#band of seven arc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redstringraven · 2 months ago

Text

Fika

characters: don, klunk, leo, mikey and raph rating: g content warnings: n/a word count: 4288 relevant tags: sick fic, sick leo, post-episode: good genes

(n.) a moment to slow down and appreciate the good things in life a leo sick-fic, requested by @sakuradiva for @tmnt4p !

[ read on ao3 ]

You may as well have called the first sneeze an alarm bell. The instant it echoed through the reservoir station, each and every one of them in range perked up, heads swiveling like a bunch of prairie dogs.

Raph seeks out Don first. He scans the open first-level of the reservoir station until he catches Don’s eye--a second after Mikey does. Don glances between them, his expression at first wide. Then his lips curl downward, and he huffs. “—that wasn’t me.”

There's no attempt to hide the irritation in his tone (and Raph couldn’t blame him); a week or two of one helicopter sibling is annoying enough. Don had three. Plus Master Splinter. Plus April and Casey. Plus Leatherhead. Seven people in a semi-constant state of worry, hovering, asking questions, growing tense with anything that could be a small sign of 'relapse'. It had to get smothering at some point. And even Don had a limit to his so-called infinite patience.

“—Oh!” Mikey says. He pauses, his eyes darting from Don, to Raph, and back again--clearly scrambling to deflect from what Don had drawn attention to. “—Well. It wasn’t ME. My sneezes are a lot more… uuuuh…”

“Needy?” Raph offers.

“Yeah!” A beat. Mikey's eyes widen, then he shoots a squint at Raph. “—Hey, wait.”

“Sorry.” Leo moves out of the kitchen, mug in hand, having lowered the heel of his palm from his beak. “I, uh. I think I might’ve stirred up some dust while I was looking for the chamomile.”

Mikey relaxes, likely happy to accept this answer and move on, but Raph’s brow arcs. “Thought you’n Mikey gave the cabinets a good wipe-down earlier this week.”

“We did,” Leo says. He shrugs. “Guess… some of it must still be in the air. I dunno.”

...lying, Raph thinks, though he’s careful to keep the suspicion from reaching his eyes. He shifts his attention to Mikey just in time to catch the tell-tale signs of worry: a sudden stillness, like a deer in headlights, and the slightest strain around the eyes. It’s gone as soon as it arrives, and Mikey replaces any sign of it with an impish grin.

“Looks like someone was slacking on cleaning duty,” he jabs, knuckles propped on his hips. He tilts his weight forward and tuts his tongue. “For shame, Bronardo.”

Leo sends Mikey a passive smirk. He huffs and starts up the steps toward his room. His free hand finds the stair-rail and stays there. Raph locks onto it. He can't help but notice Leo's not resting his palm on the metal; he's holding it.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with an idea of what we need to knock out today,” Leo says. There's a slight wilt in his posture—and now that Raph thinks about it, he realizes Leo's feet drag just enough to make his usual silent steps borderline audible. Raph shifts his weight and fixes his jaw, forcing himself to hold his tongue. Leo looks back over his shoulder after reaching the threshold of his room and continues, “Donnie, I’d appreciate it if you sat it out another day.”

Don sighs, but he waves a hand lazily over his head. “Heard loud and clear, boss.”

Leo’s door shuts, and silence settles back over the station. Raph remains by the weapons rack, and Don keeps his attention on the blueprints he has spread across the table he'd claimed as his temporary workbench. Only Mikey moves, plucking at one of his wrist bands, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the subtle rise in tension.

“...--you think I can squeeze in just enough Resident Evil 4 that I can get far away from a save point, and he’ll have to wait until I reach the next one to turn off the game?” Mikey asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he flashes Raph a wide grin and bolts for the couch with a cackle. The televisions flash and hum to life, and Raph lets out a blend of a sigh and a growl. His eyes shift to Don.

Don’s already looking at him. Even with the faint purple stains under his eyes, the mild sag of his skin, there’s a sharpness in his stare. Raph recognizes it. He knows they harbor the same concern.

“Donnie?”

“Yeah, Mikey?”

Mikey huffs as he enters Don’s room, scratching at his cheek.

“Have you seen Klunk? He was snoozing on me like usual this morning, but… I kinda didn’t want to get up and give him his breakfast just yet." A terrible betrayal, if he were being honest. But he'd really just wanted five more minutes (which turned to ten, to fifteen, to twenty), and Klunk grew bored of swatting his face. Totally lost track of time after that. Mikey frowns, sending another short glance over his shoulder to eye the station. "He must’ve gotten cranky and left, but he wasn’t in the kitchen.”

“No,” Don says. He rotates a bit more in his chair to face Mikey and sets his pen aside. His jaw tightens, shivers as he points toward the door (an attempt to redirect attention as he stifles a yawn). “But--uh. I know he’s really fond of that one spot by the water?”

Mikey shakes his head. “Checked. Nada.”

“Oh…” Don’s brow furrows. “Well… --have you asked Leo? He might’ve seen where Klunk ran off to; he's been up a while.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Donnie!”

Don grunts a sound in place of a “you’re welcome”, and Mikey jogs back into the heart of their new lair.

There is, of course, a risk he ran entering Leo’s room: he’d narrowly managed to wiggle his way out of work yesterday, and he doubted he’d get similar results today. Leo may not be… grumpy anymore, but he was still Leo. A bit of a stickler—a: wet blanket, one might venture. You could only keep up a single ruse with him for so long.

Leo's door is open when he reaches it (a welcome sight, considering how often it’d been closed in the months before), and Mikey allows himself to cross inside. The space is rather bare--with little left to salvage from the second lair and a mutant outbreak to clean up, they found themselves back at square one in terms of decor. But Leo still found a way to make the few things he had feel clean and in order. Mikey could feel almost a rhythm in the way he'd stacked books on the floor, where he placed candles, and where Leo chose to sit when he meditated. He’s also quick to spot the ball of orange fur settled into Leo’s lap.

“Hey, Leo!” Mikey chirps, careful to keep his voice just low enough so as not to startle either of them. He waits a second for one of Leo’s eyes to open before continuing, “mind if I steal Klunk off ya?”

Leo smiles. But it’s… a tired? smile? Mikey can’t remember the last time Leo looked tired in the morning (y’know; like a normal person).

“I’m surprised you didn’t come get him sooner,” Leo mutters. He closes his eye again. “Sure.”

“Thanks!”

Mikey takes a wide step into the room and crouches. He digs around in his belt, locating one of Klunk's favorite snack-tubes.

“Oh Kah-looooonkkkk,” he says, putting on his best sing-song-I-totally-got-treats-for-you-love-me-please voice, “you want some tube~?”

Klunk lifts and tilts his head. Rather than get to his feet and trot to Mikey’s side, he shifts his weight, tucking his legs securely under his body. Mikey blinks.

That's weird. Klunk never turns down an offer for tube.

Even Klunk seems to acknowledge this; his tail twitches irritably, and his ears flatten out. It's like he wants to get up but…

“...hey, Leo?” Mikey props his elbows on his knees, frowning. “Has Klunk been with ya like this all morning?”

Leo’s shoulders lift in a half-shrug. “Guess so.”

“Huh.” Mikey pouts. Klunk hated a late breakfast. There hadn’t been scraps in his bowl, so no one had fed him yet. Why isn't he screaming for food? ...he's definitely still sending me dirty looks.

Mikey drums his hands on his inner knees. He opens his mouth—another question forming on his tongue—but snaps it closed when Leo suddenly sniffs. It's a wet, strained sound, and his posture rolls forward a little. Almost like he’d just gotten dizzy, or the breath had taken more effort than it should've. Come to think of it, it... did look like Leo was breathing through his mouth more than his nose. His lips were parted slightly. Mikey squints—glances from Klunk to Leo—and straightens up. “...your, uh... nose still bugging ya, bro?”

“A little.”

“...iiiis that all that’s bugging ya?”

Leo frowns, but he keeps his eyes closed. His brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Mikey says, “iiiit’s just… y’look kind of tired? And… Klunk super doesn’t wanna leave your lap. Which is weird! Because he hasn't had breakfast! And I offered him a tube! He ALWAYS wants tube.”

Leo opens his eyes and frowns as he looks at Mikey. Mikey shifts his weight and wrings his wrists in his lap. Leo didn’t have that needling look in his eyes like he had a few months ago, but… guess he’d started expecting a half-hearted glare and a growl.

Leo must have realized this, too. He winces, and his features weaken.

“Mikey, I’m okay,” he says. Mikey's lips twitch into a weak smile, but it must not have looked convincing. Leo sighs, "really, I’m just… Maybe I've just got a cold.”

“—a cold?” Mikey echoes, all at once alert. His throat tightens. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows it's irrational, but he doesn't care. He searches Leo’s limbs—any visible section of skin. But nothing looks open, or irritated or… mutated. They'd gotten separated in Bishop's lab for a while after Don got loose. Leo hadn't said anything about encountering other feral mutants, but...

Mikey rolls his lips together, eyes snapping up to meet Leo’s. “You… didn’t get, y’know. Stung. Or anything and didn’t tell us, did you?”

Leo’s expression drops. “What? --no, Mikey. Why would you—”

“—I should get Donnie,” Mikey interrupts, springing to his feet. “Just in case!”

“Mikey, I didn’t—”

“—I’ll be right back!" He jabs a finger at Leo and shakes his head. "Don’t even think about going anywhere! Klunk's loafing on you for your own protection!! DON'T DISRESPECT HIM!”

And he bolts before Leo has the chance to respond.

Don hadn't been the only one tailing Mikey back to Leo's room. Raph followed close at their heels, but he took to leaning on the corner wall rather than hover at Leo's side. Something Leo, admittedly, found himself grateful for.

Quick to busy himself as always, Don took to checking Leo for scratches, bites, stings--any possibility Mikey listed off, thought about or began to fuss over. Klunk, his duty now fulfilled, had grown tired of Don's close proximity, and he swiftly sprang from Leo's lap, trotting to headbutt and rub against Mikey's heels instead. He still circles them now, a soft, steady purr vibrating in his chest. Leo wonders if all cats are like this: aware and attentive of who needs their comfort, and so eager to provide. Or if it's something unique to Klunk... like the little animal knew Mikey had given him a better life, here, and he was in their debt.

He almost snorts at himself. Probably silly to think cats thought in transactional ways... and something he still needs to work on, himself.

“You’re SURE he's not sick?” Mikey asks suddenly. He fidgets with his mask-tails, unable to stop himself from glancing in Don’s direction. “Like..." he winces, but hints anyway, "sick-sick?”

Don huffs, keeps his eyes down.

Leo frowns, and he shakes his head. “I didn't get stung or bit by anything, Mikey. I promise."

Unless we’re counting that mutant the dragons had set loose. There's a brief second where the thought sends a wave of alarm through his chest, but it's quick to settle. That happened months before the mutagen outbreak in the city. Surely, if it was a similar kind of illness, it would have made itself known by now. He'd been bitten long before Don had been stung, and Don's symptoms began surfacing in the following weeks. His brothers must be thinking something similar; Mikey continues to send looks in Don's direction, and Raph remains oddly quiet. The silence starts to feel heavy, and Leo winces. “Sorry, Donnie.”

“—don’t,” Don hastens, frowning at him. “Really.”

"So," Mikey starts, "he's not sick-sick? He's just... siiiiick-sick?"

Don sends him a dull stare. "You can just say 'infected', Mikey."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. But, no. I don't think he is." Don glances at Leo and shrugs. "There aren't any 'entry points', like he said. And I doubt he ate anything at Bishop's."

Leo grunts and wrinkles his nose. Mikey shifts his weight, unsatisfied. "What... --what about that thing we stole from Karai? --he's the one who touched it first. Do you think it cursed him?"

"Mikey--"

"--don't act like it's not possible, Don!" Mikey interrupts, clenching his fists at his sides. "We've time traveled! Space traveled! There's a whole city under our feet right now! --And--what about that... that big, red alien-monster thing that almost got Angel's bro?! --That old guy--he was totally cursed and stuff!! What if--"

“--it ain’t that deep,” Raph grumbles, his voice low but sharp enough to cut Mikey off. He pushes off the wall, propping his hands on his hips. “I bet it’s ‘cuz this bozo got back from Japan and hit the ground runnin’. Ain't stopped since.”

Leo squints, and Raph holds up a hand, 'counting' off his fingers as he continues, “I doubt ya slept on the boat trip over. Y’came lookin’ for each of us—got us all back in one place. Fought Karai. Got us back on our feet, the station up 'n runnin'. The first few mutants start showin’ their ugly heads. We get sent back to the jurassic period—”

“—cretaceous,” Don mutters, and Raph scoffs.

“Whatever! --Look, my POINT is, y’ain’t stopped movin’ once. You probably went and wore yourself out! Even more than usual!”

“You were kinda training like crazy for a while,” Mikey adds, rubbing his neck. “Like. A lot a lot. All the time. I guess maybe you chilled while you were in Japan, but... also not really.”

“Raph… has a point, Leo,” Don says. He looks to Leo and shrugs. “April’s talked about this sort of thing before. Like, when she was in college? She said during the holiday breaks, she’d come home and not have anything to worry about, and it was like her whole body released a ton of tension all at once. She’d have a horrible stomach ache for that first day home. Maybe… this is your version of that.”

“This is the quietest it’s been since…” Raph pauses, growls, and shakes his head. “It’s the quietest it’s been in a good, long while.”

Leo frowns. He can't think of any kind of argument. Or, at least, all the arguments that were coming to mind wouldn’t help with anything. Either Raph would get irritable, or Mikey would get antsy and more nervous than he already was. And Don... while Leatherhead had been confident there wouldn't be a chance of relapse, they'd decided not to risk anything. Guess it'd be pretty hypocritical of him to go on insisting he was fine, when they'd all decided he wasn't.

What was it the Ancient One said about surrender? Leo almost couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle to himself. “Alright. I guess I could take a few days to do nothing. Join Don in being a couch potato.”

“Sounds ideal to me,” Mikey says.

Leo’s smirk widens. “I bet it does.”

“If anyone deserves a ‘nothin’ day ‘round here, it’s you two workaholics,” Raph says, pointing a finger interchangeably between Don and Leo.

“And Klunk will make sure you both stay sitting down!” Mikey scoops Klunk off the floor. The cat mews in protest, wiggling for a moment before tucking against Mikey's chest. “He’ll be making the best biscuits this side of Brooklyn. Aren't you lucky?”

Raph snorts, and he thumps a fist against Mikey's shoulder. “Mikey and I will finish what needs t’be done around the lair for the day. Take a load off. Enjoy free biscuits from the stupid cat, and be ready for movies and a hot meal t'night.”

Leo could hear Mikey and Raph in the kitchen, but he couldn’t tell if they were bickering or just talking. Guess those were one and the same when it came to those two.

He and Don had taken to the couch, as promised. Don tinkers with his shell-cell while Klunk watches from his lap, and Leo, settled under a thick blanket, adjusts the book in his hand.

It'd been surprisingly difficult to pick which of his few books he'd wanted to start, and there was something bittersweet in the reminder that he'd have to rebuild his library a second time. He'd selected one of the fiction novels--an old fantasy, filled with mists, magic, and a winding world. He'd already read it a time or three, but the familiar pages were comforting and easy to get lost in. A small voice in the back of his mind still grumbled and tutted that there was work to do, things to check, responsibilities and tasks he'd been setting aside for higher priority items. But he ignores it (for now).

Klunk stands and arches his back. His mouth splits into a large yawn, and he gives his tail a lazy little flick before carefully padding out of Don's lap. Leo smiles and chuckles as the cat moves onto his legs instead, already purring loud enough to drown out whatever conversation fills the kitchen.

Don smirks. “Looks like it’s your turn to get cat-sat, Leo.”

“Yeah.” Leo opens a hand so Klunk can headbutt it, and he ruffles his head with the heel of his palm. “Guess it is.”

Don chuckles. He sits back against the couch again and sighs, letting his hands and the shell-cell drop into his lap. Leo slants his eyes toward him. His smile sinks a little as he watches Don tug one of the throw blankets higher over his chest. “...feeling alright, Donnie?”

“Yeah,” Don huffs, “my energy just gets totally sapped after a certain hour. It’s really annoying.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Mn. ...what about you?”

Leo’s brow furrows. “I… think so? I mostly just feel… heavy.”

“Yeah.”

“But not… --not the same kind of heavy I felt before, just…”

“I know,” Don murmurs. There’s something… different in his tone, now. Leo can’t quite put a word to it. Don continues, “I think Raph hit it right on the money. You get back from Japan and… we get you back… but you haven’t really let yourself have much time to breathe, have you?”

“I could say the same to you,” Leo says, “you’ve been working to get the reservoir station up, functional and livable since we got here. Even while you were getting 'sick'.”

“Maybe. But… I hadn’t just come back from a huge trip with a completely different timezone—a-and, I hadn’t been…" He pauses, cautious. "...I dunno. ...struggling...? At least not like you."

Leo frowns. “Donnie. Whether you’re drowning in an ocean or drowning in a puddle… it’s still drowning.”

Don blinks, glancing at him. There's a moment where Leo can't quite read his eyes, but he remains quiet. Then, Don smirks, and he lets out a weak chuckle.

“I guess you’d know about that better than anyone,” he says, “considering you’re the one who dove in after me when my toy car almost got me waxed.”

“It’d be a pretty embarrassing way to go out," Leo says. "Especially for a turtle.”

“You’d also know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you? Embarrassing ways to go out.” Don’s eyes glint, and his smirk sharpens. “Big Foot?”

Leo lets out a laugh, ducking and shaking his head in attempt to mask any show of sheepishness. “—Jeez! A guy steps on a landmine one time.”

“It wasn’t just a landmine. It was a landmine in clear water.”

“Please don’t remind me.”

Don laughs. There’s a small pause as his smile softens, and his shoulders sink into a more relaxed position. “...it’s good to have you back, Leo.”

“Hey.” Leo shifts his weight enough to gently jab his elbow into Don’s upper arm. “Right back at you, bro.”

“Alright, sickos.” Raph rounds the couch, his arms held out flat on either side of him. Two large plates balance on either inner-elbow, and in each hand he has a second plate and bowl of steaming soup. Its warm, soothing smell somehow seeps through all the congestion in Leo's nose and throat, and he sighs, letting it fill his ribs. He sits forward and extends his hands, offering to take one of the sets from Raph's person. Raph shoots him a knowing smirk, and he leans just enough to let Leo lift a plate from his arm. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup: comin’ in hot.”

“Oh, sweet,” Don says.

“Think you mean savory, dude!” Mikey chirps as he vaults the couch (and their heads). Leo passes Don the first bowl and plate, and he looks Mikey’s way as his brother drops to his knees to slide the remaining distance to the television set. He spots a DVD case in one of Mikey’s hands and realizes he recognizes it.

“—wait,” he starts, sitting up, “is that what I think it is?”

Mikey turns, flashing him a toothy grin. “Iiiiiiif you mean Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“Where’d you get that?!” Leo asks, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

“April,” Raph answers. He chuckles and hands Leo the other plate and bowl, “figured it was time t’start usin’ her access to things to our advantage.”

Don arches a brow. “Like we weren’t doing that already?”

“I mean, sure,” Raph says, “but Kiki’s a classic! Gotta look a bit harder t’get your hands on one’a those; ‘specially a copy that ain’t totally trashed.”

“And because she’s totally awesome, she SPLURGED!!” Mikey says, jamming a finger against the DVD player's eject button. “This one’s got behind the scenes—interviews--storyboards even!!!”

“He’s real excited about the storyboards,” Raph mutters, though he fails to mask the fondness coloring his tone. He ambles back toward the kitchen, likely to retrieve food for himself and Mikey.

Leo settles the plate and bowl into the blankets on his lap. Klunk rises from where he'd curled between Don and Leo, and he pads onto one of Leo's knees in attempt to sniff the tomato soup. Leo gently nudges him away. “No, Klunk.”

“Let’s put you on the ground until food’s eaten, little guy,” Don says. He scoops a hand under Klunk’s stomach and lifts him off the couch. Klunk protests with a soft, but long, meow. He allows himself to be placed on the floor, but the look he sends Don—paired with a flick of his tail—is more than enough warning that he’ll be back before food’s finished.

Raph returns with a second round of plates and bowls, and Mikey finishes setting up the DVD. He sprints to the light switch as Raph eases their meals onto the coffee table. The lights shut off, and they’re left in the cool wash of the screen’s glow.

What comes next is a feeling Leo can’t quite put into words. Mikey slides into the open seat on his right, and Raph settles into the nook at Don’s left. The room fills with a familiar score—A Town with an Ocean View, if he remembers the track name correctly--and Don thanks Raph for dinner as the two pass down napkins. Mikey shifts his weight, taking care to move and tuck the blanket so it's evenly distributed between himself and Leo. Then, he curls up, bowl in lap, and lets himself lean into Leo's side. He takes a napkin when Leo offers it to him, and Don and Raph begin banter over who gets the remote for the movie's run time.

Leo has trouble putting a name to this feeling... and even more trouble recalling the last time it fell over him, warm and soft, like an old blanket fresh from the drier.

A sense of peace. Familiarity. Safety and home. He wants to wrap himself in it and stay. Let everything else sink away.

"Remember the first time we watched this?" Don asks. He fixes the plate on his lap and settles a napkin over one of the grilled cheese pieces.

"Feels like years ago," Mikey says.

Raph lets out a soft snort. "'Cause it was years ago."

"Think we were eight," Leo mutters. "It was the first and only time Mikey ever wanted to be near a broom."

"You're just mad 'cuz I won the race," Mikey sniggers. He wiggles enough to poke his elbow into Leo's bridge. "Totally left you and Raphie in the dust. Which you had to sweep up."

"Oh, brother," Don sighs, and Raph rolls his eyes, letting out a low growl.

"Leo? Smack him. I don't wanna spill my soup."

Leo smirks. He shifts his weight, gently jabbing one elbow into Mikey's arm. Mikey whine-groans at him, but the end of it is colored with a chuckle.

Raph (apparently having won whatever game he and Don were engaged in) lifts the remote and hits the center button. The town's melody quiets, and the room goes dark as the title menu fades to black.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt fic #;hannah writes #;fanfic: fika #;tmnt #;donatello #;leonardo #;michelangelo #;raphael #;klunk #[ dell and keeg '''''helped''''' me revise and edit this (they have not stopped chattering all morning) ]#[ so i hope my cleaning it up didn't actually make it messier >xD;; ]#[ thank you so much dude! ;u; hope you like it ]

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Text

We'll Be Expecting You - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x pregnant!reader/pregnant!oc

Joel Miller masterlist

Baby Miller is on the way. Are they ready?

warnings | 18+ SMUT, angst, descriptions of pregnancy, descriptions of giving birth (non graphic lol)

a/n | it's here! this can be read as a standalone fic but it is really a continuation of Unexpected Expectings, it's pretty fun either way I think :) also, um, it's long, so go get a snack and sit down, yeah?

.......................

“That’s it, honey. Feels good, huh?” His lips are a smear against her temple, bare chest curled over her back as he keeps her steady with firm but gentle palms smoothing up her hips. She clenches her hands against the bathroom counter, weakly pressing back into him with each thrust.

“Joel– feel s’good, fuck– don’t stop, please–” He shushes her, bringing one of his hands down below the swell of her belly, fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight circles that have her whining and throwing her head back against his shoulder. This has become how most mornings start since she had entered her third trimester, the morning sickness that had been rocking her all but gone and a new wave of hormones that had made her impossibly needy for him. And sensitive.

“C’mon, mama. I know you can give me one more. Please– need to feel you.” The low thrum of his words is all it takes to snap the banded pleasure pulled taut at her spine as her cunt spasms around him. He’s not far behind, rutting into her one more time before his warmth is spreading through her core, his damp forehead pressing between her shoulder blades. He lays a kiss to the nape of her neck, a comfort as he pulls out and she whimpers. Turning in his hold, they meet in a sloppy kiss as she runs her fingers through his hair, brushing back his sleep-mussed waves. His palms splay over the wide arc of her belly, and he pulls away with a chuckle, looking down at his hands and shaking his head in awe.

“I think our boy’s awake, darlin.” She grins, laying her hands over the tops of his.

“You’re still gunning for a boy, huh?” His eyes dart up to hers, a crooked smile on his face. She shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything, smacking one more kiss to his lips before getting the water running for their shower.

It’s a bit of a struggle getting dressed these days. There aren’t exactly any maternity stores to go shopping at in Jackson. She’s been making do with an elastic looped through the button of her jeans and Joel’s flannels, but even those are starting to stretch at the swell of her stomach. It’s hard to believe that they’ve made it to December, that in a little under a month it’s going to be time for this baby to come, one way or another.

She’s trying to stay calm, Joel already a nervous wreck the closer they inch to her projected due date, but the truth is, she’s just as scared as he is, if not more. There were no two ways about it, it hadn’t been an easy pregnancy. Much to her initial protest, Joel had gotten her off patrol shifts early on, but she wasn’t so upset about that when the vertigo episodes started coming on daily. There had been many a time when she just had to lay down where she stood and close her eyes until the room stopped spinning, something the town doctor had assured her wasn’t uncommon in pregnancy.

It certainly freaked Joel out though. He wouldn’t move from her side if he was with her when it happened, keeping a warm palm rubbing up and down her back. What had scared him more was when she actually started to lose weight during the second trimester, her nausea getting so bad she was lucky to keep sips of water down. He had taken time off of patrol then, staying by her side and trying to coax any food into her system that she could tolerate. They learned then that baby Miller had a particular affection for mashed potatoes. But it seemed like she was out of the woods once she hit the seven month mark, at least until the delivery.

“You know, I can still tell Tommy to go with someone else.” She huffs at his words, finishing up the buttons of her (his) shirt before waddling over to him. That’s the other thing, she waddles now. She’s never waddled in her entire life. She can see the entirely amused look on his face as he watches her from where he’s standing in their bedroom. When she reaches him she smacks his chest lightly before rubbing her palms up to clasp behind his neck and tug on his hair.

“I’m glad my gimpy walk is entertaining to you, Miller. But you wouldn’t be looking so smug if you had an entire human pressing down on your pelvis with each step.” He breathes a laugh, dipping down to press a kiss to her scrunched nose.

“I know, darlin. That’s why I think I need to stay close. I just– I don’t wanna–” She leans up to cut him off with a kiss.

“You’re not gonna miss anything. We’ve got nearly a whole month before doctor Graham thinks it’ll be time. And I’m feeling the best I have in the last eight months.” He huffs, shaking his head at that as he brushes his knuckles under her jaw.

“You’re tougher than most, that’s for sure.” She snorts at his words.

“Damn right I am. Go. Do your watch with Tommy. And come back on Wednesday in one piece.” She rests a palm over the curve of her stomach. It’s obvious Joel’s fighting a smile under his furrowed expression, but he finally gives in.

“Alright, mama. I’ll be back before you know it, yeah?” He brings his much larger hand to rest over hers on her belly. She grins.

“We’ll be expecting you, Joel.”

…

Joel heads out soon after a quick breakfast. He and Tommy do this every season, camping out at the dam for a few days to make sure everything’s in order. Nothing was ever really wrong, a few swaths of infected, maybe a stray raider or two. It’s a routine check-up, and she isn’t worried in the slightest. It’s Monday, and he should be back Wednesday morning, nothing to worry about at all.

As she’s washing up after breakfast, Ellie comes bounding into the kitchen, holding something behind her back. She turns from the sink, resting her hand on her hip and taking in Ellie’s wide-eyed expression.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I swear you get rounder everyday. Seriously, that kid is gonna bust out of you all Alien style. Like ahhhhh.” Ellie makes more groaning noises, miming an explosion around her own abdomen before dissolving into laughter. She however, is less than amused.

“I take it that’s what was playing at movie night yesterday?” The girl hums, seeming to remember what she actually came in to tell her. She holds out what she had been hiding behind her back.

“Traded for this last night. Thought it’d be nice for the baby since she’s coming in the winter and everything.” She takes the bundle of fabric from Ellie, holding it out and seeing that it’s a sweet little quilt embroidered with pink and purple flowers. The other thing about being pregnant is how emotional she’s gotten, and before she even knows it, she’s starting to sniffle as she grasps the plush blanket. Ellie’s brow furrows, coming alongside her and awkwardly patting her back.

“Shit, don’t cry. It’s nice right?” She chuckles wetly, pulling Ellie into a tight hug that elicits a small “oof” from the girl before pulling away and holding her by her arms.

“It’s so nice, Ellie bean. I love it. Baby’s gonna love it too. I’ll tuck it in the crib for when they get here.” Ellie grins.

“You know, you can just say she. Everyone except for Joel thinks it’s gonna be a girl anyways.” She laughs, shaking her head at Ellie’s smug expression.

“I know. But he wants a boy so bad, the damn fool. I’ve been waiting to finish putting together the nursery because everything people have given me is pink.” Ellie laughs at that, sidling past her to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Might be a good time to get that done. Just rip the band-aid off before he gets back, you know?” She hums, folding the blanket back up in her hands.

“You’re probably right, kid. I’ll work on it today. The pinkening.” Ellie snorts around a swig of water before glancing at the clock hanging over the stove.

“Shit, I gotta go. My shift started five minutes ago.” She squeezes the girl’s shoulder as she brushes past.

“Be safe, alright? You better be home for dinner.” Ellie smiles, nodding over her shoulder as she’s already halfway out the door.

…

She’s been keeping all the baby odds and ends she’s been given in old boxes in a closet upstairs. Most of it really is pink, and she didn’t want to dash Joel’s hopes just yet. She picks up one of the boxes with a groan, shuffling down the hall to the nursery they’ve been working on. It had been Ellie’s room when they first got here. It was obviously a teen girl’s room before, bright colors and patterns on the curtains and the rug. But Ellie was more than happy to trade the room for her own little apartment in the garage that Joel had helped her build out. She could play her music as loud as she wanted to, a point that had really sold her on the idea. The twin bed remains in the room, but now pressed against the wall across from it is a crib. Joel had worked on it all summer, collecting scrap wood, sanding it down to perfection, carefully laying the pieces together, and carving swirling patterns into the rails. She had spent many a hazy afternoon sitting in his workshop with him, ogling the push and pull of his muscles under his thin t-shirts as he worked on it.

She shakes her head of her quickly simmering thoughts, starting to pull out impossibly tiny pieces of clothing to fold in the dresser. It feels odd, this quasi-nesting she’s doing. She certainly never thought she’d get to do anything like this after, well, after. In her old life, she did want kids someday, but she had only just started college when the world fell to pieces, and suddenly that desire turned into a pipe dream that she resolved herself to let go of. How things have changed.

She spends the rest of the morning organizing the baby’s room, laying the blanket Ellie had given her in the crib as a final touch.

Pregnancies were sort of a big deal in town, and for good reason, so when folks found out that baby Miller was on the way, they started dropping off old toys and books, cloth diapers and bottles, anything that might be helpful. It was nice, if not a little stifling. She knew there was a weariness to their excitement for her, an unspoken acknowledgement of how quickly it could all go south. The further along she got, the less she liked being out around town as people seemed to get more handsy, asking more questions about how she was doing that only made her nerves worse. The only person who disliked it more than her was Joel, keeping a protective hand over her belly whenever they were out in town together, a deep scowl on his face if someone started getting too nosy. But at this late stage of pregnancy, her doctor had all but commanded her off any work detail, a free pass to stay in and away from prying eyes, though she did still like to help out at the stables most days.

Glancing at her watch she sees it’s about time for her to head over to the stables. She sighs, standing in the doorframe to take one more look at the nursery.

“Ready when you are, baby girl.”

…

“You must be distracted because I’m whooping your ass harder than usual, man.” Joel huffs at Tommy’s words, throwing his cards down on the table and sitting back in his chair. Night is quickly closing in on the plains, and the brothers have set up their usual camp in the dam control room, a small lantern lighting their games of gin. Tommy smirks at his brother.

“Joel, she’s fine. She’s got Maria and Ellie looking out for her, and doctor Graham told you herself that everything’s looking good. There’s nothing to be worried about.” Joel scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t remember you being so relaxed when Maria was this close to her due date.” He’s got him there, a beat of silence passing before Tommy shrugs.

“Okay, maybe that’s true. But looking back, there was no point to that, getting so freaked out. Because I knew that Maria was strong, that she’d get through it. And hell, that woman of yours is one of the strongest people I ever met.”

“It’s not just about strength, Tommy, not in this world. You know that. One little thing gone wrong, that’s all it’d take.” Tommy lays his cards down, leaning over the table to look Joel straight in the eye.

“Well, that’s why we’re not gonna let anything go wrong, huh? All of us, Joel. We’ve got her. We’re gonna finish this watch and then we’re gonna go home and she’s gonna be fine because we’ve got her.” Joel swallows thickly, not wanting to press the issue any further, though his mind is still swirling in worry. He nods at Tommy.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take first shift. We’ll sweep the south side tomorrow morning.” Tommy nods, getting up and squeezing Joel’s shoulder before laying out his sleeping bag and settling in.

As the quiet of the night deepens, Joel finds his mind wandering. He can’t help thinking about how different the circumstances with Sarah had been. And not just for the obvious reasons. Joel had been so young, so reckless, and when Sarah’s mom came to tell him they hadn’t been as careful as they thought they had, it turned his world upside down. What had started as a hazy one-night stand turned into a shotgun wedding, an attempt to do what his father told him was the right thing. But the only thing that brought them together was Sarah, and even that hadn’t been enough. Before his baby girl could even walk, Sarah’s mom had flown the coop, divorce papers in the mail a few months after she left. Joel didn’t even care, not when he suddenly could hold his whole life in his arms. Sarah was his whole life, from the moment she was born until the moment he lost her.

But this was different. Joel still has a hard time telling her he loves her, mostly because it feels like love isn’t a big enough word for what they have, what they’ve been through together. But, he does love her, so much it terrifies him. He’s been struggling to even wrap his mind around what he feels about this baby, their baby. Part of him fears forgetting Sarah, though he knows that’s impossible. The other part of him fears just how far he already knows he’d go for this person who isn’t even here yet.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. It’s going to be a long night.

…

It had been a long night. She had already been having trouble sleeping, but laying down in an empty bed made it all but impossible to get any rest. It had also been a particularly uncomfortable night. Wicked cramps had kept her restless through most of the night. She wakes up the next morning to a clenching pain in her low back. She assumes it’s just because of the weird position she had ended up sleeping in, curled on her side in a jumble of pillows, and hobbles out of bed with a groan. Glancing at her watch, she’s shocked to see how late she slept, quickly cleaning herself up and padding downstairs, wincing at how the pain doesn’t seem to be dissipating.

She finds Maria and Ellie in the kitchen, both of them brightening when she walks in.

“Well, good morning. Was starting to get a little worried that the alien finally busted out of your guts.” Ellie laughs at her own joke, but Maria shoots the girl a look before smiling back at her.

“You feeling alright?” She huffs, rubbing her low back.

“Yeah, just a little tired I guess. But my back is killing me. It’s like someone is wringing my spine.” Maria hums, passing her a glass of water.

“Sounds about right. I remember I could barely walk that last month, my back had seized up so much. Are you hungry? I made oatmeal.” She scrunches her nose, shuffling over to the kitchen table.

“I’m really not, but thanks. Think I just need to sit down for a moment.” Ellie takes the seat beside her, concern splashed over her face.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” She tries to offer her a smile, but it comes out more as a grimace.

“I’m alright, Ellie bean. I just–” She cuts herself off with a gasp when a sharp pain slices hot through her pelvis. It’s only afterwards that she realizes she had dropped the glass she was holding, shards all over the floor. Maria is cleaning the mess up in a flash with a dishrag.

“I’m so sorry, Maria– I don’t know what that was, I–” “Oh, shit.” Her eyes dart back to Ellie who’s staring at her pants. She glances down, having to look twice when she sees the liquid darkening the insides of her pant legs. She feels a cool panic settling in her spine.

“No no no no no–”

“Ellie, go tell doctor Graham she needs to get here, immediately. You’re gonna have to ride out to the dam after and get Joel.” Ellie nods at Maria’s words, her mouth agape, as she jerkily stands, but stays still, staring at her. Maria brings a hand to her shoulder.

“Go, Ellie. I’ve got her.” Ellie finally looks away, dashing out the front door. She meanwhile feels like her head is full of static, the only salient thought she’s having coming out of her mouth like a prayer.

“It’s not time yet, it’s not time yet.” Maria kneels down in front of her, taking her hands and squeezing hard.

“It looks like it’s time, alright? A little early, but nothing we can’t handle. C’mon, we need to get you cleaned up and comfortable.” Maria goes to help her out of her chair but just then another shooting pain jolts through her that leaves her gasping for breath. Her voice is a cracked whine when she speaks again.

“I need him here, please, Maria. I can’t do this without him.” Maria nods, eyes wide.

“Listen, Ellie’s gonna get him back here as quick as she can. But we gotta worry about you right now, ok? Can I help you stand up?” She’s already helping her up, tucking under her arm to help her walk.

She can’t believe this is happening.

…

She can’t believe this is happening.

Ellie mounts Shimmer in a panicked haze, and when she gets out of the walls of Jackson, she rides harder than she ever has before.

She had been excited about this new addition to what she had only just started to call her family, but now, there’s only pure fear running like ice in her veins. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, and it has become incredibly clear that she could lose her today. The biting cold wind is freezing her tears on her face, but all she can think about is the gasp the woman she had started to think of as her mom had let out, and the crumpled look of pain that dashed across her face. If she hustles, it’ll be a three-hour ride out and back home. A lot can happen in six hours.

…

“Can we open the windows? I feel like I’m sweating buckets.” Even though it’s the middle of winter in Wyoming, Maria nods, creaking both windows open to let the frigid air in. She won’t let it show, but she’s nervous. It’s early, and unexpected. Unexpected is never good.

Kevin had come early, back before. They had to keep him in an incubator for two weeks. She remembers only being able to touch him through plastic gloves, how it had sent her reeling, not being able to hold him close to her right away. What she would have given to have him laid on her chest the instant he was born instead of being whisked away by nurses. She just hopes that it’s not too early for her, this woman she’s come to think of as a sister.

She had certainly been wary of her, and of Joel, when they first came, grizzled partners of obvious violence that they were. But seeing the way they took care of Ellie, and of each other, it became clear to her that their violence was never purposeless, rather an unavoidable cost to their quiet love for one another. They were family now.

“Let’s get you into some fresh clothes, alright?” She nods to Maria, biting down on her clear expression of turmoil as Maria takes her into the bathroom.

“Do you think you can stand for a bit? Would a shower help?” She gets no response, a vacant stare has settled over her face. Maria kneels down to get on her level where she’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

“Hey. I need you to stay right here with me, alright? Ellie’s gonna get Joel back here as quick as she can. But you have to focus on this right now. I’ve got you, you’re not gonna do this alone.” She brings her focus back on Maria, tears threatening to spill over. A twinge runs through Maria’s chest at the sight of this normally tough woman on the brink of dissolving. She takes both her hands in hers.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

…

Tommy hasn’t seen his brother like this in a long time. As he patrols the perimeter of the dam, he thinks to himself that Joel probably hasn’t acted like this since before the world ended, since before he lost Sarah. While it’s clear he’s worried, it’s also clear he cares. And while he’d never admit it to him, Tommy can see that he’s excited. For the first time in a long time, Tommy thinks that Joel looks wide awake.

But, damn, had he been so close to fucking it all up. Tommy had been so upset that day, when she knocked on his door and dissolved into tears, telling him what his brother had said. She’s tough as nails, and so is Joel, but it’s clear they’re each other’s weak spot. He’s just happy Joel didn’t fuck it up any worse afterward. There was no question he knew how to do it right. It was something Tommy always admired, and aspired to, how good he was with Sarah. When he found out Maria was pregnant, his mind often wandered to those first years that Joel had Sarah, and how amazed Tommy had been at how quickly he filled his new role. A natural father. Joel had told him he was hoping for a boy, but Tommy couldn’t see his brother not raising a girl.

He keeps walking through the snow, eyes shifting, looking for anything out of place. Like usual, it’s quiet, and he reckons Joel is finding the same thing from where he’s surveying a little further south.

It’s not quiet for long, however, his ears pricking to the sound of what he thinks are galloping hooves. He stills, cocking his gun, eyes darting around him, settling on the lone rider bounding toward him. He fixes his sight in the scope of his rifle, letting out a low curse when he can see that it’s Ellie.

This can’t be good.

…

“You’re about six centimeters dilated. We’re getting there, my dear.” She lets out a low groan as the next contraction washes over her.

“Jesus, fuck.” Doctor Graham checks her watch.

“Five minutes apart. And it ain’t jesus, honey. That’s all you.” Maria snorts at that, helping her get up from her bed so she can start pacing again. It’s the only thing that’s been taking her mind off the contractions. She glances at doctor Graham who has sat down in the armchair to take more notes.

“Doctor? How much longer do you think until it’s time to– it’s time–” She sets down her notepad, smiling softly at her.

“Well, I’d say anywhere from two to four hours until you’re ready to push. But then that’s gonna be a whole new rodeo. And I’ve told you a hundred times already to just call me Suze.” She nods, trying to muster a smile as she continues to pace the rug, Maria hovering alongside her. She glances at her, a hopeful lift to her brow.

“Joel will be back by then, right? He’ll be back in time?” Maria sighs, squeezing her arm.

“I just don’t know. But I hope so.” She doesn’t have time to frown at her words, not when a new contraction is making her keel over where she stands.

“Three minutes apart that time. Certainly getting closer. Baby’s gonna be here soon.”

…

Joel feels like he’s drowning as they hurry to mount up and get home. When Tommy and Ellie had come bounding towards him, he didn’t believe it at first, had shouted at Ellie that it was impossible, it was too early.

“Well you’re not the one who saw her fucking water break, old man!” That had shut him up quick. As they strap their packs to their horses, it feels like tiny fissures are splitting through his heart, and each breath is threatening to send him crumbling to pieces. He can’t think about it, if he does he’ll get paralyzed by terror, but all he wants is to scream because she needs him and he isn’t there.

He’s broken out of his haze by the stark sound of guns cocking.

They jerk around in a flash, he and Tommy holding up their rifles, Ellie whipping out a knife. Four men come prowling out of the treeline, the mouths of their guns facing them down. Raiders no doubt. Joel is just about ready to destroy them with his bare hands if he has to, but he takes a beat, trying to gather his fracturing thoughts. One of the men finally speaks.

“You folks better drop your weapons if you know what’s good for you.” No one moves, Joel quickly glancing at Tommy.

“I said drop your fucking weapons!” Here’s what Joel knows in that moment. He knows that Ellie still carries a gun tucked in the back of her belt, even though he keeps telling her not to. He knows Tommy’s got a side piece tucked under his jacket, as well as a hunting knife strapped to his leg. And he knows that he himself has enough unadulterated rage in his body right now to rip this man’s head clean off his shoulders.

He glances at Tommy and Ellie again, the slightest nod, and they all drop their weapons, palms up. The men step closer, eyeing the horses.

“Where are you folks from?” It’s Tommy who responds.

“Nowhere, we’re just passing through.” The man sneers at him.

“Oh yeah? Those horses look pretty good for you to be just passing through.” Ellie butts in.

“We–we stole them! From an old couple a few miles north.” The men keep inching up on them. Joel just needs them to get a little closer. The man who seems to be the leader sizes Joel up.

“Well, then I guess it’s no hard feelings if we take them off your hands, huh?” It’s almost imperceptible, the look he shoots at Tommy and Ellie, a silent understanding that’s arisen after enough standoffs together. Joel’s on the man before he can even get his finger on the trigger.

He can hear gunshots ringing out, catching the sight of two of the men falling in his periphery, but he’s too zeroed in on the man he’s throttling into the ground to check if it had been Tommy or Ellie who got them. He keeps his hand pinning the gasping man down by his throat, reaching back to draw his knife out.

“Real sorry about this, but the missus is expecting me.”

…

She thinks briefly of the time she got shot in the thigh. Back when it was her, Joel, and Tess, and their smuggling business in the Boston QZ. Tess had to pluck the bullet out of where it had lodged in the muscle of her thigh, digging a pair of tweezers into the wound. She thinks that this hurts way more than that.

Her voice doesn’t sound like her own, doesn’t even sound human, when she lets out a low, guttural scream, pressing her head back into the pillows, her chest heaving under her sweat-soaked tank top. Doctor Graham - Suze - is kneeling on the end of the bed between her spread legs. Maria is holding her hand tight alongside the bed.

“Nine centimeters. We’re gonna have you pushing in the next hour, my dear.” She sobs, shaking her head.

“No, we can’t– we can’t yet– please– we have to wait–” Maria shushes her, bringing a damp cloth to her forehead.

“Listen, Joel’s gonna get here when he gets here– if we try to wait it could hurt you or baby. You have to do this, Joel or no Joel.” Maria squeezes her hand, offering her sips of water that she refuses. She lets out a humorless laugh, bracing for another contraction.

“I swear to god if he doesn’t get here in time, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

…

Ellie’s never seen Joel move so fast, and the second he’s mounted, he’s gone, damn near impossible to catch up with in the whipping snow. She and Tommy do their best to stay on his tail, but he quickly becomes a speck in the distance as they all ride home.

…

She’s not sure how long she’s been pushing now, but it feels like an eternity. The only thing keeping her a sliver sane is Maria guiding her through each push, breathing with her.

“We’re crowning, my dear. You’re doing so great, honey. Let’s get ready for another strong push.” Her eyes dart between Suze who’s kneeling between her legs and Maria, wild panic creeping up her throat. Maria takes both her hands, holding her gaze firm and steady.

“I’m here with you. We’re gonna do it together, alright?” Suze squeezes her knee.

“I’m gonna count you down, my dear, and then I want another beautiful push just like you’ve been doing. Three– two–”

She lets out a blood-curdling scream on one.

…

“Open the fucking gates!” Joel glances over his shoulder, barely making out Tommy waving his red bandana in the air and hollering into the wind. He turns back, hearing the harsh groan of the wall opening. He’s coming in hot, hotter than he should. Normally people have to dismount before they pass through. But nothing about this is normal.

He whips through the narrow opening, galloping right down the main drag of town, people scrambling in shock to get out of his way.

When he reaches their home, he sees a whole cluster of people hanging on the railings of the porch, heads craned up towards the open windows on the second floor. He brings his horse to a hard, skittering stop, the crowd whipping around to look at him with agape expressions. He dismounts, but is stuck where he stands when a preening scream comes resounding from the windows. His heart finally shatters. He rushes up to the front door before thinking twice and shouting over his shoulder at the bystanders.

“Don’t you people have anything better to do? Get!” He barely hears their shocked gasps as he slips inside and slams the door behind him.

He’s still got his rifle strapped around him as he bounds up the stairs two at a time. He shoulders into the bedroom right as she’s letting out another ragged scream. The sight of her takes his breath away, her crumpled expression as she finishes pushing, her sweat-damp hair stuck to her face. Suze is quick to fix him with a hard look before he gets any closer.

“Oh, absolutely not, mister. You’re not getting anywhere near her until you lose the gun and clean off whoever’s blood that is.”

…

Her eyes crack open after her last push and she’s shocked to see him standing there.

“Joel?” He yanks his rifle off his shoulder, dropping it outside the bedroom door. She can see blood spattered across his jacket and face.

“I’m right here, baby.” He quickly shucks off his jacket and boots, hustling over to the bathroom. She cranes her neck and can just see him harshly scrubbing at his arms and face before he hurries back into the bedroom, Maria moving out of the way to let him kneel down alongside the bed. She narrows her eyes at him as he takes her hand.

“F-f-fuck you. I’ve been trying– trying to wait for you all day. Do you know how fucking hard that’s been?” His face goes slack at her harsh words, but before he can respond a contraction hits and she has to push, curling up over her stomach and bearing down hard as Suze counts her through it. She squeezes his hand tight, slumping back in a mess of heaving breath when she’s done. He takes her face in his hands, holding her gaze steady.

“Are you seriously mad at me right now? I’ve been trying to get back to you all goddamn day! You were the one that told me to go, you mad woman!” She huffs, getting ready to reply but Suze cuts her off.

“Hey! You two! Cut the bullshit so we can get this baby out, huh? A few more strong pushes is all it’s gonna take.” Her focus immediately falls back to the pain she’s in, and she grips onto both of Joel’s wrists, whimpering his name.

“I’ve got you, mama. Tell me what you need. What can I do, baby?”

“Want you closer, please– n-n-need you with me, closer.” He shushes her, letting go of her face and coaxing her to sit up a bit as he gracelessly crawls onto the bed to slide behind her. His legs splay out, framing her bent knees, and she rests back into his chest, her head laying back on his shoulder. For a moment, relief floods through her body as he brings a forearm to wrap over her sternum, hand squeezing her opposite shoulder as he presses kisses into her damp hair.

Suze settles back into position between her legs, Maria now standing alongside the bed with towels and scissors ready. Suze gives her a firm nod.

“Alright, my dear. I’m gonna count you down and you give me another strong push.” She brings her hands to curl over Joel’s forearm bracing, herself for another lick of pain, while he lowly murmurs in her ear.

“I’m here with you, baby. You’ve got this. I’m right here.”

…

“Three– two– one.” The scream she lets out sends a jagged shiver down Joel’s spine and he finds himself grinding his teeth as she bears down, her nails digging hard into his arm. He hadn’t been there for Sarah’s birth, not really, she was a c-section. This is certainly different.

She slumps back in his hold, her head lolling on his chest as she looks up at him through teary eyes.

“I can’t– I can’t do anymore, Joel– please.” He squeezes her shoulder, bringing his other hand to tangle with one of hers.

“You can, baby– I know you can– strongest person I know, huh? You’re so close, baby, just a little bit more.” She lets out a broken sob and Joel hates that he can’t do more for her, helplessly pressing a kiss to her forehead and continuing to murmur to her. Suze clears her throat.

“I think this next one is gonna do it. But you gotta make it a good one, my dear. Can you do that for me?” She huffs in his hold, shuddering around another sob before sitting up a little more against his chest. When she looks up at him, there’s steel in her eyes and Joel realizes that those weren’t just comforting words he told her, she really is the strongest person he’s ever met. She looks back at Suze and gives her a quick nod.

“Count me down. I’m ready.”

…

It’s a searing pain and then the sweetest relief she’s ever felt. The room is awash with the sound of cries and it makes her head go dizzy that it’s coming from her baby. Suze snips the umbilical cord, and Maria wraps the squirming thing up in towels before giving her a bright smile.

“It’s a girl.” What she wasn’t expecting was the breathy laugh Joel lets out over her shoulder at that, his words dripping in awe.

“It’s a girl. Our girl.”

Maria carefully walks to the side of the bed and lays her on her chest. It’s the most natural feeling thing in the world as she cups her impossibly small head, a tiny palm splaying like a star over her sternum. Joel brings a tentative palm over their girl’s little back. She glances back at him, tears settling in the creases of his smile.

“You did it, darlin. Did so good for her– you’re amazing.” She breathes out a wet laugh.

“I had help.” Joel grins, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Just a little. But that was all you.” She snorts, looking back down on her girl whose cries have settled into low coos before glancing back at Joel.

“You helped.” That makes him laugh, gaze focusing back on their girl.

“Just a little. Christ– know I wouldn’t shut up about wanting a boy– but she’s perfect.” She smiles, settling back against his chest and watching as her eyes open for the first time, wide and wild as she seems to take in her and Joel. He lets out a low sigh.

“Hey, baby girl. M’sorry I almost missed you. Never gonna happen again, huh? Think your mama would kill me first.” She scoffs, jostling back against him as he chuckles. He rests his chin on her shoulder, fully enrapt with their girl as she starts to look around, tiny fingers flexing against her chest.

“What’s her name, darlin?” She bites her lip, craning her neck to look back at him.

“I was thinking Olivia Sarah Miller. What do you think?” She sees his features soften even more, a sweet sadness threading into his joy. He nods.

“I think that sounds perfect for our girl. I love you, darlin. Love you both so much.” His voice is warbly, but she’s still never heard him sound so sure of something. She offers him the same certainty in her own voice.

“I love you too, Joel. And our little family.”

The sound of stomping boots sounds through the house, and Ellie comes blustering into the room, cheeks red and puffing hard breaths.

“Oh thank fuck. Is it– are you– are you ok?” Maria and Suze both chuckle from where they’re cleaning up Suze’s supplies. She smiles at Ellie, lightly nodding, but it’s Joel who speaks.

“They’re both alright, kid. Your sister’s a fighter, just like her mama.” As if on cue, Olivia lets out a small cry, her tiny fist pressing into her chest. Ellie laughs in disbelief.

A little family indeed.

…

Joel’s back is killing him. The first few weeks have been a bit touch and go with Libby coming so early, and they’ve been sleeping in a crunched tangle on the twin bed in the nursery, hardly leaving the room, making sure she’s warm and fed at all times. So Joel’s back is killing him, but he doesn’t care at all, not when every time he leans over the crib he’s met with the sweet sight of their girl, their little amalgamation of all their best parts.

“Well, she’s looking good, very healthy, nice strong lungs, putting on weight just like we want her to. I’d say you’ve got a tough one on your hands.” His shoulders slacken in relief at Suze’s words as she starts packing up her bag of medical tools. Libby begins to fuss in her crib and her mama is quick to pick her up, murmuring to her and bouncing her lightly before turning her attention back to the doctor.

“So would you say we’re in the clear?” He can see the worry creased across her face as she asks the question to Suze. He brings his arm around her shoulders, squeezing lightly as he gazes down at their girl. Suze grins.

“While anything’s possible, my professional opinion is that Miss Olivia here is going to do just fine. Although right now I’d say she’s looking a little hungry, so I’ll get out of your hair.” Suze slings her bag over her shoulder, nodding to them both before letting herself out.

She’s already moving to sit in the rocking chair that had been a gift from Tommy and Maria. Joel would never admit it, but he’s been getting worked up every time he gets to see her feed their girl. A softness takes over her that’s rare in this world, all hushed murmurings as Libby’s hand splays over the swell of her breast, content gasps coming from their girl as she starts to suckle. Joel can’t help but hover whenever he gets the chance, leaning against the back of the chair and dropping a kiss to her temple every now and again, sharing little smiles between watching their girl.

“Ellie told me she thinks you’re getting soft, Miller. Said she can’t believe you’ve opted out of patrol shifts to work the stables.” Joel huffs, standing up straight to stretch his aching back.

“Just got more important things closer to home I guess. But I ain’t getting soft, no ma’am.” She hums at that, craning her neck to peer at him.

“Oh really? It wasn’t you I heard up here yesterday afternoon singing some sweet little song to Libby?” He balks at that, trying to stifle a grin as he shakes his head. He had spent some time with their girl yesterday afternoon while she caught up on sleep on the couch downstairs, and maybe he had started humming tunes to her, watching her eyes widen with the sound of his voice like magic.

“Nah, couldn’t have been me. Think you’re hearing things, darlin. All them hormones are messing with you.” She rolls her eyes at that, righting her shirt before standing with Libby in her arms. She sways slightly side to side, looking at him over the top of Libby’s head.

“I like you soft, Joel. It’s a good look on you. At least when you want to be.” There’s such adoration in her eyes as she looks at him that he can’t help the blush creeping up his neck.

“Only for my girls. Everyone else can fuck off.” She laughs hard at that, shushing Libby when she starts to fuss at the sound. He shuffles over to her, coaxing their girl out of her arms and into his. He had thought it’d feel awkward, holding her for the first time, but it all came back to him in a flash, and now nothing felt quite as right as when he had her little body resting in his arms. She steps back, taking in the sight of him and humming.

“Don’t let Ellie see you like this, she’s gonna think you’ve gone full teddy bear.” He only grumbles a little, too focused on watching their girl’s wide eyes peering around. If being soft means he gets moments like this, he’ll take all of Ellie’s heckling, no complaints at all.

…

“So what’d the doctor say? Everything looking good?” “Kid, if you don’t chew first you’re gonna choke with the way you’re talking. Just slow down a little, huh?” Ellie huffs at Joel, swallowing around her bite of dinner before looking at her expectantly. She chuckles lightly at the girl’s eager expression.

“She said Libby’s doing great, told us that she’s a tough one.” Ellie grins, startling Joel when she slaps him on the back.

“Well seeing as she came from you two hardasses I’d sure hope she’s tough– I say that with love, of course.” Joel grumbles, side-eyeing her and muttering “of course.” She lays her hand over Ellie’s from across the table.

“Ellie, I never really thanked you for what you did that day, riding out like that. You don’t know how much that meant to me.” Suddenly shy, Ellie offers her a soft smile, shrugging.

“Couldn’t let the old man miss all the fun, right? I’d do it again in an instant, just so you know. Seeing as I– like– love you guys– I guess.” She glances at Joel who’s obviously trying to hold back a grin. She squeezes Ellie’s hand.

“We love you too, Ellie bean. Me, the old man, and your little sister.” Ellie’s smile brightens into a grin at that. Joel grumbles again.

“Can y’all stop calling me that? Not even that old, goddamn.” They share a laugh at his furrowed look. As they finish dinner, she can’t help but sit back and take in the sight of this strange family they’ve created. Joel and Ellie bickering about training the new horses for the spring, Libby dozing in her bassinet alongside the table. It’s something she could have never imagined, but she knows it’s perfect. It’s family.

…

“Suze said we really don’t need to be sleeping in there with her now. It’ll be ok, we’re like ten feet further away and a whole lot less cramped.” Joel seems unsure about what she says, glancing back at the crib where they just laid their sleepy girl down. She huffs, tugging on his shirt collar to pull him along across the hall to their bedroom.

“Joel, it’s fine. She’s gonna be crying in a few hours and we’ll both end up back in there anyways. Why don’t we try to get some sleep not as a human pretzel beforehand, huh?” He sighs, but acquiesces to her coaxing, following her into the bathroom as they both start getting ready for bed.

It’s silly, but she can’t stop watching the muscles in his forearm jumping as he brushes his teeth, her thoughts going a bit fuzzy and warm. Sex has been the last thing on her mind these last few weeks, and Suze had told her that was normal with all the hormonal shifts. But with six weeks in the rearview mirror of absolutely nothing, she’s getting hot under the collar just looking at his goddamn arms. She clears her throat, gripping the edge of the sink as she looks at him through the mirror.

“You know, Suze told me something else during my check-up today.” Joel hums, wiping toothpaste off his mouth as he turns to look at her.

“Yeah, she, uh, gave me the go ahead for the other kind of human pretzels.” She’s mortified at her horrible joke the moment it leaves her mouth, but Joel lets out a laugh, throwing his head back and crinkling his eyes shut. She huffs, the floor suddenly becoming very interesting as he tries to recompose himself. When he sees her crestfallen expression, he immediately dips down, trying to catch her gaze while stifling his laughter.

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry. Just– please– never use the phrase human pretzel again.” He can barely get the words out as he dissolves into another laugh. She rolls her eyes, turning to walk away from him but he’s quick to pull her in until her back is snug against his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he dips his chin down onto her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry– I’m done, I swear. So, uh, are you telling me you want to?” She scoffs, trying to get out of his hold but he just squeezes her tighter.

“Well, I did. But then somebody laughed at me.” He shushes her, pressing kisses into the side of her neck that trail up her jaw all the way to her temple.

“C’mon, mama. Don’t be like that, huh? Been missing you so bad.” She’s already melting in his grasp at the way he’s nuzzling the slope of her neck, letting his lips drag over her skin. She lets out a breathy sigh of his name and can feel the way his mouth curls into a grin.

“Now that’s more like it, darlin.” She turns in his hold, meeting him in a hard kiss. They both groan into each other’s mouths, practically devouring each other in a tangle of tongues and bumping teeth. Only coming up for quick gasps of air, they shuffle back into the bedroom, hands roaming and wandering. Joel’s quick to lose his shirt with a harsh tug of it over his head and she immediately dips to smear kisses along his chest, fingernails grazing down his front. He tucks his fingers under her chin to bring her back up for a kiss, licking into her mouth hotly. But she stills in his hold when his fingers start working at the buttons of her flannel.

“Wanna see you– been missing just looking at you.” His words are murmured hotly into her neck, so he doesn’t catch the crumpled look that’s settled over her face.

She knows it’s stupid, but she’s been hiding from Joel over the last few weeks. It seems like her body looks a little different with each day, and while he had practically worshiped her pregnant body, this wasn’t that, and it certainly wasn’t what she looked like before. She steps back a bit, gripping his wrists to keep him from getting any further with her buttons. He looks at her with total confusion.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She sighs, tucking her chin into her chest, too embarrassed to meet his questioning gaze.

“I just– it’s different– I’m different– don’t want you to be disappointed.” A heavy silence falls between them. She’s shocked when it’s broken by Joel laughing, quickly whipping her head up to see him looking at her like she’s gone mad. She huffs.

“I swear to god, Joel Miller, if you laugh at me one more time, I’m gonna–” he’s quick to cut her off, grabbing her hands and pulling her back towards him.

“Hey, hey, hey– I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at that ridiculous shit you said. I don’t wanna hear that kinda talk from you ever again, huh? You– you’re amazing. I could never be disappointed when I look at you, darlin. You wanna know why?” She glances at him, seeing that he’s grinning.

“Because, when I look at you, I see the woman who was batshit crazy enough to love me.” She snorts at that, but he’s not done.

“When I look at you, I see the woman who gave me life back. Who gave me family. You’re everything, darlin. When I look at you, I see everything.” Tears run down her cheeks as she laughs wetly at his words.

“Ellie’s right, you have gone soft.” He huffs around his grin, shaking his head as he dips down to wrap her up in a deep kiss, bringing his palms to cup her jaw as he all but takes her breath away. When he pulls away, it’s only slightly, their lips lightly brushing as he murmurs to her.

“Will you let me see you, darlin? Please?” She holds his gaze, nodding only slightly, but it’s enough to get a broad smile out of him as he lays one more kiss to her lips before letting his hands wander back down to the buttons of her shirt.

She holds her breath the whole time, only exhaling when he slips the shirt down her shoulders. When she finally glances at his face, all she sees there is awe as he lets his fingers ghost up her hips, her sides, over the tops of her bare breasts.

“So fucking beautiful. Just wanna look at you, huh? Never wanna stop looking at you.” Before the hard blush creeps any further up her neck, she pulls him in for another kiss, her mind swimming in the feeling of bare skin pressed to bare skin. Joel starts to shuffle them back toward the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she’s splaying back with a soft “oof” as he hovers over her.

Joel’s mouth starts to wander, trailing down her neck, along her collarbone. She can’t help but preen when he laves his tongue over the swell of her breast, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin there before doing the same to the other side. He keeps meandering lower and lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses and nips in his wake until he’s nudging his nose along the waistband of her pants. She huffs under his teasing ministrations and he looks up at her deep pout with a smug grin.

“Patience, darlin. Just trying to love on you a little, huh? Been a while.” She cards her fingers through his hair, letting out a long sigh.

“It has been a while– so quit fucking teasing already.” He snorts at that, murmuring into her skin how she’s “so bossy, goddamn” but he seems to comply with her plea, fingers working quickly to undo her pants and slide them off her legs along with her panties.

He kneels at the foot of the bed between her legs, eyes roaming over her completely bare figure, lips parted and eyes blown wide. She feels like she could melt he’s looking at her so hard. He brings his palms to her calves, dipping down to nose along the inside of one leg, trailing up and up and up until his breath is just grazing where she needs him most. But he’s gone in an instant, and she actually whines as he starts to mouth down the soft skin of her other thigh. He shushes her, his low murmuring rasp thrumming through her skin.

“So beautiful. My beautiful woman. I’ll give you what you need, darlin.” With that, he skims back to the apex of her thighs, and she shivers as he coaxes her legs over his shoulders, spreading her out for him as he lays between her thighs. No more teasing, he licks a broad stripe through her folds that makes her press her head back hard into the pillows. He works her over like a man starved, fingers flexing into the softness of her thighs as he licks into her, smearing her wetness up to her clit and laving over the nerves there. She lets her fingers drag through his hair, tugging lightly, his low groans sending jolts through her core. A ragged moan draws through her chest when he pulls away just slightly to spit on her cunt, quickly chasing the slick with his tongue and coaxing out more gasps from her.

“Fuck, Joel– feel so good, please– I need– I need–” she can’t even get it out, she’s so far gone, but he knows her well enough to understand what she wants, slipping two of his fingers inside her and finding a steady rhythm as he mouths at her clit.

“Want you to come for me. Just like this. C’mon, darlin, lemme see you.” The combination of his words and his wide eyes gazing up at her send her falling right over the edge of pleasure. She comes with a harsh gasp of his name, fluttering around his fingers as he works her through it.

He pulls away, shifting up the bed until he’s caging in her heaving body, stealing messy kisses tinged with the taste of her. She brings her trembling hands to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with his belt until he gets the hint, sitting back to quickly shuck his pants down his legs. His cock is hot and stiff where it rests against the plush of her thigh, she can practically feel him throbbing.

“Joel, need you so bad. Want you– wanna feel you–” he quiets her murmurs with another kiss before fisting himself and sliding the head of his cock through her folds, hissing at the contact. She whimpers when he starts to press into her and he immediately stills, worried eyes darting to hers. She cups his face in her palm, stroking his jaw reassuringly.

“It’s ok– just need it gentle, baby.” He hums, turning to press a kiss to the middle of her palm.

“I’ve got you, darlin. Wanna make you feel good.” He’s slow and careful as he rocks into her, laying kisses on her lips with each little gasp she lets out as he shifts deeper inside of her. When their hips finally meet, they both let out ragged sighs, and he presses his forehead to the top of her sternum, panting hard into her skin.

“Fuck, I missed you– I’m not gonna last long, darlin– feels too good– always so good for me.” She grazes her nails down his back, letting out a sigh of his name.

“Need you to move, Joel– please, baby– just wanna feel you–” he presses a kiss to the dip between her collar bones before pulling out, languidly rolling his hips back into hers in a way that has them both gasping. She crooks her leg up along his hip, spreading herself open for him to press deeper as he finds a steady rhythm of push and pull. They move well together, just like they always have, her hips canting up into his with each thrust as they swallow each other’s sighs and moans in a mess of kisses. Joel brings one of his hands down to the softness of her stomach, fingers circling her clit.

“Will you come for me, darlin? Fuck– please, honey– need to feel you.” It doesn’t take much more for her to dissolve around him, digging her nails into the sliding muscles of his back as he fucks her through it. She hisses when he pulls out, watching dazed as he strokes himself over her before painting his spend across her heaving stomach. Joel flops down beside her as they both catch their racing heartbeats. She turns her head to look at him, a grin crooking across her face.

“Still got it, huh, old man?” He huffs out a laugh, turning onto his side to draw her in for a kiss.

“Still got it, mama.”

After getting cleaned up, they may have only gotten an hour of sleep before their girl woke them both up with a cry, but it had certainly been worth it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #unexpected expectings

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askponyinuyasha · 5 months ago

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I think that stallion likes you~ hehe

@drakowulf36579: I think that stallion likes you~ Heheh

Inuyasha: You think who what? Huh?

Inuyasha: Where?!

Inuyasha: Oh...

Inuyasha: Nah. You don't know what you're talking about. He doesn't even act like he likes me.

Drako: Oh? And how would that be?

Inuyasha: Well... you know...

[flashback] Jakotsu: I'll slice you up piece by little piece. Once I get going, even smart-mouths like you quickly become submissive. And in the end you'll be on your knees crying and begging me. You'll cry 'Jakotsu just hold me in your arms for a while please'. [end flashback]

Inuyasha: Sadistically murderous?

cue laugh track

(High-res transparent PNGs below the cut)

Sorry the long hiatus! I've been struggling with a bad depression flare-up and it's been a struggle to do the things I like, but I made an effort to drag myself out of the pits this weekend.

I've already got a couple PNGs of Drako floating around I keep re-using so I'm not uploading every single face variant I made for this little comic. I promise I'm not trying to play favorites with Drako, I just love drama and he's very good at stirring it up.

Regarding that drama, my boy is just a bit ignorant, seeing as how his only interactions with mlm have been Jakotsu and Suzaku, both of whom were effeminate, deranged, predatory sadists. Thanks, Rumiko. Maybe someone can open his eyes up a little? Or maybe that someone will just be offended that Inuyasha doesn't see him as sadistically murderous enough.

@askponydei is eternally cute. No notes. Love to draw him.

I also really enjoyed drawing Jakotsu. I re-watched the whole Band of Seven arc, taking notes on all the crazy stuff he said to Inuyasha to pick out just the perfect line for the flashback. Thanks episode 119. I'm also especially proud of his cutie mark. It's a snake making a heart shape because he's supposed to represent the deadly sin of lust and his name means "snake skill" and his sword is supposed to mimic the movements of a snake. I even color-picked the teal from the leaf patterns on his yukata!

I'm almost positive I've said at least one word in the text that will get this post silently erased from the tags, so shares are appreciated.

#mlp ask blog #mlp #inuyasha #deidara #jakotsu #crossover #band of seven #naruto #au #mlp au #ask blog #answer #askponydei #drakowulf36579 #cartoon blood #jakotsu being a little freak #he's so babygirl

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venear-tmblr · 1 year ago

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…. so i’ve had an idea

C!Ven FableSMP In-Character Smash or Pass

Today we reject canon and embrace non-canom ships like it’s the 2000’s-10’s again. Let us begin heheheh (also im sticking to masc leaning characters because c!Ven likes 🅱️oys.)

Aax

5/10: Pass

I don’t think they’d be bad for each other, I just think Ven would feel out of his depth yk? Their communication type wouldn’t clash badly, they’d both be able to argue without killing one another, but they just dont click?

I just think Ven would be intimidated? and that should be a dealbreaker in any relationship.

Caspian

6/10: Smash

Caspian would be the cool ex that you still see sometimes in random places, and you stop for 10-15 min to see how he’s doing, before you both leave and forget about each other again.

Cas would keep Ven’s bossy streak in check, and they’d sort out their problems together well. They have aligning interests in knowledge and writing, and overall they’d work.

they actually seem like the kind of couple to fall out of love with each other? which is very sad to me ;-;

They’d care about each other a lot i think, in a Scott’s Street by Phoebe Bridgers kinda way

Centross

7/10: Smash

… there’s only room for one self-sacrificing idiot in this relationship.

Opposite of Rae; Centross is Ven’s type, personality-wise. Also Centross does the love-bickering thing that Ven and Feng would do. They communicate well, they’d argue healthily, over all they’d be pretty good tbh. The sleep schedule between the two of them would be bad though, Ven would forget to stop work and Centross would do the same, they’d forget to check in with each other.

Rae

3/10: Pass (edit, was 2/10 but i raised it by 1 for Zenni the beloved)

you already know what i’m gonna say about these goobers. they’re terrible for each other

the interesting thing to me; there’s only two reasons for Ven to date Rae. 1) they’re young, and social norms say you should date someone similar to you. So both Vena and Rae would go “he likes what i like” and call it a day. OR 2) Rae would be a rebound for Ven. neither of which can happen in canon. (i love the band au blorbos <3)

Seven

4/10: Pass

they wouldn’t be bad, Ven just wouldn’t know how to approach Seven? Seven has so much going in, and Ven would need to know every detail about Seven’s past in order to feel comfortable in the relationship. Seven can’t really give that, so the relationship is over before it’s begun.

Ulysses

7/10: Smash

Similar to Caspian, they’d get along, they’d be good exes. Ven would learn a lot academically from Ulysses.

bonus point because this fish sounds aussie and that is important to me ok

Will

4/10: Pass

Based on the emotional reactions seen in the spy arc of S2, I don’t think these two would get along. i actually think Ven would get on Will’s nerves in close proximity, if he were to open up and let Will in emotionally. Not that it’d be Will’s fault, they just clash. They would have common interests though, so all wouldn’t be lost.

Will would speak his mind, whilst Ven clams up and avoids conflict, but they’d get around to communicating eventually. (so they’re def not the worst pairing on this list.)

Wolf

…9/10: Smash

ok hear me out, you haven’t seen the half of it in canon yet, but these two work well. They have a lot in common (that i can’t share yet)

they argue so well, maybe even better than Feng and Ven did. Where Feng would speak up with Ven, Wolf sits and listens and waits.

Wolf is Ven’s type physically,tall with long hair and broad shoulders, and comes close to his type in personality.

nodders they should kiss

…So in conclusion; Let Ven join Wolftross, its time for Wolventross throuple takover

#fable smp #c!ven #raeven #centross #fable smp aax #ghostyjpg #willowmvp #wiindsock #mcyt

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jotun-philosopher · 17 days ago

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Good Omens & Steeleye Span

Terry Pratchett was a great fan of English folk-rock group Steeleye Span (which fact is in itself cause to check their stuff out!). While it's unlikely (from what I can tell) that deliberate references made their way into either the book or the show, the fact remains that three of Pterry's particular favourite songs from the Span have some interesting thematic resonance with elements of the show, particularly what's happening with Aziraphale and his mental health *cuddles him*

Let's check 'em out, eh?

We'll start off with The Good Witch, from the Wintersmith album. The first half is a bit more applicable to Crowley, with lyrics like, "They never said why she was wicked/That was just taken on faith" (the very literal demonisation of Crowley and the other fallen angels, anyone?) and, "But a Good Witch/Really likes people/Good Witches really do care/For even, the mean stupid, hapless ones [...]" (just as Crowley and Aziraphale both care about humanity even when we're being dumbasses). The line, "It's everyday caring, loving and sharing/That's a Witch's centre and soul!" is pretty strongly applicable to the overall message of Good Omens, for all that only two or three characters technically count as literal witches -- though Aziraphale's official Heavenly job on Earth could be considered as a parallel to the role of Discworld's witches (albeit an excessively perfectionist version, with no expectation of the support network that the witches have; Granny Weatherwax would doubtless have Words To Say to the Metatron, none of them nice).

The spoken-word second half is an abridged excerpt from (I'm fairly sure, open to correction) the novel Wintersmith about the mental costs of a witch's job -- what we might call burnout and compassion fatigue -- as part of a scene demonstrating the witches' system of mutual support. With that in mind, it's very easy to see how Aziraphale's arc in S2 could be interpreted as him entering a bit of a pre-cackling phase, with good intentions going sideways rather than actual malice -- though there's obviously a huge whack of trauma in the mix for him.

Also, as a bonus -- that voice doing the spoken-word bit?

That's not someone doing an impression.

That is the actual voice of the actual Sir Terry Pratchett! :D #GNUTerryPratchett

Next up is Thomas the Rhymer, Pterry's very favourite song from the Span. It's the band's version of an old Scots ballad (Child Ballad 37) about Thomas the Rhymer, who is taken to 'Elfland' by a faerie queen and serves her for seven years, returning to the human world after that time with the gift of true and accurate prophecy and/or the inability to lie.

There're some interesting GO parallels here; the seven years' service parallels a common interpretation of The Final Fifteen, with Aziraphale being interpreted as going Up to a miserable Supreme Archangel job. I'm disinclined to agree with this interpretation, @vidavalor having been very persuasive in the matter of 'Satan, in the Bookshop, with the coffee' (that's a whole series of metas that're well worth a look!), but that interpretation of TF15 can also be seen as paralleling Thomas the Rhymer, if you see Thomas in the ballad as having been tricked, deceived or otherwise coerced by the faerie queen.

The 'true and accurate prophecy' element has an extremely obvious GO parallel (hello, Agnes Nutter!), and the inability to lie could find a finale parallel in Aziraphale, post-Fall, directly or indirectly spreading the truth about the Heaven/Hell dichotomy -- namely, that it's built on multiple falsehoods about the goodness of angels and the evilness of demons, for the sole purpose of maintaining the personal power of Satan and the Metatron -- and thus bringing down the whole rotten house of cards, as visually foreshadowed in Nazi Zombie Flesh-Eaters.

As a side note, the line 'harp and carp, come along o' me' in the chorus refers to a choice the faerie queen presents to Thomas in the original ballad, between the gifts of musical skill ('harp') and speech/prophecy ('carp'), and has some potentially interesting interactions with the Ineffable Cant chronicled by @vidavalor (this meta's a good starting point, given the use of 'carp' -- a type of fish, or a verb meaning 'to speak'/'to gripe and complain for frivolous/petty reasons').

Fun fact, the ballad is based on a real 13th-century Scots laird called Sir Thomas de Ercildoun (the town known today as 'Earlstone') or 'True Thomas', who was held in popular folklore to have the gift of prophecy and truth-telling.

Finally, we have The Making of a Man, Pterry's favourite song from the Wintersmith album. It's an adaptation of the children's song about what makes a human that's a fairly major plot point in Wintersmith. There's a lot of stuff about physical elements, but what's particularly relevant to Good Omens is the intangible stuff (the last three lines, in the book's song) -- strength enough to build a home, time enough to hold a child, love enough to break a heart. The Ineffable Husbands absolutely have all of these qualities:

Strength enough to build a home -- the Bookshop, and ultimately the South Downs Cottage

(I was having trouble finding a gif of the lizard-ised kids)

(Love this gif! They're so soft and protective and badass and gorgeous!)

Time enough to hold a child -- saving Job's kids, raising Warlock, supporting Adam when he needed it

Love enough to break a heart -- the entire dang series! (I make no apologies for my choice of gif [cackles evilly])

Regardless of immortality or other supernatural abilities, the Ineffable Husbands have all three intangible qualities, and are wonderfully, gloriously human (and we love 'em for it!).

Hope you enjoyed that! :D

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #steeleye span #terry pratchett #sir terry pratchett #pterry #gnu terry pratchett #wintersmith #thomas the rhymer

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ofallthingsnasty · 1 year ago

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tags: noncon spanking, power imbalance (boss/employee), exhibitionism, f!reader, reader wears a skirt + is implied to be chubby, this is just about being disciplined by sir crocodile pffft sorry idk what got into me with this one mini disclaimer: I haven’t been up to date with one piece since 2015 + I just finished the alabasta arc during my current re-read. this is pre-canon but please forgive me if I’ve missed anything. pairing: sir crocodile/f!reader word count: 1.4k

“Are you stupid?”

The clipboard in your hand shakes at the harsh words. You owlishly blink at the source of them - your boss, whose upturned eyebrows tell you just how annoyed he is. Crocodile isn’t someone who you should try to talk back to, especially you - too soft compared to him and still fairly new to this job-

Yet you can’t help but bristle at his tone.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“I've excused you quite enough, haven't I?”

He clicks his tongue and his cigar dips with it, ignoring your indignant face.

“You don't listen, woman. I let it go yesterday but here you go again, staring off into space.”

Oh. So he noticed.

It pains you to admit but you’re still starstruck over working for Sir Crocodile, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea - and somewhat of a hero to your people. Helping him operate Rain Dinners might be weirdly mundane but being close to the man who has saved the people of Alabasta countless times is something you’re still not quite over. You know you’re too old to be that naive, that blue-eyed - but who can fault for wondering where he got that scar in his face from, or how he lost his hand? Working for someone like him would spice up anyone’s life in Rainbase.

“Ah”, he sighs - heavy and exhausted as though you’re some kind of mutt, refusing to be properly trained - and puts out his cigar. “It's no use.”

Okay, now you’re starting to sweat. Your eyes rush to the manager - who just blinks back at you, a cryptic expression on her stony face.

“Over my knee.”

“Sir-”, you stammer out, glad that the words are even coming out despite the cold shower that is running down your spine. “This is entirely inappropriate- In front of other employees, no less-”

A wave of his hook interrupts you.

“A learning opportunity, then.”

This has to be some sort of nightmare - if it weren’t for the curious little head tilt of the other woman in the room, you’d try to pinch yourself awake. Your mouth opens and closes while you try to process this situation, try to make sense of it. You should leave, quit on the spot, tell him to fuck off-

You surprise yourself when you set down the clipboard with shaky hands.

Maybe it’s because deep down, you don’t want to lose this job or because of the way his voice leaves no more room for discussion - but you lower yourself over his legs, feeling very much like a rotten child and not a fully grown woman. They dig into the fat of your stomach and press the waistband of your skirt uncomfortably against it but you don’t even dare to adjust yourself, you just grip the edge of the chair weakly and try to soothe the sting of humiliation by scrutinizing the texture of the floor beneath you.

You know what comes next - still you startle as your skirt is hiked up by his rough hand. He lifts up your midriff ever so slightly while he pulls the piece of clothing over your ass, the sturdy fabric holding almost all of your weight for a short second. Luckily, it stays intact - contrary to your tights. Thick fingers hook themselves underneath the band that helps them stay in place and you can only let out an indignant squeak as he digs into the thin fabric like it’s butter, ripping large holes into it. At least he leaves your panties where they belong.

“You’re going to count for me”, he says from somewhere above as though he’s telling you how he likes to take his whiskey and not about to spank his employee for a minor transgression.

You just nod with too much enthusiasm and a burning hot face.

You’re stock-still and tense over his knee - so acutely aware of the impending doom. He’s not going to be gentle with you, you have no pretense about that, you know that he’s going to make you feel his frustration, every bit of it.

He lifts his hand from your ass - you hear the fabric of his clothes shuffle, strain - and brace yourself.

It doesn’t hurt at first. You only register the smack of his palm meeting your flesh and feel the force that is behind it, that pushes you forward and shifts the content of your stomach uncomfortably over the bone of his thigh. A split second passes and then- it burns.

You can’t suppress the shocked whimper that leaves you as you press out the count. “One.”

“One, what?”

You grit your teeth in utter shame but promptly rectify your mistake.

"One, Sir. And thank you- Sir"

Your words are rewarded with his hand rubbing the skin beneath it - maybe it’s to alleviate the pain, maybe it’s to cop a feel - you cannot tell.

The next four hits come rather quickly. Your head is thrown down with each one and you can feel the snot building up in your nose, blood accumulating where branches of both the external and internal carotids meet, the skin hot and sticky. Still, you count each and every one of them, your voice getting wispier and wispier from the pain.

“Having trouble holding that thick head of yours up?”, he asks after the fifth one, thumb digging into now tender flesh. It’s an entirely rhetorical question.

“Let me help you. Don’t move.”

Not moving turns out to be rather difficult when his hook moves to your neck, that sharp, glinting tip too close to the soft organs of your throat. The cold metal settles right where your suprahyoid muscles connect to the bone, just above your larynx.

It’s not enough to choke you - but the discomfort keeps your neck straining, instinctively trying to shield that small brace of bone that forms the hyoid.

Your eyes meet blue ones, just above the edge of Crocodile’s desk. You must look absolutely pathetic to her, you’re sure - but there is no judgment in her face, just a slender knuckle under her chin as her full attention is on you. Every further thought is swept away by another hit to your rear. It jerks you into his hook, crushing the fine cartilage of your voice box, forcing mucus into your mouth. Something pops among the muscles, like the jump of a tendon over bone and you balk at the noise, sure that he’ll break you before he even gets to the end of this.

Yet you sputter out the number six, voice throaty with strain.

Seven, eight, nine and ten follow quickly - and aren’t less harsh. Every single cell of your body is focused on getting from one moment to the next, of just getting through this.

Whatever it is you do, it’s deemed to be adequate - eleven and twelve come and go - slower, but heavier - and he finally rests his hand on your prickling skin after you croak out fifteen, Sir, your throat tender and ass bruised so deeply that your left leg shakes with it. A few tense seconds pass - during which you’re not sure if he’s actually done or not, but a soft sigh confirms it.

“Up with you.”

You’ve never moved faster in your life, beaten ass be damned. Trying to preserve the last shreds of your dignity, you tuck down your rumpled skirt with shaky fingers, fighting the urge to rub your sore neck. You can barely look at him, too scared you might find nothing but disdain in his eyes.

“Look at you now. What a nuisance.” He doesn’t sound disappointed - just tired. Like you’re a mess that needs to be cleaned up and he just came home from a long day at work. You shrink into yourself at his tone, relieved that it’s over but still tense, still afraid that there will be other consequences. “Go on. Get yourself fixed.”

You’re dismissed with a simple wave of the very hand you can still feel on your skin - that will make it hard for you to sit in the next few days.

Robin's eyes follow you as you hurry out of the door, pantyhose ripping even further because you try to clumsily adjust it while walking, your face betraying every single emotion you feel. Hurt, humiliation, even genuine anguish - but you’re still in one piece, even if your ego (and ass) are a little beat up. She tilts her head as she watches the very last traces of you disappear.

“Hm. You've gotten soft.”

He huffs in annoyance and reaches for the untouched newspaper in front of him, not even bothering to light a new cigar. She eyes Crocodile for a second as he pulls the pages taut. Something clicks.

"You like her", she says, thoroughly amused now.

The only answer she gets is a sharp tug at the newspaper.

A/N: It's hard to decipher what non-Baroque Works employees of Rain Dinners call Robin -- but she is addressed as manager, so I stuck with that. I hope it didn't confuse you.

#/one piece #one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #/crocodile #tw.noncon

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whowhatifs · 2 years ago

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⋆｡°✩ Infamous MC ask game ✩°｡⋆

Infamous by @infamous-if has got my mind buzzing and me humming, so I put together this little ask meme to develop and get to know our MCs, if anyone would like to play!

These are mostly focused on things that would have been established by the start of the story, but there may still be a spoiler or two.

★ MUSIC ★

Band name: How did they and the others come up with the band name? Has the name changed since it was founded?

Albums: What are some of the albums the band has released? Are they a consistent style? What themes did they explore?

Favourites: Which song of the band’s is your MC’s favourite? Which is the fan-favourite?

Training: How did they learn to sing? Have they had any formal training? How do they continue to maintain and develop their singing voice?

Retro: What was the first CD they ever bought with their own money? Do they still have it? Do they still like it?

Full circle: What is the first song they ever wrote? Played? What’s the most recent?

Songwriting: What’s their process? Is it different than it was when they used to write songs with Seven?

★ PERSONALITY ★

Beginnings: When and how did they know they wanted to be a professional musician? Was there a deciding factor?

Performance: What are they thinking and feeling while they’re performing? How do they act on stage?

Persona: How does their day-to-day personality compare to their on-stage persona?

Stage name: Do they or have they ever had one? How did they choose it?

Professional: How seriously do they take their singing career? Do they consider themself a professional?

Quitting: Have they ever come close to quitting their professional music career? When? What brings them back?

Change: How has their personality changed since Seven left the band? Are those changes related to Seven leaving?

★ RELATIONSHIPS ★

Bandmates: How do they feel about the members of the band? Would they still be interested in stardom if they weren’t with that group?

Hero: What is their favourite thing about G? Why is your MC such a big fan?

Fans: How is their relationship with their fans? Do they go out of their way to interact?

Manager: Do they get along with Orion? What do they think of him as their band manager?

Besties: What’s their friendship with Rowan like? What are some things only he knows about them?

Baby: How do they feel about Jazzy leaving? How are they coping? What are their plans to stay in touch?

Tattoo: Did they keep the tattoo with Seven’s initials? Why/why not? What was that decision/execution process like? (Bonus: What do they think of Seven keeping their tattoo?)

★ CREATION ★

Development: How did you come up with your character? Is their design still evolving? How do you think they might develop through the story?

Voice: What does their singing voice sound like? Do you have voiceclaims(s) for them?

Lyrics: What are some songs you associate with your character? Any specific lyrics that really scream your character?

Fame: Do you think your character will enjoy fame? Do they think they will? What elements do you think they might struggle with? Do you think they’ll be happy at the end of this road?

Storybeats: If you could design one scene to happen in the story, what would it be? How would it change your character? What would make it so satisfying for the character arc?

Wild card: Tell us something about your MC! Feel free to really just roll us over with an emotional steamroller and crush the souls out of our bodies, if you’d like. (You’re also welcome to choose one of the other questions to answer!)

Seven: Do you have headcanons about their friendship and/or romantic relationship (past or future)? What do you imagine some of their best memories are? What do you think some of Seven’s favourite things about your MC were/are?

To keep the game going, please send an ask to whoever you reblog this from (if they’re playing)! And feel free to tag me in your answers, time permitting I’d love to check them out. Have fun! ♡

#ask game #infamous if #interactive fiction #my only MC with an established name is Hedwig though another has the stage name Cassowary (less developed)#i spent entirely too much time on this so im off to study for now xoxo #if there are grammatical errors please look away i am tired #pinned #update: ive got 2.5 MCs now. hedwig polly and another one with no name yet skcjfkskdk

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infamous-if · 1 year ago

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There's been some discussion recently about MC that caught my attention because I agree. MC feels like a loser when you think about all of the other characters. When I play an MC who did nothing wrong to Seven it just feels like Seven is angry for no reason. Seven is allowed to act like a child while MC has to take it? Doesn't seem fair.

Everyone has something going for them and what about MC? No one likes them and everyone hates their guts. Aren't they supposed to be the main character? Why does everyone hate them? Why aren't they considered more talented? It just feels like MC is a doormat while Seven and the other ROs are these talented superstars.

I don't want this to come off any way but I feel like the story would be stronger if you made MC a bit meaner or at least made people acknowledge MC as a better singer.

I don't want to sound rude but I'm very much exhausted by this topic. I've probably explained this 5+ times but I'll try to break it down one last time just so people can understand what I'm trying to do.

First, to get it out of the way, we are only on Chapter 2. I just want to reiterate that. The story just started.

It just feels like MC is a doormat while Seven and the other ROs are these talented superstars.

Secondly, MC is a character I try to give as much customization to, both personality and appearance wise. There's a variety of ways you can approach everything, or I at least try to in a way that doesn't sacrifice what I want to write for the plot, but I think people are under the impression MC is 100% a blank slate character when it's not true.

MC is still dependent on the plot and I always strived for MC to have their own narrative arc. The same way the ROs have their own character arcs, MC will have their own, because they are a character in their own right and going through some that fundamentally changes their life. That means the MC from Chapter 1 will not be the MC at Chapter 20. They will be different. That's what a character arc is. Character development is expected. How can you expect a slew of ROs to grow and change and MC remaining stagnant? Doesn't make sense narratively and it seems unfair to MC.

The MC is not a completely blank slate, and that's where people are getting it confused. In the beginning, MC is going through such a change with BOTB, without their family, and on the heels of a band breakup that's still impacting them today. MC is a little down, maybe even depressed if that's how you read it, and they're getting pushed to be leader by their manager. They are not really okay right now. They have to be professional and put on a brave face for the sake of their band, who, if you paid attention to what Rowan said in Chapter 2, are all depending on this. This is what they worked for since high school. MC is not going to flip a damn table on Day 1 just because you want them to. MC can fight, if you choose, against UWB. That's not supposed to be a smart choice, but emotions get the best of all of us.

They are only just navigating a worldwide globally famous show with a cheating allegation hanging over their heads, and a manager who wants them to be leader when, up until now, they haven't been. They've just been friends making music and miraculously having a fanbase. Now they're really in it. They have been thrust head first into the industry in a way that is so big that MC has to go from singer playing with their friends to a leader of a band who may just become globally famous in a few months if they play their cards right.

A lot of their actions are influenced by the fact that their band almost broke up and it's a thing that hangs over their head. Their past influences them. That's...how people work.

Now, if we're at Chapter 20 and MC is still acting like a scared bunny who doesn't know what they're doing, then be my guest. Scream in my inbox, I'd understand. That would be terrible writing, but we're not. The tour just started.

I play an MC who did nothing wrong to Seven it just feels like Seven is angry for no reason. Seven is allowed to act like a child while MC has to take it? Doesn't seem fair.

MC doesn't have to take it lol. I've always given an option to be rude to Seven/try to put them in their place.

People think I favor Seven when that's not true. (Seven isn't even my favorite RO)(That title goes to August lol). Seven acts the way they act because they are not in a healthy headspace. Their actions are not meant to be understood, because they are not entirely justified. Seven has a lot of growing up to do, but I have never sat here and advertised Seven's emotions as correct. Everyone knows Seven is childish, everyone knows Seven is handling everything terribly. People in the story have mentioned it. Their abandonment issues GREATLY influence their characterization and actions. MC has abandonment issues as well, of course, but MC is not as emotionally unstable as Seven. That's canon. It is what it is. Seven has a whole subplot about it.

As do other ROs. The only difference is that they're not so open about their struggles. Seven just doesn't care. Their emotions guide them. They can't control it. That's who they are. I have also said that many times.

I don't know why you think Seven can get away with everything when 1) it's only been 2 chapters and 2) no one knows how anyone feels about Sev because it's in MC's POV. Seven goes through their own trial by fire. As every RO does......thats a narrative arc.

Seven was always going to be a plot point, whether they were an RO or not. They were always going to be MC's former best friend.

This one bothers me the most, mostly because I don't know where this came from. "No one likes them" Jenna and The Jewels does. Slow Crawl does. Their fans do. We haven't even properly met the other bands. Of course there will be bands who don't like MC: they're competitors. They're not friends. They don't know MC, why would they be biased towards them? Because they're the main character? They don't care about that?? It's how fiction works.

Maya is following the band around because of how much she admires MC.

Orion quit his job because MC's singing inspired him that much.

G listened to MC and saw something in them. Literally calls them the 'Chosen One'

Fans of the old band preferred MC over Seven. They liked the songs where MC sang solo. MC was better for their future over Seven. Hence why it was Seven getting demoted, not MC. I've said this. It's in the story.

I don't see how being the lead singer of a band on a global show at 26 makes anyone an actual loser but I digress.

Literally in Part 2 MC is acknowledged so maybe it'd be better if we waited? Say a good few chapters...?

If you wanted a story where MC is Queen level famous right out the gate and the #1 draft pick for BOTB and has no problems and better than everyone, then I'd advise you to look elsewhere. I don't like that. I like giving MC obstacles because conflict creates story. I like MC having to fight for their spot. It's more realistic, and this has never been a story of fame. It's been a story of their journey to fame.

That's their narrative arc. They grow into it.

You are allowed to hate/dislike Seven. I encourage it. I have given MC the option to hate Seven, because I'm aware that what Seven is doing is unfair. I am not punishing you for hating Seven. And this goes for all the ROs. It does not bother me if you dislike my characters. It means I haven't made them squeaky clean and have made them realistic enough to have people both dislike and like them, much like real life. I get it.

I've always advertised Infamous as a messy, angsty and dramatic story. I've used the term 'melodrama' for it often. I've always said the ROs--especially Seven--are flawed. Some more than others. I've said, verbatim, they are not wholly good people. I don't know why people act so shocked when they act some type of way. Like...I've always stayed true to what the story is. Half the dynamics aren't healthy right now...but that's the 'growing up part' of the story we haven't even gotten to yet?

If that doesn't interest you, then that's perfectly okay! If you don't like the narrative arc I have planned for MC, that's fine too! It just becomes a bit disheartening when people ignore the narrative.

I will try harder to write in a way that specifies my intentions. I always believe that if more than a handful of readers have the same complaint, then it's on the writer to fix it.

I hope my tone didn't come off rude, I'm just really really tired of this. I've had to deal with this since even before the demo dropped :) but your critiques are valid and everyone is always free to express themselves however they want. <3

#inbox #'MC is a loser' convo will always follow me I guess #MC will win a grammy and someone will be like: “they're kinda...loserish though? imagine winning a grammy at 30 and not 20 lol”#/j #ill add this to the faq and never talk about it again

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aspoonofsugar · 10 months ago

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That's Entertainment

The Hazbin Hotel's Pilot is called "That's Entertainment". The title is a tongue in cheeck joke, as the series is good entertainment, but it also references "That's Entertainment!", a song from The Band Wagon musical. This song is quite famous and it became an anthem of sorts for Hollywood as a whole. Here it is its final stanza:

The world is a stage The stage is a world Of entertainment!

Does it sound familiar? It should:

Alastor: After all, the world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment.

Why is there such a reference in the Pilot?

There are two reasons:

Hazbin Hotel is a series with allusions to musicals, movies, memes, fairy tales and different mythologies. All these references tie into the story and characters by commenting plotlines and arcs. So, The Band Wagon's easter egg is the same.

Both The Band Wagon and Hazbin Hotel are meta-stories. They are pieces of entertainment about making entertainment. "That's Entertainment!" (song) has something to say about musicals. "That's Entertainment" (pilot) has something to say about stories.

So, Hazbin Hotel is full of references that can be read:

On a story or character level - in the sense that they enrich the series and its protagonists

On a meta-narrative level - in the sense that they metaphorically comment on the entertainment industry

Let's analyze these two layers of reading, when it comes to some motifs and characters. Of course, let's start from one of the oldest creative minds of the universe. The very first dreamer:

Charlie: Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation.

LUCIFER: THE GREATEST SHOWMAN

Lucifer is a dreamer both when it comes to morals (story and character level) and to creativity (meta-narrative level).

Morals - Lucifer's first big project is to share free will with humanity:

Charlie Morningstar: Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

Lucifer and Lilith's plan was to give humanity knowledge, so that they could challenge the system and decide for themselves how to live. It is an ideal rooted in the faith people can be amazing, when in charge of their destiny.

Creativity - Lucifer is so passionate about "creation" that he turns Hell itself into a big colorful show. A seven-ring circus full of acts and performances happening at the same time. This is the metaphorical meaning of Hell's circus motif. This realm is the greatest shit-show of all times and Lucifer is its creator. He is the Greatest Showman. After all, Lucifer's known activities are:

Its previous shows with the Seven Deadly Sins' Troupe

A theme park called LuLu World

An App similar to Ticketmaster, which is called Lucimaster

These are all linked to the entertainment industry. Isn't it strange that the King of Hell has such a specialization? Shouldn't he have control over a more strategic part of the economy, like industry, banks or health? And yet, entertainment is Lucifer's domain because deep down Hell is nothing, but a showbusiness factory.

So, Lucifer is at his root a wide-eyed idealist, both when it comes to his political stance and to his creative process. And yet, Lucifer gives up on dreaming:

Charlie: Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream.

He stops seeing the good in others and loses hope for the system and people alike to change. He can't imagine a different future than the sad and lonely present he lives in.

He is stuck creating "ugly ducklings" he himself dislikes:

Lucifer: That's it… Almost there… Now presenting… the magic-tastical back flipping rubber duck! Haha! That spits fire! Hoo hoo hoo! Hold the applause please, okay. Oh, thank you, thank you. Oh god, who am I kidding? This sucks!

Lucifer's creative block is conveyed also by some details set up in the Hellaverse. For example, Helluva Boss shows another sin, who is very active in the entertainment industry.

WHEN MAMMON STOLE THE SHOWBIZ

Mammon, King of Greed apparently breaks an established pattern in Helluva Boss. In this show, every sin is introduced by a song focused on their vice.

Asmodeus, King of Lust, has House of Asmodeus:

Asmodeus: You singing love songs in my lustful lounge? Fizzarolli: Ozzie's ain't the place for sentimental sounds! Asmodeus: What'd you expect from a proprietor like us? Fizzarolli: Your demon host, Asmodeus, the embodiment of lust! Asmodeus: Give me a thrust! Fizzarolli: Bwabwabwabwa bwaaaah- Asmodeus: Show me some lust From the groin to the bust In desire, we trust In the house of Asmodeus

Beelzebub, Queen of Gluttony, has Cotton Candy:

Hey! I'm whatchu need, I'm watchu want I got it all, a carnival I'll bring you up, I'll take you down I'm sticky sweet, stuck in your teeth Like cotton candy Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-ah) Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-oh) Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-ah) I'm whatchu want Not watchu need (Ah-ah, ah-oh)

What about Mammon? The King of Greed has actually a lot of songs that explore his sin. Let's think about what his debut episode is called: "Mammon's magnificent musical mid-season special (ft Fizzarolli)".

Mammon doesn't sing nor performs, but the musical is still his. Fizz, who is the main character of the episode, gets only a mention.

In other words, all the songs featured in the mid-season special are Mammon's songs. They do not directly say anything about greed, but they comment on this sin in a meta-narrative way:

Octavia: Is it true this park is just a really shameless spin-off of Lucifer's far more popular Lu Lu World?

The Sin of Greed steals others' talents, so his songs are stolen songs. Loo Loo Land is the perfect example of this:

Everybody's friendly And nobody is mean No copyright infringements ever seen I have a dream (He has a dream) I'm here to tell (He's here to tell) About a magical fantastic place Called Loo Loo Land

This song has Mammon:

Profit of Lucifer and his Lu Lu World theme park

Rip off Charlie's Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow song

Possess Fizzarolli's body

The King of Greed is a talentless performer:

Asmodeus: Also, you are a waaaay better performer than Mammon ever was, and thaaat's just facts.

Still, he is good at marketing and is slowly stealing the showbusiness for himself. He organizes pageants, finds new talents to exploit and has convinced Hell's middle class that being a clown like him is the coolest thing ever:

Fizzarolli: It's not about that! It's getting to work with my idol. I just love that he's giving someone new the chance to be in the spotlight! He's an inspiration. Blitzo: Well he's- definitely something alright. I mean, I dunno, was it worth all our savings just to have him put on an over-hyped commercial, and then bitch about taxes, and then assault us with clowns, vomit, and pass out on stage? Fizzarolli: So worth it!

What does it all mean for Lucifer?

On a character level, it ties with Lucifer's depression and general sense of failure. He is a Seraphim, the King of Hell and a brilliant artist and performer. And yet, he can't stop one of his subjects from ripping off his ideas. Once again Lucifer's dreams are ruined. They become soulless and rotten. Moreover, the one doing this is a member of Lucifer's own Circus Troupe, which adds to the impression of isolation and loneliness Lucifer gives off.

On a meta-narrative level, greed is corrupting the entertainment industry, as the dreamer in charge of it feels unmotivated and uninspired. This is a pretty poignant and tongue-in-cheeck dig to the current state of things, where corporations are mass-producing empty stories. After all, Lucifer fits the Mr Alt Disney TV Trope:

A No Celebrities Were Harmed version of Walt Disney; expect him to be the animator of a world-famous cartoon character (frequently a Mocky Mouse) and/or the founder of Souvenir Land. Also expect an exaggerated interest in planned communities and/or creating a utopia, possibly with sinister undertones. He'll present said utopia in the form of a World's Fair-like exhibition, usually in his parks. Many of these characters go beyond parodying just Disney and fuse him with Howard Hughes, another mustachio'd early/Golden Age of Hollywood impresario and futurist. Hughes gradually became debilitated by severe mental illness (OCD and agoraphobia) and eventually was reduced to living in seclusion, obsessively carrying out odd habits.

Lucifer is an oddball with a Showbiz Empire in Hell. He is loosely an expy of Walt Disney and the old Hollywood, but he is now tired and unable to produce anything new. Luckily, there is a beautiful disney-like princess ready to help him.

HAZBIN HOTEL, THE GREATEST SHOW

Charlie is a disney princess with the twist she reigns in hell, rather than on a classical fairy tale kingdom. In particular, she resembles Rapunzel in both design and personality:

Both princesses wear their hair tied, but they let it loose when they use their powers. They are enthusiastic, able to inspire others, but also sheltered. So, they are a bit childish. Charlie is basically Rapunzel if Raps were met with a cynical world the moment she escaped the tower:

He's got a dream He's got a dream See, I ain't as cruel and vicious as I seem Though I do like breaking femurs You can count me with the dreamers Like everybody else I've got a dream

Inside of every demon is a rainbow! Inside every sinner is a shiny smile! Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac, Is a jolly, happy, cupcake-loving child!

Rapunzel enters a sinister inn, shares her dream and is validated and understood by a bunch of bandits. Charlie explains her goal to all of Hell and is humiliated and laughed at by everyone.

Despite this setback, Charlie is still a disney-like princess and throughout the first season she brings dreams to others. This is true especially for Lucifer:

The King of Hell's dreams are awaken by Charlie's Hazbin Hotel project in two ways.

On a character level, Charlie's Hazbin Hotel is the evolution of Lucifer's dream, as it is rooted in the belief human souls can choose goodness. Even after death:

Charlie: Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't Mean they can't resolve to change their ways Turn the page, escape infernal blaze

On a meta-narrative level, Hazbin Hotel is the greatest show. It is a new series, which takes obvious inspiration from classics, both disney movies and musicals. However, it is still fresh and innovative. Similarly, its protagonist is a disney-like princess (Charlie), who inspires a Walt Disney expy (Lucifer). She is a creation (daughter) giving hope to her creator (father). This is why by the end of season 1, Lucifer finds some of his old creative drive, as he helps Charlie rebuild the Hotel:

Lucifer: Remedial creation for me... it's as easy as can be!

Charlie brings back both hope (story level) and entertainement (meta-narrative level) in hell:

Alastor: Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I've lacked inspiration for decades. My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I've come to crave a new form of entertainment! Hahaha!

She has the talent to renew a showbiz (hell), which is mundane and aimless. She has a freshness, which catches the eye of navigated entertainers:

Alastor: She's filled with potential that I could guide Rosie: I concur Rosie and Alastor: Stick with her, you'll be on the winning side

Still, why is that so? Why is Charlie such a good entertainer?

CHARLIE: THE PERFORMATIVE DREAMER (CHARACTER LEVEL)

Charlie is entertaining because:

She tries hard to keep up her smile, even if she is suffering inside. In this sense, she is a real performer

She is so dedicated to her objective, that she is ready to do anything to reach it. In this sense, she is a true dreamer

Charlie, the performer

Alastor:Just because you see a smile don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

Charlie is a character, who masks her negative emotions behind smiles, enthusiasm and an apparent neverending optimism. In reality, she struggles a lot with who she is:

Alastor: Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer's delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands, as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!

Has Charlie founded the Hazbin Hotel to help sinners or to find herself a purpose? The answer is both. Charlie's project is born from genuine altruism, but also from a selfish desire to matter.

Charlie, the dreamer

Alastor: You have a dream! You wish to tell! And it's just laughable. But, hey, kid, what the hell?

Charlie's dream seems impossible, almost a delusion. And yet, Charlie keeps pursuing it, no matter what. She sings her heart out to advertise the hotel... only to be seen by everyone as a joke. Still, she keeps going. She doesn't give up on her project.

Alastor: Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure!

Seeing Charlie struggle is fun because even if she fails, she tries again. She experiments new things, she learns and she teaches. She apologizes and she forgives. She never quits. So, she is an entertainer.

Charlie: I have a dream, I'm here to tell! About a wonderful fantastic new hotel!

CHARLIE, THE PERFORMER FULL OF DREAMS (META-NARRATIVE LEVEL)

Charlie puts up a performance and follows her dream no matter what. She hides within herself a selfish motivation (fiction), but earnestly pursues her selfless dream (reality). Similarly, Hazbin Hotel is a story (fiction) with a strong heart (reality).

That is because entertainment is rooted into reality:

Anything that happens in life Can happen in a show You can make 'em laugh You can make 'em cry Anything, anything can go (That's Entertainment! - The Band Wagon)

Charlie: Does getting into a fistfight with a reporter count as entertainment…? Alastor: Hahaha! It's the purest kind, my dear: Reality! True passion!

The song states anything can be entertainment

Alastor claims that good entertainment is born from genuine passion

It is the same idea declined in different ways. Entertainment is a representation of the world, of its flaws and beauties. It is fiction, but in a sense it must stay true to itself. Just like Charlie herself is both a performative dreamer (fiction) and a performer full of dreams (reality):

She is a performative dreamer because deep down she feels she must be perfect and repress her negative feelings. Only in this way she has value. She masks herself with a pollyanna persona.

She is a performer full of dreams because she has the talent to maker her dreams come true and to become a real artist in the process. To succeed, though, she should not ignore her hidden parts. She must face reality.

THE WORLD IS A STAGE AND THE STAGE IS A WORLD OF ENTERTAINMENT

When fiction and reality meet, entertainment is born. This is what Hazbin Hotel's meta-message seems to be. A story is invented, but the feelings behind it must be genuine.

At the same time, entertainment helps people better understand themselves. This may be why Hazbin Hotel is full of entertainment motifs. Here are some:

Charlie is a singer

Vaggie is a dancer

Angel is an actor

Alastor is linked to radios

Vox is a TV demon

Valentino is a director and producer

Adam is a musician, whose arc is described by the musical "School of Rock"

Charlie and Alastor's bond is commented by the musical "Annie"

For each one of these references, one could write a meta (I hope I will for some tbh). That is how much the idea of entertainment is intertwined in the story. In conclusion, it is definately true that:

The world is a stage = Fiction must take inspiration from reality or it will feel hollow

The stage is a world = Stories can help to better understand reality and make sense of it

Hazbin Hotel is a piece of entertainment about entertainment, which is best understood through the lens of entertainment. In short, it is entertainment!

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel meta #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #charlie hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #mammon helluva boss #my meta

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