#and i THINK 1 is a simple golden band

[pyract0]

╰┈➤Thoughts/ head cannons with HSR men!

☁︎ No specified gendered descriptions, referred to as "you"- Don't tag it as "Gn reader" just in case I make a mistake/ can be considered otherwise. ☁︎Trying out different formatting to find one I like :) ☁︎Not really any warnings, just relationship stuff- Potential spoilers for Amphoreus ! ☁︎Anaxagoras(3), Mydeimos(2), AE!Sunday(3), Moze(1) ☁︎had more ideas but forgot them by the time I got to them

╰┈➤Anaxagoras

𝖎 Slow Dancing

Despite being a man dedicated to his research and strict in nature, Anaxagoras found himself enjoying simple things with you the longer your relationship progressed. Silence was golden, a message he engraved within the rules he recited to each new figure that entered his life, yet he found himself relaxing into the gentle atmosphere of your words as you stood hand in hand. The hours the both of you spend swaying in each others embrace builds up, listening to the classical music he chose out as you let your head rest against his shoulder. Simply being wrapped in his arms, his coat placed over your shoulders as you take turns discussing whatever came to mind until you become tired. He'll then take it upon himself to bring you to your shared bedroom, whether it be walking with his arms lazily resting on your hips with his hands clasped in front of you or carrying you flush against his chest before throwing placing you on the bed.

𝖎𝖎 Cuddling

Cuddling with Anaxagoras after getting yourself a pair of matching droma onesies. You got them initially as what you believed would be a joke, pyjamas of a creature you knew he held admiration about, thinking it would be simply brushed off. Yet he took it seriously, and instead it became your new nightly routine. The fluffy hood with droopy horns that covered your face rubbing against his cheek as you nuzzle against him, discarding your usual blanket due to the thick material already holding enough warmth. What would have to be seasonal for you due to the risk of overheating would become his usual attire due to his inability to feel the temperature. Just you laying on his chest and running your fingers through his hair as he rambles on about something you can barely comprehend. You make sure for his sake his favourite droma plush is within reach on the bed for if he absentmindedly seeks comfort from the plushie. Y'all that plushie has seen some stuff.

𝖎𝖎𝖎 Physical contact

Being someone who's been derived of touch due to personal preference, Anaxagoras takes any chance he's offered at holding some form of contact with you. Cooking? he's behind you, arms on either side of you caging you between his chest and the counter as his head rests against your shoulder. Sitting somewhere reading? His head finds its way to your lap, running his pointer finger in circles on your thigh as he presses himself closer to your body. One of you are working? You're sat side by side, fingers interlocked as he fidgets with your wedding band, bringing your connected hands to his cheek to lean against. Type of person to hold your wrist as his teeth press into the flesh of your fingers/ palm, never hard enough to hurt but enough to feel the pressure that brings an odd comfort to the both of you. Habit of chewing on things (your hand or sleeves).

Can't explain how much I love this man and offended I am at how little screen time he was given. 3.2 broke me.

╰┈➤Mydeimos

𝖎"Babysitting"

Whether it was embarking on a simple walk around the market, or heading to a meeting with another Chrysos Heir, Mydeimos always found away to attract the attention of the smaller citizens. Despite his brash appearance, he had found himself growing soft towards the children, often spend more time than what you had to spare entertaining them. One day it could be hide and seek, another simply helping a lost kid return to their parents, either way you always managed to get roped into his shenanigans. First time playing with the neighbourhood kids, he grabbed one by the collar and held them before you finally reprimanded him on how not to hold kids He's a bit confused but he's got the spirit. Ends with you eventually leaving him alone with them, only to return later to find his hair messily braided with flowers threaded through the blonde strands.

𝖎𝖎 cuteness aggression

With his lack of comprehension for his own feelings at times, Mydeimos finds himself trying to express said emotions in less than favourable ways. What started as the urge to always be near you, to be making contact with your skin at every given moment you would allow, turned to him biting you. Never hard enough to draw blood or hurt for extended periods, just leaving you to feel the pressure from his jaw as blunt marks are left behind. Gravitates towards your shoulders/collar bone due to being able to hold you close, pressing the metallic tips of his gauntlets into your hips as he nips at your skin. Instead of kissing the indentations he leaves behind, instead licks them with actions similar to that of a cat. Will sometimes randomly hold your hand, kissing up your arm before biting into the flesh of your forearm.

╰┈➤AE!Sunday

𝖎 Pampering

Being someone as renowned as AE!Sunday, lacking some aspects of social understanding due to his upbringing, he opts to spoil you instead. Still uses certain terms of affection, mostly darling or love, but finds conveying his appreciation easier through the use of acts of service. It becomes a regular part of your mornings together, helping each other with small things to make the rest easier for him. Whether it's something as simple as you placing his outfit in a neat pile to spending longer perfecting his eyeliner and eyeshadow, he enjoys any simple moment you spare to give him attention. Will sit by your kitchen counter, watching you alternate between making breakfast and fastening the buckles around his wrists to ensure it doesn't slip. He often finds himself organising your stuff, moving the stuff you need for the day to an easily accessible spot so you don't have to search for them yourself. Leaves the room with a kiss to your forehead, already planning a way to show his appreciation for you, often returning with small gifts to fill where he lacks words of affection.

𝖎𝖎 Maintaining his wings

After finally finding it in himself to open up to you, to offer himself in his most vulnerable form, AE!Sunday finds comfort in you caring for his delicate wings. Starts off with his head on your lap as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, him occupying a small stool to your side. Your nails finding their way over the feathers, removing loosened and damaged ones while lathering them carefully with shampoo, rinsing them off for him before patting them dry with a fluffy towel. Turns into the both of you laying on your shared bed, arms wrapped around your waist as his head rests against your chest. Gently scratching near the base of his wings as you work on preening the otherwise perfect feathers. Having them flutter against your hand as you work over them, occasionally moving to run your finger through his hair as you listen to him talk about his latest adventure with the crew.

𝖎𝖎𝖎 Sleep

Helping each other fall asleep, reading stories or simply recalling happy moments where AE!Sunday can finally relax. Whether you simply couldn't sleep or were less exhausted physically than mentally after a long day of mishap, he took it upon himself to read you something to ease your mind and help you rest. Even if you often chose to tell him personal experiences, sometimes you would take the role of reading as he remains shaken from a nightmare. Leaning against the wall of your shared room, gently running your hand through his hair as he lay against your chest, listening to you read the lines from the book you chose. Always ends with you waking up with a terribly sore back, but seeing your lover peacefully sleeping with his arms around your waist drowns out any amount of annoyance you held.

╰┈➤Moze

𝖎 Petting you (Foxian!reader)

Moze who would kill someone for looking at him wrong, simply folds at the sight of you. Would follow you from a distance when you go out, not wishing to appear as overbearing but doesn't want the possible risk of you getting injured to occur. Watches almost curiously at the way your tail would sway in the wind, or the subtle twitch of your ears at the clash of sounds on the busy streets. Will sometimes randomly pop out and announce his presence by patting you on the head gently, sometimes rubbing the base of your ears if you're deep in thought. Never fails to scare the shit out of you at his sudden appearance, but he ignores forgets your displeased rant by the next time he does it.

On your days off, you often find place in his lap as he occasionally scratches by your ears, while you lean against his chest and attempt to nap despite the wandering hand that keeps making contact with your head. (Literally means no harm by it, just imagine a kid seeing something for the first time while being able to physically touch it instead of just admiring it.)

The first time, which is probably also the last time, he decides to run his fingers through your tail is an utter disaster. At the appearance of a stubborn leaf that for entangled in your fur, his right hand reaches out to swipe it away. Instead of simply removing the leaf as intended, the metal claws snag at your otherwise perfect coat, drawing a pained yelp from you followed by a whine as you run your hand over the spot. Jiaoqiu and Feixiao (who doesn't have a tail) who just witnessed it clench at their chests in pain as if they were also "heavily injured". From that point on when he goes to touch your tail, his right hand is in a firm hold away from the appendage.

[stargirl-in-dilfspace]

Drive - Javier Peña x wife!reader [part 1]

[a/n: he’s too beautiful I couldn’t not write this. enjoy my thoughts on being married to this beautiful man.]

Warnings: smut (unprotected do better than these two!), dirty talk, I love you’s.

Content: established relationship (marriage), fluffy and warm, no use of y/n, escalates quickly to hot and a bit dirty, then back to soft and warm, The Cars & classic rock (self indulgent I know…), Javis hands, your sundress, Javi drives with ONE hand and you know it, old truck bc I love them, smut in said old truck on the side of a dirt backroad, a beautiful man and a sunset, minor mention of kids. [let me know if I missed anything my honeys <3]

Summary: Javi takes you both on your Saturday evening drive.

Saturday drives with Javier. That’s what you looked forward to when the weeks got hard. Without fail he took you somewhere more remote, just to enjoy the sun or the rain, and the breeze, and you.

Your chosen sundress draped lazily over your legs, the thin fabric giving a nice and somewhat unwanted layer between your bare thigh and his hand.

This one you work up to slipping yours over, you’d describe his hands as soft and calloused and large and warm all at once. In contrast to yours, always cold, shaky. You lean on the back of the old truck’s seat, staring at him, sun in the reflection of his aviators, other hand on the wheel, eyes on the road.

You were convinced that him driving with one hand had to be one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen, despite being told for years that it wasn't safe, even on these old backroads.

Your eyes focus on the hand that makes turns and slight adjustments.

You could see the wear of his hand, the work it’s done.

You could feel the touch of his fingertips and callouses from his gun without really feeling it.

He turned you into a mess.

The soft hum of The Cars over the local classic rock station filling the comfortable air. One of your favorite bands, you hum along, and he glances at you with a hint of a smile playing on his lips…fuck.

What did he do to you?

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Your husband spoke, giving you that grin.

“Nothin’” You smile back, tracing your fingers down his, eyeing your worn wedding band.

“I know you’re not thinkin’ all about glam rock.” He teased, chuckling as he surveyed the empty road ahead, fields as far as he could see.

“Maybe not.” You smile again. “Maybe just your hands.”

“Somethin’ that simple?” He asked you, grinning a little more.

“Yeah…something that simple.” You laughed softly, wrapping yours around his, pulling it up just a little higher on your leg. You leaned over, you head on his shoulder, watching the road ahead, the grassy fields.

You had a sense of safety, that you didn’t ever think you’d feel in an old truck with someone else driving. The confidence in each turn and press on the gas pedal made the ride smooth, and comfortable. He didn’t think about that, but you did. It was another way he provided you security.

“Mi esposa bonita…how are you?” He asks sweetly, quickly turning his head just to kiss your head.

“Good again.” You respond. You love these drives…nothing is better than getting away. No work, no responsibilities, no problems. Just him.

“I like this dress.” He twisted the fabric between his fingers a little.

“I know you do.” You smiled watching the golden lighting of the sun beginning to set. “You wanna pull the truck over and show me just how much?” You tease, not honestly expecting him to…before you felt the turn, the swift sounds of his unbuckling seat belts and laying you down quickly.

“Sure.” He smiles politely, leaning over you and kissing you deeply, running a hand through your hair, as your leg wraps around him. That look in his eyes, might have been there the whole drive—craving you, waiting for that little invitation to touch.

The fabric of your dress pushed back with the movement, you weren’t sure how it’d escalated so quickly, but somehow you never knew till his lips were on yours, making you lose all those deep rooted senses. He seemed to paint down your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbone, till his name fell off your lips like an unwritten poem you never thought of.

You don’t care how much you’ll really have to cover up by tomorrow.

The straps of your dress delicately pushed aside to press reverent kisses to your shoulders, the thin flowy fabric of your skirt pushed up enough by those big hands

————————————————————

Javier, Javi, Javi, Jav are your only coherent thoughts each extra time his hips meet yours, every time you feel his hands shift up and down your legs as you move rhythmically.

He’s got a way of looking at how he ruins you. Not in aggression or lust even. In some pure form of love he can only attribute to the beauty that is you, he stares at you, with deep brown eyes you know you could stare back at forever.

You pull him closer on top of you, with a soft, “Javi,” in his ear, as you dig little crescent moon shaped indents into his freckled, tan back you admired so much.

“C’mon, pretty girl, this is what you were looking for huh?” All he got was a whimper from you, he knew damn well he wasn’t getting full sentence answers with how well he made you feel like you were being split in half. No matter how many times you took him, you wouldn’t get used to that fucking delicious stretch.

His hand stayed on you hip to keep some leverage, while the other buried itself in your hair, pulling back enough to allow him to kiss and nip down your neck and now crudely exposed chest.

You got him like this—turned him into an animal. He got a great look at you like this, the sunset illuminating your skin just right, dress pushed down to your stomach, and pushed up to your hips, fuck-drunk on him.

“How’s that? This just what you needed? To be driven all the way out here and fucked with your dress all bunched up?” Javi muttered solely to get into your head and invade every single one of your senses. “Too impatient to take it off? To not even wear any panties with this little number?” He pulled your hair back just enough to get you to gasp. “Christ, I love you.” His voice had a moment of weakness, catching his breath, only you could do that to him, god how lucky was he to have met you and got you on your back like this.

He’s the one who’s got you skipping underwear.

“Fuck, Javi, I love you.” That’s all you could really think—let alone say anymore.

————————————————————

Snuggled up to your husband while he drove you home, trying your best to not to ruin the seat covers with the come dripping between your thighs.

You’d given up on saving your dress, that was a lost cause with how turned on he must’ve been.

Either way, you were wrapped up in his side, these Texas roads you learned to love leading you back to the home you called yours now. His free arm wrapped around you, the other driving, his eyes on the road again…Saturday drives. Something you’d never get tired of, something you’d be sharing with your children someday. (Javi liked to add someday very soon.) And you’d keep wearing the pretty sundresses he liked, pretending the rest of the world wasn’t there while The Cars hummed in the back of your mind on that scratchy radio.

————————————————————

feel free to leave any feedback!!! this was fun to write cause it had me blushing and kicking my feet while writing <33

[xoxolaw]

+ 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗬

in which a quiet visit to her room turns into something else entirely. Hyun-tak finds her diary, and with it, the truth he never saw coming.

+ 𝗚𝗢 𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡-𝗧𝗔𝗞 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

CH 1 , CH 2

Hyun-tak rang the bell of her house, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, a worn-out bandage peeking beneath one sleeve. He kicked absently at a loose stone near the steps, half-watching it skip across the pavement.

Y/N had texted him an hour ago:

“I got the new game. Come over. I want to beat you at it.”

He scoffed when he read it—because she never beat him. But he came anyway. Of course he did.

The door opened before he could knock again.

“Oh, Hyun-tak,” her mom greeted with a smile that he’d seen since he was a kid. “She just stepped out to grab something from the corner store. Won’t be long.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“You know where to go.”

He did.

He always did.

---

Hyun-tak stepped inside like muscle memory—no need to be shown around, no hesitation. He toed off his sneakers at the door, left them neatly beside hers (his always looked too big next to her tiny ones), and made his way past the kitchen that always smelled like vanilla or soup, depending on the day.

Everything about the house was warm in a way his own never was. Quiet, yes. But never cold.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, pausing at her door. It was already half-open, like it knew he was coming.

Her room hadn't changed much over the years. He'd practically grown up in it—seen it evolve from stuffed animals and glitter pens to books stacked in uneven piles and posters from bands he’d never bothered to remember the names of.

His hoodie was still draped over the back of her chair—the one she always stole because she claimed it was “more comfortable than hers.”

Her lamp was on, the light golden and warm. The window cracked slightly, letting in the soft rustle of late spring air.

It was familiar. Safe.

So he didn’t think twice before stepping in, letting the soft click of the door behind him melt into the quiet.

---

That’s when he noticed it.

On the desk.

A diary—open.

Like a secret waiting.

It was nothing fancy. Just a simple notebook with a little ribbon bookmark fraying at the ends. A pen lay across the middle like she’d just gotten up mid-sentence.

He didn’t mean to read it. Really. He knew how to respect someone's privacy, and the last thing he wanted was to be that guy. The kind who snoops or pokes around where he doesn’t belong.

Still, he scoffed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

She wrote in a diary? Like, actually sat down and scribbled her thoughts like some melodramatic protagonist in a coming-of-age film?

It was kind of hilarious.

So very her.

He shook his head and turned away from the desk, plopping down onto her bed like he’d done a hundred times before—arms behind his head, phone out, screen glowing dimly in the warm afternoon light.

Scroll. Tap. Scroll.

Nothing interesting.

The room was quiet. A breeze filtered through the half-cracked window, rustling the curtains gently. The scent of her shampoo lingered faintly on the pillow beside him. A plushie he’d once won for her at a festival stared at him from the shelf, its button eyes crooked and faded.

Everything about her room was familiar. Everything about her felt familiar.

So why did he suddenly feel… restless?

He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. Just for a moment.

But even in the stillness, the image of the open diary crept back into his mind. The pen lying across the page. Her handwriting. That soft curl at the end of her Y’s.

He sat up.

Looked over his shoulder.

The diary hadn’t moved, of course. Still open. Still quiet. Still waiting.

"...Tch." He rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed.

It was probably just grocery lists or doodles. Maybe drama about classmates. Probably something stupid like “Today I got mad at Hyun-tak because he stole my chips again.”

That made him grin.

And then… the grin faded.

Because even as he thought it, something inside him whispered that it might not be that simple.

That maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t about chips. Or games. Or classes. Maybe she’d written about something else. Something more.

Before he could stop himself, he stood.

Three steps. That’s all it took to be in front of the desk again.

He didn’t sit down. Just stood there, hands in his hoodie pocket, eyes dropping to the page like they were being pulled.

Just one line.

One peek.

That wouldn’t hurt, right? But his curiosity got the better of him and he picked up her diary, sat back on her bed, swung one leg up, leaned against the wall, and opened it.

The first page.

The handwriting was exactly like hers—wide loops, occasional doodles in the margins, sometimes a heart where a dot should be.

And then—he began to read.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

March 5th, 2013

Dear Diary!!

My mom gwot me this DIARYYY todayyyyyy 🍭 she said it’s for “Writting yur thoughtz and feelings” but that’s kindaaa borinngg??? ☹️

So I’m gonna use it to write about important things

!!Like Hyun-Tak!! 😡

Today he was sooo meeean to me like always 🙄🙄 he said I’m dumb because I forgot my scarf and then he was like

“Tch. You're so stupid. Wear this or you’ll get sick and cry again.”

AND THEN 😤

He put HIS red scarf on me!!! HIS!! It smelt like snack crumbs and him. It was warm 🧣

I looked like a tomato 🍅🍅🍅

and he laughed at me

so I kicked his shoe

but he didn’t get mad???

he just grinned and said

“Don’t lose it or I’m never talking to you again forever.”

so I held onto it SOOOO tight like a SUPERHERO cape 🦸‍♀️

Then at lunch I got milk on my kimbap and I almost criEDDD but then

HE GAVE ME HIS!!

but it was the gross tunaa one so maybe he was gonna throw it anyway

BUT I LOVE THE TUNA ONE!!! So maybe it was TRUE LOVE ❤️❤️❤️

Mama says boys are mean when they like you

but Hyun-Tak is mean ALL the time

SO maybe he LOVES ME the MOSTEST 😤💖

OR maybe he is just a JERK 🙄🙄

(but like… a cute jerk??? shhhh)

Anyway I hope we stay best frends FOREVER and EVER and get married or maybe be astronauts. But I don’t wanna go to space if he’s not going 😣

Okayyy bye diary!!!

Love, Y/N (AGE 5 AND 65 DAYS)

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

Hyun-tak stared at the page for a long time. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. But it definitely wasn’t this.

A chaos of crooked letters and sparkly doodles. Misspelled words, snack-related heartbreak, heroic scarf ceremonies, and—him.

Laced through every sentence, like he’d always been there. All over it. Everywhere.

It felt like flipping open a snow globe of their childhood. Messy. Loud. Blurry. But inexplicably… warm.

Too warm.

He shifted against the headboard, the bedsheets rustling softly beneath him, one hand still resting on the open page like it might flutter away if he let go.

His eyes drifted again to the part she’d written in huge letters—TRUE LOVE ❤️❤️❤️, underlined twice, like a secret shout through glitter pen and breathless belief. The ink had faded just slightly, the hearts smudged at the corners like they’d been touched too many times.

He rolled his eyes. “Tch... idiot.”

But the corners of his mouth gave him away. Just a little. A quiet curve, barely there—but honest. Gentle.

The memory came without asking.

His younger self—scrawny, grumpy, still learning how to tie his own laces—muttering while tugging a too-big scarf around her neck with all the finesse of a grizzly bear.

Checking, double-checking, triple-checking that her ears were covered. Calling her stupid while handing over the better half of his lunch.

Pushing boys off swings who made her cry.

Staring at the ground while walking her home, as if the silence between them had its own language.

He hadn’t known she was writing it all down. Hadn’t known she remembered.

He reached out and brushed his thumb over the messy little heart she’d doodled beside his name. Lopsided. Unapologetic.

Age 5 and 65 days.

Who even counts days like that?

But she did.

Because she was the kind of person who measured everything. Moments. Moods. Melon bread halves. He just never noticed it until now.

He closed the diary carefully, the pages whispering shut like they were tucking themselves in for the night. The edges were soft, worn from being opened and reopened too many times.

He held it for a moment longer, just resting in his lap like it belonged there. Like he belonged there.

And then, as his fingers slipped to the next page, he caught the header in bubble letters:

March 6th, 2013

Today Hyun-tak got mad because I licked his lollipop. BUT—

A laugh—a real one—escaped him, sharp and quiet like a secret.

He snorted, shaking his head.

“Of course she kept going.”

And without even thinking about it, he turned the page.

+ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 + 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

Let me know what you think <333 for now let's just say that the emojis in the diary entries are doodles.

+ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@keizvn @soobinbunnie5 @chaywkk @l5byrinth @inom17 @randomheyl @coffee-ii @mizxuqii @dna-black-and-blue @kyungjunnies @maxinehufflepuffprincess @deboizzzstay @coolasiangal123 @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @chenlegendj @changbinkisser @xh01bri @jww-sjzyeirie @thebatapex

[silver-stake-through-the-heart]

I saw your recent post about Emma (ouch), and am wondering if you have any fanfic recommendations involving her?

Hello!

I'm sorry for the very slow answer but I needed to catch up on my Emma readings, or I'd have been able to rec only a couple of fics.

(The titles in blue were lovely recommended to me <3)

I hope there's enough choice 😊

Canonverse: Emma lives

7x13 divergence

refrain by castelia – 8k words – Destiel

Summary: He can’t help but think of the baby he saw yesterday. With chubby cheeks and a wide smile, who had looked so good and so innocent in her crib. Something part Lydia, part Dean, and wholly unique. That tiny girl was his baby. This is his baby girl.

(Or: Sam gets to the motel a little later; Emma and Dean get to finish their conversation. This changes things.)

Rockabye, Baby, Don't You Cry by bejesusness – 3k words

Summary: In theory, tracking down monsters, killing them, and saving people was a simple concept. Dean had been doing it all his life. But when the monster is a young girl who also happens to be his daughter? That's when it gets complicated.

Survival by Ophelia_Yvette – around 800 words

Summary: Emma lives after the events of The Slice Girls.

Monsters Can Be Children Too by Ophelia_Yvette – 2k words

Summary: Another Episode: s07e13 The Slice Girls AU where Dean saves Emma. Because you can’t have too many of those right?

For #spnwomenweek Day 1: Favorite Character

Purgatory arc divergence

I Hope You're Happy Now by orange_8_hands – 2k words

Summary: Emma's in Purgatory, and she's not the only one

Water of the Womb by ScarletPhoenix (orphan_account) – 2k words

Summary: A series of oneshots that explore what Season 8 would have been like if Dean had brought Emma out of Purgatory with him.

a place for us by 8sword – 15k words – Destiel

Summary: Dean lifts a leg and shoves at Cas's hip with his bare foot. He wants to stop thinking about djinn dreams, and Zachariah, and why the hell his subconscious would stick him in a reality where he's a suspenders-wearing pansy and his monster kid is alive. "Would you just lie down?"

(Canon divergence from the last few minutes of "Survival of the Fittest," 7.23.)

Crust (Find Your Filling) by orange_8_hands – 2k words

Summary: At the very least, he's gonna feed his kid. (S8 AU where Emma escapes Purgatory with Dean.)

Post canon

endless road to rediscover by rhinestoneangels (almondrose) – 3k words – Destiel

Summary: In Purgatory, Emma meets a new kind of monster.

golden eyes, tiny hands by rhinestoneangels (almondrose) – 3k words – Destiel

Summary: “Whatcha doin’, bud?” Dean asks, abandoning the conversation to look at the Nephil on his lap. “Fixing it,” Jack says, screwing up his tiny face in concentration. Dean looks at Sam, who has an eyebrow raised, then back at the kid. “Fixing what, buddy?” Dean asks, but then Jack’s eyes glow gold and the room gets dark. “Jack?” “I’m fixing it!” Jack says, palms still pressed to Dean’s cheeks, and a shape starts to take form beside the table, at first something formless and grey, but it goes white as it eases into a silhouette.

Stories focusing on Emma being an Amazon

you know that it's over (nothing left for you here) by astralpenguin – 2k words

Summary: Her sisters were her peers, and they’d quickly banded together. They’d known each other for half their lives. But that was still only a single day. And none of them outwardly doubted anything.

They all wanted to be part of the tribe. Emma wasn’t so sure she did.

the brand by deansmultitudes – around 900 words

Summary: Emma doesn't hate the scar on her wrist. She just wishes it wasn't there.

Purgatory (Themyscira) by Ophelia_Yvette – 1k words

Summary: Emma wakes up in Purgatory.

Dean dealing with Emma death

Coda to "Slice Girls" by 8sword – around 600 words

Summary: The body’s still there when they get back from the Amazons’ cleared-out building.

E is for Emma by frecklesarechocolate – 1k words – Destiel

Summary: There's an emptiness in Dean.

The Grave by SeashellDestihell – 2k words – Destiel

Summary: Dean ruminates on being a parent after the events of 12x14

Alternate Universe

In Another Life by Ophelia_Yvette – 2,5k words

Summary: What if Dean had existed in the Apocalypseverse? And what if that means Emma existed too?

Day 6: Darkness

Mother's Day by h0lm3stuck – around 600 words

Summary: “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s Mother’s Day.”

#1 Dad by chucks_prophet – 2k words – Destiel

Summary: “You’re cute,” Dean comments, because it is cute, the way he’s trying to distract Dean into burning his pancakes, or worse, making him forget this is a competition. So, to help jog both their memories, Dean swipes the butter off Cas’s pancakes with his two fingers and drops it into his pan. It cooks and sizzles before coating the entirety of the pancake like spray-on sunscreen, the way it runs off sides when Dean moves it around with a knife. Cas’s mouth hangs open as he scoffs, “You have officially gone to the dark side, Dean Winchester.”

[diorgirl444]

you’ve got mail or a dallas winston x reader prison penpal au…

warnings: bad writing?, um swearing i guess, fem! reader, set after the events of the novel, brief mentions of period typical prison violence, 3.1k words <3

also if people like this au i’d be happy to write more drabbles for it if they wanna send requests in!

to be completely honest dallas winston has no idea why he signs up for the penpal program in the first place.

he knows why the other men do - “hope to get a pretty thing who sends me real nice pictures” “yeah bet she’ll be a real betty” and he nods and guffaws like the rest of them but the real reason is a lot harder to think about.

he tells himself that it’s the boredom which is partially true. he isn’t the kind who thrives of the dull monotony of prison life the way some men do. knowing what’s about to happen everyday makes him feel strangled, makes him feel suffocated and like a cog in this endless machine of the corrupt federal system of Oklahoma.

but in the smallest part of him, the part that nobody will ever see or hear from he thinks the reason might be a bit simpler. that he just wants to remember that there are nice things out there. way, way out there. things that feel pink and golden and light the way ponyboy said there was. things like cinemas and banana splits and the cool silk of girls underwear and cigarettes that you don’t have to loose part of yourself to get. it’s not his first time in a prison, hell he attends prisons the way most people attend schools but now johnny’s gone it certainly feels like his longest sentence.

so he goes to the stupid meeting, walks along the corridor to with an officer and a gun at his heels and sits down at the scratched desk that feels altogether too small for his body. glancing around the room he’s struck by all the different sorts of men sat there: tall men, short men, old men, young men, innocent men, guilty men and he wonders where that puts him. what draws all these men together though is the hope - he can see it glinting in their hollow eyes,desperate, hungry hope.

the kind of hope you’d kill for.

the officer at the front rattles off rules though it’s clear he’s rather be anywhere else

1. no asking incriminating things like names or locations

2. no asking for things like pictures or cigarettes. if the person chooses to send it to you it’s different but you can’t ask for it

3. no using it to contact any gang friends

and that’s it, with the strict reminder that every letter is examined before being sent.

in that all too small desk he writes:

hi you,

if you’s one of those freaks writing hoping to get to talk to a real sicko you’re about to be real disappointed. mine was a real simple issue with the fucking asshole sorry we’re not supposed to say stuff like that. what i mean is i’m in here because of a little falling out with the cops. so yeah don’t be sending me vials of your blood or any witchy crap like that because i don’t want it. a pack of kools wouldn’t go remissed if you’s offering though.

i kinda wonder if we ever met before i was locked up but i doubt it. most people i know either already know someone locked up that is if they haven’t been in the jailhouse themselves so they probably wouldn’t be writing to some inmate. nah my guess is your some bleeding heart beatnik who wants to know what’s really going on behind the bars. good old commie bs. still i’d like to hear from you, don’t let my words fool you. i may be an ass but i’m a bored one so i’ll pretty much take anything.

anyways i think i’m supposed to tell you about myself or something like that so i guess i’ll do that. i like the band the monkees, paul newman because he just gets it, dairy queen sundaes, mustangs and the smell of cheap beer. christ how i miss ice cold beer, you don’t know what it’s like only get stale water and moulding milk with every meal. i’m telling you go and crack a beer open right now, one for me. also in your letter back to me tell me what stuff you like. and if you’re a guy or a girl… can’t blame a guy for wanting to know that.

thanks,

inmate 4175

he can’t lie he’s curious and strangely excited to hear from his penpal. some guys he knows have already got there’s and yeah it’s pretty infuriating the way they brag and preen about there’s. it’s even more infuriating the way his stomach sinks at breakfast every morning when there’s nothing on his bench.

but then on a rainy friday morning, he gets his letter. he wants to save it till he’s alone but patience has never been his strong suit and so he tears into reminiscent of the way a wolf hungrily tears through flesh.

dear inmate 4157,

glad to report that i have no evil powers that you need to be on the look-out for nor sick fascination of criminals (i could barely get through psycho) and most mention of any gore has me hiding my face in my hands. which now that i think about it probably isn’t the best thing to tell a criminal… but then again i don’t wanna think of you as a criminal which is silly i know but criminal is such a nasty word. it makes it sound like you did something completely wrong which i’m certain for most cases i simply isn’t that cut and dry. does that make me naive? maybe but i don’t mind.

and ouch bleeding heart beatnik that was kinda mean don’t you think? whilst i wouldn’t consider myself a beatnik, i like the colour pink too much to dedicate myself to that lifestyle, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with having empathy! that was part of the reason when i saw the flyer about the program i couldn’t help but sign up. it sounds kinda strange but i thought i could kinda connect with you. i like my life i do but it’s very ‘samey’ i talk to the same girls everyday, we all have the same opinions on things, we all go out with the same boys and are all planning on going to the same colleges as our parents. which is nice i mean i’m lucky, far luckier than most in fact but i can’t help feeling dissatisfied. the one girl i know who did break out of the box now refuses to talk about it and acts us if last year didn’t happen. secretly i’m jealous i wish i was as brave as her.

j guess this is me breaking out / rebelling in my own way, in my bedroom lit by candles writing a letter to convict which i suppose will do for now. maybe if we meet when you get out you’ll like teach me how to rob a store or something (joking!!!) and sorry i don’t fancy a beer! anyways i got side tracked from what the actual letter was supposed to be about so to answer your questions i’m a girl if that wasn’t obvious enough already and to answer whatever question you might be wondering next - no i won’t send you any pictures. but for likes, my favourite band is the beach boys (don’t laugh even though i bet you want to), audrey hepburn because she just gets it!!!!, vanilla milkshakes, peonies and the smell of the ground after it rains. i’ll stop it here though because my letter has turned out so much longer then yours so sorry about that.

bye for now,

a friend <3

the letter is - the letter is so nice which he knows sounds ridiculous but it’s true. there’s hardly anything nice in his life right now but this is truly nice. he can imagine the sort of girl that would write a letter like that, pretty and sweet and clever. the exact kind of girls who would never so much as look at him on the outside let alone talk to him and instead here she is spilling her guts out. he reads it over and over tucking into against his undershirt so that nobody else can read it. then he sets to work writing his response.

dear a friend,

is that what we’re calling each other now? pals are we? i’d tell you that’s pretty dumb of you but you’ve made it pretty clear that you’re aware so i guess it’s alright. you probably need someone to take care of you, one day someone’s gonna try and take advantage of that thing you call optimism. so just be on your guard okay? but and even though it’s the same kinda thing it did make me smile to read that you don’t think criminal means fully guilty or whatever. not many people look at it like that, the jury certainly didn’t.

on the whole your life being “samey” thing i would tell you to embrace it, that at least it sounds like you’re well provided for and looked after. the truth is though reading what you said about it makes me not think that at all. because what kinda life is it if it’s living you and not the other way. my life was the opposite of that, it was wild and chaotic but it was mine. you should do something wild, doesn’t have to be big like stealing from a store (might hold you to that offer) but you should do something. i dare you to do something and then you have to write and tell me what it was. i’m living through you right now after all.

and yeah i think i worked out that you were a girl the second you started your letter with dear. that’s a dead giveaway. anyways wasn’t gonna ask for pictures, i can already tell you’re pretty just from the things you say you like. the beach boys might need a rethink if you ask me. i mean you got the beatles and the rolling stones and you choose some guys with stupid soc haircuts and striped shorts who sing about going surfing and cars…. i’d sort that if i were you. peonies were something i’d never heard of before your letter so i visited the library here, my first time ever going in that dusty old building, and i asked the guy what they were. he just threw this yellowing book on the table in front of me and said “picture in there”. i learnt that they’re those fluffy ones that grow on big bushes. i’d seen them before. i used to pass pink ones growing in front of this masisve old white house on the nice side of town. never saw the people inside it which is good because they were probably they were probably a bunch of preppies too scared to even look at a greaser. but i mean part of me wonders if we weren’t writing to each other would you even look at me? ignore me, being in prison so long has got me overthinking stuff.

bye,

inmate 4175

which begins the friendly correspondence of dallas winston and his mystery girl. what’s great about writing to her is there’s no societal pressures, though he’s gathered she’s a soc, or worries about matching how people think guys like dallas winston should act. they talk about anything and everything and he hoards whatever he learns about her like its the most valuable jewel.

“grandiose gestures are so wonderful, i think if you were out i’d be you a bouquet of cigarettes. how’d you like that inmate 4157?”

“i think things are getting better on the outside. still your lot had a right to be angry considering the way my lot screwed them over”

“i want, no i beg even for you to give the beach boys another try. don’t worry baby is the most gorgeous song in the entire world”

and she sends things too, sweetheart that she is, packs of cigarettes, those caramels that old women keep in pockets, polaroids of her dog françoise and posters of movies that he’s mentioned liking tied up with pretty pink ribbon. he thinks johnny would of liked her, yeah johnny would of liked little miss optimism that’s for sure. every letter from her is carefully tucked away from his bunk mate and though the guys tease him, he’ll never let them read her words. the only person he tells about her properly is ponyboy when he visits.

“no i don’t think you understand kid if this girl is even half as pretty as a box of matchsticks i’d be crazy not to turn my life around and marry her in some dinky chapel out west” he whispers passionately to ponyboy one one of his visits, glancing around to make sure no one head such a soft statement and anxiously running his hands through his cropped too short hair.

ponyboy just grins, bemused at how these letters has reduced his friend to a different man altogether. “must be a pretty special girl then” he drawls knowingly.

but the letters continue, sweet as anything and then she asks something especially wonderful.

dear inmate 4157,

this isn’t my best letter. i haven’t got anything special to tell you about but i wanted to write because the truth is i’ve grown to love writing to you more than nearly anything else. you are the rebellion in my life, i hope you don’t mind and i hope you understand. most of friends don’t, they think i must be crazy to write to some greaser convict. my father kinda think your okay though so i guess that’s kinda good. anyways i’m getting sidetracked. the real reason i’m writing now is because i wondered if i could come visit you?

it’s okay if not but i desperately want to. to see you, to hear your voice, maybe take your hand if that’s allowed. i’ve imagined it all lots but i can never get it right in my head. i mean how can you imagine someone who you’ve never met but seem to know more intimately then anyone else. i hope you feel the same, i hope you aren’t dreadfully disappointed by what you see. i’ve been more hopeful then i ought to be about something that i don’t want to have to write. i want to say it to you face to face. i hope that’s okay.

yours,

your dear friend <3

it’s right at the end and beside it there a few scribbled out words as if she overthought it again and again before finally settling on asking. his letter back is short, he wants it sent as quick as possible. and to her question it says “yes”

he awaits that visit with ther nerves of a schoolboy awaiting a test, pacing his cell, splashing cool water on his face and making sure the dull grey of his jumpsuit is unbuttoned just enough to see his vest and st christopher. the bang of the guard’s truncheon against the metal of his cell bars breaks him out of it.

“out you go winston” grunts the man as dallas is carted along the corridor like cattle but all is forgotten when he sees her sat at his table.

he knew she’d be pretty but christ.

she looks too good to be sat there, her floral dress splayed out prettily as she sits, hands nervously clasping at the fabric and her hair framing her face like a dream. her expression softens into a surprises smile when she sees him sit opposite.

“dallas winston” she says quietly and his own eyes widen.

“you know who i am? thought i was supposed to tell you that angel” he says in quiet disbelief.

she laughs softly, idly wonders if he could tuck the sound beside her letter in his vest.

“oh no it’s just that everyone in tulsa knew you. i didn’t realise it was you i was writing to. goodness i probably bored you half to death with all my ramblings about flowers and whatever else i was blabbering about” she says chewing on her lip, shy expression on her features but he just shakes his head.

“nah doll i liked hearing about your world, the things that mattered to you. all flowers and shit” and he means it, desperately but even if he didn’t it’d be worth it to see the way her face lights up. she introduces herself, and “isn’t that funny?” he thinks. that to know someone the way he knows her and yet to not even know her name.

then she’s looking at him again, eyes wide and hopeful before speaking and her hands now toy with a silver locket at her neck “well that’s - um - that’s good. the thing that i wanted to talk to you about - well the thing i was hopeful about - about you was that maybe um - i could write to you not just as friend. if you feel the same that is…”

a grin cracks across his face. there she is - the girl he’s had countless foolish dreams of, the girl who’s letters he’s cradled like precious gold and who knows more about him then he probably knows about himself - sat before him with a shy little smile on her face asking if they could go steady.

he’s an asshole though and so he can’t help but tease her ever so slightly “nah don’t think that’s gonna work doll” and yeah he gets a confidence kick from the way her features fall as if the thought of him not wanting her is upsetting, as if he ain’t lucky just to breathe in her perfume (something sweet and floral - he hopes she’ll spray some on his next letter for him). quickly he glances at the guards which since they’re not looking he leans over and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze.

“ah cool it duchess it’s only not gonna work cause i get out on account of good behaviour next month. just making sure that you know i’d want you to be my girl when we’re both on the outside too…”

he decides it was worth it to tease her if only to see the way her smile returns, bright as sunlight and twice as warming.

“yeah i’d like that dallas” she says softly just as the guard calls visiting time over.

and as he’s walking back to his cell he thinks ponyboy might be right, there are nice things out there…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(For comic inspired AU... I think I'll call it "Mysterious dreams". Also... I'll be separating it in parts, okay? Just so it doesn't... get too long)

(And sorry first post is that long-. This was needed to set this all)

Part 1. The beginning.

For everyone around him, Adam never stood out. He was a normal guy, really. He worked as a lawyer (surprisingly enjoying his work), played in band with some people, he knew since high school, sometimes got out to some extreme activities on his free time, went to local garden to help out during warmer time. He was more of a loner, not many real friends, but it was okay.

He always seemed just another face in the crowd. But it was all he wanted to be really.

Nearing 30, he had everything he wished to have in his life. He had standard routine, but he never complained. If anything... it gave him feeling of control of his life. And it was enough for him.

This evening was just like any other. Adam was at his home, sitting with some documents for upcoming case at work, while his favorite show was playing on background. Rounding up at 11 PM, the man was already in bed, ready for good night's rest like always...But little did he know this day was going to change his life forever...

Deep into the night, Adam started to hear a weird music play in his room... it almost sounded like... a lullaby?

Kids' music? In my room? He thought to himself, slowly opening his eyes to see... he wasn't in his room anymore.

Adam : What..?

Now, it was a room with many beds. Walls were colored in pastel yellow, while floor had colorful puzzle patterns. On one of the walls, he could see a big blue circle with two white birds with long rainbow tails. The wording over it said "Songbirds daycare".

Was it the name of where he was? But... why was he at a DAYCARE of all places? He wasn't a child for instance! It didn't make any sense!

Adam : The hell..?

Then he noticed something. He put his hand on his mouth for a second, before slowly moving it away from it.

Adam : The hell is with my voice..?!

It was now higher... too high for his normal voice. It sounded like... a toddler's voice... at oldest. He looked down in fear on his hands. Also too small for normal. Too soft and pudgy than what they normally were.

Adam got out of bed, he was sitting in, before looking around. Across the room, he saw a mirror, before running to it to inspect himself...

But there wasn't him that was looking at him in reflection... but rather... a little toddler boy, if he was to guess, he'd give that boy 2 and half years of age. 3 at oldest. And yet... he recognized his own yellow, nearly golden eyes and brown hair. And yet, he now was a small child, wearing simple black shirt and white shorts.

Adam : ...the fuck is happening..?

? : Ah, there you are!

Adam gasped slightly, before turning around to see... a man. A normal man, but... compared to himself, he was a giant. Nothing, other than his height, was abnormal about him, but Adam took a notice of his shirt. Same image of birds and "Songbirds daycare" sign. Was it the place's work uniform? Was this man one of workers?

Daycare worker (Oliver) : Oh, what we have here? Did you wake up from your nap, Adam?

Now that was getting freaky... how did he know his name!?

Adam : Um... I...

The man just chuckled, kneeling down to pick up the (physically) small boy, much to Adam's surprise.

Adam : Hey! What are you doing?! Put me down!

Oliver : Oops, somebody woke up grumpy, isn't he? Ah, don't worry, kiddo, let's just get your spare outfit and you can go back to play! How does it sound?

Adam : What?! NO! Let me go! The fuck is going on in here?! Why am I so small?! Who are you?! How are yo-?!

But while Adam was having his panic attack, Oliver had time to get a bottle and place it in his mouth. And, what seemed to be instinct, Adam started to suck on the bottle and drinking the liquid inside of it.

Oliver : There we go... you were also hungry, aren't you? Yep, that's right... don't worry, little man, there's nothing some warm milk won't fix...

Adam, thinks : The hell is wrong with me?! Why can't I stop?! Well... it's not half bad, I guess..? But still... Why is he... talking to me like this? He sure can hear me... does... he not understand me..?

This all was weird...

(And he doesn't. None of adults within dreams can)

@adambrainrot

((Oh so this is Adams dream? Is he waking up in a dream in another life as a toddler and when he wakes up for real he's back to normal? That's so cool!!))

Oliver removed the bottle when Adam drained it, he moved him to his shoulder and gently rubbed and patted his back until Adam gave a small burp.

Oliver: There we go! All fed and ready to play. All your little friends are awake and ready to play with you again.

Adam: What friends?

Oliver took Adam out of the nap room and placed him in a playing area. There were at least 10-15 other toddlers around the same age Adam was being portrayed as right now.

Adam: What fresh Hell is this?

[redesigningxmen]

REDESIGNING MAGIK

Welcome to Limbo! Our group chose Illyana Rasputina, the marvelous Magik for this round! Introduced as the younger sister of Colossus, Magik joined the 80s New Mutants team as a young teen and has since flourished into an A-Lister in her own right. She's been a member of the Phoenix Five, Cyclops' renegade X-Men squad, the Krakoan New Mutants, and the 2022 X-Men team.

She has several inspiration points for artists and redesigners to pull from. She's most well-known for her all-black 2012 look but has also sported demonic and fantasy influences as someone connected to the hellish Limbo and her malevolent alter ego, the Darkchylde.

See what our enthusiastic and talented team of artists did this round, and make sure to follow them on social media for more fantastic art!

(The handles presented after artists names are their Twitter handles, but many use the same name on other platforms!)

Léa Dupic | @/kimodraw

"I went full speed ahead into medieval land and dressed Illyana in a full metal shiny armour, putting emphasis on her sword bearing arm with a biiiig spiky shoulder pad. Gave her a punk lesbian haircut while keeping her iconic bangs, because I think she should be allowed to be more of a punk lesbian. And I couldn't resist adding a touch of demon form with the horns. She's gloomy she's menacing she's spiky and shiny she's the girl of my dreams."

Giovanni Saroldi | @/RaulGiova 

"Just like matter, let’s give ‘Yana three states! Solid, liquid, gas? Kinda, not quite! From angelic to demonic, with her main form being the in-between totality of herself, where she can draw whichever power she needs.

It’s geometric, it’s chic, it’s retro-futuristic Terry Moore with the Horns of Galaxy The Prettiest Star meets Ludmilla from Bartok mid-transformation."

John Caden | @/johncaden64 

"I've always felt the Bachalo design was great, but could get very male-gazey.  I tried to make it more comfortable, while also keeping the same goth feel.  I do feel she needs to just go all-in goth, so let's shave her head, get some thick black mascara and commit to the bit! "

John Marsh | @/pastelrake

"What if Illyana had been a Russian figure skater?"

Joe Pryde | @/joeprydecosplay

"My inspiration for this design came from the idea of “what if Magik was an elder emo” complete with Kristen Stewart fem mullet, high waist buckled tights, and sleeveless crop top hoodie. I also wanted to pay homage to previous designs."

Haydn | @/ThatsSoHaydn 

"I had but one simple thought: What if the Soul Sword was a rapier? And thus fencing Magik was born. I wanted the geometric shapes of the dark bodysuit to contrast with the curves of the golden armor, whilst still adding a little magic and mystery with her cloak and mask. "

Dale Yaddow | @/DaleYaddow

Version 1 "The Savage Magik". Having been stripped of her magical knowledge, Illyana Rasputin hunts down various enchanted artifacts to replace what she's lost. Becoming desperate she seems to be willing to steal and sometimes kill to get these talismans. Among these are the Soul Dagger of Pixie, the medallion of Daimon Hellstrom, Holy bands from "Heven" and a cursed skull from an alternate version of Lockheed.

Version 2 "Mistress Magik" This is an older more seductive Magik that's been corrupted by the influence of Selene and embraced her sensuality, opening up a whole new avenue of mystical arts that she hadn't dared explore before. She now uses her SoulSword to capture the essences of her foes and much like Selene feeds on them keeping her young and vital.

Version 3 "Magik, Queen of Hell" Many questioned the logic of Magik giving Limbo to Madelyne Prior but the end game has been revealed. Illyana allowed Madelyne to tether her magic to Limbo, knowing eventually "Maddie" would get greedy and begin bringing more power to that dimension. With a carefully hidden clause in the Limbo transference spell Magik takes back Limbo and all the power within it and successfully overthrows all the Hell Lords, unifying the many dreaded dimensions under one fearsome rule, hers.

Anthony Ruiz | @/thwwipstickers

"Almost as soon as Magik was decided on for this design challenges I had two ideas strike me simultaneously ... The first of those ideas was the image of Illyana as a 90's Riot(ish) on the cover of a Magazine. I wanted to give her an edgy grungy vibe but still pay homage to her Demonic nature.

Shortly after Finishing my first Design I just knew I had to make my second idea come to life.

What if Illyana was an Anime Mech Pilot and Wore a Plugsuit... thats it... thats the idea. I really wanted to strike the Balance between Anime Plugsuit but still being noticeably Magik and X-men.

I kept the Bright yellow Color scheme with hints of black and red and chose to interpret her Armored arm into a Mechanized oversize cybernetic arm that helps fuel her Plasma Powered Soul sword that springs forth from her Gauntlet."

Isaiah Cox | @/isaiahbeenlost

"When designing my Magik look, I wanted to expand on ideas I had when drawing her a couple years ago by keeping her look sleek, yet scary stylish! So, I referenced a lot of Castlevania and Yoshiaki Kawajiri designs to get that cool anime look for her down! I plucked some fashion inspirations for the costume from places like: Mugler, Alexander McQueen, LaQuan Smith, JRPG rogues and medieval accessories! And for her new soul sword, I decided to give her an Odachi because since she already lived her Cloud Strife fantasy starting from the Bendis-era, I thought it was time for her to live her Sephiroth moment with this giant Japanese sword!"

David J Hughes | @/0ddeity

"I think with Magik I started out pretty traditional for her. Then I got to thinking our Russian Queen deserves a Mugler-esque fit. I wanted to go down the knight or warrior route, but then I thought ‘What If’ this was an AU Illyana raised by Patch and she got all of Logan’s training rather than Kitty and Jubilee, or, alongside them. So, bham, Oni-demon menpo mask and samurai elements on top of the Mugler flair."

Fleshmonk | @/fleshmonk

"Went through a bunch of design iterations, but settled on this cool plasticky vinyl plugsuit like version of Magik. I gave her a bob to mature her a bit and to move her towards a new silhouette."

Joshua Bruckner | @/joshingtonbear

"I took a bit from Magik's more armored designs, which I've always liked the most, and her goth jock aesthetic, and blended them. I rejected the Bachalo booty shorts in favor of a skirt, which gives her a bit of a 'cheerleader from hell' look."

Seye Sanyaolu | @/seye_art

"My intention for this redesign was Magik in a very dystopian future and so I imagined a 3/4 darkchylde Illyana that is in control of her self and powers (although almost lost it). In this future, most of the X-Men are gone and Illyana keeps a worn and frayed X-jacket on for the nostalgia :’)"

[rjalker]

A wild Public Domain character appeared!

It's a griffon!

You are encouraged to download the original HD file here from the Internet Archive, and share however and wherever you want! Public domain means no copyright at all, so you can use this art and character for anything you want!

[ID: digital drawing of a griffon character against a grey background in three parts: A full body picture facing the side, a close up of the face, symetrical and pointing at the camera, and two simple drawings of wings, showing the upper and undersides. The front body of the griffon is of an eagle with tufted ears, and covered with blue-black feathers, and the back half is of a lion, with darker blue-grey fur, and black feet. The face of the griffon has striking purple markings trailing from the beak, below the eyes, up to the tufted ears, which are mottled vibrant purple and royal blue, with brighter purple eyespots in the center for a dramatic display. The claws on the lion feet and front bird legs, as well as the beak, are yellowy-brown. The undersides of the wings are blue-grey and paler grey, with simple bands of color, and black at the top. The upper sides of the wings are black with grey speckles. End ID.]

This mysterious griffon's true name is unknown, lost to the haze of time, and is now known only as Thunderclap, for the sound its wings make when it takes off again after catching prey—the only time it is ever seen. The rest of the time it is in its home that lies somewhere, and somewhen atop the the nearby mountain range. Many people have gone looking for its nest, but none have ever found it.

Some say that if you leave out an offering of goat's cheese (its favorite!) and sing its favorite song, Thunderclap will appear, and let you ride on its back, allowing you to travel to the past or the future until you decide it's time to return home. Then you just offer it more cheese and sing its favorite song again, and it will return to bring you home.

The only problem is, no one can figure out what its favorite song is. Many have tried singing every song they can think of, but none of them seem to do the trick.

The obvious conclusion is that Thunderclap's favorite song simply hasn't been written yet...

If you enjoy the idea of this public domain character and want to see more like it, you can donate to help Adel Al-Areer and his children!

For every $1 donated, you can send me a character design request, and I'll draw it!

I can draw animals, people, maybe even scenery if you describe it enough! Any art and characters I make will be public domain, which means there will be no copyright at all — anyone can use them for anything!

You can see the lineart bases I've already made here on the Internet Archive — and you can download them to make your own character, too!

Fun fact: the lineart for the fullbody griffon was taken from a scan of a medieval manuscript:

[ID: A medieval illustration of a golden griffon in the same pose as above, painted to be standing on green grass with a blue sky in the background. The image has a golden frame around it. End ID.]

[nikichan234]

WHOOOAAA- after hemming and hawing over it for a while, I finally decided to post my takes on Cain and Abel for Hazbin Hotel!!

I’ve been thinking about these two an unhealthy amount, so here they are- the human versions, and then their versions in Hell hehe~ Below I have more in-depth reasonings behind their designs and the story I have given for them both~

Starting off let’s start with Abel!! The youngest little man here we go!!

For Abel- I really wanted him to take after Adam a lot. He resembles him the most, inheriting his brown hair, possibly build as well, and relatively taking after him a bit in personality as well just a little bit, mostly in being pretty prideful (which isn’t hard to do when you’re Heaven’s, and objectively your dad’s, favorite kid oops-). Not much to say on his human design, he’s pretty dang simple, so let’s get into his demon side shall we?

Now- Abel I imagine is in hell, which is like. Vaguely confirmed when Sera brings up the fact that Adam was the first human soul in Heaven. Now, frankly, while that’s most likely a throw away line, I wanna imagine that there’s a genuine reason that Abel ended up in hell, and I wanna say he became a little sinful in his life and that gave him his one way ticket to Hell.

With being the golden child of Heaven and his family, I wanna think he became a bit too prideful and arrogant about it, and with everyone around him basically being a yes-man to him, he just sorta internalized it and ran with it (parallels to Adam?? Yes.) While I imagine he wasn’t like a complete asshole, and has a good heart deep down, it just wasn’t enough, and the boy woke up in Hell.

For his demon design, I wanted to keep it fairly simple and give him a sheep/ram motif since 1. Being a shepherd, he’s around sheep and rams, and 2. a play on the whole ‘sacrificial lamb’ because he was the first ever victim of murder? Lots of fun to play with. He’s got a little sheep tail, possibly some furry haunches he keeps sheared to wear pants, and little cloven feet. I’m not the most satisfied with it, since it’s my first time doing something like this, but I’m fairly happy with how he looks. Little sheep boy we love~ I will probably redesign him before the year is over I swear-

And- for the wildest part, I wanna say he took after Adam in more ways than one and is in a rather popular rock band in Hell. I wanna imagine maybe Adam passed down his love of music/singing to his sons, as a treat, and Abel just kinda went with it since well. What else can ya do, gotta make a living doing something. He goes by his stage name commonly, to make sure no one knows he’s the son of Adam- the guy responsible for a lot of demon death. He’s not particularly strong, so keeping his head low and the truth of his lineage a secret is very very important for him.

I also imagine his time in Hell has seriously humbled him, so he’s much less arrogant and just living his life down there. He’s realized his own wrongs and is just trying his best to keep on living. Only big downside is he has to consistently go through new band members as some do get killed in the exterminations, thanks a lot Adam :|

~~

And now for Cain

For Cain, I like him taking after Eve the most, so I decided to go with a more dirty-blond hair look. I do HC Eve as looking similar, if not identical, to Lilith so lighter hair was a must- and not only that, but with the theories of Cain being Lucifer’s son, I did wanna give a little nod towards that as well (and give Adam some subconscious reasons to favor his younger son over Cain whooopsie-)

I also gave him freckles because those are for me, as a treat.

I didn’t exactly want Cain to be vengeful and full of pure evil, I love those versions of him very much, but I wanted to play with the regret and remorse aspect a bit more, as well as the whole redemption thing. So in my HC’s Cain killed Abel in his fit of rage and jealousy, but once he’s off on his own and cursed by Heaven to wander alone with his immortality, he does genuinely start to regret it. At first of course he blames Heaven, his dad, Abel, anyone else but himself, but as the years drag on, he does genuinely begin to regret and repent for it.

Of course the damage is done, and his spawns are unfortunately evil, but he does work hard to repent for his mistakes, and once he inevitably does die much much later on, he’s genuinely repented enough so that he is at first granted access into Heaven. Heaven is technically all about redemption and all for humanity, so I think it’d be fun to flip the scripts a bit and let Cain just taste something good like that, all that hard work did pay off.

But unfortunately for him, a certain someone is (very) the slightest bit pissed off that he got up there when his brother didn’t and took it upon himself to send Cain to Hell personally.

Because I enjoy ✨family drama✨ very much. That’s for meeee-

Because of that he’s just kind of a little guy, got some cool horns, clawed hands, just a little guy doin his best. Cain generally just kind of keeps to himself and does his own thing. Due to his lineage, he also goes by a different name to avoid people making the connection between him and Adam as well. While he probably would have a few sinners going for him since he’s the first murderer and that could possibly get him some good street cred, it could also be very bad for him, so he really just keeps to himself and does his best to avoid other demons as much as possible. I imagine he would be rather powerful as well, and could hold his own very easily in Hell, but he prefers to just be left alone so you’d never know how powerful he truly is.

I also say he enjoys plants. While he also got the music treatment, he prefers to just grow various types of plants in his home and possibly sells some different ones as well. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work. Got his temper still, but now he’s just kind of living his life and avoiding people the best he can.

-

Now- I also wanna imagine both brothers do have some sort of relationship with each other as well when they’re in Hell together. They do eventually run into each other, both are shocked seeing the other there, and they have plenty of time to talk about everything.

It’s not the closest in the world, but Cain sincerely apologized for his actions when they were alive, and Abel did forgive him, so now they do chat a bit about their jobs, small things here and there, and are relatively polite towards each other. Not best friends or anything like that, but they can hold good conversations and joke around a bit. Cain also gives Abel plants as house warming gifts and such, and sometimes Abel can’t tell if the plants are genuine or if it’s a thinly veiled threat due to some being a bit more dangerous than others- but he appreciates it nonetheless~

[mariaswords]

Songwriter Tag

I created this songwriter tag for every songwriter out there, so people can get to know artists more :) this is my take on it !

1. Name and stage name

My name is Maria, and my stage name is just my real name, duh, which is Maria Andreu. I never really thought of making one up, so it's just my real name.

2. Where are you from and where are you based now?

I am from Zaragoza, Spain, but right now I'm living in Paris. I went there to do my master's (which I already finished) and have to go back for an internship after the summer. It's also where the studio I record in is located.

3. First song you ever wrote — what was it about?

I wrote my first real song (not little melodies I would write when I was a kid) when I was 15 called "Not A Good Actress". It's supposed to be pop-rock influenced, and talks about wanting to be with someone so bad, but having to hide it from your friends when you go out because it is impossible for you to be with that person, and they wouldn't understand (obviously aha). I wrote it the same night I went out at around 2 a.m. in the morning. Then the next day I opened garage band and tried to come up with some kind of instrumental (total fail)... hopefully someday I'll be able to record it and release it :).

4. Your favorite lyric you've ever written

I really like this verse that I wrote for a song called "Summertime Affair":

I pulled the trigger and ran away / Cause nothing is sweeter / Than what could’ve been, or what I had, and left. // Reading my little life away / I wrote in the sideline / Got lost in the timeline, tried to understand

I think it speaks volumes about how a break up sometimes goes when you leave someone... and in the end you star questioning more your own ways than theirs.

5. What's a song that changed your life?

Okay, this is going to be very basic... but so true. "All Too Well" by Taylor Swift did make me want to, firstly, write more personal and detailed lyrics, secondly (more importantly), learn guitar. If it hadn't been for that song, I wouldn't have picked up the guitar in the first place... really happy I did though, because I'm still not really good but it helps a lot with performing.

6. Who are your biggest songwriting influences?

I mean, again, Taylor Swift !! Cannot stress that enough ! Mostly her albums Red, Folklore and Evermore. I also love Golden Hour (the album)'s songwriting by Kacey Musgraves... the way she puts things in such a simple way, but still so poetic ! I mean, Lana Del Rey (Norman Fucking Rockwell, again the album, is a masterpiece)... yeah, mostly those artists I'd say.

7. Pen and paper or notes app?

I'm all for physical, old-fashioned ways... but for this one I must say digital. Although, I don't really use the notes app that much (except if I get an idea when I'm out, which often happens) — I normally go for pages on my laptop, with a black document and a cursive, kind of romantic, font. I do that because it makes it feel more intense, and I'm all for intensity aha.

8. Chords first or lyrics first?

Moooost of the times lyrics first. I actually feel that I write my best songs when it's lyrics first. BUT, because (and only because), I'm trying to get better at guitar, I kinda force myself to come up with melodies for different chord progressions and streaming patterns. I would say my favorite songs have come up with some lyrics first that keep being written as I come up with a melody.

9. Go-to instrument when writing?

Guitar. Most of my songs can probably be performed with only a guitar (at least for now...). But ngl, I mostly write songs with a beat in the background, so I only look for the chords on guitar if I want to perform it somewhere.

10. Weirdest place you've written a song?

Most of my songs have been written on my bed aha (how rare...). I can only think of three that I've written in either the airport ("You Used To Call Me At the Airport"), or in buses and stations ("The Girl You Want" and "Murky Waters").

11. What's a recurring thing in your music?

I would say summer love... I write a lot of summer related things, except for summer hits lmao (okay, not a good one). It's actually crazy because I was working on this project and I wrote, like, five or six songs in a week, and I didn't realize until almost the end of it that five out of those had the word "summer" in the title and talked about a summer love, when I was not even experiencing one myself ! I think I'm brainwashed by Call Me By Your Name and Grease...

12. Your dream collaborator (alive or not)

Jack Antonoff. Do I even have to specify?

13. A line from a song you wish you wrote

Pfff, honestly the entire lyrics of "Mariners Apartment Complex" by Lana Del Rey, one of my favorite song of all time. Also, the entire bridge of "Peter" by Taylor Swift... there's so many of her, I couldn't just pick one to be fair.

14. Favorite genre(s) to write in

Pop. That's what I mostly listen to. Now, there's so many branches within pop, so I would say acoustic pop, pop rock and country pop. Although I want to start writing more "dance pop", with some synth, but I find it hard to write lyrics I'm proud of and still try to make it a "dance pop hit"... I'm still figuring that out.

15. What do you hope people feel when they hear your music?

Well, it obviously depends on the song... but I would say, as an overall, I want them to think deep about the lyrics. I love when a song can have multiple meanings depending on the things the person listening to is going through. I love when you can personalize a song to make it have a meaning that's only yours. If I can ever achieve that, then I'm all set tbh aha.

16. Any projects coming up?

I don't really know aha. I mean, something to be released probably not in the next two to three months (at least not on big platforms, maybe Soundcloud). I'm still writing things, trying to figure out my unique sound... the next period is going to be more about contracts and pitching myself (I hope), more than actually releasing. If that doesn't work out, then I guess I'll be releasing some stuff. Everything is pretty uncertain, but I'll keep this online diary updated :). What you can check tho is my YouTube channel, where I film rough demos of original songs and I'll maybe start posting some covers of other songs... we'll see where the wind blows aha.

thank you so much if you read the entire thing :). if you're a songwriter you're totally free to do this tag. also, I'd love to get to know more people into songwriting, so feel free to reach outttt !

all the love ♡.

[amber-tortoiseshell]

A completely self-indulgent imaginary rework of the EMS system

The EMS is a good system. I like it. I'm glad it exists.

I still think it has stupid parts, and i'd change a few codes if I could.

1. Base colors

The letters are all over the place. Why is red and cream put between the eumelaninistic variant colors? Why is there a big gap in the lettering after j? I know historically why black is n, but i still don't like it. So my suggestion would be:

a - black

b - blue

c - chocolate

d - lilac

e - cinnamon

f - fawn

g - red

h - cream

w - white (white is a freak, it can get it's own letter from the end of the alphabet)

These are the ones usually deemed as base colors. If this ever changes, the new colors can get the letter i, j, k and l.

More simple genes get a color modifier letter after the base color's:

m - caramel

n - sunshine and other bimetal-type golden variants (corin)

o -

p - phoenix (if i'm right with it not changing the nose color)

q - karpati

r - recessive red variants (amber, russet, serdolic; i group them together for now, since they are all restricted to one breed and don't compete; if they become more widespread, they'd probably need an own number) (mc1r)

s - silver/smoke

t - tortoiseshell

Golden doesn't get a letter, because wide band is denoted in the numbering.

2. White spotting

This is the least organised part of the EMS coding. It'd completely overthrow it, and probably rework again when we finally have all the genetics understood.

01 - locket, belly spot ect (very low grade white, no ws allele)

02 - white attributed to DBE. ONLY if there's no other type of white spotting.

03 - glove (wgwg ONLY)

04 - salmiakki (wsal/wsal ONLY)

05 - low white (~09 now, and mitted and snowshoe are here too, doesn't get different code until proven different allele)

06 - intermediate white, bicolor

07 - high white, harlequin, van

09 - indeterminable white spotting

3. Wide band

11 - low wide band (golden/silver tabby)

12 - medium wide band (golden/silver shaded/tipped)

13 - high wide band (golden/silver shell/chinchilla)

A black golden ticked tabby would be a 11 25.

4. Tabby pattern

You know, i'm content with this one. I wouldn't touch it, it's good as it is.

5. Color restriction

Same. Mocha could be added as 34, but that'll likely happen anyway.

6. Charcoal

I'd introduce this as an extra letter. It'll probably need some rework when the genetics clear out.

41 - midnight charcoal

42 - twilight charcoal

So. For example a light amber tortoiseshell smoke bicolor would be brst 05, a cinnamon golden tipped tabby would be e 12 21?, a black mink rosetted charcoal would be a 24 32 41.

[emi-thestarlightsapphic]

What’s in your rehearsal bag?

This is actually so fun, because my bag is incredibly universal for like so many different things. This is my current bag inventory, but throughout seasons, it might adjust depending on what I’m doing! I use a very large tote for my rehearsal bag that has nice little sections! It’s hard to believe that I have like, all this stuff on me, but it by a miracle fits.

1. My Laptop/Charger. Pretty Simplistic. Universal object for everything lol

2. My Stage Manager Bible. For an upcoming show. This is going to include my copy of the script, blocking notes, rehearsal notes, contact sheets, etc. Anything that I might need to reference on the fly for rehearsals or meetings.

3. My ASM Notebook! This is for my current show and it contains all my prop notes, backstage layout map, my run of the show, the set and prop plots, contact sheets, and notes on the tracks that I’ve created for crew members.

4. Sheet Music Binder! This is my binder with all my sheet music for voice lessons, my college choir/orchestra group, upcoming recitals/showcases/cabarets. It’s also like. My audition book. So it has a copy of my headshot and resume, with a table of contents dividing my non-choir music into like contemporary, golden age, etc genres. I keep my choir music in the back so that I can just keep all sheet music in one place

5. My Script/Score! This is my actors script/score that I have for an upcoming show I’m doing that I’m already beginning to highlight and mark so that I can be ready for rehearsals!

6. Water Bottle. My best friend, my lifeline. Stay hydrated. This category can probably also include a small snack or occasionally like a wrapped sandwich for a grab and go lunch/dinner.

7. Accessories/Hygiene. This is a nice little category for like. Dance shoes, gauntlets, hair ties, a baggie for jewelry that I might need to take off, a light body spray, hair brush, deodorant, face mask, simple makeup supplies (mascara, eyeliner, lip stain)

8. Mini Toolkit. Scissors, tiny tape measure, pencils/pens, a tiny ruler for a straight-edge, mini flashlight, safety pins, and one of those like Swiss-army pocket tool things.

9. First-Aid. Any medications I use, pain meds, cough drops, throat spray, my inhaler, feminine products, a couple of band-aids.

10. The Basics. My apartment key, wallet, car keys.

11. Trinkets. I don’t even want to explain this category lol. Sometimes I find cool little things that inspire me, or catch my eye and in it goes. Sometimes during tech week, it’ll be little things I use to decorate my stage manager station/dressing rooms

And that’s about it? That’s everything that goes into my rehearsal bag! I think that this mostly just shows that I’m overly prepared for almost every potential situation lol.

[sluttyforpascal]

(Anti-) Hero - Joel Miller x OC

Chapter 1 - Welcome to Texas

Summary: September 2002. In the aftermath of her father's death, Jess Young travels to Austin. With her life enough in shambles as it is, her goals are simple: sort through her father's possessions and then sell the Texan home. Things in life are never that simple, though. Especially not when her father's friend-and neighbor from across the street-tries to keep an eye on her. Joel is a total piece of ass, which is highly distracting Jess from said goals. Will Joel capture Jess' heart... And panties? 😈

Warnings: Joel being hot AF, but sadly that's it (for now...).

Wordcount: 6k.

Author’s note: Ahhh Joel Miller... I. Am. Obsessed. I couldn't help myself and somehow this idea for yet another multichapter monster emerged. There's much filth that needs to be written. 🥵🔥 A special thanks to my dear friend @fizzyxcustard, who listens to me rambling about my Joel obession. You mean the world to me!! 🥰🥰❤

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

-Seneca

Thursday 26th of September, 2002.

The taxi had brought her from the Austin International Airport to the suburbs of the city and though Jess usually enjoyed taking in the scenery along the route or talking to the cab driver, today she would not even have noticed if a purple elephant had been rampaging across the street. Even the cab driver—a handsome guy named Earl—had fallen silent, for his client was too distraught to even tell him who she was visiting or where she was from.

As she sat on the worn backseat and vaguely registered Nickelback’s ‘How you remind me’ coming from the stereo, the synthetic fabric burned against her bare legs—the Texan heat making it even more uncomfortable. Jess suppressed a groan and shifted in her seat. She knew she should have opted for her long sundress, but the denim shorts and flimsy Metal band-shirt she wore instead were rather comfortable; it made her feel safe within herself. And though Jess had spent the first years of her life in the south, apparently it was easy to forget how unforgiving the Texan sun could be—hence her current, uncomfortable state.

‘It’s hot today, don’t you think darlin’?’ Earl tried, his last attempt to engage in a polite conversation with the lady. ‘Yeah,’ Jess agreed, her deep blue eyes fixated on the back of the seat in front of her. She heaved a sigh, feeling a bit guilty she hadn’t obliged in some casual banter earlier. ‘I hadn’t expected it to last. October is right around the corner.’ ‘Summer’s not your favorite season, then?’ Earl asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror. His handsome hazel eyes observed her with interest. ‘You strike me as a lazy summer type of gal.’ Jess chuckled at that. ‘No, I am not.’ ‘Christmas, then?’ She momentarily thought of her mother and her overfondness of Christmas decorations, and shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’ ‘Spring?’ Earl tried. ‘No? Are you more of a Halloween and pumpkin flavored drinks type of lady?’ ‘Yeah, I do love fall.’ Jess caved in as she brushed her long, raven curls over one shoulder before glancing outside. She recognised the block they were driving on, which meant they were almost there. ‘What about yourself?’ ‘I like all seasons,’ the cab driver replied with a grin, and it made her wonder briefly if Earl was one of those people who liked to stay impartial on most topics—either too scared to make a bad impression or too dumb to function. ‘Every season has its benefits,’ Earl went on, stopping at a red light. ‘But if you’re makin’ me choose, I would pick summer. I like the warm weather and the late night parties that come with it… Where we smoke somethin’, if you know what I mean.’

Jess eyed his golden curls, and a small smile tugged on the corner of her lips. ‘Are you abusing substances that you shouldn’t, good sir?’ She quipped. ‘Nah,’ Earl countered. ‘Just the occasional bit of pot, you know. To chill.’ ‘I hear you.’ ‘Really?’ Earl said, watching her through his rearview mirror again. His hazel eyes flashed with interest. ‘You smoke?’ ‘Just the occasional bit of weed,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘A bad habit I picked up in highschool, mostly to annoy my mother.’

Their conversation was cut short, for they had arrived at the end of the street and consequently her father’s home. Earl stopped the car in the curve of the cul-the-sac and took in the suburban bungalow. Jess’ father had painted it in a faded blue color awhile ago and the color went nicely with the low, gray roof, white painted window sills and the patch of grass stretching out before it. Even the red Ford F-250 that was still parked in the driveway matched the color scheme nicely. ‘Nice place,’ Earl remarked. ‘Is it yours?’

Technically, it was. Or would be soon. But since Jess didn’t want to share the details of her life with a practical stranger, she settled for the easy answer. ‘No, it’s my dad’s,’ she replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the cab door. ‘I’m staying here for just a while.’

Earl got from his seat to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk of the car, while Jess gathered her bag from the backseat before following him. She slammed the door behind her and eyed the silent street while waiting for her baggage. It was around half past three, the sun just coming down from its daily peak. Since it was a Thursday most of the neighborhood was at work, except the elderly couple sitting in the shade of their front yard across the street—the Adlers, if she remembered it right. They had been at the funeral.

‘Hi sweetheart!’ Mister Adler called as he waved enthusiastically her way. Jess couldn’t help but smile at that and waved back.

‘Here,’ Earl said, directing her attention back again. ‘Here’s your suitcase.’ ‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘What do I owe you?’ ‘Twenty bucks?’ he said with a laugh, though he had driven her all the way from the airport which must have cost her much more than just twenty dollars. Earl watched her retrieve the money from her purse. ‘And…’ he continued after he had accepted the money, scratching the stubble on his chin. ‘Maybe I can call you sometime, y’know?’

The move was cheesy, but sweet. Her first instinct was to decline—she had a fiancé, after all—but then the realization hit her. Like her dad, Adam wasn’t in her life anymore.

‘Sure,’ she said with a nod and rummaged through her bag again, now for her notebook and a pen. She scribbled her phone number on the paper and tore it from the book. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘That’s my cell.’ ‘You got a mobile phone?’ he remarked as he accepted the piece of paper. ‘Nice.’

There was a small awkward silence, in which both of them didn’t know what to say. Jess shuffled on her feet, unsure how to continue. ‘I have to go,’ Earl finally said. ‘Have to get back to the city. I’ll call ya, okay?’ She nodded and watched as he got in his car, started the engine and turned in the cul-the-sac. Forcing herself to smile, she waved her ride goodbye as he disappeared in the street.

Then, she paused at the front of the yard—keys in one hand and her suitcase in the other. She knew she was stalling, but she granted herself a few seconds regardless. For entering her dad’s home like she owned the place, meant also accepting the fact that he truly was gone.

Dad’s place looked exactly like how they had left it the day after the funeral. Jess dumped her suitcase under the staircase in the small hallway, and moved to the living room on her right. She eyed the sparse furniture—her dad had been a practical man, not needing more than a television, comfortable chair, a couch no one sat on and a small dining table.

She heaved a sigh and moved through the living room into the kitchen, where the breakfast bowl she had used on the morning after the funeral still stood in the kitchen’s sink and a forgotten glass of water sat on the counter. Mom had been eager to catch their plane, pushing her daughter and daughter’s fiancé to hurry up.

Jess leaned against one of the bar stools, half expecting her father’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, excited to see her. ‘I miss you, dad,’ she mumbled, a lump forming in her throat. Her fingers traced aimless circles over the stone kitchen counter. ‘Wish you were here… You’d know what to do with me…’

The silence was deafening. ‘Please,’ Jess whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Her fingers faltered. ‘I… I don’t know what to do, dad… You’re gone and he—’

She couldn’t bear to say the words out loud, for the memory was still too fresh. Her chest burned, like someone had ripped her heart out of her cage. Adam had betrayed her, and the worst thing about it was that she hadn’t seen it coming. At all.

Diiiing.

‘Shit,’ Jess mumbled, quickly rubbing away the tears from her cheeks before making her way through dad’s home to the hall. Why mister Adler already was calling on her after she had been here for just five minutes was beyond her, but because she wasn’t exactly familiar with the neighborhood it would be wise to be on her best behavior. So when she opened the door, she was surprised to not find mister Adler, but Sarah Miller standing on her porch.

Jess knew the thirteen year old a bit, for their dads had been best pals from the moment the Millers had moved into one of the homes across the road—now six years ago. Though Jess’ father was twenty years Joels’ senior, the Millers had been quick to adopt her father as a part of their family and as a consequence, Jess had heard much about the family before even meeting them in person. Apparently Joel was a single father who had just started as an independent contractor in the construction business and Sarah was this quiet kid that—upon closer inspection—turned out to be equally funny and smart. So when Jess finally visited her father a few months after the Miller families’ arrival, she had expected to meet a typical American dad and his bright daughter. But as it turned out, her father had left one important detail out.

Joel Miller was anything but the typical American dad: he was a total piece of ass and he didn’t even know it… With his dark, tousled hair, his deep brown eyes, scruffy facial hair and sweet smile Joel had captured Jess’ heart—and panties, let’s be fair—the second he had greeted her, effectively turning her into this weird, clumsy gal she didn’t recognize.

Sure, she had experienced her fair share of crushes and dalliances before, but this was different. Something switched whenever Joel came around the corner; she laughed too loud, choked on her drink or said something extremely stupid. Her dad—who knew her too well—had teased her endlessly about her crush and at one point Jess had suspected him of matchmaking. Which, as she had told her dad, was highly inappropriate, for at the time she had been in a relationship with Adam.

‘Jess?!’ Sarah inquired with a small chuckle. ‘Are you in there?’ ‘Oh,’ Jess said, a genuine smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘Hi Sarah! I didn’t expect to see you this soon! I just arrived five minutes ago.’ ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ Sarah quickly greeted her neighbor. ‘But my dad isn’t home yet and I forgot my keys. He will murder me when he finds out. I saw you entering mister Young’s—Carl’s—house, and I know he kept a spare for us. So I thought maybe you could help me find them and save my life?’

Jess laughed at the girl’s direct approach and leaned against the doorway, the hard wood uncomfortable against her shoulder. ‘I would gladly help you, but I have no idea where my dad kept your key, so you have to help me look. Deal?’ Sarah quickly obliged, her beautiful hazel brown curly hair bouncing as she nodded. She straightened the blue backpack that hung over her shoulders. ‘Come in,’ Jess said while stepping aside. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

Unfortunately, their search for the spare key turned out to be futile and after an hour, both Jess and Sarah had to accept the fact that they would never find out where Carl Young had kept the Miller’s house key—or his own spares, for that matter.

Both girls had resorted to the couch, initially exhausted by their search. Though it was nearing half past five, the Texan heat was still quite unforgiving, and the only way to cool off was lying splayed out on the couch, allowing the fan to wash over them—a cold glass of Coca Cola in hand.

‘How long are you staying?’ Sarah inquired, watching Jess taking a sip from her drink. ‘Dad said he wasn’t sure anyone would come back here….’ ‘I don’t know,’ Jess mused, watching the ice cubes float in her drink. The fan brushed over her face, her own hair ticking her cheeks. ‘A month, maybe two. I need to sort out all my dad's—Carl’s—stuff and I have an appointment with the notary to settle some affairs next week.’ ‘What will happen to the house?’

Jess shrugged, unable to present the teen with a clear answer. ‘I need to figure that out too. Maybe I will sell it, maybe I’ll stay.’

It was weird saying the idea out loud, for it only had existed in her own mind since she had boarded the plane. With her relationship with Adam in shambles and her mother living in the big city, the only thing that tied her down to Staten Island was her job. The school board hadn’t been too happy with one of their teachers taking unpaid leave when the term had just started, so Jess wasn’t even sure her spot would be there when she came back. If she’d come back.

In the background, the first tunes of INXS’ ‘Need you tonight’ emerged from the radio. Jess grinned brightly and despite the warmth she jumped from the couch. She had been addicted to this record back in 1987, when she had been just sixteen. ‘Sorry, I have to,’ she told Sarah—who was watching her in both typical teenage annoyance and amusement—and placed her drink on the radio before turning on the volume.

‘All you’ve got is this moment,’ Jess sang along with Michael Hutchence as she bust out her best dance moves. ‘Twenty-first century is yesterday….’

Sarah watched Jess making a fool out of herself and rolled with her eyes, though a small smile adorned her lips. ‘You look like my dad right now,’ she told her neighbor over the music. ‘’And trust me, it’s not a compliment. How old are you anyway?’ ‘I’m turning thirty in December,’ Jess replied with a laugh. ‘Which is—as my kids at school inform me—the equivalent to the age of the dinosaurs.’ ‘Yeah,’ Sarah agreed before taking a sip of her own drink. ‘That’s pretty old. Though my dad is even older than you are.’ ‘Oh, really?!’ ‘He turned thirty-five today,’ the teen told her. ‘So if you are turning into a carnosaur, don’t worry—dad’s probably of the herrerasauridae family.’

Jess laughed at the girls’ smart-ass notion. ‘Well played, young Miller,’ she quipped. ‘Have you bought him a gift?’ ‘Not yet,’ Sarah said, a frown now decorating her forehead. ‘I wouldn’t know what to get him and besides, he probably will be home late again. All he does is work.’ Jess heaved a sigh and turned down the volume again. She picked up her drink, absentmindedly rubbing away the condense the glass had left on the radio. She felt sorry for Sarah. Spending time with her dad must be important to her, especially because he was all she had.

‘We could start with buying a cake,’ she offered. ‘And see what Walmart has to offer that could be to Joel’s—your dad’s—liking?’ ‘You would do that?’ Sarah chimed, her dark brown eyes pleading for her neighbor to say yes. ‘But I have no money.’ ‘It’s nothing,’ Jess replied with a vague gesture from her hand. ‘I need to get some groceries anyway, and I think we should do something nice for your dad, don’t you agree?’ The teen nodded. ‘One problem, though,’ Jess murmured, her eyes scanning through the living room. ‘We still have to find the keys of my dad’s truck….’

It was around seven when the girls returned from their shopping spree. They had picked up some pizza on their way home—caprese for Sarah, pineapple for Jess, and pepperoni in case Joel showed up—and now were lounging on the couch while enjoying their meal and watching Legally Blonde that was showing on tv. Jess watched Sarah as she enjoyed her pizza, and laughed with her when Elle reprimanded Warner with the iconic burn of 2001: ‘What, like it’s hard?’

Sarah had picked up an Aerosmith and Nirvana CD—‘then he can finally listen to them on repeat in the car instead of one song on the radio’—and had chosen the most elaborate cake design they could find. And though the thirteen year old swore she would pay Jess back, the latter one refused kindly. It must be hard for Sarah that her dad was doing overtime on his birthday, and Jess hoped that Joel would return home soon.

She had just taken a huge bite of her pizza, when the doorbell rang again. ‘That must be dad,’ Sarah concluded, scrambling herself together. ‘Got it,’ Jess muffled with a mouth full of pineapple and rose from her seat. With the last of the pizza part still in her hands she walked towards the door, quickly swallowing her food before opening.

Joel Miller was still as hot as she remembered. He was leaning against her porch, his dark brown hair tousled from his day at work and his dark eyes observing her in a curious, though friendly manner—but if one would look closely, one could easily see the exhaustion written in them. Joel possessed a so-called ‘roman nose’, with a prominent curved bridge that ended in a sharp, though rounded tip. His full lips were crowned by a thick, dark mustache and his cheeks sported a messy scruff. It seemed like he had just arrived home: there was some construction dust on his temple and he still wore his work clothes—a simple black t-shirt that clung nicely to his defined torso and gray, worn jeans—both in the same rugged state. In his hands he held the note that Sarah had hastily scribbled on Jess’ counter before they left for the store, the post-it paper looking small compared to his palm.

‘Hey neighbor,’ Joel greeted her, his lazy southern drawl wrapping around her like a silk shawl. ‘I’m lookin’ for my daughter. She left a note on the door, sayin’ she would be here.’ ‘Yeah, she’s with me,’ Jess said, eyeing him with a small smile while she told herself to just breathe. ‘She forgot her key and said she’s grounded forever now.’ ‘She tryin’ to find an ally now?’ Joel said with a smirk. ‘Smart girl, raised her well.’ ‘Well, it is working…’ Jess commented. ‘I mean, come on, Miller. Is forgetting a key such a big offense?’ Joel laughed at that and ran the hand that wasn’t holding on to the note through his hair, tousling it further. His tanned arm flexed. ‘It is when there’s no one to let her in,’ he argued. ‘Carl had one, and I don’t like t’give the Adlers access to my place, if y’know what I mean. Can’t leave my daughter stranded.’ ‘No, definitely not,’ Jess agreed, thinking of mister Adler. Her dad had told her that though the couple was kind, they were very meddlesome; the type that would rearrange your home while you were away—just to help, of course. ‘Though,’ she went on. ‘In the event I hadn’t been home… I can imagine spending a free afternoon with the Adler’s would have been enough punishment, don’t you think?’ ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘She can count herself lucky that you were here.’

There was a short silence, in which they observed each other—gorgeous chocolate depths burning in their deep blue counterparts. A small twinge burned in the pit of her stomach, the same one she had felt at the funeral when Joel had shook her hand to pay his respects. It had struck out to her that even in her grief-stricken state a simple touch from him was enough to make something spark within herself.

‘How are you holdin’ up?’ Joel inquired gently, pulling her from her thoughts. ‘Hadn’t expect to see you back soon.’ ‘Me neither,’ she replied, stepping aside to let him in, and vaguely sensing the cold half-eaten pizza part in her hand. ‘But I have to handle some affairs here.’ ‘How long will you be stayin’?’ Joel asked as he brushed past her, his eyes not leaving her frame. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘As long as I need to. To go through his stuff, I mean.’ Her throat went stuffy at the reminder of the enormous task of cleaning her dad’s home and sorting through his belongings; she wasn’t ready for that yet. Joel nodded, offering her a sympathetic smile. ‘Lemme know f’you need my help, okay?’ ‘You already work too much, birthday boy,’ she told him while she sent him a cheeky smile. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose on your free time.’ Joel groaned at that. ‘She told you, huh?’ ‘Happy birthday,’ Jess congratulated him as she waved with her pizza part. ‘I hope you’re hungry, we got you pepperoni.’ ‘Y’didn’t have to—’ ‘Yes, I did,’ she argued before taking a bite of her pizza. In her haste she accidentally gobbled down a larger chunk than she’d bargained for; of course her clumsy, nervous ass did. Joel watched her struggle to maintain her dignity—which meant not coughing herself to death in his presence—but her trachea protested against her ego’s wishes. Jess toppled forward and went into the very coughing fit she had been trying to avoid. Joel was eyeing her with growing concern and after a few moments of hesitation, he carefully rubbed her back. ‘Keep it up,’ he instructed, his tone calm. ‘It helps.’

Of course it did, she knew that. But it also meant that she turned into a watery eyed, tomato faced mess; and that was a look she didn’t particularly pursue. Jeez, the man was only in her vicinity for a minute and she already had to make a fool of herself?!

‘You’re not allowed to cook on your birthday—’ she began, her voice unsteady because at the same time her throat managed to get the loose chunk of pizza in the right place. ‘It’s one of my dad’s rules,’ she added while looking at him through tear stricken eyes, ‘and it’s bad luck if you do. The fact that you dared to mention it almost made me choke, Miller!’ A grin tugged on the corners of his mouth, whether it was from her pun or her current disheveled state, she didn’t know. ‘I remember him sayin’ that last year,’ Joel remarked, his hand still on her back. ‘Carl took us out for burgers.’

Jess slowly rose from her huddled position and smiled faintly. The sweet taste of pineapple burned in her throat and she still couldn’t see properly through the tears, but her heart stung at the memory. She should have visited her dad more often, but at the time she had been so busy with her own, Adam-infused life… ‘S’okay,’ Joel murmured as his fingers brushed over her t-shirt once more, which set off a confusing array of emotions in her system.

‘Dad?! Jess?! What are you two doing?!’ Sarah called as she jumped from the couch and made her way through the hall. Upon eyeing the pair she laughed. ‘What happened here?’ ‘Didn’t you hear me almost choke myself to death?!’ Jess croaked, internally groaning when she felt Joel’s fingers leave her. ‘I almost died.’ ‘That’s for eating pineapple on your pizza,’ Sarah quipped as she turned on her heels and sent a knowing glance to her dad. ‘I warned you, Jess. People like you belong in hell.’ ‘You’re one of those?!’ Joel asked Jess with a grin while the three of them made their way into the living room. ‘She is,’ Sarah agreed as she eased herself onto the couch once more, her eyes sparkling with joy. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on!’ Jess defended herself half-heartedly, though she knew her chances persuading pineapple pizza haters to come to the dark side was usually a fruitless task. ‘Nah, it’s disgusting,’ Joel tutted. ‘The state of New York is ruinin’ your taste buds.’ He lowered himself next to Sarah on the couch. ‘Hi, kiddo. What are you watchin’?’ ‘Legally Blonde,’ Sarah said before pulling her father into a hug. ‘It’s pretty cool. You wouldn’t like it.’ ‘Lemme decide f’myself!’ ‘Dad! I’m telling you, it’s a girl’s movie!’

Jess let the pair bicker and went to reheat Joel’s pizza in the oven—a skill she had perfected over the past few years—doing overtime and still having to cook makes a girl creative. She tossed the cold remnants of her meal into the garbage bin; another consequence of nearly suffocating on her beloved pizza was that she had lost her appetite. As she listened to Sarah’s excited chatter and Joel’s low hum, she fetched two beers from the fridge. She knew his favorite—thanks to her dad—and as her hands searched for the bottle opener in the kitchen drawer, her mind drifted to Joel’s pretty eyes and to—

Ugh, he had no reason to be this hot, it was borderline criminal. Especially not after a long day at work, where he undoubtedly had busted his butt ordering others around and hauling stuff across the construction site. Jess peered in the drawer, her mind fixated on the way Joel’s biceps had bulged under his t-shirt. She shouldn’t think of him like that, she really shouldn’t—

‘D’you need some help?’ ‘What?’ she gulped, her hands randomly grabbing a knife, and he hissed at the sting it caused. ‘I was just—’ ‘Carl kept the bottle opener on the side o’the fridge,’ Joel told her as he made his way towards the sink and gestured at the drawer. ‘No need for searchin’ in there.’

Ah. Of course. Her father had been practical about life. He surely would have hated to spend hours searching for a bottle opener. Tears burned behind her eyes and Jess quickly grabbed the object from its place against the fridge. After lifting the cap from both bottles, she offered one beer to Joel.

‘Thank you darlin’,’ Joel rumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter before taking a sip. As he studied her with his dark eyes, Jess busied herself with inspecting the shallow cut she had made in her fingers. It drew some blood and she hissed at the sight. She was many things and possessed many talents, but blood—especially her own—always made her knees weak. And not the good kind of weak.

‘S’just a little cut,’ Joel remarked with a small smirk. ‘Hold it under the tap and you’re fine.’ ‘I’m not one of your men,’ she countered with a huff, eyeing him defiantly. ‘I don’t haul dangerous stuff around all day.’ ‘Glad y’don’t,’ he murmured, while planting his beer on the counter and turning on the faucet. Without ceremony, he got hold of her hand and pushed it under the cold stream. ‘I don’t think you’d be of use at the side,’ he continued. ‘You’d keep hurtin’ y’self.’ Would have t’fire you on your first day….’

That remained to be seen. If Joel stayed out of her way, she would be fine. If not… Well, then she was fucked—and again not the good kind.

Jess observed the water as it poured over their hands and slowly turned into a pleasant temperature. After a short while Joel pulled her fingers close and inspected the damage. ‘S’fine,’ he concluded before shutting off the tap. ‘It doesn’t even bleed, see?’ ‘Are you judging me, Miller?!’ ‘F’course not,’ he replied as he retrieved his hand and dried it on his shirt. Jess—her own fingers still hovering over the sink, dripping with water—couldn’t help but notice that his hands were littered with scars, roughened from his days at work. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she quipped, narrowing her eyes. She reached for the kitchen towel. ‘Remember I’m a highschool teacher, Joel. I can smell lies and omitted truths from a mile away.’ ‘Yeah, I was told to be careful around you,’ he replied with a grin as he leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘Teachin’ these unruly kids like my daughter must be a callin’ or somethin’, I really couldn’t.’ ‘Ah, they’re not that bad,’ Jess said. ‘I can boss them around all day, just like you do with your crew.’ ‘Why’d you think I’d do that, huh?’ ‘I got it from a very reliable source,’ Jess said as she fetched her own beer from the counter and took a sip. As the rich, deep flavor swirled through her mouth, she eyed her father’s friend’s handsome features. ‘I imagine you had the same source,’ she mused with a smile. ‘Tell me… What do you know about me that you probably shouldn’t?’

Joel sipped from his beer and observed her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. There were a thousand things she’d rather not have him know. The first and obvious one was the fact that she had a crush on him, but after that there were a few cringeworthy childhood memories she’d rather forget. It would be embarrassing if Joel knew how she had caught herself in barbed wire during one summer—trespassing farmer Jack’s property had seemed a good idea, until the world turned upside down—or how accidentally had dyed her hair orange instead of blonde.

‘Why are you lookin’ at me? I’m not tellin’ you,’ Joel finally remarked with a vague smile. ‘Promised him not to.’ ‘Aha! So he did tell you stuff he shouldn’t!’ ‘Not much,’ Joel admitted, despite his previous statement not to reveal any of the information he knew. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and now was replaced with genuine concern. ‘Just that he hoped Adam takes good care of you.’

Though Joel couldn’t know about their separation, his revelation still stung. Jess shrugged and bit on her lip. ‘He never told me that.. Did dad—Carl—have his doubts?’ ‘S’not my place to say,’ Joel confessed, his brows furrowing together. He shuffled on his feet and watched Jess sink to her knees to check the oven. The smell of pepperoni pizza filled the kitchen.

‘Almost,’ she commented quietly, her mind still stuck at Joel’s remark. It didn’t surprise her that her father had worried about her relationship with Adam; usually when her mother pressed her to do something—like pursuing a relationship with Adam—her father had been against the idea. Jess had often wondered if this had become her parent’s typical dynamic or if they truly were two opposites in every choice life had to offer.

‘Your dad was somethin’,’ Joel changed the subject. ‘Must be weird f’you, to be back here. With him not bein’ around here.’ ‘Yeah, it is,’ Jess agreed with a heavy heart. She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘I miss him terribly and to be honest I don’t want to be here—no offense of course. It’s just…’ she heaved a weary sigh while her gaze swept through the kitchen. ‘Everything reminds me of him.’ She rose to her feet and retrieved a plate from one of the cabinets. Joel watched her as she placed it in the sink and opened the tap. ‘Heating the plate will keep your pizza warm,’ Jess explained as she waited for the water to get hot. ‘I learned that from a chef I once dated. He was an ass, but he did teach me a useful trick or two.’ ‘Never thought of that,’ Joel murmured. ‘Cold pizza ain’t that bad, why complicate it?’ Jess laughed at that. ‘I bet single dads don’t have time to complicate their dinners,’ she told him as she dried the hot plate and fetched dad’s mittens from a drawer to retrieve the pizza from the oven. ‘Give it a try, Miller,’ she teased as she handed him a mitten and his plate. ‘It won’t kill you.’

Joel, Sarah and Jess spent the evening like a normal family would—at Sarah’s request they watched the rest of Legally Blonde while Joel ate his late dinner. Though the latter wouldn’t tell Jess if the heated plate had made his pizza better, Jess liked to think that it had. After Legally Blonde had ended, Sarah told her father and their new friend about her day at school and Jess was obliged to share the details of her trip from Staten Island to Austin. Jess could not bring herself to explain her breakup with Adam—it would surely result in a tsunami of tears—so when the topic landed on her ex she simply stated that her fiancé had been too busy to help her out. Though Sarah seemed to accept the story right away and chatted about Carl’s tendency to hoard stuff he liked, Jess felt Joel’s eyes burning on her. He probably sensed there was more to it, but he didn’t press her to share. She would probably have to tell him the truth, in time. But for now, his birthday turned out to be the perfect diversion for unwanted questions.

It was around half past ten when Jess found herself leaning against the doorframe of her porch, waving at Sarah who had just ran across the street with her father’s keys. Joel had stepped down from her porch—about to follow his daughter—but had paused at her lawn. ‘She’s a great kid,’ Jess told Joel as they watched Sarah disappear behind the front door. ‘I know a lot of teens, but Sarah’s one of a kind.’ ‘Yeah,’ he agreed quietly as he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without her, y’know?’ ‘Well, for one you would not get roasted all the time….’ Joel chuckled. ‘I could do without being called old, yeah…’ He shuffled on his feet. ‘Listen, I wanted to thank you. For takin’ care of her and everythin’. You didn’t have to.’ ‘It’s okay,’ Jess said with a grin. ‘I didn’t mind.’ ‘At least let me pay you back,’ Joel offered, his right hand shifting to his back pocket and retrieving his wallet, which was in a rugged, worn state. ‘No!’ Jess cried out as she raised her hands defensively. ‘Not a chance in hell. We’re good. I have to thank you for the company, especially on your birthday!’ Joel shrugged and his hands fumbled over the worn leather. ‘I wouldn’t have done anythin’ special,’ he confessed. ‘Not after a twelve-hour shift. Probably would have ended up on the couch, watchin’ somethin’ stupid.’ ‘Legally Blonde doesn’t count as stupid?!’ she teased with a smile and was awarded with a cute grin. ‘It was okay,’ Joel concluded. ‘I was enjoyin’ the company, Young.’

There was a short silence in which their eyes met and Jess almost drowned in the beautiful molten chocolate hues. ‘Before I forget; here’s my number,’ Joel murmured as he retrieved a business card from his wallet. ‘Just in case. Y’dad would want me to keep an eye on you.’ ‘Very fancy,’ Jess commented as she took the card—careful not to brush her fingers across his. ‘Was an idea of your dad,’ Joel explained. ‘He told me I needed to be more professional or somethin’.’ ‘Though I also heard you have no trouble finding work,’ Jess replied as she admired the design. It was simple, neat—very Joel. ‘So you could always use the pile my dad probably made you buy to pick up ladies. Chicks like stuff like that.’ Joel laughed at that and Jess reveled in the sound. ‘And about keeping an eye on me…’ she went on as her gaze met his. ‘I can take care of myself, Miller. I’m not a damsel in distress.’ ‘I know that,’ he agreed. ‘Y’dad told me as much. But just… Don’t be stubborn and call me when y’need me. Or swing by.’

‘Even when I have night terrors?’ Jess heard herself question, but by the time she realized how flimsy—and filthy—that must come across, it was too late. She bit on her lip, unsure how she could save herself from her clumsy mouth. Joel didn’t seem taken aback by her comment. He grinned broadly, an amused twinkle in his eye. ‘Yeah, Young,’ he replied in a soft tone. ‘Especially then.’

Thank you for reading this first chapter 🥰🥰 Feedback is highly appreciated, so if you have a minute to spare I'd like to know what you think of my work!

Until next time. ❤❤❤❤

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea Let me know if you like to be added or removed!

[monster-noises]

not to be basic but 1 and 2 from that meta ask meme?

all the question are on the list for a reason Anon! no need to put yourself down for it v-v 1&2 are Excellent questions I"m happy to answer! now. I Imagine you intended this for Lazarus, But! you were not specific so you will now get a Very long post about Everyone >:3c (and by everyone I mean the main 3 characters I consider 'Bartholomew's Nasty Little Bastards')

First up, of course, we will do Lazarus! 1. What inspired you to create your oc?

The really obvious answer here is Re8, my instant consuming love for it and for Karl, the overwhelming need to like... Participate, somehow, in that world, but not being able to cross the Full self-insert hurdle.. He's basically a very Warped-beyond-recognition version of a self-insert, a guy all his own but in somewhere still very Connected to the Me. But the more like.. in depth stuff, like what inspired Lazarus to Be Who He Is is like.. I love like.. weird Art Gore, Body-As-Art kinda shit, Meaningful and disturbing.. somehow Comforting and he's kinda the perfect vessel for that. I've had the Human Taxidermy Artist thing floating around the back of my mind for a decade or so just Waiting for a place to land and Laz was a golden opportunity v-v.

2.Why does your oc look the way they do? What are your reasons for their appearance? When I was settling Lazarus's design I wanted him to have this appearance of like, a very refined and elegant individual; beautiful in a sort of Severe way, but twist it up ever so slightly so he registers as Uncanny and Gross. Beauty Hiding Filth and all that. (just think about how many Fluids get into that Velvet Ensemble on the daily, it's Not Good.) Like the way his pants cut him and the vertical lines make him just All Leg. And his pallid bloodstained skin which makes him look like a Walking Corpse, hair slicked back with its own grease.. a figure that's bewitching and unsettling to witness also yes, the hair is Both a Me thing and a Bride of Frankenstein thing.

Virgil always feels right coming Second on these things.. 1. Inspiration Virgil is ooooooooooold, he's so Old, virgil is Ancient Virgil is possibly my oldest still-in-use OC, I created him a Looooooong ass time ago. like 2010 Long Ass Time. That is to say I do not know Why she exists.

Okay, Not entirely true. I made her for a comic I was writing with my friend at the time. She was my part of the main villain pair, but I do Not remember how I ended up on Toxicologist prodigy but make it Cowboy (which was always a bit of a misnomer for the vibe but nowadays Especially he's less Johnny Cash more Nickleback) I Think, I Think, what I wanted was to have a character that contrasted the Hardest against my friends main villain? who was very Orderly and Serious and Efficient?? beats me though that was So long ago.. I was also just listening to a Lot of Nickleback-esk music at the time, which may have been an influencing factor lmao

2. Appearance Virgil's appearance is pretty simple to explain, all told! He's a Country Boy/Girl, rowdy and ostentatious, and very secure in her understanding of that part of herself. It's where she comes from, and despite his rocky relationship with home it's who he is, y'know? The brightest (and most dangerous) mind in Toxicology doesn't Have to look exactly how you'd Expect her to look now does she? (Virgil pictured here on the Right)

Now our wonderful little Ulysses vwv)/ 1. Inspiration oh this is an Interesting one!! Ulysses (and Charlie, for that matter) came from 2 distinct places to land where they are now.. From time to time I like to entertain the idea of starting a band and having a musical career of some kind, something that blends my love of folk/bluegrass, prog-rock, and power metal into a loud villainous and exhilarating sound. and a few years back, as I was getting into Bluegrass for the first time, I was struck by a Concept for a Concept Album. It was called The Book of Brother UIysses; the story of a sniveling little priest in the frontier days and his Cursed Book, following him around as he fed townsfolk to whatever entity lived in its pages until he was finally Consumed himself. I toyed with it for a bit and eventually put it back on the shelf until the Musical Fancy struck me once more, untiiiiil I was listening to friends at the table: sangfielle and had both a deep desire to do a Horror-Fantasy Western ttrpg And satisfy my ever-present desire to weasel my way into playing two characters at once.. and I pulled ol' Ulysses off the shelf again and made some.. Additions. This has evolved now into them being just like.. free floating OC's? I don't plan on making a comic out of them, I would Still love an opportunity to play them in a TTRPG setting, but I'm not Banking on it, and hey, who knows, maybe I Will make that album someday, but for now they just kinda amorphously Exist within Something resembling a Narrative in my head after a long and complicated journey...

2. Appearance Similar to Lazarus, I wanted Ulysses to be unsettling, but in a Slightly different way. He's too clean- his all black outfit is never grimy, he is clean shaven his hair perfectly quaffed, with that plastered on grin, under eyes obscured by reflective glasses the vibes are just Immediately Off. To the flip side of that I always wanted him to look kinda.. pathetic. When we see him outside of his Persona as The Keeper of the Book, as just a man that is still Human in many ways; he's just.. small, waifish, behind the glasses his eyes are big and jittery, like a pray animal caught in a snare and still trying to fight its way out..

[sh00kspeared]

I’m just gonna answer these as I please with Johnny and V instead of making it an asks game since I wanna answer all of them! lol

1. Johnny was the one who kind of subtly brought up the topic one day; despite being less inclined toward marriage to begin with, he loved Vince enough to want to bring up the topic first

2. Johnny proposed; he brought Vince the very top of the Dogtown stadium and proposed to him as the sun was setting. Private yet grand nonetheless.

3. They’re two simple silver bands with one long groove wrapping around the center, and in the grooves are shards of the relic encased in resin.

4. They planned the wedding on their own. It was a rather small event anyway, and in classic Rockerboy fashion, they wanted to be in total control of their party.

5. Wedding prep was definitely not stressful. Johnny frankly thinks the wedding industry is bs, and Vince likes to keep his environment as low anxiety as possible (ironic for a merc). The rockerboys took it pretty chill in the months leading up to the wedding.

6. The first person Vince told once he was proposed to was his best friend, Vincent Graves. However, if we’re talking about pre-proposal, Johnny went to his father figure, Milt Nauman, for advice on how to propose to Vince properly.

7. The best men were Kerry and Vince Graves. Kerry was Johnny’s best man and Vince was Vince’s best man.

8. Just a little bit. Vince didn’t like Rogue much but decided to let her stay on the guest list for Johnny’s sake, and at first Johnny had some trepidation about Vince Graves being on the guest list because they have a rocky history, but for Vince’s sake he relented.

9. (Ik a lot of these are straight wedding photos; it’s because i couldn’t find many gay rock/punk wedding pics)

10. Haven’t decided who marries them yet. Johnny’s not religious but Vince is, so I feel like Vince would want to be married by a religious leader and Johnny might either be abject or impartial to that desire. However, I feel like he wouldn’t be too pissy about it as long as the priest/officiant wasn’t too traditional or cheesy about the wedding script and as long as it made Vince happy— so I’ll go with church.

11. I’m thinking they get married at sunset, right at golden hour. That way, they can party all night 🥂

12. They don’t actually do an aisle walk at all (too stuffy according to Johnny) but they do play plenty of music at the reception. In fact, instead of doing a first dance, they play a few ‘first songs’ together instead, which include a song that Johnny wrote for Vince called ‘Tear down the wall’ as well as ‘Your Song’ by Elton John.

13. Outfits:

14. Not really. Aside from the priest mentioning God once or twice, Johnny and V don’t really do things the ‘traditional’ way.

15. There was no ring bearer. In fact, the rings were actually a surprise from Vince because Johnny originally thought that wedding rings were ‘corny-ass pieces of metal’ (despite having several rings of his own, lmao). However, Vince surprised him by pulling the relic rings out of his pocket right before vows began and gave Johnny his wedding ring, knowing that Johnny would like them way more than just a standard wedding ring.

16. Some priest; still don’t know who. Probably someone that Vince ran into during a gig at one point and eventually grew close with?

17. Johnny’s vows (still a WIP; this is just the gist of it):

Vince, you adorable little bastard. Never was one for all this ‘baring my soul’ sorta shit. But, then again, I never was one for a lot of things. Coming back to life after fifty years. Puttin’ my guns in the ground for once. Realizing that there’s more to life than beating my fists against a megacorp. If someone had tried to tell me back in 2020 that I was gonna get married– and to a man, at that– I’d’ve told them they had a massive turd in place of a brain. But now I wouldn’t have it any other way, Vince. I promise, V, promise with all my damn soul to be the best husband I can be. Nobody’s ever cared about me as much as you did, nobody’s given me the second chance than you did. I can’t lie– sometimes I wanna crawl right back into that dumbass head of yours and sleep there till the end of time ‘cause even back then you begged those docs at Langley to save me, you carved my name into that shitty tin roof that they tossed over my grave… ‘cause I trust you with everything I am. I love you, Vince. I love you more than anything in the fucking world. Never gonna leave you, dickweed– ya hear me? Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life burnin’ cities with you.

Vince’s vows (again, still a WIP):

Hell, where do I even begin? Can’t lie… I spent a long time writing these vows. Longer than any song I’ve ever written, Wanted something perfect, ya know? But then there came a point where I just… well… ditched the perfection. ‘Cause you know I’m not perfect, Johnny. That we’re not perfect and never were. We’re not perfect…. But we are two motherfuckers who never give up. I remember you telling me once that you thought weddings were for gonks— a bunch of fancy ass shit where ‘till death do us part’ was almost never true. And, I’ll admit… as cynical as it was, i kinda agreed with you. But, Johnny… we went through death and we’re still here. Together. I’ve followed you past death and I’d do it again, and again, and again, a thousand times over. You’ve been with me through everything, even when you didn’t want to be. And when you were finally given the choice to stay or leave, you chose to stay. You’re one of the bravest, most devoted, most loyal people I’ve ever known. And I love you, Johnny. I love you so much that it aches. It’s gonna be a good life, asshole. I just know it will.

18. The wedding was very small and filled with only their closest friends, so no oppositions were made.

19. The ceremony was pretty simple. Vince and Johnny weren’t up at the front for too long— they said their vows, exchanged rings, kissed, and then played some songs together instead of having a first dance.

20. Thankfully, no. (Though Johnny and Kerry did get VERY drunk).

21. Their honeymoon was a road trip around the NUSA— camping in their Porsche, stirring up mischief around the country, going to famous places, etc.

22. No, they didn’t.

23. The best night of our lives.

24. Very unconventional.

(Tagging @calibvrn because Vince Graves belongs to him :)

Wedding ask game for your newly (and not so newly) wed OTP

(made mainly with couples in mind, feel free to adapt to as many people as you want)

Who first brought up the option of marriage? Was it an easy topic?

Which one proposed? Was it grand and public? Discreet and private? Was it expected?

Show us their engagement and/or wedding rings!

Did they plan the wedding by themselves, with help, or with a professional planner?

Was the planning and time up til the wedding stressful?

Who were the first people to find out about the engagement? How did they react?

Who are the maids of honor and/or best men? Why and how were they chosen?

Was there any drama whatsoever regarding the guest list?

Show us a mood/stimboard of their wedding's general aesthetic.

Do they get married through court? Church? Third secret option?

When do they get married? Night or day? Any specific reason for either?

Do either of them play music while walking down the aisle (if they do at all)? If yes, show us their song.

Show us their outfits!

Do they follow any familiar, cultural, and/or religious traditions at any point of the wedding?

Who was the ringbearer?

Who married them?

Show us their vows. Did either of them tear up at them?

Did anyone oppose the marriage? Did they speak then, or did they just forever hold their peace?

What was the ceremony like? Any highlights?

Did anyone pass out from a food/alcohol coma?

Do they have a honeymoon? Where to? How soon after?

Do they renew their vows? Remarry, even?

If the couple could describe their wedding in a sentence, how would they?

If you could describe their wedding in a sentence, how would you?

[ajqwrites]

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

Sitting cross-legged on the soft carpet of the living room, she was on the floor with a vibrant, large bowl of Cocoa Puffs in her hand, snacking while watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix (which she had secretly added to his TV collection).

She laughed at one of Lorelai's sharp comebacks. Wrapped in an oversized white cable-knit sweater that embraced her like a cozy hug, she paired it with snug skinny jeans that showcased her laid-back yet stylish appearance.

Her simple socks peeped out from beneath her jeans, adding to her relaxed vibe. She resembled a schoolgirl engrossed in her show instead of focusing on her homework (which she was avoiding and needed to show John for fresh insights and corrections). But, rather than being on campus, she was nestled in the arms of an older gentleman who wanted nothing more than to be there with her.

Behind her, John was seated on the couch in his usual no-nonsense outfit: a dark green linen shirt that hugged him right, paired with dark tactical pants. But what made the sight unusual—endearing, even—was what he was doing.

"Hold still," he said, his large, calloused fingers gently worked through her hair, braiding it. Her head tilted slightly to follow the TV screen. "If you keep movin', this braid's gonna look like Soap did it."

Charlie giggled, glancing up at him over her shoulder. "And what's wrong with that?"

John snorted, shaking his head. "He'd weave in some paracord and call it tactical."

She laughed, and he didn't try to hide his smile. His rough hands, more accustomed to handling weapons and climbing through the rubble, found an odd kind of peace in the softness of her golden hair. As he finished braiding her hair by securing it with a small elastic band he'd somehow had on hand, he leaned back and admired his work.

"Like a doll," John said before he kissed her head. "Sit with me."

She glanced up at him again, then got up and settled next to him with a bowl of cereal in her hand. 

He lazily raised his arms above his head and stretched before his arms dropped behind the couch and over her shoulder.

John had never watched the show, and he didn't understand her obsession with it. But he decided to let her enjoy her comfort show before he leaned down to kiss her head and gaze at her while she was lost in the TV.

If he was honest with you, he never expected a young woman to find him catching. Even in years of being in the war zone and being an old dog, John never expected his life to be turned out like this. He knew he was growing old, he wasn't getting any younger. But since she stepped into his life, she was his comfort. And more likely, he felt like he was in twenties again.

He hadn't left his eyes from her, and when she looked at him. There was a pause between them, she hadn't left her eyes from him either.

"What?" she asked and smiled at him.

John shrugged. "Nothing."

She set down her cereal bowl and shifted on the couch to face him.

"What're you thinking?"

"You," he said gruffly. "You made me start living again instead of just surviving."

Charlie blinked. She took in his admission, and noticed his expression was genuine and loving. 

When she closed the distance between them, she brought her lips to his in a soft kiss. His arm encircled her waist, gathering her against him when he returned the kiss until his phone buzzed on the couch beside him.

He break away and glanced at the screen. It was Gaz. The call he'd been waiting for.

"Hang on," John said, grabbing the phone and answering it while still seated behind her. "Gaz."

"Finally," Gaz's voice came through. "Thought you were off the grid for the past two days."

"Not yet," John said, his tone dry. "What’s going on?”

“Where should I start?’ Gaz said playfully, but almost serious. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t tell me that you brought a new mate in our bunker?”

“You mean, Dunn? Yes.”

“Why?”

“He’s useful, until I decide when to let him go.”

Charlie blinked and glanced at him, her eyes wide while she held her cereal in her mouth, resembling a chipmunk with its cheeks stuffed with nuts.

“Bloody hell, Price, really?”

“It’s the only way we can get to our targets.”

“Well, since you welcome our guest. I suppose that I’m in a mood to cook something since Gabby wanted to do a big breakfast for all of us. I’ll be bringing in good stuff while she brings her heritage recipes. Cam is gonna join as well. You in?”

John smirked. "I'll be there shortly."

"Make sure to bring Charlie along," Gaz suggested with a lighter tone. "I think our last meeting wasn't ideal from our side, so I thought she should have the chance to meet everyone else and see the place."

“Are you going soft, Garrick?”

"Not just me," Gaz clarified. "Soap, Cam, and Gabby all liked her too. As for Simon, I don't think she's had the chance to meet him properly yet."

John chuckled and he glanced at her before looking away.

"Alright. She's coming."

"Great. We'll see you there."

He ended the call and set the phone down, his attention turning back to Charlie.

"Was that Kyle? Gaz?"

"Aye," John confirmed, his eyes softening as he took in her curious expression. "The team's gettin' together. Figured it's time you get to know them more. They must have liked you.”

She blushed. “Me? I didn’t do anything to make them like me.”

He grinned. "It's not really about your actions, sweetheart. It's more about the impression we give, especially with you here. They believe you're making me more gentle than I used to be."

Her face lit up when she smiled. "Is it working?”

He then leaned forward and kissed her once more before she cups his cheeks, feeling his grizzled beard against her palms. Allowing her mouth to open more as John attempted to enter mouth, using his tongue to ignite the fire between them. Charlie almost moaned when he moved his mouth to her neck, moving his hot breath with his wet and hot tongue to lick and kiss the vein side of her neck. She shut her eyes and sighed before his mouth returned to her mouth, it made her heart jump when she listened to him growl in between kisses.

The taste of the Coco Puffs on her taste bud were sweet, just like the way she was.

Sweet.

Enticing.

He wish he could lay her back against the couch and unbutton her skinny jean before giving in his hunger. The thought of sliding her underwear beneath her thighs before sliding his aching manhood could drive him wild. He could lick, taste, or devour her to ignite a high sensational to his lovely and young missus.

Girlfriend, John thought. Yes, she’s mine. But I want her more.

While the TV was playing on the background, John breakaway and sighed hard. He watched her open her eyes and they stare at each other before they kiss one more time.

***

The hum of his truck engine filled the cabin, blending seamlessly with the song playing on the stereo. Rainbow by Cage the Elephant drifted through the speakers. Charlie glanced out her side window and watched the golden autumn trees blur past her. Her thoughts wandered until she felt a warm pressure on her hand. She looked down to find his large hand covering hers. He would bring her hand to his lips, kissing it while keeping his eyes on the road.

“John,” she said, a soft smile tugged at her lips.

“Hmm?” he hummed without looking at her.

“You’re driving,” she said, her voice light with mock rebuke.

“I can multitask,” he said, his voice low and teasing. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles before setting their hands back down on his thigh, still holding hers.

Charlie couldn’t help but peek over at him. She couldn't help but look at the details of his sharp jawline, his beard, and his brows as he focused on the road and how the soft light softened his rugged looks.

She was staring, and she knew it.

“You’re batting those pretty eyelashes at me again,” John said suddenly, his lips curving into a smirk as he caught her from the corner of his eye.

Her cheeks flushed.

“I am not!” she said defensively, gazing back out the window.

“Liar,” John teased. “You want me to stop at a café? Fancy somethin’ sweet?”

She turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. “I wasn’t batting my eyelashes, and I don’t want anything for now.”

“Okay,” he said, dragging the word out, unconvincing. His smirk deepened. “You’re nervous.”

Her shoulders stiffened a bit, and she sighed. She leaned her head back against the seat.

“A little,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “I don't know if... one would like me than the rest.”

His grip on her hand tightened, and he glanced at her again. “Love, Simon won’t mind you around.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, her brows knitting together. “What if I say the wrong thing? Or—”

“Stop,” John cut her off gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. He’s a good man. He’ll get used to you.”

“Okay,” Charlie said with a grin, finally relaxing.

“That’s my girl,” John said, lifting her hand again to press one more kiss to her knuckles. “You continue to be pretty for me, and I'll take care of the rest.”

She giggled, and pulled his hand and kissed his knuckle in return. “Of course, Daddy.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, brought it back to his lips, and kissed it again—this time with more intent. The roughness of his beard brushed against her skin, sending a shiver through her until he gently graze his teeth over one of her fingers.

“Ah! Johnathan,” she yelped, her body tensing as a rush of heat spread through her.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the mischief in his eyes betrayed him. “Just enjoyin’ myself.”

She gave him a flustered glare, her lips twitching as if trying to suppress a smile. “You’re being rough.”

“Am I?” 

Without warning, he nipped her finger again, this time with a playful growl that sent her heart racing.

“Stop,” she said, half-scolding, half-laughing as she tried to pull her hand away. “I’m serious!”

He held onto her hand firmly but not harshly, his thumb brushing over her palm as he glanced at her. 

“So am I,” he said cheekily. “You’ve no idea how much I’d like to be rough with you.”

Her breath hitched at his words. Her cheeks burning hotter than before. She quickly averted her gaze, her fingers curling in his hand as her mind raced. She couldn’t tell if his comment was meant as a joke or something more, but the way he said it—made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t know it could.

“You’re crazy,” she said, trying to regain some composure.

“Admit it—you like it,” he quipped, letting her hand go briefly, only to place it back on his thigh, his large hand covering hers possessively.

“Smooth talker,” Charlie said, trying to hide her smile.

"You haven’t seen nothin’ yet, Charlie girl,” he remarked last, smirking as his tone dripped with promise.

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✨Chapter 101✨

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