#at least I got on T. That's nice. Might lose that when I lose my insurance. I'll need to get another full time job again. I'm struggling wit

[theood]

I keep one habit I lose three more. I try to get better, five things go wrong in my life and someone dies again, I try to do good, I do everything wrong. I get a job, I feel miserable, I push through, I feel worse.

The cycle repeats and repeats and repeats. Nothing changes. Nothing will ever change because this is all there is to life for me. It's going to be this, and then I'll die.

I'm never even going to get out of this house. It's been worse since we moved here. There's nothing here. I'm going to fucking rot away here and no one will know or care because in the grand scheme of it, I am so fucking unimportant and worthless and I take up more space than I'm worth

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 1

Moniker: Soap Risk Level: Low. Soap is a part-time resident who is detained as needed. He is currently not detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Oral sex, “69”ing. Note Soap has biologically female genitalia with an enlarged clitoris or “t-cock”. He accepts feminine and masculine terms for this. Safeword: The word RED is to be used by any party if at any point the session must stop. If any party is unable to vocalise they are to signal physically by touching their thumb to each of their fingers in sequence to signify RED. At no point should any party be both unable to vocalise and unable to signal physically. In the event that this happens, RED will be considered in action and the session will be stopped.

Thought losing your virginity on the first day might scare you off so I’ve shuffled the plan around. You’ve spoken with Soap before, helped him diffuse a bomb on the Medusa mission. He’s insistent you got along so hope having him first helps settle your nerves. I’m on cameras for this one, so I’ve got your back - Price

Well fuck you sideways, your first sexual experience with another person and Captain John Price was going to be watching. You don’t know how he thought that was supposed to settle your nerves. The poor paper that briefing was on had been twisted to pieces in your nervous hands as you made your way to the room. This was where you’d go everytime, this was where you worked. You’d seen it once and Kate had stressed that it would be thoroughly sanitized and reset after each use to fit whatever purpose it needed to. She further stressed that anybody who entered this room had been tested for any transmittable diseases, sexual, blood borne or otherwise, and would only be permitted entry if they came back clean. That wasn’t terrifying at all.

Did you knock? That would be the polite thing to do. Well the correct thing to do at least, Soap was a Sergeant and while the ranks were different in your service your equivalent would be somewhere around Corporal, a rank beneath him. Did he remember you or did Price just know as his Captain that you had spoken before?

The door opened and you about had a heart attack as Soap stood grinning before grabbing your wrist and yanking you through. You had sort of pictured him as handsome because he had a nice voice, but you hadn’t expected him to be so damn broad. Bomb specialists tended to be a little more wirey in your experience.

“Price said ye were out there having a moment, but I’ve only got the day with ye so cannae be wasting time.”

The room did not look as it had when you had visited it. It was warmer now, more welcoming. The raised platform in the middle had a big bed on it with a soft looking duvet. You couldn’t help but smile seeing all the bedclothes were tartan. So the soldier of the day had some say then.

“Right, first off cannae believe I get ye first. I bitched Price’s ear off but didnae think I had a chance. Very, very grateful tae my bonnie Captain for naw ignoring me though” he said, loudly announcing his thanks and sending a grin to the camera in the corner. “I ken ye probably have a bundle of nerves rioting in that pretty stomach, but ye need tae get over them and get over them fast because I need tae winch your cunt.”

You started choking as a gasp caused saliva to go down the wrong pipe. He laughed and patted your back, or at least he started on your back but his hand very much wandered to your ass and squeezed, hard.

It was a knee jerk reaction. You didn’t fully catch up to what your body had even done until you saw the blood streaming from his nose. Shit. You thought for sure Price was about to march in here and give you a dressing down for punching his solider in the face on your first day as a glorified sex toy.

“S-sorry! I wasn’t expecting you to… I mean I know that’s why I’m here, it was instinct” you blurted, getting increasingly panicked at the feral glint in his eye as he rubbed a hand across his nose which only served to smear the blood everywhere.

“Look at the camera for me hen, aye that’s it. Now tell Price that nice wee safeword so he kens ye remember it. The non-verbal version too.”

You shakily followed his instruction, freaked out at how calm and warm his voice was when his eyes were still manic.

“That should dae it, aye Captain? All mine until ye safeword out now hen.”

He attacked you, no other way to describe it with how fast and violent he was in grabbing your face and shoving his tongue into your mouth. He was still bleeding and you could taste it, could feel it stick to your skin. It’s not like you had never kissed someone before, but you never realised just how another tongue could bully yours, writhing against it and pushing it around at it’s pleasure. Oh fuck, if that’s what it was doing in your mouth… an almost painful jolt shot to your clit and you jumped at the shock.

He led you backwards until you hit the bed and then his hands were gripping the back of your thighs so he could use a combination of strength and momentum to lift you a little and toss you back onto the bed. You stared at him as his mouth broke of from yours with the movement. His face was a mess, blood and saliva coating his lips and chin even as the fresh blood had started to slow from his nose.

“Fucking need this hen” he said, almost a keening whine, as he shoved your legs apart and buried his face between them. “Been dying of thirst, ye need tae drown me.”

It was overwhelming just how desperate he seemed and you were shocked and embarrassed at the whimper that spilled from you when he started to lick and chew on the seam of your jeans. The scrape of teeth through the thick fabric had you feeling your heartbeat throb through your clit and your legs were trying to close, you weren’t sure if it was to escape the sensation or chase it with friction, but he muscled his shoulders between them and gripped hard around your thighs so they were locked open.

“Think ye can soak through them? I can make ye soak through them, fuck” he groaned, kissing and tonguing your jeans like he had your mouth.

It was so erotic and so wrong, he was leaving them marked with blood and spit and you felt powerless to do anything about it. You didn’t know if you were getting wet over it and you fisted the duvet below, the urge to run your fingers under your jeans and panties and check flooding through you. It was as if he knew because the next moment he was pressing the pads of two fingers hard against your opening over the jeans, but it was enough. Your panties grabbed onto the slick that had pooled around your hole and it was like a dam breaking, suddenly you could feel it everywhere.

“I-I-” you started, not actually sure what you needed but needing something.

“Nae patience eh?” he said, lifting his head to peer up at you, the picture of some decadent predator feasting on his prey. “Say please.”

“Please?”

“Say please Johnny, get me naked and eat my cunt.”

You felt like your cheeks had just become about equal to the surface of the sun in terms of heat. You had listened to fucking torture sessions to gather intel but dirty talk from this bloodied creature was the thing that tied your tongue up? There was almost an anger at yourself over it. No wonder you were a fucking virgin if you couldn’t even handle this, they should have chosen one of the confident candidates who would already have made demands of him.

“Naw, stop thinking hen. Please Johnny, get me naked and eat my cunt” he repeated expectantly, keeping his eyes on you even as his head turned and he nipped his teeth into the meat of your thigh.

“…please Johnny, get me naked and eat my cunt.”

He was about ready to cum from hearing you say that particular nickname so sweetly.

“Good lass” he said, planting a kiss where he had just sunk his teeth and wasting no time undoing the button on your jeans and peeling them down your legs, his eyes taking in everything underneath them on the way. “That all for me?”

You had forgotten the prep you had done over the last week. Hairless, smooth, soft. It hadn’t been a plan so much as a mad evening of bathing, shaving and nearly drowning yourself in scented oils and lotions in some sort of panic. Lingerie that you had nearly bailed on because it was so delicate and lacy and see through that it felt a level of sensual you weren’t confident in pulling off was now on full display for him and the fabric was so thin that your arousal was making it cling lewdly.

“Aye, think that’s all for me” he grinned as your jeans hit the floor with a thunk.

Fuck he was a sight. He looked like he had just been tearing into a carcass. You had around 5 seconds to take a breath and try prepare before his head was back between your legs. You didn’t realise how much the jeans had muted the sensations, but now with barely a scrap of thin fabric between your pussy and his mouth you saw stars. There was a scream that you vaguely realised was coming from you. His hair was so soft in your fingers, you felt delirious almost as you mumbled out a question about what conditioner he used and then about died when he chuckled right against your clit before he pulled back and ever so slowly pulled your panties off.

“Fuck that’s pretty” he commented before bringing your panties to his nose and rubbing them against his nostrils.

It broke some of the congealing blood, caused a little trickle to start up again. He didn’t seem to care and after another huff neatly, reverently folded your panties and placed them on a little table at the side. Your shirt he was quick with and showed less care, it going flying to rest on the floor a few inches from your jeans.

“These are pretty too hen, if Price wouldnae gie me a spanking for going off brief I’d fuck them” he said as he squeezed your tits together. “Just a wee taste.”

A wee taste here meant him crushing your tits together so he could suck both nipples into his mouth with such force you bowed off of the bed and felt like the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your bra was taken off and folded with the same reverence your panties had been, placed on the table with pink marks on the cups from that little trickle of blood. Most of the blood around his mouth was gone now, only a pink tinge left among all the spit and arousal.

“Ye ever cum for anyone else before?”

“I… no. I mean I’ve done it myself. Or with stuff to help.”

“Price remind me tae blow you later!”

With that he latched on your swollen clit. At first he suckled, humming as he did which drove you fucking mad. Then he pulled off with a slurp, gathered more wetness from your hole on his tongue and drooled it back on your clit. The tip of his tongue flicked at it rapidly, ramping up in speed as your body coiled tighter and tighter.

The noises were erotically disgusting, wet. You tried to tug his hair to get him to let up because you were going to explode, his writhing tongue was about to send you right over the edge.

“S-stop, gonna cum” you panted, trying to hold on.

“That’s the idea hen.”

“The brief said you wanted to… do other things?”

“Aye?”

He had stopped at least and your body was slowly stepping back from the cliff which felt awful. But the brief said he wanted to “69” so you couldn’t cum this early. You just looked down at him debauched between your legs, waiting for him to move on to the next part.

“When ye play with this fat pussy, dae ye stop at one?”

You felt a little panicked at his question. Theoretically, you knew people with your anatomy could have multiple orgasms. In practice you usually just got off and left it at that. It didn’t feel good to keep touching when you were so sensitive after cumming anyway. You sort of shrugged in response.

“Oh hen, you’re going tae gie me 2 like this, 2 when I eat ye from the back and then we can move on so you can have a taste of me. Thinking at least 3 while your lips are wrapped around my cock.”

“I- what? I don’t think I can have that many.”

“Thought I told ye tae stop thinking?” he said with a wink before he dove back in.

If you thought he was giving you his best before, you were quickly disabused of that notion. It took him around 5 seconds. His mouth latched onto you and his tongue eagerly abused your clit without any respite. You rocketed right back to that edge and went tumbling off, thrashing on the bed while he just pinned your hips down and kept going. Your pussy clenched in waves that seemed to never fucking stop.

It was uncomfortable when the orgasm was done but you were still being stimulated and you tried again to shove him away, but fuck he was strong. He refused to be moved, lapping messily at you with a desperation that gave you goosebumps.

“Stop, I can’t!”

“Ye fucking can” he barked back, teeth scraping on your now very oversensitive clit in warning. “Now get your legs up.”

He shoved upwards with his shoulders while his hands forced your legs back, bending you in half. Your hips were tilted now, both of your holes so fully on display for him that it made some undignified sound of humiliation come from you.

He feasted. No part of you escaped him - he licked the seams where your legs met your torso, he sucked on your lips and you wondered if they would bruise with lovebites, he lapped at your rim and had you screeching when he bullied his tongue in, only stopping when a beep sounded in the room.

“Aww fuck off Captain, her arse is fair game for oral!”

Another beep.

“Killjoy. Sorry hen, nae rest for your delicious wee cunt.”

You knew the tongue was a dexterous muscle, but fuck it was insane how he managed to get so much of it inside your pussy. He massaged your walls, flattened and curled the appendage and then flicked it fast. The barest brush of his pinky on your clit was enough to set you off again. You were sure you were nearly pulling his hair out when you came and he drank it up like wine. Decadently, savouring.

His face was a wreck, strings of spit and cum connecting him to you and then snapping and dripping off when he moved his head further away. There was a little blood around his nose, the rest long gone from all the fluids helping to dilute it. You licked your lips only to taste iron. That was right, he may have gotten wet enough to soak it off, but his blood was still all over you.

Fuck he looked drunk. His eyes were unfocused and dreamy, a dopey smile on his face as he went to his knees and looked down at you splayed underneath him. There was a wet spot, a large one, on the duvet. You felt boneless, like you had run a marathon. You weren’t sure you could move. But despite that you couldn’t help but drag your eyes across his still clothed body.

The brief had said he had biologically female genitals, but that his clit was enlarged. You’d never heard of the term t-dick but now it was all you could think about. You wanted to make him feel the way you did, boneless and ready to sleep for two days straight.

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Can see ye thinking away hen, ask me what it is you’re wanting tae.”

“Oh…” you said, trying to bring your fuzzy brain back online and be brave. “I want to see you. And uh… you know.”

He stripped his t-shirt off with one arm and it was like a damn porno as he tossed it on the floor.

“Cannae say I do hen, ye need tae tell me.”

You sighed in frustration and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Taste you. I want to taste you the way you tasted me.”

“Aye ye do. Still owe me 2 before that though.”

You shot up. He could not be serious. You were already about dead. He could not actually expect you to cum two more times before you even got to the next part of the briefing. You’d fucking die, you were sure of it. You snarled at him when he went to grab you and it was an actual fight.

Your wrestled with him, feeling the burn of something like humiliation whenever your pussy rubbed up somewhere on his body. At one point you tried to lock your legs around his torso, feeling like fireworks went off when you rubbed against the hair running down past the hem of his sweatpants. You squealed in alarm when he wrestled you off and it left a shining wet streak across his skin. You fought hard but you had no chance against him as he roughly got you over onto your knees and shoved hard between your shoulder blades to pin you to the bed.

Your hips wanted to follow, to collapse down, but he didn’t let them. He bullied his knees between yours to spread them and gripped hard onto your hips to give him control over exactly where your hot, wet cunt was. Perfect position for him to dig in.

Another beep.

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and you whimpered when he wrenched your head up and turned it to the camera.

“Tell him ye still ken the safeword” he growled.

“I still know the safeword.”

His other hand cupped your slippery and unbearably tender cunt and gave a warning squeeze.

“You’ll remember yer manners soldier.”

“I still know the safeword, sir.”

Satisfied he pinned your head back to the mattress, returned his hand to your hip and maneuvered you so your hole was at just the right height for him.

He dug in.

Oh God, oh God from this angle anytime his mouth was at your clit the rest of his face was getting soaked by your gushing hole. He seemed so much closer now, like he was somehow inside you. His beard felt like it was ripping your lips apart and the prickly pins of pain were so sharp against the all consuming pleasure.

He was suctioned to you, only ever pulling of for a second to take a deep, gulping breath. There was a reluctance to breathe, to ever do anything but drink you down even if it meant he was half suffocating himself.

You tried to have any coherent thoughts about this. It was insane. You had signed up to help him get this out of his system but so far you were pretty sure you should be hiring him and not the other way around. You never knew this could be so all consuming, that your whole body would be so easily played by someone. You were at his mercy, every thump of your heart sending blood wherever the hell he decided it needed to go.

The next orgasm was powerful. It sent your body wild, your legs violently shaking and a choking scream fighting past your lips. You fucking hated him in that moment. He was so eagerly eating at your cunt, taking so much pleasure from it. It made you want it. You wanted to eat him out. You wanted to feel what he was feeling. But he wanted another orgasm from you first so he wasn’t stopping even with you screaming at him.

“Fuck you! I can’t go again, I can’t! Let me see you, let me taste you Johnny! It’s not fair!”

You’d lost any sense of shame. You think you might have lost any sense at all when you screamed your throat raw as your body fought the stimulation, tried and failed to get away so then just accepted it.

Cumming this time felt different. It was almost sore to have your muscles contract again, so exhausting you wanted to cry and beg to just sleep.

He slowed down, was gentle in cleaning you up with his tongue. When his grip on your hips loosened you collapsed to the bed, panting.

You could hear him taking his sweats off and it was the only thing to will you to turn yourself over onto your back. You needed to see him. You fucking needed it more than you needed anything as inconsequential as rest.

At first you felt like your brain was shorting out. He was standing at the end of the bed, now totally naked. His body was gorgeous, rugged. Your mouth watered as your eyes trailed down, following the path of hair to his pussy. He certainly hadn’t shaved in a panic like you had, the hair was just as thick between his legs as it was everywhere else. His fingers were lazily playing with his clit and you swore it was a cock.

It stood proudly through the thatch of dark hair, was dripping like you imagined a cock would. But that’s what it was. You understood now why the brief had called it a t-cock. Oh God you wanted to kiss, lick, suck - devour him the way he had you.

“Go on then hen, get that wet wee mouth on my cock” he said, his tone that of a man indulging the whims of some silly creature whose desperation he found cute.

You swallowed thickly, your body slow in moving through the exhaustion as you got to your knees and crawled across the bed to him. At first it was just a kitten lick, a little taste. Sweat, salt and something tangy and sweet. He was so slippery beneath your tongue and it was instinct to lap up the liquid, to keep chasing the strange taste.

“That’s it, good lass. There you go” he said, barely above a whisper as if coaxing some scared prey animal.

You shifted to get a more solid position, knees splaying wide to get you the right height and hands gripping his thick thighs. You needed to taste more, feel more. You fucking needed your mouth on him like you needed oxygen. You needed to drink down his arousal, the proof of what his body thought of yours.

He smiled down at you in tentative delight. You were so gone for this, all that trepidation vanished as you savoured the first tasting of him. No longer the shy thing that he had dragged into the room, now an animal understanding that the feast came before all. He knew the place you had went to couldn’t be permanent but while you were there he intended to enjoy it.

There was no skill in what you were doing, just a clumsy and selfish exploration. Your concept of time floated away as you treated his cunt and cock like the mouth of a stranger in the drunken haze of a club, wet, sloppy kisses against the heat of him.

He was dripping down your chin, the red around your mouth tinging pink and eventually being drowned entirely. His hands were massaging softly on your scalp, your shoulders. You wanted to stay here forever. He could not think of a compelling reason why not.

“Fuck, need tae get your taste back on my tongue” he groaned.

You barely registered your body being moved, only focused on keeping that connection to him. You wanted to crawl inside him, live there. Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs when you muscled your tongue inside his hole and felt the walls of him eagerly try to coax you deeper.

He maneuvered his body over yours and somewhere in the recesses of your brain you knew you should find this dangerous. He was big over you, could choose to drop his weight and smother you. Instead you found it comforting, like a warm nest for him to keep you safe and fed in.

“You’re so fucking pretty hen. Want tae keep you all tae myself.”

“You taste so good” you said, words muffled from the now insistent press of his wet cock on your face.

Everything was so wet, so hot. Touch yes, but scent and sound were both soaking, dripping, gushing. The first time he came you thanked him and begged him for more, more, more as your hips writhed up against his mouth.

--

You were sobbing when you came back online. You had been for a while from how tight your chest felt and the way your eyes stung with dryness. You were crying out broken words, begging him, saying you couldn’t.

“Ye can, one more. Just one more.”

Fuck, everything was tender and sore. No wonder you were such a wreck, your body was too wrung of pleasure that it could only give you pain now. He was relentless at your pussy and when you came this time it fucking hurt. Every muscle was cramping horribly.

“No more Johnny” you whined even as he ground his cock clumsily against your face and moaned through his own pained orgasm.

“Aye, one more. Need it hen, fuck. Could die in this pussy.”

You didn’t know how his tongue kept going, yours was useless now. You could only hold it out for him to rut against. You only knew he came again from how he howled. Your face was so covered in him that another flood barely registered. You really couldn’t anymore. You felt like you were about to die.

“Red.”

You mumbled it so softly and deliriously that you weren’t expecting anything to come of it, but he patted your flank and rolled off of you to lay on his back and pant.

“Jesus Christ hen, where the fuck did Price find you?” he said, voice hoarse and rough.

You couldn’t move. He didn’t seem mad at all that you had safe worded out at least. No, instead he pulled himself up with a long groan to flop down beside you.

“Gie me 20 minutes for a cuddle and a nap then I’ll get ye all cleaned up aye? I’ll let ye use my conditioner.”

And then he was snoring in your ear, his sweaty body wrapped around yours as you drifted off to unconsciousness.

—

Price was exhausted. He hadn’t intended to wank to you, but you had put those big, wet eyes on the camera and called him sir and then all bets were off. Christ alive the two of you had went for hours, writhing like animals on that bed.

He though after he had cum it would relief the pressure, but then you had so sweetly crawled over to lap at his boy’s cunt and he got hard all over again.

Soap certainly did owe him a blow job. You had been perfect for him, let him push his pleasure too far like he loved. And now there you both were boneless and passed out in puddles of arousal. He groaned imagining how the room must smell.

But he wasn’t needed. Soap was exhausted himself yes, but he enjoyed looking after a lover after such an intense experience and Price would not deprive him of that.

Part of him was tempted to change the plan, get you to one of the residents earlier, one of the ones who would ruin you so badly that you would need Price afterwards.

Thankfully, he was just about a good man when he dismissed the thought.

[strawbeelemonade]

We need more of spider punk❤️❤️❤️

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS (Part 2!): Hobart brown

GIF by fizzytoo

SO many requests for this guy,,, i hope you like!

🕷 - hobbie likes watching you stand up for yourself.

🕷 - he knows you have spunk, no matter how deep down, it’s there.

🕷 - it thrills him to see you fight back, fills him with satisfaction. He will back you up in a heartbeat, no matter what it is he will fight with you and for you.

🕷 - he’ll fall back to back with you, you won’t have to worry when fighting along side him, let yourself go and spread CHAOS. He’s got your back

🕷 - he’s very deep thinking. He values your morals, your conviction and who you are in the face of hardships.

🕷 - He thinks real hard about what he chooses to put his faith in. And that includes you.

🕷 - he trusts you with his life.

🕷 - he’s a bit of a wanderer. There isn’t really a reliable routine he follows, so you might go a little while without seeing him.

🕷 - but don’t worry, he’ll always come back to you. He won’t leave you lonely for too long, gorgeous.

🕷 - he’ll pay you random visits just because!

🕷 - and by that I mean he’ll let himself in.

🕷 - its not uncommon for him to show up in the middle of the night, and if your not asleep, he offers to sneak you out for a few hours of fun.

🕷 - It’s alright, beautiful/handsome, there’s no safer place then by his side.

🕷 - If you live here, you’ll know that the UK can get pretty cold, especially at night. he’ll lend you his jacket if he catches you shivering

🕷 - Hobie will take you to concerts. You’re his first choice.

🕷 - he’s got a lot of connections and he can get you in easily.

🕷 - if you think he is anywhere other than right in the front then you are CRAZY. and he wants you right there with him.

🕷 - the music is so loud it’ll shoot through your chests, filling both your senses. sharing that exhilaration with you means a lot to him.

🕷 - he keeps you close to him the whole time, and makes sure you don’t get too roughed up by the other people around you.

🕷 - If it all gets too much don’t worry, he knows a cushy spot in the rafters away from all the people, and its a great view.

🕷 - when Hobie’s the one on stage he’ll be looking for you in the crowd

🕷 - he plays better when your there

🕷 - knowing your eyes are on him makes him more bold.

🕷 - don’t take your eyes off of him. Don’t you dare look away. He wants to see your face.

🕷 - he’s on the run a lot, so he’ll need to crash at your place often to lay low.

🕷 - “thanks, doll. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

🕷 - if you play guitar he will play solo’s with you

🕷 - if you don’t know how to play he’ll sit behind you and rest his hands over your own, pressing your fingers into the right chords.

🕷 - his chest pressing in to your back are the least of your worries, though. His breathe is hot and his lips are soft. And, oh! your cheek and jaw, which are his favourite places to kiss, are completely exposed.

🕷 - good luck.

🕷 - he’ll give you piggy back rides.

🕷 - wrap your arms around him as tightly as you want. He doesn’t mind. his hair might tickle your face as he turns his head to give you a peck on the cheek, though.

🕷 - when you both sleep next to each other you won’t have to worry about his hair getting in your face. He’ll wear a wrap.

🕷 - his hair is NICE in the movie. those wicks were P R I S T I N E

🕷 - if you play with the little baby hairs poking out from the bundle then he’ll be all over you I bet he’d love that.

🕷 - if he loses his wrap then he might use his mask in a pinch. It’d be really fun if the inside was lined with silk just to keep his hair nice.

🕷 - If he sleeps in that then your gonna have to put something on the spikes to stop them from poking you 😭

🕷 - "nah fam i am not sticking marhsmellows on my head."

🕷 - Honk shoo

🕷 - he will pierce you ears for you.

🕷 - he knows how to sew. mending clothes are more cost effective, and punks have been DIYing outfits since the very beginning.

🕷 - if you don't know how, he can hem or mend your clothes. like i don't he he knows just surface level knowledge either. Hobbie is IN the sewing community

🕷 - he'd get zesty with it too!

🕷 - yeah, he could sew your clothes to look good as new, but have you seen visible decorative mending? there are so many ways to get creative with mending- his personality would really shine through in his work.

🕷 - your favourite pair of jeans that used to have a hole in the knee are now fixed, but with am embroidered spider web spriraling outwards.

🕷 - this is an example of how incredibly thoughtful he is. he spends lots of time and love to turn something broken into something new. and thats one of the ways he'll show you he loves you.

🕷 - you won't really ever be questioning if he loves you though.

🕷 - he's blunt. he'll let you know.

🕷 - tee hee

🕷 - Hobart doesn’t really get Jealous.

🕷 - But he LOVES rubbing your relationship in any clueless suitor’s face when he gets the chance.

🕷 - after watching the movie I am 100% certain that he is willing to clock someone over the head for you.

🕷 - intimidation tactics work great to ward off most creeps. But some people need a demonstration.

🕷 - his hand will snake around your lower tummy or waist, and he pulls you flush against himself

🕷 - he’d lean down to whisper “is this one bothering you?”. Real quietly so no one else can hear.

🕷 - if your friends with Hobart, your friends with Pavitr.

🕷 - and if your dating Hobart, then your basically gonna date him too LMAO

🕷 - Pav thinks you're both so cute! You have his full support. He is INVESTED. The moment he sees you after rough housing with Hobie he gasps! Hello you!

🕷 - he’s all over you.

🕷 - Pav thinks you’re a sweetheart. If Hobie isn’t there you can count on him to have your back.

🕷 - I’ve said this before but he’s canonically got a good read on people, and that’s probably especially so for his best friend.

🕷 - and so he sees how happy you make him. Pav absolutely treasures you.

🕷 - Chances are you'll end up getting close with Gwen too! she stays over in other universes since her situation back in her own isn't great. you guys end up hanging out because of it and ya'll grow close.

[mystically-yours]

What if...?

A silly way of Solomon's devotion. Where was this at the start of the game? I'm not so sure. Although, I'd love to expound on this idea — atleast, for the purposes of a trope I come to love. Let's call this: "Tell me please, why can't I?"

♡.. Imagine a time where it began as the other way around: MC pining after Solomon. Had the human exchange student crave for human interaction in the literal incarnate of Hell? Go figured, it's in their nature. Of course they'd cling to him. Who else was the safest option?

♡.. Many moments pass and MC connects to Solomon like a missing thread. MC is his constant reminder of his lingering humanity, no matter how far gone he thought he was. Seeing the MC talk more about the Human realm: friends, family, places and even the most mundane things like ignoring stupid injuries, or multitasking on errands— it's almost nostalgic despite the many years the sorcerer had lived.

♡.. When MC finally builds up the courage to finally confess to Solomon, he was... shocked? Humanity was an odd topic; anthropology explaining the details of this race to a T. Solomon at this time thought that MC might as well have fallen for the demons. Like the toy they all were.

♡.. And what did he say? What did he say that determined the course of their relationship?

— "It'll pass."

♡.. He had an advantage. He was supposed to be able to become the first to MC's heart — the advantage of both being human. He and MC getting together causes the least amount of issues, but what did he do? He let them be. Let them bond with the brothers. With the others.

♡.. He only viewed them as a pawn in this endless game of life.

♡.. After that as some time came by, their relationship seemed to have continued on as normal. One might say that he and the MC had developed a friendship of sorts. This bond strengthened further when he sees them alone at the school dance — "shall we lonely singles dance together?"

♡.. That's how it should've stayed. His heart shouldn't have had a mind of his own. At night, he couldn't help but recall all their moments spent together. Solomon could no longer count the days he imagined their smile, their laughter, all that made them human...

♡.. As soon as he felt that spark — like a truck ran over him in his deepest nightmares, he realized: "oh fuck..." the platinum blonde muttered in cold sweat, panting as his mind continues to wander. He's awake. He is awake. But is he? Why is it that he's stuck in this dream?

♡.. Like a demon, Solomon felt tempted. Although, isn't that just human nature? — "what have you done to me?"

♡.. Now he knew how MC felt. And even if they was an attempt at the confession, MC's options were limited.

— "I love you like no other. Please, I... I don't want to lose you."

♡.. So they picked the least broken of the bunch.

— "I'll learn how to love you again."

♡.. It was a sentence of bliss, but to the sorcerer, he lost. Which is why when they were given the opportunity to go to the past, Solomon got to spend every moment with MC.

Every moment to enter their heart again.

To quote: "The whisper of love in the morning. Do you hear it? It's beating for you loudly."

Ah yes Solomon, aka mister "shady sorcerer who can't cook" but also "I lost my chance and now I'm taking it again." Inspired by the "fell first, didn't fell" and "fell later, fell harder" dynamic. I was admiring how domestic Solomon acts towards MC in NB — like they were a married couple. As much as I love the demon brothers, this one got my heart... Again, just a "what if," takes inspiration from canon but I tend to deviate a LOT if that makes sense ;v;

Anyhow, have a nice day~! Tell me what you think of this scenario? Let me know your thoughts! 🫶

[rkvriki]

things enha does for you !

hey guys!!! after tha one last fic im back to soft content lolz. i got this idea when i was in class so excuse me if its crappy tho! this one is a lil smoll :')

make sure to leave feedback. my requests are open and so is my talk box so let's talk!

WARNINGS ! undertones of being naked and sunoo watching its all sfw so dont worry!! might contain grammar errors!

word count: 1k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— makes you homemade gifts

heeseung is pretty good at everything, so once in his life decides to make good use of it outside of his job.

heeseung loves giving you gifts, most of them expensive pieces of clothing or even random plushies he wins when he goes to the arcade with the other boys, but is there anything more meaningful than a gift he made himself?

he makes so many handmade things but his favorite thing to do is scrap books. he tries to collect his favorite pics with you every month and he puts them in a scrapbook with cute and sweet handwritten messages.

he loves seeing your wide smile as you scan every picture he chose, remembering each day like it was yesterday.

PARK JONGSEONG !

— leaves you notes or flowers 

he does this almost everyday or at least when he stays over at yours and he even has special cute and decorated post its just for you :’)

sometimes he will notice that you might be feeling a little more down or stressed with school/work so he waits for you to fall asleep before he leaves after writing a heartfelt note and sticking it somewhere he knows you’ll see it.

or sometimes jay just feels like treating you nicely so he sends your favorite flowers with a postcard to your house or office.

it all just makes you feel so giddy and soft on the inside, you love how much he shows affection to you in all kinds of ways.

SIM JAKE !

— is present in the most important moments

being from abroad is hard and jake knows that because he also came from a different country, so when knows his s/o isn’t from korea he tries to make up for the fact you don’t have anyone like family members around to supporto you.

when you have important presentations he will be in the audience cheering for you with the biggest smile on his face.

most of the times he does this are surprises, you never know when to expect seeing him there and you would bawl your eyes out if you weren’t in front of so many people.

when you have your first job interview he will take you to where it’s going to take place and he will wait outside and when you come out will tell you that you did good no matter what results are gonna be.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— writes you letters expressing himself

i feel like sunghoon is really shy when it comes to expressing his feelings, although it doesn’t stop him from telling you he loves you every day.

every week he writes you a letter in neat and pretty handwriting, sometimes just telling you how he is feeling lately, other times talking about how much he loves you and how afraid he is of losing you.

he puts every feeling there is in him in the paper, always writing you more than one sheet of paper. After you read all of them you alway call him and you both talk about it, which makes him shy and his ears turn red.

you keep every letter in a box in a place only you and him know and you always read them when you miss him when he’s away.

KIM SUNOO !

— prepares you a spa day/bath

we all know sunoo is all about self care with all the skin care he does and the vitamins he takes and now it’s also a habit of yours thanks to him.

he loves taking care of you when he feels like you aren’t doing it, unable to do it either from stress or just being busy with your life.

when those situations happen, he never fails to surprise you when you come home with a warm bubbly bath in your bathroom, now candle lit.

he asks you to get in the tub as he leaves to get you more things.

he comes back with a huge variety of skin care for you to choose and prepares you your favorite light drink.

when you come out of the shower he will have you laying in the bed and will give the best back massage you’ll ever get, breaking all the knots in you, finishing off with kisses all over your back and face making you giggle.

YANG JUNGWON !

— takes time to celebrate important dates

jungwon loves planning things for you, especially your birthday. even though it makes him wanna rip his hair off he makes all the efforts to make it the best birthday party you could ever have.

literally no one can talk to him during the weeks he is planning it because he is so stressed that he will snap at someone unintentionally (he apologizes later, poor won)

he will plan it almost a month earlier to make sure everything is perfect. he look for the best bakeries around and tries to find the best rooftop to have the party.

he contacts every single one of your friends trying not to forget to invite anyone.

then the worts part comes, the present to give you. jungwon knows so much about you, almost every little detail, but one thing he doesn’t know is what to give you in your birthday, even if you reassure him he is the best present >-<

all the stress his worthy when he sees your teary eyes smile at the big party.

NISHIMURA RIKI !

— spends quality time with you

being an idol takes a lot of someone’s time and niki tries to use every second he had of free time to be with you since he’s always in and out of the country and he knows you hate being alone.

niki takes you everywhere you possibly can go. you go hiking, you go to amusement parks, to the movies, trying out restaurants, just anywhere.

he’s always up to try new things with you and sometimes he might bring the other boys along or you bring your friends, but it’s very rare to happen.

he always takes his digital camera, taking pictures of you when you aren’t looking, which he ends up showing you making you complain of how bad you look and he just glares at you.

sometimes you just go to quiet places and enjoy each other presence, like going to parks in the middle of the nowhere, where it’s just the two of you being two fools in love.

© rkvriki 2023, do not copy or translate my works, please.

[nuttytani]

Oh no! My suicidal big tiddies man got isekai'd

fandom: honkai star rail

characters: blade and gender neutral reader

tw: none except- maybe not proof read?

a/n: a silly birthday gift for my lovely friend here @tsubaki3192

It was currently 2 AM and you have been playing video games for hours now. Looking at the time made you instinctively yawn and stretch those stiff arms. You were interrupted by a strange gurgling sound coming from somewhere…. Actually, it was just you and your hungry tummy. Since it was super late to cook anything (and risky because it might wake up the entire house), you quickly sneaked into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge.

There were no leftovers. Just some sauce bottles, pickles, butter and milk. The fridge was positively empty of any food. There wasn’t even bread. What were you going to do with sauce and pickles? That didn’t sound appetising at all.

“Awe… There’s nothing,” you said while closing the fridge. Then you opened it again and finally grabbed that milk. That was your only hope.

At least it’s good for my bones, calcium and shit yeah?

Your legs and particularly knees have been creaky and making weird popping noises recently. Maybe those bones might be thanking you for the milk. Chuckling to your silly thoughts, you head back to your room, with a cup of milk and proceed to turn your computer off.

A weird green horizontal line appeared on your screen and your wallpaper surrounding that line turned pixelated. The speaker connected to your computer emitted creepy static-y noises like those really old radio. Something was not right and that something would land you in shit because this wasn’t some cheap ol’ computer. You painstakingly saved up for this bad boy after hours of part time jobs here and there while also struggling with your uni life. The model wasn’t anything new but it was good enough for you and it was your baby. That very baby was dying in front of you. You needed to fix it.  You instantly scrambled back into your chair and tried to check for cables. Maybe some cables were loose. Before you could even touch a wire, the entire screen turned green and turned black. The static noises stopped as well.

“Well… Guess I’m doomed.” You slide your hands down your face and slump down like that Shinji in a chair meme. If this was some horror story though this would be the perfect timing for a hacker or weird murderer to send a message like “I see you” or something of the sort. Actually, what if some weirdo dark web hacker was onto you and wanted to kill you for whatever reason?

Okay, that’s it. This was sleep deprivation talking. You need sleep. Like right now. There’s no hacker that wanted to murder you, it’s probably the lack of sleep frying your brain cells. You were a normal college student, trying to survive in this cutthroat dog-eats-dog world. Even if something does happen, it won't happen to you. Well, your computer dying aside…. NPCs such as yourself don’t get “fun privileges”.

That’s what you thought about 5 minutes ago when you didn’t have a razor-sharp blade pointed at your eye and you laid in your bed wondering what wrongs you committed in your past life that was happening to you. Did you steal a priest's robe? Did you offend some god by swearing at them? Fuck you past life self.

The person holding the sword was still hunched over you and didn’t move their sword. Not even a single centimetre. One wrong movement and you could lose your lovely sight once and for all!

“What is this place and who are you?” asked the person. Judging by their deep voice they were probably a man. They sounded really familiar. You squinted your eyes at the person. Hmmm, bluish-black hair, red highlights… He had some… Real nice assets... Meaning nicely shaped tits…. Hmmm.

“W-what are you doing!” the person raised their voice in surprise and took a step back.

Oh, they must have noticed you ogling. Was it that obvious? You keep staring at their assets because who knows when you’ll have the chance next time? And then your attention finally falls on his sword, it was a deep black that slowly turned into red towards the end and the shaft of the sword had golden crack patterns, you assumed it’s kintsugi.

Wait hold up, that sword looked too familiar. You have seen that many times.

“Holy shit! Are you Blade? Like the Stellaron Hunter Blade?” you exclaimed at the person.

“....Yes. Don’t you dare call the IPC. Or you will face my sword.”

“Well, I’ve been facing your sword for 10 minutes now…. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m talking to THE Blade. One and only Blade. Like actually from Honkai Star Rail? Who is basically lovers to enemies with Dan Heng? Can I touch you? Actually, I always thought your hair was pretty, can I please braid it?”

Blade was speechless and looked like a fish out of water and slowly sheathed his sword.

“Am I dreaming right now or is this what you call a sleep-deprived hallucination… I can’t tell.”

You were met with silence… He didn’t reply.

“I guess it’s a hallucination. ‘Mkay, goodnight, Mr. Dream-slash-hallucination-Blade.”

Just like that you slumped back into your bed, closed your eyes and snoozed.

.

Blade was left terribly confused.

Well, he was a Stellaron Hunter, you should be scared for your life. He kills people for a living. Most people would just have one glimpse of him and go running down the hill while screaming for their lives. But you didn’t? Even when you knew his identity? And his not-widely-known relationship with Dan Heng?

Clearly, you didn’t see him as a threat. He also noticed the way your eyes lingered around his chest.

Silver Wolf did say that he had “some big tiddies” for a man. Whatever that meant. And he’s currently stuck in this room. He had no idea how he ended up here. Just that he was speaking with Kafka about their latest “script” and the details given by Elio. And poof. Some strange glitch happened, and he ended up here. In this tiny room. A huge mess of a room. It was devastating to look at. The desk was covered with stacks of unorganised documents and some random trashy novels. There were also a few strange items that looked nearly identical to him… he tries to recall Silver Wolf’s terminology sessions… Merch? Clothes were all thrown over the office chair like it was some cover.  And the bookshelf was a wreck. An absolute wreck. He could even see how your closet wasn’t even fully closed! How many things were just packed in there?

Looking at the room triggered his migraine. He needed to do something about the state of this room, as soon as possible. Since he basically had nothing to do, he decided to clean stuff up. He organised your shelf– the books were in the order of the genre as well as the titles. He folded and hung your clothes and lined them up according to colour, as well as length. Cleaned up your desk, put away your documents into your drawer, hung up the merch on your cork display, vacuumed and mopped your floors and everything else that he noticed that was out of place.

By the time he was done it was already morning.

.

The birds were shining– no, hold up, that’s wrong, it was supposed to be the sun was shining. Yeah so, the sun was shining! The birds were singing! But why was your favourite game character in the flesh, right in front of you. Were you still dreaming? That’s impossible. You were definitely 100% awake. So you decided to simply stare at the video game character, who was acting like a total malewife cleaning your room. Your mind quickly flashed a Pikachu surprised face at the scene. You were sure that your face was looking like that too.

After what felt like an eternity of staring, you finally spoke, “So you’re real….?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Blade replied in a deadpan voice and a straight face.

Ok so he was real. That was established. Here’s the issue though. How were you going to keep a used-to-be-a-bunch-of-pixels-but-isn’t-anymore man in your room and your house? How were you going to explain this strange man being present in your room overnight to your family? Although you loved your suicidal big tiddies, man…. He needed to go. All those isekai stories and novels you read never talked about what to do when a fictional man just poofs into your house that you share with your family. How does one handle the situation? Someone better make a novel on this now… How does anyone even expect to cope with something like this? What to do now?

You muttered under your breath while thinking and paced around the room like a manic and started, “Should I hide you under the bed? No, you’re too huge for that. My closet doesn't have enough space for you either…. Oh, maybe you can hide in the bushes? Like jump out of my window and stay in there… for some time till I call for you.”

Blade motioned to you to shut up. Fair enough. You guess you were being too loud. Suicidal man needed some quiet time, you supposed.

“No need, I can simply do this.” Blade snapped his finger and he disappeared into thin air. There was another snapping sound, and he came back.

“This is a high-tech feature made by the Stellaron hunters that helps us to appear as if we’ve become transparent,” Blade explained.

“Cool. You should have just told me that sooner.”

And that is how your daily life with the suicidal big tiddies man started. Well it started-ish. He needed to go back to his universe but he said that the Stellaron Hunting could wait. Blade decided that he was on a paid vacation. Thankfully he could still converse with his colleagues, and they were figuring out how to get him back, although they assured you and Blade both that it wouldn’t be a difficult task except it might take a few months till Blade could reunite with the Stellaron Hunters. In the meantime, however, you were tasked to take care of Blade by Kafka and Silver Wolf. 

You and Blade had lots of fun, or at least you think he did. Every day was like a sleepover. Having facials and putting on face masks on each other while watching movies. Or playing some multiplayer games. Blade sucked at gaming, so you had to teach him a bit. You also read him trashy romance novels and even some funny fanfics to him. One day you two even went out to go shopping for some clothes because your big tiddies man could not wear the same pair of clothes every day. Plus, he needed some variety and those cowboy jeans needed to go. Immediately. He looked funny with them on, and no one wore bell bottom jeans in this era.

Though Blade was very sad to part from his fanservice clothes, he fell in love with hoodies and sweatpants. He said they were soft and comfortable to wear. He also wore his hair in a high ponytail or a low bun to blend in with others. You suggested him to get his hair trimmed but he didn’t like that suggestion at all. Blade even gave you a nasty glare for that.

Meanwhile, your family thought you were getting too lonely because they kept hearing you talk to yourself or “someone”. They tried to gently poke you about it every now and then since they were concerned for your mental health, but you would always brush them off.

Recently they saw you holding hands with thin air. Your family definitely knew something was going on now. They even considered calling an exorcist because that was so weird. They even heard a man’s voice speak.

That’s a whole different story though. Maybe for another time!

Until then, Fin <3.

a/n: yeah this was very crack and not serious lol.

here's my taglist if you ever wanna get notified about my fic/hc posts!

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, “just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once. 

Most of them break your heart. 

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific–of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[octuscle]

Support dude, it’s me again, Mike. I hit you up so much I feel like I should pay you. And hey if you need that, I’ve got you just tell me. I owe you a shit ton, dude. Since you last helped me, Jack and I tied the fucking knot (and had a hell of a honeymoon haha hadn’t gotten so many noise complaints since high school) and I even moved into his place. Real big and nice like, would make a suburban man cream his pants and even a socialite would do a double take. For as filthy as he can be with me, big boss knows how to fucking live.

But I wouldn’t be hitting you up if everything was all sunshine and rainbows, eh? (Though one of these days I might convince Boss to let you in on our thing for a night or two, just to say thank you if that’s a thing you wanted wink) One of the neighbors apparently doesn’t like it so much when I invite some of the guys at work over for our, let’s call em team bonding events. He bitches and moans about how loud and rowdy we get and how it’s ruining the value of the neighborhood. I almost kicked his ass the first time he came by all bossy and shit, but Boss told me he was President of their HOA or whatever the fuck and that I couldn’t. So I’ve been trying to ignore the prude but if he comes over and ruins another good night I might lose my cool and I don’t wanna let down Boss like that.

Any way you can make the neighborhood meet our lifestyle choices better, dude? I don’t wanna give up this lavish living so soon, it’s nice as hell. But I don’t want it to change me. I wanna change it! Ain’t no reason we can’t live it up without being able to get down if you catch my drift. Can you help me?

I have not invested so much time in my favorite customers, so that you now become adapted suburban bourgeois. So it's time for me to take care of your neighbor. He may be the president of the HOA, after all. But that doesn't give him the right to regulate your private lives. But I could add a little spice to his.

Actually, the boring buffer is not a visitor to the gym. Thank God. So at least you have peace from him there. But today he feels like working out his muscles. And of course, when he enters the locker room, you run right into his arms. And the slimy ass-kisser can do nothing but shake your hand in a friendly way, as if you were best friends. Oops, sorry that your towel slips down.

Normally you are hard as granite when you come back from training. At the sight of your neighbor, the 8 inches dangle limply between your legs. He still seems impressed. To warn your man, you send him a quick message about what to expect during his workout. And write him that you are already preparing everything for dinner at home. "Everything is fine, stallion! daddy wont b disturbed during his workout. Ill b home in 2 hrs"

Your neighbor is blocking the very stations where Jack wants to work out. He has memorized the gym rules and points out every pissy infraction to your husband. In the beginning. But the more Jack sweats, the more musk he exudes, the hornier your neighbor gets. And slowly he starts to change. Actually, sleeveless tops are not allowed in the gym. You both don't care. And your neighbor now too. With the white wifebeater he looks almost like Jack's gym buddy. And he's starting to smell like one, too. It's hard to believe that just a few minutes ago he was the overgroomed suit guy. His armpit hair is sprouting. He obviously hasn't been to the barbershop in a few months either. He stops regimenting your husband. The two of them start working out together as if they've been doing it forever. Steve (your neighbor) can't get enough of having Jack's sweaty workout shorts hanging in front of his face during the bench press. His bulge gets bigger and bigger. And the damp spots in his shorts aren't just from sweat. Jack asks if it's not time to go to the locker room. Steve replies that he was already afraid that Jack wouldn't even ask.

"is it k if i bring a pal 2 dinner" texts Jack. "he 1't want much mor then ur cum and mine." "then he shud bring big appetite" you reply. Shit, this time when Steve shakes your hand, nothing is limp between your legs. Enjoy the evening with the president of the HOA to the fullest!

Pics all found @thelockerroomblog

[ultrone]

✶ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 ꒱

synopsis. u steal ur girlfriend's sweatshirt

cw. no pronouns, just fluff & amber being moody

wc. 1.2k

Amber woke up to her alarm ringing, and as she rubbed her sleepy eyes, she realized it was Monday morning. She let out a deep sigh, knowing that it would be a long day at school. As she exited her bed, she glanced at her closet, searching for her favourite sweatshirt. But to her dismay, it wasn't there.

"Where the fuck is it?" Amber muttered to herself.

She had to find it, she just had to. It was the one that you had given her as a present, and ever since you told her how much you loved it on her, it had become her absolute favourite. She searched through her closet again, hoping that it would magically appear. She even checked her drawers, under her bed, and in her laundry basket, but still no luck. Amber felt a wave of frustration building inside her as she realized that she might have to go to school without it.

"Ugh, why does this always happen to me?" Amber groaned as she pulled out a plain black hoodie from her closet. It wasn't the end of the world, she reminded herself. It was just a sweatshirt. But it was the one you gave her, damn it, and she wanted to wear it.

She checked the time on her phone and realized that she was already running late. With a resigned sigh, Amber slipped on the black hoodie and headed out the door.

Amber found herself struggling to concentrate in class, feeling bored and disinterested. To make matters worse, she had already started her morning off on the wrong foot, and the only thing that could improve her mood was seeing you — though she knew she wouldn't be able to until third block. As she zoned out, she barely registered when Wes leaned over to talk to her.

"Hey, Amber, you look grumpier than usual today," Wes said, trying to be funny.

Amber snapped back, "Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Wes. Maybe if this class wasn't so mind-numbingly boring, I'd have a reason to smile."

Wes raised his hands in surrender, realizing he had touched a nerve. The class continued in silence until Amber's phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a text from her girlfriend, causing a soft smile to spread across her face.

Seeing her sudden change in demeanour, Chad, who was sitting at the same table, piped up, "What got you so smiley, Amber? Did y/n text you?"

Wes and Chad chuckled, but it was clear they were just teasing her. Amber rolled her eyes and told them to shut up before she started typing a reply to her girlfriend.

y/n: can’t wait to see u later, i miss u :(

amber: i miss u too babe, can’t wait to get outta here and see ur beautiful face

y/n: awww ily ambs <33 i want it to be third block already

amber: i know, me too. i'm so bored in this stupid math class. wes is being annoying as usual.

y/n: lmaooo what's he doing now?

amber: just making dumb jokes with chad

y/n: well, just ignore them and think about how we're gonna have so much fun in PE later 😛

amber: oh yeah, so much fun in PE. just what i always look forward to, sweating my ass off and smelling like a gym locker.

amber: but hey, at least i get to stare at your tits, they bounce so nicely when you run ;)

y/n: LMAOO stfu ihy 😭

amber: 😙

As the minutes ticked by, both you and Amber continued to exchange messages, eagerly counting down the moments until you could be together again. Amber was so lost in conversation that she barely noticed the bell ringing, signalling the end of class. With a start, she realized that she needed to hurry to make it to the gym on time for PE. Quickly gathering her things, she rushed out of the classroom and made her way toward the gym, feeling her heart race with excitement at the thought of seeing you again.

As Amber made her way to the gym, her mind drifted back to the missing sweatshirt. She always wore it to PE, and now she was left without it. But worse than that, she knew that you would notice it was missing, and she felt bad for losing something that you had given her.

As she walked in, she saw her classmates getting ready for the class. They were all laughing and chatting, but Amber didn't feel like joining in. As Amber scanned the gym, she noticed that you were nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, she walked toward the lockers to get changed, hoping to see you there.

As Amber arrived at the lockers, she realized that you weren't there either. She quickly texted you asking where you were, but didn't receive a reply. She decided to get dressed and closed her locker, ready to head out to the gym.

Just as she was about to leave the locker room, you suddenly appeared from behind her and scared her.

"Jesus! What the fuck?" she exclaimed, jumping slightly. But as soon as she saw it was you, she relaxed and let out a laugh.

You immediately jumped into her arms, planting kisses all over her face, making her blush.

As Amber hugged you tightly, you continued to pepper her face with kisses, making her giggle uncontrollably. She then leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, savoring the feeling of your soft lips against hers.

But then, Amber's eyes fell on your sweatshirt, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. "Wait a minute," she said, mock-anger creeping into her voice. "Isn't that my sweatshirt?"

You looked down at the sweatshirt you were wearing and grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. You left it at my place yesterday and I didn't want to say anything because it smells like you." You gave her your best puppy-dog eyes, hoping to win her over.

Amber looked at you with a mock stern expression before rolling her eyes and smiling. "I was looking for that all morning, you know," she teased. "But I guess now it'll smell like you too, so I'm okay with it." She leaned in to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. "But you better give it back to me after class or I’ll kill you," she said, her tone lighthearted and teasing. She didn't mind that you were wearing her hoodie; in fact, she found it endearing. But she couldn't resist a chance to tease you.

"Of course, of course," you said, grinning at her. "I wouldn't dare keep it from you. You know how much I value my life." You playfully crossed your heart with your fingers, pretending to be scared. "But can I at least wear it until the end of the day? It's so cozy, and it smells like you." You leaned in and nuzzled your nose against her neck, taking a deep breath to inhale the sweet scent of her hair.

"Mmm, sure. I suppose I can allow that for now," Amber said with a playful smirk. "But don't get too comfortable, because I'm coming for my sweatshirt after school." She ran her fingers through your hair and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead before taking your hand and leading you towards the gym.

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 28.

i scrambled around the house trying to find my jacket. of course, i had to lose it at the worst possible time. i had to pick up my parents from the airport in 20 minutes and i needed to leave about 5 minutes ago. what a good impression after not seeing them in almost 2 years. johnnie and jake were still asleep, so i didn't bother waking them up to ask if they've seen it.

the only reason i really needed my jacket is because i did not want my parents to see the tattoo. they'd talk my ear off about how i tainted my perfect skin or some shit. and on top of that, they'd blame johnnie for influencing me to get a tattoo and hate him for it.

i could feel anxiety building up inside. i was going to introduce them to johnnie and tell them he's my boyfriend. of course, they can't do much about it and they can't make me break up with him, but i wasn't so sure they'd approve of him. i took a deep breath and decided to just take one of johnnies hoodies.

with one last deep breath, i walked out the door and was on my way to the airport. i called my mom to let her know i might be a little late due to "traffic." of course, that wasn't the real reason, but i didn't want her giving me shit this early in the morning.

"hello?" she picked up after 5 rings. "hey, sweetie."

"hey, ma. i might be a little late, traffic is a pain right now." i explained and turned onto the highway.

"oh, that's fine," she sounded slightly annoyed, "luggage is taking forever, anyway."

"sounds good, i'll see you soon." i replied before hanging up. i sighed and got lost in the song that was blaring over the radio. my phone buzzed moments later with a text from jake.

jake: hey are you out picking up your parents or where did you go

me: yeah why

jake: cause you woke me up

jake: jk

jake: cause aren't they coming here?

me: uhh no i didn't think you guys would want them there and i don't either so

me: i'm taking them to their hotel room

jake: oh okay

jake: do you want me to wake up sleeping beauty

me: actually yes please we're supposed to go out for brunch in like 2 hours

me: tell him not to stress about time though cause they still gotta check into their hotel

jake: on it

jake: i'll have him call you when he's ready

me: thanks stink

jake: bye.

i parked on the side of the street and waited for my parents to walk out after i texted them and let them know where i was. i watched as their old asses waddled out of the sliding doors. they threw their luggage in the trunk and climbed in the back seat together.

"hey, honey." my fathers raspy, tired voice greeted as he buckled up.

me and my father didn't talk much, it was a phone call or two every couple months but nothing more. definitely not as much as me and my mom even though id rather speak to him than her.

my mother greeted me as well. whenever they were both situated i began to drive towards the hotel. i cleared my throat, feeling as if i was about to vomit. i needed to get the talk out of the way, so i did. "mom, dad, i have a boyfriend." i blurted.

they stayed quiet. my mom spoke up, though. "well, isn't that nice?" she seemed to sound slightly sarcastic as she glanced towards my father.

although, he seemed much more enthusiastic about it. “it’s about time, i was starting to worry!”

i rolled my eyes at the backhanded comment. “well, i was wondering if you guys wanted to go to brunch with him after you two get settled into your hotel room.”

my mom seemed hesitant while it was an immediate yes from my dad. he encouraged her quietly in the back, hoping i wouldn’t hear them over the music, but i did. the music wasn’t even that loud, anyway. i had no clue why my amazing mother wouldn’t want to meet him or wouldn’t want me to even have a boyfriend at the age i am, but i told myself not to stress about it. at least my dad was supportive.

-

i sat on my parents’ bed and caught up with them. they told me how they’d been planning on traveling the world sometime soon since they were starting to get old. my father insisted i try to join them on some of their trips, and i agreed. they also filled me in on how they were planning on handing down the owner shift of our cafe solely to me. a weird mix of anxiety and excitement came with that. nonetheless, i was over the moon about being able to own the cafe. i couldn’t wait to tell johnnie. they were planning on selling the house, my childhood home, and getting a smaller house in a more discreet area. they seemed like they had the rest of their lives planned out. my mom ranted about how she has gotten more into painting and will start sending me the things she has already painted for me while they’re working on packing. she also said she’d be sending me boxes of things from my childhood room so i could decide whether to keep them or throw them out. i was really looking forward to that box.

in return, i filled them in on the past few months of my own life. i explained how i met johnnie through the cafe late one night. of course not the details, though. they don’t need to know he was driving illegally. i also explained all of the ups and downs of the cafe that they’ve missed. then, the worst of all of this. i presented the scar in my hair that peeked through on the very top of my forehead while explaining how my apartment got broken into. expecting scolding from my mother, i mentioned how i had already moved in with johnnie because of those circumstances. of course, i mentioned jake in passing since it was the three of us living there. to say the least, they were shocked about how not boring my life was at this point. my mother almost seemed disappointed, maybe at the fact that i had more going for myself than she ever did. surprisingly, my father was proud of me for pulling through all of that bullshit. growing up, he has always been super distant so this came as a surprise to me. i thought maybe things were turning around in our relationship, but definitely not me and my mothers.

my phone buzzed in my pocket and i immediately answered it. my heart was racing as i picked up, far too excited to hear johnnies voice after this already long morning. “hold on, i’m getting a call.”

i stepped out into the hall and greeted johnnie brightly. “hey, baby.” he responded, i could hear the smile in his voice. “i’m ready to go whenever.”

“do you want to start heading there now and get a table? they’re all checked in and they’re just getting done unpacking their shit, so we won’t be too far behind you.”

“yeah, that works. i won’t lie, i’m really fucking nervous. i feel like i’m about to shit my pants, to be honest.” he confessed. i heard him call jake downstairs so he could drive johnnie there.

“don’t be. they were actually pretty calm at the mention of you and everything else has happened. i think this is going to go a lot better than i expected.” i shifted my weight to the other leg.

he sighed, “that’s good to hear. i’ll see you soon.”

“alright, bye.” i hung up the phone and made my way back into the hotel room.

[lucius-morningstar]

You Bug Me

Meeting Vaggie was a trip, one Lucius didn't need, sadly Charlie disagreed. Who knew helping her would be such a pain. -------------- Lucius: She said her name was what, Maggie? Charlie: Vaggie. Lucius: What kind of a name is Vaggie? Charlie: It's the name she gave, even if it isn't her real name give her time. She's new here and needs time to adjust. Lucius: Did she tell you she was new here? Charlie: Well.. Kind of?, Point is she's here now and we need to help her. Lucius: I'm going t- Charlie: *steps in front of Lucius* No. You aren't going to do anything. She's new, she's nervous and wounded. We don't need her more stressed on top of all this. Lucius: Hmm.. Charlie: I know you're uneasy with the idea of her staying here but just give her a couple days to heal. Lucius: Charlie, she lost an eye and got some weird damage done to her back- Charlie: All the more reason to let her rest. Lucius: My point is it takes more then a couple days to heal. Charlie: I know, but she's in a new place and scared. Please just give her some space. For me. Lucius: ..I hate when you do that. Charlie: I know but, you can be a bit.. Intense when I bring sinners here. Lucius: Need I remind you what happened the last few time- Charlie: No. Lucius: Alright we'll make a dea- not that kind. If you are more alert I will give her space and once she perks up a little and starts showing signs of doing better you let me ask a few questions. Alright, sound fair. Charlie: ..Fair. Lucius: Until then keep Razzle and Dazzle near by just in case. Charlie: I can do that, thank you. Lucius: No problem, you hungry? Charlie: Honestly, yea.. Do you mind- Lucius: I can make soup for our stowaway too. It's easy on the stomach and filling. Charlie: Thanks Luci, you're the best. Lucius: Don't call me Luci in front of her at least. I need to keep my image. Charlie: Done. Lucius: *Sighs* Just a few days Lucius, you can handle one stowaway for a few days... Maybe a week or two at most. Then she'll be out of our hair. * Lucius: So how's our "guest" doing. Charlie: Seems more alert today, she's in a lot of pain. Lucius: Yes I suppose losing an eye cause a lot of pain. Let's go see her. Charlie: Promise to be nice, she might be a bit uncomfortable with you. Lucius: I'll do my best. * Charlie: Hi Vaggie.. How are you feeling today. Vaggie: Like my head was split open-.. Whose he? Charlie: Oh um right. Vaggie. This is my brother Lucius, he helped me bring you here. Vaggie: He didn't touch me did he? Charlie: Nope, he waited out of the room. Vaggie: Good.. No offense. Lucius: None taken, you're not my type anyway. Vaggie: ..So um what do you want? Charlie: Well I came to change your bandages and before you worry Lucius will not be looking but is it okay if we ask a few questions? Vaggie: I.. Suppose thats fine. Lucius: You do your thing Charlie, I'll look away. Charlie: Right. Lucius: So was that your first extermination. Vaggie: In a sense yes. Lucius: That's not an answer. Vaggie: My mind isn't feeling too clear okay, ask another. Lucius: Did an angel do that to you? Vaggie: Yes.. Lucius: Why didn't they kill you. Charlie: Lucius what the fuck? Lucius: It's just a question, they usually kill then, Not leave them alive. Charlie: Still that- Vaggie: It's fine, the bell or whatever rang signaling them to go I guess their time here was up. Lucius: ...Is Vaggie your real name. Vaggie: Yes. Lucius: Sounds kinda made up. Charlie: Luc- Vaggie: So what kind of a name is Lucius, the king of hell couldn't come up with something more creative so he named you after himself. I know he's the king of pride but certainly he had a better idea then that. Lucius: *Growls* Excuse me- Charlie: Lucius enough, I get you're curious but don't push the name thing would you. No more questions, you're stressing her out. Lucius: I'm stressing her ou- Charlie: Yes. Let's just drop it for now. Please. Lucius: *Snorts* Fine. Charlie: Thank you, sorry Vaggie he's just a little paranoid after some.. Personal things that's happened. He means no harm really. Vaggie: Right..

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

I just got a juvenile mexican black kingsnake, and, against all odds, given the species, we've had trouble getting him to eat. He's not in shed (which we know because he literally just shed like a few days ago and all feeding attempts since have still been unsuccessful, though he seems hungry).

He's very active, but only at night (according to some sources I've read mbks can sometimes switch between diurnal and nocturnal behavior so I think that's probably what's going on). We've tried feeding him both at night and during the day.

Part of the problem is that he's a bit skittish, and so he often freaks out and leaves at the sight of the tongs. We've tried our best to leave him alone and make sure he has a chance to calm down and adjust, but still no dice. (We didn't start trying to feed him until a solid week after I got him. All feeding attempts have been in his enclosure).

One of my concerns is that he might not recognize the frozen thawed pinkie as food, given that the pet store we got him from only fed live to their baby snakes.

Any tips or advice for things we could try? He hasn't started to loose weight or anything yet, but he's gone twice as long without food now than I've seen recommended for an MBK his age and as a first time snake owner I'm starting to get worried.

Sorry about your problem child! It's always so stressful when a new snake doesn't want to eat.

Are you leaving the food in his enclosure for a while? It's completely fine if a snake doesn't want to eat from the tongs, and in fact probably 90% of all the kingsnakes I've ever had preferred me just putting their food down for them and then leaving the room when they were small. You can leave f/t mice in the enclosure for a few hours with no issues at all.

One upside to your situation is that there's honestly not a lot of difference between live and f/t pinkies. There's not a lot of movement going on either way, so as long as you're making sure the food is warm, he should be able to recognize it no problem.

I encourage you to think about how you can make this as easy for him as possible! You're right to try feeding when he's active (kingsnakes are active whenever they damn well please, so don't worry about the timing), but a big suggestion I have for you is to try ditching the tongs for now. If they spook him, don't use 'em - genuinely, it's gross, but it might help him if you just use your hands to sit the mouse down in his enclosure for him to find (make sure to wash your hands afterwards, obviously). There's no law that says a snake has to eat from the tongs, and drop-feeding is a lot less scary for lots of baby colubrids especially. I drop-feed most of my colubrids until they're a couple years old and gain some confidence.

You said he seems hungry, but I'm going to ask you to do a quick husbandry check-in anyway. Make sure his warm side is set to around 85 F and he's got water to drink, and ensure his enclosure feels nice and cluttered. Feeling safe will help a snake's appetite; make sure he has at least two identical hides (at least one on either side) and his enclosure doesn't feel empty. Cardboard tubes and crumpled paper towels are good, cheap clutter. It's easy to over-offer when a new snake won't eat, but also make sure you're waiting at least five days between offering - too frequent and you could spook him.

I really think that he'll probably take it for you if you ditch the tongs for now and make sure he's given plenty of time to find it left in his enclosure. Try not to worry too much - if he's not losing weight, he's okay. There's fearmongering articles out there that say baby kingsnakes can only go a week without food before they start to starve; that's nonsense. I've spoken about my buddy Ed on here before, he's also an MBK and he was seriously sick when I got him, he was just a couple months old and he still went months without eating before he got really sick (he's fine now and a phenomenal eater, don't worry!). No healthy snake is going to starve themselves, especially if you're taking care to ensure your husbandry is appropriate.

[welcome-back-home]

Hi! Noticed your asks are open, (and also, I love your recent work! The dynamic is so cute!!) and I want to request a wally x reader who is a popstar, I wanna see your take on it!!

Also, Have a great day! 💜💜

thank you so much! im so glad you liked my work! i really appreciate it ^^ you have a nice day too and happy reading!

link: puppet reader

note:this is a massive story im so sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the day started like any other...at least at first, wally does his daily painting routine at his favorite painting spot, underneath a tree with a easel in front of him. the painting he was making resembled a apple cut open with many colors inside in a lemony yellow backgound. he figured his beloved would enjoy it. no matter what personality, they always loved his work and almost immediately hangs it on their wall.

he then paused, mid motion of dipping his paint brush into red paint...now thinking about it, he hasnt seen you all day or hardly anyone for that matter. normally you would show up to say hello or he finds you during his journey to his painting spots, but he was so caught up in his own little world to notice that...time passed and you still haven`t shown up.

a chill goes up his spine at the thought of something wrong might`ve happened, getting a breif flashback of the time his beloved developed a daredevil like personality and they almost got themselves killed.

he looks at his painting as he set the tools down, "it can wait" he thought, as he ventures off to find you.

walking to your home he noticed the design has changed again, it was covered in colorful music notes and fake plastic vinyl records here and there and music is playing from inside. a pleasant musical theme. however over the music thats playing inside was the sounds of construction behind the house and friends talking. wally thought you where back there building something. so he walked behind the house to not see you, but sally, julie, and howdy. the three are apparently working on building a stage, it looked to be almost done as its firmly standing tall and decorated with star covered curtains and fairy lights.

the neighbors have been busy most of the day making a mini concert for you, a treat you 'the famous pop star' wanted to give to the community as a thank you for being great friends. of course you didnt ask them to make the stage, they offered to make it for you. the three of them was having fun putting the last finishing touches on the setup while frank gets chairs, barnaby gets snacks, and eddie finishing his final mail run for the day, poppy was nowhere to be found. wally wonders where both you and poppy could be...but he figures the both of you are busy with something else important for this setup. so instead he went to say hello to sally,julie, and howdy.

"hello friends!" wally greets the trio while he waves "wally! where have you been? you was about to miss the show" sally asks with a smile, a bottle of glue and a jar of glitter in her hands, she was making glitter covered shapes on the stages platform to give it extra flare "im sorry, i was caught up with my painting and did not notice the time" wally sighs as he confessed where he has been most of the day, embarrassment and a hint of remorse in his tone "thats ok silly! you`re here now!" julie speaks up, understanding that anyone can lose track of time when they are doing something they enjoy, "am i still able to help?" wally offers, even if its kind to late, howdy holds out a paintbrush to him thats coated with green paint "can you help me paint the rest of the stage?" howdy smiles, even if he had it covered already with his four arms, he would love to have some help.

with a grin wally accepts the brush and helps howdy paint the wooden stage. everyone else returned from their tasks and soon the set up was finished, poppy showed up after a while to sneak someone behind the curtains of the stage and took a seat with everyone else in the small crowd.

and then the show begins.

the curtains open to reveal you on the center of the stage, the fairy lights illuminating the stage and makes you shine brighter then anything in the world in wallys eyes. you was smiling, dressed in pop star getup, and face framed perfectly with the new hairstyle you have for the day. you looked like a angel standing on that stage.

"hello neighbors!" you said cheerfully into the mic thats on a stand in front of you "i wanted to give you something in return for the never ending kindness you've always given me since ive moved here" you continued, a spark of confidence in your voice "i`ve written this one for someone special, i hope you all enjoy it" you say as a song starts to play from the speakers.

as you began to sing the world practically stood still, your voice was so beautiful it practically made wally swoon. his heart sped up and his face grew warm as he rests his head on the palm of his hand, never taking his lovestruck gaze off of you. a song you have made for him you`ve sang with all the confidence in your very soul, each lyric and note he will forever know by heart. he has never fallen as hard as he did at this moment...

and even when the song finished he never took his eyes off of you or even stopped listening when you started the next song, he hung on to every word. just enjoying every second of your beautiful performance...

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Six: Forced Proximity @rowaelinscourt

link to masterlist here

She is a mess because I wrote her in one day between doing my real job and trying not to cry xoxo

Warnings: mild covid references/quarantine days, very poorly edited

level of concern (tell me we're alright)

The apartment was too small.  Aelin hadn’t noticed it until now, but two rooms and a single bathroom with a kitchen that easily melted into the living room was hardly enough space for two people.  Two people who hated each other.

Aelin threw herself down on the couch, gripping her coffee in one hand.  She’d long ago mastered the art of equilibrium where any sort of caffeine was involved so she didn’t spill anything as she sprawled across the plush cushions.  Groaning, she leaned her head back and tried, so very hard, not to lose her ever loving mind.

It was only week three of quarantine and she was going insane.

She missed going outside whenever she felt like it.  She missed going shopping.  She missed her friends.  She missed people.  Instead, she was trapped here with the one person she did not want to be.

“Do you always have to sound like a dying whale?” A very unamused voice called from the kitchen table, a grand ‘ol four steps away.

Aelin flashed a single finger over the top of the couch.  She got a grunt of disapproval in return.

“It’s eight twenty-two, well outside of your precious quiet hours,” she informed her roommate. “I can do whatever I want.”

Another grunt.

Aelin shifted to peek over the couch to glare. “You sound like a dying walrus.”

And Rowan Whitethorn promptly choked on his cereal.  Two days in a row—Aelin was on a winning streak.

When Aelin first moved to Doranelle three months ago, her plan was to have her own apartment, a dog, a perfect new job, and a social life.  What she got was a crash landing with her nemesis, no dog, the worst job known to man, and quarantine.

She and Rowan had been at each other's throats since they met one fateful night at a bar.  Rowan spilled beer on her, an accident, and promptly insulted her two minutes later after trying to hit on her.

As it turned out, he was friends with Aelin’s old roommates' boyfriends.  She should have known he was the worst considering he and Lorcan Salvaterre got on.  

The bar scene ended with a fight, more beer spillage (on purpose), and a promise of vengeance.

Unfortunately for Aelin, her prospective lease fell through and she would have been homeless if not for the extra room in Rowan’s apartment.  And then covid struck and Aelin was trapped.

Hence, her beached whale position (and sounds) from the couch.  Life was one cosmic joke after another.

“You don’t always have to make your presence known, y’know,” Rowan commented as he pretended, he hadn’t almost had multi-grain Wheaties shooting out of his nose.

“Of course I do,” Aelin argued, “how else can I annoy you before quiet hours begin?”

His green eyes flashed and he rose from his seat at the table, already dressed in a button up and slacks.  For Zoom meetings.  Like a lunatic.  If he’d been wearing a tie she would have teased him for it.  Of all things the man should still be in shorts and a t-shirt.  At least the button up stretched in interesting ways over Rowan’s broad shoulders.  He might have been the bane of her existence but he was nice to look at.

“Don’t you have a job?” he asked, putting his dishes in the sink. “Ah, I forgot, you don’t.”

“Freelance writing is a job,” Aelin said.  She sat up straighter so she could better glare at him. “It’s not my fault things have slowed down.”

Indeed, Aelin’s literature degree had taken a hit given the state of the world right now.  She’d hoped she would have a job at a major publishing company or magazine or something.  Instead, she’d been rejected from job after job and was trying to write freelance articles to keep up on rent.  It…wasn’t going well.  Which had led her to content creating for Instagram.  She read books and talked about them and it kept her somewhat sane.  Until Rowan mocked her for it.

“Rent’s due on the fifth!” he called as he disappeared down the hall to his room to shut in for his work day to begin.

Aelin had no idea what he did, only that it involved not having a sense of humor.  Something with marketing?  But his degree was in history if Elide was right…

She shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee.  She had less than twenty minutes before quiet hours started at eight-forty and ended at five thirty when the work day ended and she had every intention of making as much noise as possible.

…

Rowan knew he was an ass.  He’d always been known as the asshole throughout high school, college, the steps in-between.  Even his friends often thought he was worse than Lorcan.  Lorcan of all people.

Granted, ever since Elide came into the picture, Lorcan had mellowed out and even smiled once a week.

Rowan found scowling to be more beneficial.  Especially when it came to getting Sam Cortland to shut up in the daily staff meetings they had over Zoom.

His degree was in art history and appraising--a limited degree where all he’d wanted to do was work in a museum organizing exhibits.  Not writing legal documents for rich men to take art from their rightful owners.

The irony was not lost on him that perhaps he shouldn’t give Aelin such a hard time about her job and the fact she wasn’t using her degree very much.  

The only problem was he’d dug himself into a hole and now he had no idea how to get out.

Aelin, for all eccentricities, was smart and did work hard.  She was doing everything possible to stay afloat--sarcasm included.

Their first meeting at the bar had only gone so miserable because Rowan didn’t know when to shut up and apparently had a unique skill of insulting beautiful women.  What a time to learn that.

English?  Isn’t that the easiest thing to study?

She should have slapped him and not just dumped beer in his lap.

Rowan leaned back in his seat as the project manager started talking over the new contract that would be drawn up between a client and their acquisitions.  It continued on for too long and Rowan just wanted to get back to his own assignments.  By the time late afternoon rolled around, he was ready to log off and be done for the day.

He’d always considered himself to be a homebody, but this was getting ridiculous.  He wanted to be out doing things.  But the trails were closed, his friends were spread out over the country, and there was the risk of a disastrous illness running amuck.

So he was trapped in an apartment with Aelin Galathynius.  The place had always felt enormous until she’d moved in.  But she had a way of filling every space she occupied.  Other than the various bathroom accouterments she had there were the dozens of fleece blankets, the books, the personality.  Even he had to admit she was different from anyone he’d met before.

Unfortunately, she was very good at holding grudges.

He’d tried apologizing for getting off on the wrong foot when she first moved in, but her mind was already made up.  Then came the way she was loud, talkative, rambunctious.  Quarantine was not meant for her.  After one day he’d realized that she needed space and freedom and the ability to do whatever she wanted.  The jury was still out on how he felt about that.

He was finally able to mute his other coworkers when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen.  Rowan rolled his eyes.  It was two, so of course Aelin was getting snacky.  He’d clocked her eating habits and quickly learned she needed to eat at least eight times a day to be in a good mood.  Seven of those times had to involve chocolate.

She had been doing better at keeping quiet while he was in his zoom meetings so Rowan tried to control his ire.  Really, she hadn’t been a bad roommate.  She’d tried to keep the peace between them and even offered to include him on DoorDash orders.  All of her orders were from the local dessert shop and Rowan didn’t eat much sugar so that didn’t help matters.   

Another crash from the kitchen followed by the patter of feet to the linen closet.

“Damndamndamndamn,” Aelin chanted as she went.

Rowan froze.  She’d broken his sink again, hadn’t she?  He glanced at his computer but no one was paying attention, all engaged in their own work.  Besides, he could step away from a minute if he needed to.

Standing, Rowan slipped into the hall and down to the kitchen.  He braced himself for anything and everything.  Knowing Aelin there could be a dead body.

What he was completely unprepared for was the settling plume of flour and mess of various baking items scattered around the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Aelin turned from the counter, her blonde hair spilling out of a messy bun.  Her t-shirt and shorts (that showed off her lean legs) were covered in a mix of flour and butter, her face smudged too.  He knew he should stop staring.  Really, he’d seen her first thing in the morning looking like the walking dead and in the middle of the night crying to Taylor Swift.  And now, covered in flour, eyes wide with panic.  He would admit it only to himself and deny it if anyone asked him--but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“It’s cookie Friday,” Aelin said, she had a towel in one hand, spatula in the other.  A bottle of vanilla was tipped over as she was trying to mop up the mess. “Sorry.”

“You hate cooking, or baking, or anything involving an oven,” Rowan reminded her.

“Which is why I’m only going to eat the dough raw,” Aelin said, voice growing quieter with each word.  Her blue eyes were comically wide as she gestured around the kitchen. “Then the thing exploded and the other thing tipped over and it turned into a mess and I was trying to be quiet because you are a grumpy buzzard, even on Fridays, and I know you’re at work but I really needed cookies.”

Aelin continued to look at him with her large eyes as she offered a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders.  

"Sorry?"

Rowan didn't know if he should laugh or be irritated or something else.  But all he really could do was stare at her.  It was such an Aelin thing for her to do that really, he couldn't be mad.

"You know raw cookie dough is bad for you right?" He asked.

"No, it literally feeds the soul," she set.

With a wet thwack, she dropped the towel in the sink and righted the vanilla bottle.  Most of it had spilled out leaving a sickly-sweet scent cloying in the air. "And I don't care what scientists or other miserable things you read say."

Rowan rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to try and reason with her. "Alright fine.  Eat your salmonella."

"I will, thank you," she said.  A patch of flour still clung to her cheek giving her bravado a little less umph than he was sure she wanted. "And I'll clean up, no need to worry your poor old heart about that."

"I'm not old," he said.  Thirty was a perfectly reasonable age.

"Yeah, yeah."  She patted herself down, sending little plumes of flour all over the place.  She tried righting her hair, but it seemed to be of no use—most of the tendrils had broken free and she was stuck with a curling mass in the nape of her neck. "Go back to work, I'm sure nothing will get done without you."

And Rowan in a bought of what had to be pure reckless abandonment shook his head. "Nah.  I'm not that important."

Aelin raised a brow. "Really? Even with your real degree and real work you put into college."

Well.  He deserved that. 

"Yeah?"

Aelin eyed him skeptically before tossing another clean towel at him. "You get the floor I'll get the cabinets."

And then because the apartment had somehow shrunk in the last three months—they were continually in each other’s way.  Rowan brushing her leg, Aelin grabbing his shoulder when she nearly fell over while reaching for the top cabinets, both going for the sink at the same time.  It was chaos.  And because Rowan didn't know how to sort out his own feelings, he found his skin heating at each touch, his heart race at each glance.  And he knew, he knew he was a fool.  But if the past three months had taught him anything—it was that he could be very wrong about a great deal of things.

When the kitchen was somewhat restored to order.  Aelin sighed. "I guess that'll have to do.  I'll dig out the real cleaning products in a minute, I have to meet with one of my editors.  Hopefully one of my articles was accepted this time."

She said the last part flippantly, but Rowan could sense the tension rolling off of her.  She wanted that job to go through, needed it.  

"I'm sure it will," he said.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You don't have to offer a pity compliment buzzard; I know it's not your style."

“It’s not--” Rowan cursed and looked away, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “We both know what I said back then wasn’t true.  I know it must have taken work and dedication to get your degree.”

“Thanks.  It did.” She was unapologetic with her bold words, just as he would expect her to be. “I won’t keep you.  I promise I’ll have the rest of this cleaned up before bed.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan said. 

Aelin grabbed the dirty towels to take to the small laundry alcove but Rowan stopped her.

“You’ve got flour,” he tried to explain that there was still a steak of flour on her cheek, but he was already reaching out, brushing it away with a quick swipe of his thumb.

Aelin froze, watching him as if she didn’t recognize him.  Not that he could blame her, he was actually being nice.  Her lips parted as if to say something, but Rowan’s phone gave a loud ping from where he’d left it in his room.  He’d hooked his notifications onto a larger speaker setting so he wouldn’t miss anything during the day if he got up to leave his desk.

“Work calls, right?”  Aelin joked with a small, half smile.  And then she was gone down the hall.

Rowan cursed again, running a hand over his face. 

“Get it together, Whitethorn,” he muttered, before he too returned to his room.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

tags are a joke rn. please consider reblogging?

love yall

[your-local-hoemie]

ꕥ Genshin Impact ꕥ boyfriend headcanons, Inazuma edition~ part two.

Firstly, why is Itto so pretty in this gif???

Who gave this man the right?????

Secondly, thank you all for 100 followers!!! I honestly didn’t think anyone would really like my writing but knowing that you do makes it even more fun! And ya’ll are all so nice too like I don’t deserve this what T-T

Summary: literally the title.

Warnings: fluff, maybe a lil’ suggestive??, swearing, established relationship, Gn!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: Itto, Ayato, Gorou. (I’m classing scara (aka, wanderer) as a Sumeru citizen now since he’s a new, good boy! What i still wouldn’t give for him to crush me)

Itto~

God bless this man.

He’s so precious.

He openly adores everything you do.

Walked up a bunch of stairs without dying?

You can bet your sweet buns that this man is going to be awe struck.

He’s very strong and even though he acts like a himbo, he’s still got his head in a good place (kinda)

(He’s a complete fucking idiot)

But he is the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend!

Give him head pats and tell him he’s a good boy and he’s mush in your arms!

Boy will go all out on dates hsiduxid

Most of the time they don’t go as planned but you can’t even get mad when he still somehow manages to pull a successful “plan numero two-o” out of nowhere.

Kuki has become his go-to advisor for romance!

She doesn’t know much bless her but she knows more than him jdjdjdhdurj

Man doesn’t get jealous.

He’s too oblivious-

If someone starts flirting with you he’ll probably just join in.

“You think they’re great too?? What am I saying, of course you do! How could you not think that they’re the coolest, most awesomest partner ever!”

Bless his heart I love him T-T

He lets you polish his horns-

He lets you polish his horns.

It might not seem like much but he’s so proud of them that it’s a literal honour-

Loves it when you pet them too or put little jewellery around them!

Honestly I think he’s a really good kisser.

Don’t ask why but he just gives off that vibe.

He’s also been roping you into beetle fights.

Which he totally wins every time!

He doesn’t. You let him win occasionally.

He once found a super cool looking beetle and named it after you!!

He always makes sure to take extra good care of it just because of that.

Ayato~

Imma be honest, if I see this man pull boba out of his arm one more time and make that slurp I might lose it-

I’m not too familiar with his character but my best friend has a intense crush on him so i will get scolded if I make this is too inaccurate.

I know this sounds absurd but istg I will bet everything that this man has social anxiety.

I can smell my people.

He’s just really good at hiding it with his duties!

And you’re the only one who gets to see that side of him because he trusts you more than anyone T-T

Man is extremely busy so dates are rare but he still somehow manages to make time!

A privilege that’s only shared with Ayaka who absolutely adores you!!

She also absolutely wasn’t a little jealous of her brother hdbfhdj

He adores the little things you do!

Like, absolutely worships them!

If you decided to make him the ugliest drawing known to man kind he will frame it and look at it at least twice a day.

He taught you to play chess and much to thoma’s dismay, he taught you extremely well.

Poor boy hasn’t won in months.

Always offers you a taste of his magical sleeve boba!

How it stays fresh, no one knows.

He’s an absolute gentleman!

Hand kisses whenever he greets you, without fail!

Always insist on getting you little trinkets or jewellery!

He thinks you deserve it ok, just accept it-

Always talks about you to thoma and Ayaka!

He wants to make sure you know how much he loves you!!

He is a little possessive over you-

He means no harm by it but he can’t help his sly, mischievous side show a little bit.

“Come now, is that really any way to talk to my future spouse? Hm? Yes I did call you that, do you object, dearest~?”

Just cuts into the conversation with the offending person and grabs you by the waist with zero shame-

Do it back-

It’ll shut him up really quick~

Gorou~

Just like Ayato, I’m not super familiar with his personality hngggg.

Let’s get it out the way, shall we?

Tail.

Ears.

I NEED TO PET HIM!!!!!!

And lucky you!

You get to pet him!!

Yes he allows you to touch the ears.

Maybe be careful with the tail though cough cough

He whimpers

Beach dates aaaAAAA!

He’s constantly in work mode but he does his best to relax!

He loves making seashell necklaces with you and just taking walks together while talking!

Poor boy gets very flustered very easily.

He knows his tail gives off his emotions way too easily and you’re always super quick to tease him about it.

Evil.

He’s a thigh person and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Let him lay in your lap, please.

He’s also super ticklish-

Don’t ask, he just looks the type.

He can’t help but melt into a flustered mess whenever you’re around!

Which of course he gets teased for mercilessly by the rest of the soldiers.

But saying that, he will never be embarrassed by admitting he loves you!

He believes strongly in being open about how you feel.

Always brings you freshly picked flowers whenever you meet up!

He is really strong though, don’t be fooled by his fluff.

One of the reasons he loves you so much is because you never see him as just a pet.

He also asks you to study with him when kokomi lets him read her books!

You’d be amazed by how focused this man can get when in serious mode istg not even a earthquake could shake him.

“Huh? I love you but come on, do I really have to remind you again? It’s vital that we always keep our minds sharp even if there’s no visible threat! Leave the poor lizards alone-”

His patience with you is incredible.

He doesn’t get jealous easily but he does get a little insecure sometimes!

He’ll never cause a scene with it but he will be open with how he feels.

He hates the idea of arguing so he’ll always bring it up in a polite way!

He’s always super respectful of you and will quickly scold anyone who acts differently~

He’s a very good and very precious baby~

IM ALIVE!!! Well, kinda. I’m back at home but I got a lot of recovery to do and when I tell ya’ll that it is frUSTRATING! So writing is a good distraction!

I’m still gonna be taking my time though since my energy is completely gone not to mention I’m not allowed to get too excited since it raises my heart rate so the genshin men might actually end up killing me gdjsgHDJSH

Not that I’d mind either-

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - thirty-three | Crom3r

Hongjoong was going over the notes you made for the choreos and making notes on the songs files accordingly. Maddox was sitting next to him, observing and adding his own input.

You posted the trailer for an upcoming mashup yesterday and were currently scrolling the comments to see how everyone was feeling about it. It was the tiniest of little blurbs of a trailer, but your fans were already losing their minds. You smiled. 

“We need a new name.” Maddox said.

You put your phone away. “A name?”

“A production name. We had one when--” Maddox stopped himself from saying the old member’s name, his eyes darting from Hongjoong and back to you “--our original third member was in the group. We should think of a new one.”

“Am… am I in the group already?”

“YES?” He shouted.

You laughed nervously. “Oh my god.”

“We need a new one.”

“Okay, I believe you. What was the old one? I forget.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Hongjoong said. “He made up the name and I’d rather not think about him right now.”

Maddox looked at him, a small frown on his face. “Fair. But… let’s you and me think of a new name, t/n.” He got up and joined you at the table and put his notebook down between the two of you so you could both write on it.

What proceeded was a two hour long brainstorming session where both of you were looking up names, looking up what they meant, writing them down in case they might sound good, trying to come up with something that involved all three of you, but still trying to pay tribute to the fact that Hongjoong had been at Wonderland the longest.

You leaned back in your chair and sighed. “We should give up and order food.”

“No! I think we can do it!” Maddox said, and patted your arm.

You sighed again.

Maddox looked at the scribbled notes on the paper. “Hongjoong… Hong…Hong-something?”

“You don’t have to put my name in it.”

Maddox waved him off. Hongjoong rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing.

“Hong…. Hong…”

“Hong Kong.” You suggested flippantly.

He glared at you. “This is serious.”

You smiled. “Hongjoong, what chinese characters did your parents use for your name?”

“Uh… I think ‘Hong’ is ‘wide’ or ‘vast’ and ‘joong’ is ‘center’.”

You stared at him for a moment. “What’s the meaning they intended?”

“‘To be the center of the broad world.’ Why? What were you thinking?”

“I thought it was a sports position like ‘wide center’ or something.”

He thought for a second. “Isn’t that ‘wide receiver’?”

You waved him away. “I don’t know sports.”

He chuckled and looked back at the screen.

“Center of the world, huh?” You thought. “Like a… like the pin that holds a compass needle to the back.”

“That’s a nice metaphor.” He said, not turning.

“Like a… like a… an immovable point that always guides you to where you need to go. Like… a guiding star, like…”

“Star Productions.” Maddox said.

“Too simple. Like…” you thought hard for a few seconds. “...Polaris? Like it’s the pole star and you follow it to find your way, and then we could put a compass in the ‘O’ when it’s an image.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “That’s way too much about me.”

“Well… I got nothin’.”

The room was quiet for a few moments, you looking up at the ceiling and Maddox reviewing the scribbles.

Then Hongjoong spoke up: “What about ‘Cromer’?”

“Cromer?” Maddox said.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Like an hourglass. It turns on a centerpoint - so you have that aspect you want - but the sand represents like… the lots of little experiences we each have. I’ve been here the longest and you’re brand new, Maddox is in the middle, so it has the time aspect.”

“Hmm… maybe.”

“And we can write it out with a ‘3’ as the ‘e’; so it’s three of us and we all make up ‘Crom3r.”

“Oh… I kind of like that,” Maddox said.

“See? This is why you’re the captain.” You said.

Hongjoong sighed at the nickname. “Well… at least that’s figured out.”

“Crom3r.” Maddox said. “I like it.”

“It’s just weird enough to warrant a meaningful explanation, but the 3 in the written version makes that part obvious at least.” You offered.

“Definitely better than just ‘Star Productions.’”

“Yeah, I’m sure someone’s been using that since like… the 80s or something.”

Maddox chuckled and wrote out ‘Crom3r’ onto the notebook, trying to figure out what kind of font might look best with it.

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