecting Apollo as a god although he is *vaguely gesture at Apollo/Lester*

Reyna saying aloud that she doesn't want nor needs romance. It's so rare to see aromantic representation and Rick did it so well.

Literally Apollo singing his way out of situations.

FRANK'S SELF SACRIFICE!!! (He already had one of my favorite character development before that)

APOLLO KILLING COMMODUS ??? why do never talk about that it's one of the best deaths I've ever seen that was BADASS AND FULL OF EMOTIONS.

Apollo slowly dying out of poison and the Dodona Arrow doing everything it can to keep him conscious.

I hope Dakota didn't get killed off just to give Lavinia the role of Centurion. I love my boy Dakota, and his death felt kind of meaningless, except for her rank up :/ also i feel like it doesn't suit Lavinia. Some ppl are strong and good and trustable but just not made to order others. (ill prop make a full post about that)

Dionysos confirmed to be an annoying little brother!

Nico. How does Rick manage to always give him more issues. Leave the kid alone.

When Will glows, Apollo is genuinely impressed and tells him how proud he is.

Nico destroying Nero's door with his giant zombie bull. That was cool.

When Apollo gets stabbed in Nero's tower and think it's the end, he prays "Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anyone"

And in general the few parts he talks about Leto, he's such a momma's boy and I love it.

When Apollo left for Delphi... I was fully expecting Meg to go with him. I was so worried that he went alone while already feeling that weakened from the previous events.

DODONA ARROW. FOREVER IN MY HEART.

Artemis is here when Apollo wakes up. She's by his side, she's the first person to tell him he succeeded, she hold him while he sobs...

The first thing he does is to greet his horses :) and then to see his friends.

When he gets back to the Dodona bush ! To tell them all how brave and heroic the Arrow have been !

I could spend hours talking about the character developments of Apollo, Meg and the Dodona Arrow (i love the arrow so much you have no idea) but its for another day

There's many things I didn't talk about, but the post is already long enough. I love those 5 books, and Apollo is an amazing narrator.

I love the Arrow of Dodona with all my heart.

#when ill finish tsats ill maybe make the same kind of post #writing down all my most memorable thoughts #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #nico di angelo #will solace #trials of apollo #apollo pjo #toa #meg mccaffrey #frank zhang

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thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies · 2 months ago

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The Boys

***My weird head-canons about the boys. Don’t judge me, I know I’m weird. 🤪***

Aiello

-Most definitely a cat person.

-Played baseball since he was a kid and considered going pro but then decided against it.

-Wants to get married but the girls think he’s not husband material despite being pretty good looking.

-A great artist but thinks its not a masculine trait (whatever that means), so he doesn’t do it often or really tell anyone about it.

-A giant momma’s boy. He cried when saying goodbye to her the day he got shipped out and wrote her letters at least once a week. Probably cried at least once while he was gone because he missed her.

-Missed his mom’s cooking to the point that he’d dream about it then wake up starving.

-The youngest of four kids and the only boy. His sisters tortured him with dress up and dolls when he was a kid.

-Not sure if he wants kids of his own but is willing to be the cool uncle.

-Once caught the stove on fire by accident and pretended he found it like that. His parents still have no idea.

-Got hit in the back of the head with an aluminum baseball bat once, cracked his head open, and had to get stitches. His hair still doesn’t grow in that spot but he manages to cover it up.

Stiles

-Definitely somewhere on the autism spectrum. Special interests: philosophy, ancient Greece, Edgar Allen Poe, and of course photography.

-Mom was a single mom majority of his childhood so he is decidedly a momma’s boy. Also very much a feminist.

-He’s got a raging sweet tooth. If it has sugar, he most likely loves it. Especially if its cake.

-Doesn’t really drink because, “I like to be in charge of my mental faculties at all times.”

-So very, very awkward with girls. He tries talking to one, says something he doesn’t realize is creepy and/or weird and scares her off. He still hasn’t had a girlfriend at the age of 22.

-His little sister tries to help him but she thinks he’s a lost cause and is doomed to a life of singleness.

-Once he realized he was most likely getting drafted into WW2 he started researching military tactics because “you can never be too prepared”

-Loved ‘The Hobbit’ as a kid. He’s owned several copies of it over the years because he reads it at least twice a month and they just keep falling apart.

-He was thrilled when Tolkien published ‘Lord of the Rings’ and read it in a weekend.

-Still has his childhood teddy bear and keeps it on his bookshelf. Sometimes he pulls it down to sit in the armchair with him while he reads.

Zussman

-He’d definitely live off of hotdogs and mac n cheese if you let him.

- He was an only child until he was 12 when his parents unexpectedly had his baby sister. He wasn’t excited at first but doted on her constantly once she was born.

-According to her, he’s her best friend. He’d never admit to it at the risk of being called a sissy, but he feels the same way.

-She bawled in his arms the day he left and said she wanted to go with him. He somehow held it together, but after he got on the train he started crying too.

-Whenever he wanted to give up and die while he was a POW he’d think of how she’d feel if he wasn’t there to braid her hair anymore or take her on their “Leah and Robbie dates” and that gave him the strength he needed to push on just one more day.

-Yes he learned how to braid her hair because she wanted him to do it one day and he was upset that he didn’t know how.

-Once he got home, his family refused to let him out of their sights.

-Plays pranks on his family. Sometimes Leah helps, but most of the time its just him booby trapping something and their parents setting them off.

- ‘Robert Cohen Zussman’ said in a very annoyed and somewhat angry tone is very often heard in that house. Along with “What on earth possessed you to do that?” and “What is wrong with you?”

-Although once they realize how close they were to losing him they don’t really mind it as much.

Daniels

-Loves barbecue.

-Enlisted to fight rather than get drafted because either way he was gonna have to go fight and it may as well be on his own terms.

-Is practically married to his grill in the summer. Hazel jokes that he loves it more than her and that he should leave her for it.

-Terrified of clowns. No idea why. They just freak him out.

-Was once dive-bombed and chased by an angry raccoon while Aiello, Stiles, and Zussman were visiting. Zuss had to shoo it away with the broom. After he finished laughing that is.

#cod #cod ww2 #cod wwii #drew stiles #frank aiello #joseph turner #red daniels #robert zussman #william pierson

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cryptidclaw · 2 years ago

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Mousebite!

Design Notes:

My last design for her was pretty recent but i HATED the face and proportions on the last one idk what was going on when I drew her but it was not good T-T... maybe its bec I was still getting used to my new tablet or somethin :P

I fixed it tho! I like this new drawing a lot!

Character Bio:

Mousebite

(Mousefur)

Aromantic Asexual; she/her

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 cycles, 5 moons; ~46 Hyrs

Title meaning: -bite = a cat who is very skilled in battle; this cat is out spoken and have a bite to their words

Warrior -> Elder of Thunder Order; retired after the Orders settled into their new homes int the lake territory.

Mentor: Snowstorm

Mother: Fogtalon

Sire: Sparrowpelt

Step-Mother: Leopardfoot

Siblings: Birdflight

Other notable kin: Specklesnap (aunt); Lionheart (cousin); Goldenflower (cousin); Sandstorm (niece); Poppy (niece); Flint (nephew)

Character Summary:

She's pretty much exactly the same as in canon because she is prefect <3

She was mentored by a young Snowstorm, they were a good match since they are both feisty ladies

Birdflight (Runningwind) is her younger brother! They were both one kit litters, which is actually pretty common in the Orders!

She is bffs with Downnose and Cricketstep, and Down retires along side her to the elders den!

Mouse is like an aunt to Shriketail so he spends a lot of time with her along side his momma when he visits the elders' den, so they still have their cute relationship!

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #mousefur #mousebite #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors

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lieutenant-teach · 4 months ago

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'The Acolyte' - my short review

Why was ‘The Acolyte’ created? What’s the point of the series that doesn’t answer any questions it asks. About Sith – we still don’t know more than we know from previous projects (not touching books, not everyone reads books). About Jedi – so blatant shitting on canon and contradicting everything that was before it’s laughable. About the Force – ‘it’s not how the Force works!’, you cannot create life out of the Force, it’s bending it to your will which is canonically unnatural (contrary to a popular belief, Anakin wasn’t created by Darth Plagueis, he was created by the Force itself as a response to his perverse meddling with it). About mystery of the twins – no one explained anything about the vergence or how Osha and Mae is one person in two bodies.

Specific take on the infamous ‘the Force is female’. Now Osha is marveled as being SO powerful, because she’s created from the Force by two lesbian mommas. Fuck Anakin and Shmi with her immaculate conception, apparently – he’s a MAN, you see! I really hope there will be no season 2, otherwise I’m afraid Leslye Headland will create a story of the same cosmic importance, if not more, about Osha and Mae – fuck you twice, Anakin!

I watched it with my Jedi-lenses on – so I managed to get some pleasure. The Jedi characters were ok, I’d like to see more of them (if they wouldn’t have been killed halfway through the show and never recalled later). It was easier to watch while mentally debunking bad takes with ‘it’s not how Jedi are, it’s just the author’s personal misunderstanding’. Attachment in SW/Buddhist sense is flowing freely through the series, Osha, Mae and Sol are primary examples what can happen if allow attachment blind your judgement, I liked that – but I’d love it, if it was what the author intended. All in all, the Jedi were depicted more or less fine, individuals could make mistakes or make wrong decisions – but the negative framing of the Jedi destroys the perception and appropriateness of such writing (considering general not Jedi-friendly attitude in fandom).

It was nice to see the Temple again, in its full beauty and blossom. Cute younglings. Nice sunshine-and-white clothes – though I know Headland implied they’re too pure, too infallible… But whatever she thinks – Jedi deserve beautiful golden robes.

Fun fact: before the finale I rewatched ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ series. Now my heart bleeds like Osha’s poor kyber-crystal – how infinitely nicer ‘OWK’ is, how you feel like watching real Star Wars, not some politically-fanonish badly stitched together vomit the ‘The Acolyte’ is. Abysmal writing with the plot holes ‘The Millennium Falcon’ can fly through (I loved OWK and TBOBF, mind you!), utter disrespect of the lore, weak performance of the lead actress – why and for whom was ‘The Acolyte’ created? Even on IMDb more casual viewers point out all the writing/plot flaws that are discussed by ‘rabid’ fans – so it’s not a problem of ‘toxic fans’, but the problem with the project itself and everyone who put their hand on it.

#star wars #the acolyte #anti acolyte #acolyte critical #pro jedi

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yoinkschief · 5 months ago

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What’s your general HCs for the fellas ? (Identity, race, sexuality etc)

Whooaagh, that's gonna be a long list, I have a ton of like small headcanons for them that mean like absolutely nothing, but I'll try to keep it to a simple list

Just quickly though:

I HC them all to be generally around 27/28 and in their late 30's/early 40's during WTFuture/in the future,, there was no real way to put that in a good list with them lol

And they're all best friends - just cause they're a group of people doesn't mean they only get to have one bestie yk, they're all super close

Also Ellsworld is canon alongside Eddsworld, they co-exist with each other

Tom - Mixed Race (Black/Irish from his mom, White/American-Hawaiian from his father - Trans Masc-Nonbinary (AMAB) He/They/(sometimes)It (It/Its depends on who it is) - Bisexual (massive masculine lean) (worst taste in men EVER) - Styles his hair to look like his fathers (otherwise his hair is usually textured around the 3's,,, like 3A/3B) - Very pear shaped like his father, and hairy too lol, the alcohol certainly doesn't help with that - Wears reading glasses (later this turns into him genuinely needing a prescription,, another thing he gets from his father - he looks very similar to his mother in terms of facial features and skin tone, but has a lot of his father's aspects) - Fear of eye contact (has gotten a lot better about it now that he's an adult, but still struggles with it with people he does not like/does not know) - Autistic - 5'5" (the shortest of the ensemble) - Works at a diner while part-timing music independently - "Monster" form is man made and extremely painful to turn into (there is no way he could control it,,, in some iterations of my headcanons like in different stories there are ways that he can have like a pact with it,,, like in my Mattsworld AU (WHICH I NEED TO POST ABOUT AUGH) he's "controlled" it a bit by making a deal with it,,, of what I haven't quite figured out yet oof) - Has quite a few tattoos on him,,, (Polynesian shark teeth on his left upper arm, cyan colored harpoon tattoos on his left side, a pinup mermaid girl on his right side, and the Nordic rune for "Wolf" on his right outer thigh) - Also he inherited his anger issues from his father as well, forgot to add that earlier with the list of things he's inherited from his old man lol - Momma's boy (/affectionately, not like he can't do anything without his mom, moreso like he really loves her a lot and obviously they're very close since they both lost Tom's father that day so for a while they were all the other had to remember him by) - Tamara is his cousin from his mother's side of the family - His first friend was Edd - His mother died when he was in highschool - father when he was in elementary, it really hit him hard (it was just before his senior year and had he not done so well the years prior he would've failed HS because of it) - Diesss ???? It's like the whole "OMG they killed Kenny" bit more than anything - like if I had to describe it, he has the Loony Toons death curse, where he dies on screen but in the next panel he's fine cause no one can actually die on a kid's show, yk ? - Tons of piercings,, mostly on his face but also in other places on his body too, though it's more like two other places other than his face area - Loves Ska music obviously, but also punk and rock, thinks artists like Destroy Boys, GRLWood,

Edd - British,,, and probably has some Italian in him somewhere, y'know like family rumors/talk of like "well I'm 1/4 Italian" or "your some odd greats grandma was Italian" that kinda thing,,, not quite sure, not curious enough to care to get some DNA test kit - Homophobic (/j) Gay, man kisser, masculine hug enjoyer, he holds hands with other boysss - On the AroAce spectrum, not really a hard no on either, just more of something he doesn't think about on a day to day basis nor really care about unless the thought is put in his head - Moles scattered across his body (not many, just one or two here and there - and none that are particularly bad or harmful) - Wears reading glasses (more specifically blue light glasses cause he's looking at a screen all day every day) - The only one of the gang that doesn't have any genuine mental disorder,,, he's got his problems sure but he's neurotypical through and through - His problems being main character and plot armor - More seriously though he has a raging hero/savior complex that gets him into a lot of trouble at times - 6' even, second tallest of the group - Very apple shaped,,, when I draw him I think very round thoughts if that makes sense - Had a major emo phase in highschool,,, he kinda snapped out of it during Senior year, or rather the summer leading up to it, but man it was wretched LOL - A child of divorce (they still made it work for him - it wasn't like they fought or it was a domestic abuse thing, they just fell out of love with each other and couldn't stand being in the same house anymore, but they love Edd so they made it work for him the best they could) - Works as an animator - professionally and freelancing ! Hard fucking order but he LOVES they process of creating art, seeing the end result is so gratifying to him and being able to see all the love and attention he put into it - Has a Youtube channel where sometimes he reviews animated movies/shows/shorts - he doesn't update it a lot, it's like a "if I feel like it" cause he only does Youtube as a hobby and as a place to hold his animation portfolio - His first friend was Matt, they've been friends since like diapers - REALLY really good friends with Tord - doesn't really know why but they are like bound by the hip - He's only got ear gauges - he doesn't try and stretch them a ton like Tom does, he's fine with just normal sized gauges that don't stretch his lobes all that much - Has a VERY BROAD music taste, anything from Lemon Demon to Oingo Boingo, to PinkPantheress, to Joey Valence & Brae, to Weird Al,,, anything under the rainbow of music genres he's probably heard one song from each - PowerEdd is canon still !! Not the superhero, but the powers he and Eduardo now suffer with lol,, but they're not really potent, his body chemistry is just kinda fucky now cause of it,,, bro glows in blacklight and sometimes just in general

Matt - British/French,,, basically he's incredibly white - Pansexual (he used to also be GenderFluid in my headcanons,,, but in the past year or so I've decided against it - he's more of just a guy who likes makeup and to wear dresses more than anything else) - Ginger with freckles, they cover his body in splotches mostly, but he's got a few individual ones here and there on his body as well (they've clustered around his face, hands, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees and like two separate patches on his back) - His hairstyle has changed so much with me over the years and it's my own damn fault lol, I don't draw him enough but that most comes with the "I don't wanna draw him wrong" thing but if I don't ever draw him how will I draw him right ?? It's a cycle is what it is - The only one with prescription glasses since middle school - he just wears contacts instead, he HATES how he looks in glasses - his parents had him get LASIK surgery to correct his vision,,, since then - His personal account where no one (except like the gang) knows it's him is very unhinged, he says some devious shit on there (it's a public Twitter account) - Also Autistic, but in a DRASTICALLY different way than Tom is, they're like opposite sides of the spectrum (Tom doesn't mask often, Matt masks like all day every day, Tom can't make eye contact, Matt makes intense eye contact, that kinda thing yk,,, even despite the fact they both have texture issues they have very different issues with textures - also Tom was very early diagnosed and Matt only got diagnosed after Tom kept pestering him to do so) - He's some kind of narcissist, just haven't been able to really pin point it down yet,, I need to do some more research on it - this could change in the future because of that so this is like a maybe canon - His father left him when he was very young like maybe 5-8 range, and his mother married his step father WAY too soon after, him and Matilda is his step sister (He HATED her at first, she tried to be very kind to him cause they're the same age and everything, and this is the first time she's had a sibling, but every time Matt looked at her all he could see was his father leaving him,,, it took until after college for them to actually grow closer as siblings and friends) -6'1" just an inch above Edd - Edd was his first friend - they've been through thick and thin together, they comforted each other when both their parents divorced, so obviously they've got a bit of a trauma bond through that, and are really the only ones who understand that kind of issue - at least in their eyes - Twink. Through and through. Despite being partially French he's got very back luck with growing hair on his body, and when he does it's thin and very lightly colored - Works as a model and "social media influencer",,, basically he's a walking propaganda poster - Has earrings, mostly wears a lot of gold - Doesn't like listening to music often,,, this hurts me to write as someone who can't NOT listen to music, but he just doesn't have a music taste,, I've mentioned before how he listens to some female rappers and other song artists like Mitski and Girl in Red, but that's only because he's listened to them on like the radio or had someone else recommend them to him, he doesn't actively listen/search for music - Still a vampire,,, er, really just half vampire ?? I'd like to think they lads did a séance of some sort on him and for the most part it worked but like Edd his chemistry is still a little fucked cause of it, y'know ? Like he's still got pointed ears and teeth, can't really do much about that, and a BIG craving for red meat and the like, but he can survive without a constant need for blood, and his skin was already sensitive to the sun anyway so there's nothing really new there

Tord - Just a Norwegian fool - Trans Masculine (AFAB) He/Him - Bisexual (with a MASSIVE fem lean,,, he IS the bad taste in men) - His hair ? Yeah that's natural - he's got some WICKED cowlicks,,, when he was younger his mom would try to brush them back to make him look more normal, but even when his hair was longer it didn't really do much for him - ADHD haver, VERY late diagnosis and still doesn't really believe it, but that's a whole lot to do with misinformation of negative dumb jargon shoved down his throat - Narcissistic Personality TRAITS, not the disorder, but TRAITS of the disorder (as in he doesn't actively have the mind set and intentions of people with NPD, but he does have the mannerisms and habits of one,, but that's because of how he was raised by two Narcissists - it's a damn miracle he doesn't have the disorder, but either way he's gotta go to therapy about it,,, and he will,,,,,, eventually,,,,,,,,, after you drag him there by his hair but I mean he'll be there) - Tattoos on him as well (Left shoulder to a half sleeve of a snake, tramp stamp of Ouroboros, and between his shoulder blades beneath the back of his neck is Jason Voorhees' mask) - Can not regulate or understand his emotions,,, the only way he really knows how to deal with intense emotions of any kind is through very physical and aggressive means,, it's why him and Tom get into so many spats, but mostly cause Tom doesn't put up with his bullshit as someone who is very good at reading and understanding his own and others' emotions - Bro's got a very broad chest,, he's like incredibly male passing, even before having gone on Testosterone - Redditor. Sorry I don't make the rules except I do and he's a Redditor. - Also has an Instagram account and it's all thirst traps,,, and I'm torn between how much interaction he'd get on them,,, like I wanna say he gets none because he's a damn loser weebcell dorklord, but I've also seen how EW fandom craves him and that makes me think that this would be no different, ykwim ?,, sigh,, realistically speaking he would get a lot of interaction with his posts and I hate that for him I hope something bad happens to him - Technically Tom was his first friend (??) in the sense that Tom was the first person he met in highschool and was the one he talked to the most during then,, at least when Tom's life was stable, it gets kinda iffy after Tom's mom died and that's where the first part of their rift really started - But him and Edd and SUPER close, despite Tom being his first friend, Edd and him just click REALLY well - Has a similar death thing like Tom, except his is more of like the anime death curse - if he dies off screen, no the fuck he did not, he is coming back as the villain - LOVES Twenty One Pilots, favorite band of all time, usually he's not a die hard for a lot of things, but TOP is one of them, he also likes poprock/poppunk, things like that, think like Imagine Dragons and Mindless Self Indulgence (YES THEY'RE TERRIBLE I KNOW, LOOK AT WHO'S LISTENING TO THEM AND GET BACK TO ME ABOUT IT) but he also listens to hyperpop like S3RL and Machine Girl, but that's just cause of all the base it usually has - that's like background music for him to work to

That's pretty much all I can think of off the top of my head of just general thoughts for them,,, I'm sure I could think of more specific ones but then we'd be here all day

#sorry it took so long for me to start answering asks again #my life got full for a bit lol #and I know some of these HCs have already been said but like #just to make a better and more easily read list about them yk #eddsworld #jay answers #ew #eddsworld headcanons #ew tom #tom #ew tord #tord #ew matt #matt #ew edd #edd

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hollow-lime-green · 3 months ago

Note

you've mentioned in 2sorcs that your interpretation of yuki's technique is different from canon, right? (I agree...the physics is not. physics-ing.) would you mind explaining your interpretation or would we have to wait for further chapters of 2sorcs/installations of the verse?

Oh yes, thank you for this ask, I would love to talk about this!

My interpretation of Yuki's powers is what I think they should be in a balanced universe where a.) Gege understands physics, and b.) Yuki is undeniably special grade.

I do really like Yuki's canon arc, but I think Gege copped out in how they got there due to him not really vibing with the math/science involved. Luckily, I am a STEM girlie here to womansplain. Since I'll mention about manga-only Yuki stuff, I'll put it under a cut.

(Side Note: I really hope some of the anime-onlies that I know have read this verse go back and reread if/once they catch up on the manga. There's a lot of easter eggs!)

Yuki's Canon Powers:

Yuki can use cursed energy to add virtual mass* to herself or her shikigami, Garuda.

*This mass only affects how hard she hits**.

**Until she adds enough mass to turn herself into a black hole, wherein it now does affect everything else.

Now, I think this is really stupid, because it is so limiting to say mass = power (force), and the black hole threshold is arbitrary. It is stupid on its own, and it is stupid in the context of the Kenjaku fight because if you let Yuki be cool, the fight can be way cooler. Kaori's anti-grav actually could have been an amazing counter and led to an interesting fight.

(Of course, the point of Yuki's fight is that she lets go of herself/her agency, and by not being selfish and arrogant, she loses the fight. The strongest need to be a little crazy, and they need to have unlimited faith in themselves/insane egotism. By doing what Tengen wants, she has to lose. I like it. But Greg still could've made her cool.)

Yuki's Powers (Taylor's My Version):

So, science: if the size of something stays the same, but the mass changes, the density has increased. So my interpretation of Yuki's powers is technically based on density.

Yuki can used cursed energy to add mass/increase density to anything she can touch (including other sorcs), and Garuda at a distance (familiar mechanics, baybee).

Yuki's cursed technique reversal is taking away mass/decreasing density.

All things are affected, not just 'power'. When things are heavier, they are harder to move and generally more durable, so she gets defensive buffs when heavy and speed buffs when light.

Yeah the black hole still works. But Yuki's relationship with mass is linear; there's no 'threshold' where suddenly Greg changes things.

These changes are relatively minimal in terms of the actual powers, but I think they would make a world of difference. When Yuki's powers interact with real world physics, she can have a lot more strategic options for changing her own mass, which you see in her spar with Geto. It's great for hand to hand. I have Satoru change his weight in the fic essentially by using a Blue behind him to lift himself up like a momma cat might lift their kittens up lmao. But Yuki could just directly target herself.

She could probably be special grade with *just* that change, especially since we know she has a DE and she has RCT. But I think it's balanced (whatever that even means in jjk) for her to also be able to apply her CT to unwilling targets, like Projection Sorcery. (By the way, Projection Sorcery is busted, and we will get into it 👀). With enemy/ally targeting, I think she'd be definitively special grade.

The Kenjaku/Kaori fight could have been an absolute masterpiece with the interaction between density/mass and gravitational pull. Both have both CT and RCT, so if you expanded on Kaori's antigrav and let her set a source point for gravitational pulls (similar to Blue), or at least a direction, she could reaaaaally fuck with Yuki. And then you've got the setting with Tengen's barriers falling apart. Kaorijaku could hover/fly, Yuki could go light to jump around on them. I mean - Greg, I just wanna talk Greg open up Greg-

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk <3

#fire in your mouth #jjk fanfic #ask #jujutsu theorycrafting #yuki tsukumo #tsukumo yuki

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simplegenius042 · 6 months ago

Text

Music Monday and Moodboard of WIP + Phrase/Dialogue

Tagged by @icecutioner @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic and @shallow-gravy

Tagging @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @voidika @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard and @alypink + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

(Update: So if you happened to have been pinged again, sorry, I edited/corrected a mistake and suddenly that made the tags inoperable so I had to make them functional again).

One song for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles each and two moodboards for a WIP in The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore is a Fallout fic series, and Fallout is mostly set in America, and what better to describe the best parts of America than John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads". While I know there's a Fallout version for this song sung by Spank, I'll save that one when analyzing its role in What Happened To Vault Number 76? As for now, John Denver's version encapsulates Ortega "Ore" Brantley and Marissa "Ress" Bishop's journey, as well as my Fallout protagonist OCs. Narrative-wise, this song describes both Ore and Ress' acknowledgement of their beginning roots (Appalachia and New Reno in New California respectively) and the comfort these homes bring, but also how they'll never lose sight of their true home, and how no matter their father, Arcane Urias, attempts to persuade them otherwise, they'll always trail their roads back home.

youtube

"Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River Life is old there, older than the trees Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze

Country roads, take me home To the place I belong West Virginia, mountain momma Take me home, country roads."

What better fic from The Silver Chronicles is suited for Vance Joy's one-hit wonder than my Six of Crows fic How Good Is A Heist If It's Improvised? A song that acts like a relatable tune about pop culture but is a cleverly disguised bittersweet tale of love and longing mixing with the emotional turmoil of escapism from reality, and my fic which acts like a comedic modern-ish retelling of the Dreg's heist against one of Ketterdam's richest motherfuckers filled with action, drama and romance but is in fact very depressing in reality only made humorous (dark or light notwithstanding) through the perspective of the fic's only two unreliable narrators, my traumatised criminal OCs Isiah Popov and Gemini Teal. Anyway, enjoy!

youtube

"Here's this movie that I think you'll like This guy decides to quit his job and head to New York City This cowboy's running from himself And she's been living on the highest shelf

Ah ooh-ooh-ooh, ah oh And they come unstuck

Lady, running down to the riptide Taken away to the dark side I wanna be your left hand man I love you when you're singing that song And I got a lump in my throat 'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

I just wanna, I just wanna know If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay I just gotta, I just gotta know I can't have it, I can't have it any other way

I swear she's destined for the screen Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen."

The Time Guard is an original work set before, around and within the canon events of The UnTitledverse. It follows Timekeeper, a droid who's purpose was to observe the Time stream and properly utilize the Time Watch only when absolutely necessary. Despite using it during dire circumstances in the events of the Jagged Instincts Novelisation, the Time Court, overseen by the Time Bureau Authority's supreme leader, Judge Khronos, and with the prosecution lead by Leviticus, declared Timekeeper had stepped out of line and also lost the Time Watch to a Time Vortex in the process. So Timekeeper is demoted as expendable and decides to found a team that will do Khronos' dirty (and often life-threatening) jobs to get in his good graces again, calling it the "Time Guard". A multitude of characters in the beginning of its foundation (and even after) come and go, though two have never been more linked than a Carmine scout drone designated "J.O.E" and Edward Carmine's most loyal security drone subordinate, designated "K.I.L.L.J.O.Y", not only coming from Jagged Instincts, but also after The Perfect Storm saga, and they're relationship during The Time Guard can be summed up as "cheerful naive optimist and brooding angry pessimist forced into a get-along brother shirt". So here's the closest song I believe emphasizes.

youtube

"Ah such a beautiful day, uh Yeah, the sun's shinin' in a beautiful way, uh Gonna take a shower, brush my teeth, and-" "Life is ultimately meaningless."

"Uh, uh, but I'll get out of the house. Get on the road, top down, hands out. Put on my favorite song and nod to the rhythm." "The planet's being destroyed by your carbon emissions."

"Oh! But I, I, I'll head to class Try my best on every test till I pass And my grades are screamin' in my face (Hey!)" "Ninety-eight percent of what you learn is a waste."

"I get to hang out with all my friends My friends are the friendliest friends Can't think of a better way to spend my time." "Your brain is flawed, and all your friends will die."

"Never mind, I'm alive in the greatest nation, so proud of-" "The exploitation of the natives?" "This graceful bird means freedom for all!" "Tell that to the slaves, and bald eagles aren't bald!"

"I can live in the moment, milk every second." "At any time, you could get clinical depression." "But I'll just be happy, no matter what's in store." "It's quite genetic, and we have no cure." "Uh, at least

We are young ("Not for long") Life is fun ("It only goes downhill") We gotta make the most of it, make the most it ("Or you'll regret it") We are young ("For now") Life is fun ("To some people") We gotta make the most of it, make the most of it!" ("Good luck")

And lastly two moodboards + an excerpt phrase/dialogue for WIPs from The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

WIP: The UnTitled Stories - Prologue

If I may... I'd like to ask you a question. One which has plagued me ever since I was introduced to it. What do you think dictates humans: The mind? Or the body? This was a query originally formed by French philosopher Rene Descartes in the 17th century; one that drove him to develop a concept called dualism. A concept that elaborated the distinction between the mind and body as separate entities, whereas the mind procured thought, mental processes and housed consciousness, the body focused on structure, our instincts, the neurons and the brain itself. Descartes had implied the mind could control the body, but the body could also influence the mind when it needed to, though ultimately had no control. However, despite Descartes' famous words, "I think, therefore I am", modern psychologists didn't believe it to be that simple. Humans worked like a machine, our organs merely cogs serving a function in the system. To take out even one has irreparable consequences, a disruption that could lead us to falter and break down and supposedly become useless, or our certain demise, which earns the same results of uselessness. Now, to deprive humans of one of these components leads to total system failure, regardless if its because of disuse or death. In other words, neither the mind nor the body can continue without this system. On that note, if this system is keeping the human body functioning, the question re-contextualizes from whether the mind controls the body, and vice versa, to instead what this system is trying to keep operating; itself, or our consciousness? The complexion of this debate can be hard to wrap your head around, especially if your introduction to it came from a source as dubious as mine had been, but this did not diminish my personal affinity towards it. To be clearer, I had been led to believe that if the system exists to function, then it must be to either support itself or the battery that drives it, not both. It's believed that by determining the dominating source that dictates humanity, a whole slew of concepts and functions will become clearer to understand, easier to deduce an explanation and an answer. To cease the uncertainty in our lives, which is the only thing that makes everyone equal in this meritocracy. By identifying the force that drives us, we can better understand ourselves, making arguments like free will and determinism, instincts and self-control, nature and nurture, our ability to change and adapt in socialization, perception of our identity and sense of individual self, among other things... well, clear cut. Or at least, that's what I had been told to believe. Not so much now. Though if anyone had asked me about my opinion on the matter back then, riding as a passenger on that bus, and if I felt inclined to share, I would have spouted my blind agreement to the belief. That never happened though. I had been lead to believe that to reach the conclusive answer to the dictating source of our actions; whether it was the mind or the body, I had to be placed in an academically social environment that would push my boundaries for the next three years. Determine the dominating victor of either consciousness or reflex, and take satisfaction in the answer to my curious nature. And though I would later discard this goal... the fact remained, it had been my original intention, one I had gone to such costly lengths for as demonstrated in our first year. And the fact remains that, while on that bus, on our way to this very school, I had every intention to follow that pursuit through til the very end. That is, of course, until I had met you…

WIP: Silva's Hope [Content Warning: Descriptive depiction of a violent death]

An ugly croak escaped from the Peggie's lips, his mouth agape like a lake trout. But instead of suffocating from a lack of air, he was choking from the dagger that pierced through his throat. Silva gripped the handle as she dug the blade further into the man's esophagus, blood seeping out of the opening. The red flowed down, staining his shirt and her gloves. The Peggie swung his arms out weakly, one hand managing to futilely claw at her wrist. She paid no mind to it. Is this all I am good for? She twisted the blade, gritting her teeth as she kicked the Peggie's knee down, swiftly sinking her knife down further. His grip went slack, and his eyes began to glaze. But she wasn't done yet, not with the burning fire eating through her veins. Is this all I'll ever be? Her free hand caught the man's blonde hair. She dug out the red-stained silver blade and slashed it across his throat, widening the cut. A source of fear? A beast with bloodied hands? She stabbed the blade against his head, pulling it out, then puncturing again, repeatedly, like a butcher chopping thawed meat. I gave you a chance, didn't I? A chance to turn back, to put the gun down, to turn a blind eye while I made my escape... Pulling the blade out, she tried to breathe, to calm the rage engulfing her heart, cascading over her mind. But it refused; it demanded it's release, to have her take it out on the man who's eyes have glazed. ...And yet, he did not choose to value his life, instead the words of his Profeta. Fraudulent lies that outweighed common sense, self-preservation, and moral understanding. Her teeth gritted, breathing rapidly, ignoring the bullet that inflamed the skin in her thigh. She raised her knife, red dripping down onto her head and shoulder. Looking down at the Peggie, she shouted out the wrath stuck in her voice, and broke through his skull. If this is the path they all will follow, then she won't waste time giving them chances they won't take.

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