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simonambroise · 1 year ago

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I've been tagged by @palebdot. I intend to talk about my work.

QnA under the cut or whatever.

1)What motivates you to write?

I love reading my writing when its good, because I can write the story I want to read with gay people in it. There is also my dearest friend Sahara Wheatbrick, a tumblrless follower whomst knoweth where I live, so... Fear and joy in equal measure.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Oh there's the scene I wrote from Lara's perspective (Lara is an alien called a Ruquati which is bipedal humanoid, typically red, orange or yellow with four arms) when she is first interacting with Taylor, a human child. Lara's internal processes are so fun to write, because she manages to be a space alien and yet so human. I will admit I took some inspiration from the whole humans are weird thing, but I feel the world building and characterization is the best I've ever done. I want to shove the entire chapter in here... But it isn't really a short snippet, yk? Tho its my post and I can do what I want..... Ill spare you the chapter but you'll get the whole scene.

Sorry for rambling tho haha

Lara had been working on a blanket when the larva stumbled in- a simple repetitive task. A useful task. Not the task she had been born for, but a task. Dip into the last row, grab the yarn, pull through. Dip into the last row, grab the yarn, pull through. Dip, grab, pull. She barely registered the door swinging open, but she did notice when little hands with one too many fingers tugged at her transparent sleeve. Lara looked down at the Terran, and blinked slowly. Such a small larva would not have the instincts that said eye contact was a threat, but it was more for her sake. To her surprise, the little Terran blinked back before clambering up to tuck themselves between her lower shoulders and the couch. Their skin was warm, surprisingly so- every reminder that the species could maintain a perfect temperature so well was like a bucket of cold water. A shocking reminder that Terrans were alien in every sense of the word. Another glance at the Terran larva, wide eyes completely unfamiliar on such a tiny face. Ruquatin larva didn’t have eyes, or legs, or much of anything. They only really began looking like adults as pupa, but even when Terran larva first hatched- or rather, ripped their way out of the adult’s stomach like some sort of parasite- they still resembled Terrans. Even inside the adult’s stomach, which Lara assumed was fairly similar to the egg stage, they had arms and legs and… eyes. Well, most of the time. Mistakes happen when you decide to build your descendants inside of your body. It was just poor decision making. A complete lack of planning. How were you supposed to get them out of there if something went wrong? If there were mites or worms or parasites? It was a miracle they even made it to space, Lara thought as the larva tucked close to her. They were warm, as all Terrans were. Radiating heat like the sun. Why they felt the need to head off into the great dark was a mystery. Terrans were a new species by most standards, never mind ancient Ruquatin standards. Their entrance to the galaxy was the catalyst to the fall of the Empire, and Lara could not bring herself to give a single damn. The Empress got what was coming for her. The colony Lara had been born into was gone, and she had been accepted into another. Greta was the Nurse, the healer who stopped what would have been death in it’s tracks. Gabriel was a Architect, a Peacemaker. A planner and mediator, calm and collected. And Piper was the Builder, the Greenie, the Grub, the Cleaner, and the Queen. The one who grew food, the protector, a Queen that ruled over her little colony the same as she cleaned the kitchen sink. She Built their hive with her own hands and Lara could never understand the complete disregard Terrans had for a caste system. Her hive was everything, and Lara was a Diplomat. The one who went outside and made deals, the one who was shunned so the others may remain safe. The larva at her side had begun making little rhythmic growling noises that Piper had referred to as ‘snoring’. It was a behavior, she explained, that some Terrans did while sleeping. Lara was the Diplomat of her colony, the only one. And by Ragaitor she would do her job. For the Queen. For the colony. For the hive.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

I don't believe I've mentioned my all time favorite OC on this, but -surprise- its a character I project onto heavily! He's a blond trans guy who's a little goblin and loves embroidery. He's an absolute piece of shit and the most loveable goofball.

Now, for Captain of the Blue Opal, it has got to be Clive. In theory, he's a bad guy. In practice, he's just some guy. Cherry is bullied relentlessly by his crew members for his name, which I believe is entirely unfair to Clay. I mean, Clyde is trying his best. (Sorry to all the Clowns out there. Your name ie valid)

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

First draft, every time. Once I get into the swing of things, words flow and its easy. Its made easier if I plot things out but I find that duller than getting right to it!

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Oh no I need to talk about myself. Uhhhhhh... I'm really bad at that lmao. I think I'm good at dialogue. I've never had the issue where I had to figure out what a character was going to say in a given situation, because they just said that. I suppose that goes hand in hand with characterization but I've exceeded my one self-compliment yearly limit.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Its an excuse to talk about my book to people who might actually listen. What's not to love?

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Reedsy, Reedsy, Reedsy. Its a double edged sword, but its the sort of website that works super well with my nurodivergent brain. It lets you set goals and reminds you of said goals- both short term and long term. It's divided up into chapters and lets you put fancy scene breakers in. On the other hand, exporting your book in reedsy format is hell. You just can't do it easily. You want o take your book out so you can send it off to a publisher? Haha, if you're not going through Reedsy they're going to make it difficult.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

My Ruquati space alien culture. Their social structure is similar to hive insects, they have a strict caste system. Typically they are warm colors-- red and orange, though there are two exceptions. Greenies, who are in charge of tending to the plants. Their skin color is green because of a chemical they secrete- sort of a pesticide/sun lotion in one yk. Then of course we have blue Ruquati, which are typically seen as bad luck. Blue Ruquati aren't confined to a specific caste like Greenies. Any level could be born blue, at which point they'd be set at the bottom of their particular caste. Unfortunately for Lara, she got the quadruple middle finger (which is weird since Ruquati don't have a middle finger) from genetics, so she's a diplomat (lowest caste) AND blue.

Im trying to keep this short but then I realized if people got bored they'd have left by now... So here's a brief overview of the Ruquati social structure!!!

At the top is The Empress, the chief of hive minds and supreme ruler of the Ruquatin Empire. Hive minds, you might ask, simon, where did the hive minds come from?

Well, my dear friend, the hive mind is made up entirely by Queens, all controlled remotely by the Empress. They are capable of individual actions, just so the Empress doesn't have to waste thought on day to day matters of the colonies.

Architects are a bit harder to explain. In canon there isn't a lot of information on their behavior, seeing as if you get close enough to catch them, you've killed the hive. Architects die with their hive. Because I am the author, I can tell you they are the strategists, the military commanders. They plan battles and the size of the Ruquati Empire was entirely dependent on them. They are often referred to as the Peacemakers, not in the sense they will solve their problems diplomatically but in the sense they'll order the deaths of anyone who may "disturb the peace".

Beneath the Architects are the Builders, a job that is fairly self-explanatory. These Ruquati expand and repair the colony under orders from their Queen. In a warlike species who's only goals is expansion (gross oversimplification but i won't subject you to politics) the architects of that expansion are valued highly.

Then, of course, the Nurses. Unlike human nurses, who fix injuries, these Ruquati watch over the eggs, larva, and pupa of of the colony. Young Ruquati are entirely dependent upon the Nurses for their survival. Medics aren't so much a thing as it's very difficult to injure a Ruquati. Once an injury occurs, however, they are, for lack of a better term, absolutely screwed.

Next up, we've got Grubs, the soldiers. They can be sorted into three categories.

Queen's Guard

This is the one position a Ruquati is not born into. The strongest of all Grubs (common and others) are pulled aside for extra training to become the Guards for the Queen. The Queen's Guard. The guards that protect the Queen. Highest ranked of all Grubs, though still below everyone above. They eat a special specialized diet that makes them more aggressive, more territorial, and larger than the average Grub.

2. Grubs

These are the soldiers who fight foreign wars, sometimes halfway across the galaxy. They leave the hive so that the hive may remain strong, sacrificing so much for the colony. Least territorial, but incredibly aggressive.

3. Common Grubs

Common Grubs are the soldiers who stay behind to defend the colony. They are less aggressive then their mobile counterparts but much more territorial, bordering on Queen's Guard levels of territorial.

Then we've got "The Green Ones" or Greenies. They are distinguished from their fellow workers by the green tint to their skin. They are farmers growing a bioluminescent mushroom. Once harvested, it is the main food source for the Ruquati people. Before harvesting, however, they release deadly spores that can and will grow in Ruquati lung equivalents. The Greenies are immune to the spores because their bodies secrete a mucus the ensures spores do not enter the lungs. This mucus has a habit of dying Ruquati skin green, hence Greenies.

General Workers, another fairly self explanatory title. These people do the stuff higher ups can't be bothered with.

Cleaners, the ones who do the dirty work. They do the small, annoying tasks that nobody else will. They are respected, but are definitely considered lesser.

Drones are here to fuck and then they die. I can't elaborate beyond that because that's what they are. They are all about instant gratification (since they're going to die soon anyways) so they often make stupid impulsive decisions that endanger or even destroy the hive. Its happened too many times for Drones to be put into positions of power.

Now, for Diplomats. Yet another self-explanatory title Simon, love the creativity. They are considered the lowest of the low, because they are sent in when winning a war is not possible. For the most part, that doesn't happen. As a result, Diplomats have a tendency to be seen as useless cowards in Ruquati society. Ah, culture traumatizing those it deems unnecessary. How original! Diplomats are an evolutionary holdover from Before the Empress' Hivemind. Back then, warring queens often fought dirty, and fought dirty often. This all changed when the Empress created her hive mind, but this is veering dangerously close to political territory and I'd need several hours to properly explain the politics of Pre-Empress Ruquati Empire, Empress' Ruquati Empire, and Post-Empress Ruquati Empire. Which isn't actually relevant to my story haha. It be boring for everyone involved.

NOTES:

-Blue Ruquati are considered cursed and get sent to rock bottom of the caste they're already in. If a Queen is blue, she will be considered lesser than the other queens, though still above Builders. As a diplomat AND a blue Ruquati, Lara got the short end of all the sticks.

-Drones are technically lower than diplomats but Ruquati society at least recognizes them as having a use. Still, they are regarded with much suspicion. They attempt to seduce whatever Queen is nearby, have sex and then die. What a life.

-Castes were ranked in order of importance to Ruquati society. They value expansion, war and consider themselves superior to other species. (once again, gross oversimplification but c'est la vie or whatever)

-Most Ruquati stay in the hive their entire lives, except for diplomats, Queens, Queen's Guards and Grubs.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

For me, my blocks are mental. I have the time to write. Theoretically I have the ability to focus on the writing. If I just started, I'd be fine.

Sit down with the computer. Just open it up to your word processor of choice and sit in front of it. Listen to music, sit there, and stare at that document. Eventually you'll get bored enough to start writing.

Another tip that helped me: for your first draft, set word count goals. I'm not talking 1,000, 2,000 words every day, because even people with writing as their full time job can't do that. I'm talking sit down with the intent to write one sentence. One word, on bad days.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest

ohhhhhhh uh most of the people who inspire me are irl, but i'll mention them anyways. Pseudonyms obviously.

So, to my dearest Dad-Husband-Son-Family-Dog-And-Unlicensed-Nurse-Practitioner (one person), Sahara Wheatbrick, Luigi, Indigo, Duffin Dagels and of course, @coatlsaviator, thanks for the inspiration and support, as well as putting up with my insane rants.

Now for the Tumblr people, of which there are two (three if you count Mike' N' Ike, which I do.) haha. I'm not rlly integrated into the Tumblr ecosystem yet, but part of that is my unwillingness to talk to anyone and Good Old Fashioned Social Anxiety™

I would @ palebdot again but I think that's bad form on Tumblr and i don't want to sent them two notifs for the same post so... Thrilled to see where they're going.

And the Other Writers I Follow Who Seem Cool And Unapproachable to my Social Anxiety Whomst I Wish To Include In The QnA but Do Not Demand A Response From:

@caxycreations @sithbelle

You are mysterious and unknowable friends, Keep Up The Good Work

#long reads #long post #qna #new author #queer author #queer community #writerscommunity #writing #queer #time crystal quintet #writerblr #writer blog #writers #writer #I realized this probably should have been a reblog #But im on mobile and copy paste is hell #So enjoy it #science fiction #fiction

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megarabane · 9 months ago

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JUST SAW YOUR ASK ON HELLSITE-GENETICS AND NEEDED TO SEND YOU AN ASK!! /POS

you are like literally the person i want to be with the bird stuff i absolutely LOVE belted kingfishers they are so pretty. they are also one of my favorite birds (i have too many favorites i cant just pick one) but birds are so smart and their feathers are so cool like omg i love birds

im currently a small senior in highschool/sophomore in college and want more people who like birds in my life :))

anyway whats your favorite thing to study about birds? mine is how smart they are but also like how bluejays have the feathers that reflect the sun to show the blue :))

[id: screenshot of two text messages that say "oh good i get to get [sic] explain this to you" / "you will regret this" followed by the ellipses of someone typing. end id]

FELLOW BIRD ENJOYER SPOTTED

(sad my ask to hellsite-genetics didn't get me a bird tho but i did get the added satisfaction of knowing the goofy goober song is a member of the genus i exalted in my ask so all in all it's a solid win)

let me preface all of this with saying that while a lot of my experience with birds and learning about birds has been in a classroom setting i've also spent *checks watch* three summers now (including this upcoming one) doing field work working almost exclusively with birds in the midwest united states, so honestly a lot of the things i've learned have been incidental knowledge i've obtained working in the field. i'm not an *expert*, i just have a BS in environmental science and a lot of birding experience.

full slapshod essay rant of me going on about birds (edit: i just reread it and good GOD i went on for a while) of me talking about birds below the cut bc i already know this is gonna be far too long but you asked about my favorite thing in the world so this is on you my friend (affectionate)

i'm definitely ENRAPTURED with how smart birds are. They're so fucking intelligent it's almost scary.

since you brought em up imma talk about bluejays first!! i did part of a project my last year of college on bluejays!!

blue jays will often mimic the calls of other birds, esp predators like red-tailed hawks, with such accuracy that even bird id apps like Merlin (shameless plug) will mistake a mimicking bluejay for a real red-tailed. when i was doing audio surveys for northern bobwhites we had to have a separate training day where the only thing we focused on was how to tell if a mockingbird / thrasher / blue jay was mimicking the distinct bobwhite call and how that wasn't to be counted as a sighting.

(in my experience a lot of it has to do with pitch, repetition, and completion of what's considered the 'full song' of the NOBO, since a lot of mimids won't do the 'full song' and will just handpick bits to weave into the rest of their noises. bluejays especially will do this. mockingbirds will sometimes do the full song, but NOBOs have a pretty measurable repetition gap between their songs, at least in the areas we were doing surveys).

i remembered learning in a class that some bluejays will find bird feeders and spy on them, then mimic red-tailed and red-shouldered hawk calls to get the other birds to scatter, so they can then fly down and eat without having to fight for the tastiest bits.

when i was working with birds over the summer, one of the things we did was setting ground traps for mourning doves so they could be banded and then tracked for hunter take (they're a game species in my state). there were always blue jays in those traps. they're so fascinating to see up close, with their heavy bills and tough little feet and they're so full of rage. and they're loud.

also the thing about their FEATHERS - YES. it fucked me up to learn blue jays are naturally brown. iirc it has to do with the way the barbs on their feathers are put together with modified cells, which scatter the light in a special way to make them appear blue. If you get a bluejay feather in your hand it's only blue at certain angles and the undersides are almost usually completely brown unless you hold them in the light just so.

blue jays are part of the family Corvidae so it makes sense why they're so smart, in the family with other birds like ravens and crows.

well i didn't mean to go on for so long about blue jays. they are wonderful tho aren't they?? <3

my favorite thing to study about birds??? hoooooo boy what a question. everything?? is everything an option??

habitat effects on population size and habitat selection at the individual level is fascinating. i've done a lot of work with population studies, basically doing audio-visual surveys (point counts) of how many of x and y and z target species live in this area at a given point in time, then using that data to extrapolate potential population numbers in an area as narrow as a few square miles and as wide as the whole state (i worked for the state department of natural resources so we were focused only on our state obv).

in that effort, using that information to both directly and indirectly learn what environmental factors affect which bird species and how was so so interesting to me, and some of them are things so small we don't even think about them sometimes!! if there's as few as a handful of pine/cedar/evergreen trees in a field or grassland, you're far more likely to find cedar waxwings and indigo buntings, and you rarely see them in areas dominated by deciduous trees. red-winged blackbirds love wetlands, and while they aren't (iirc) specifically wetland-dependent, something as small as a single pond is enough to attract them in droves.

behavior is also such a cool topic to me, which i've learned more and more about just by birdwatching and attending bird-related conferences and working with wildlife biologists.

birds like the brown creeper are bark foragers that almost exclusively move upwards along a tree. they'll start at the bottom and move up, and once they reach a point they deem 'too high', they'll fly to the bottom of the next tree and move up. conversely, birds like nuthatches, still bark foragers, almost exclusively move down trees in the same way - they'll start at the top, forage downwards, and when they reach the bottom, they'll fly back to the top and do it again.

the yellow-bellied sapsucker (woodpecker family), as the name implies, eats a lot of sap, so they drill holes into a tree, like woodpeckers do, but they lay them down in 'bands' that run horizontally around the tree, often with multiple rows on top of each other, leading to a grid-like pattern of shallow holes only an inch or two apart from each other. that's often the best way to figure out where to look for sapsuckers when you're birding!! (apart from actually seeing or hearing the little guy, obv.)

incidentally, i learned that it's really really hard to put backpack trackers on henslow's sparrows, not bc they're so small and hard to catch, but because they're smart enough to realize there's a thing on their back and will, somehow, pull the backpack around to their front and completely mangle it beyond repair, and that's before they chew it off.

god i could go on forever. kestrels. ospreys. owls. nightjars. songbirds. fisherbirds. albatrosses. puffins. kinglets. sparrows. starlings. they're all so good and perfect and wonderful and fascinating and if i could learn everything about all of them forever i would.

in an extremely roundabout way of answering your question, if you're still reading and haven't run for the hills yet, i can't pick just one thing to call my favorite to learn about birds. everything about them is so interesting and makes me so excited to learn and see and talk about.

belted kingfisher lovers unite!

edit: I DIDN'T EVEN TALK ABOUT TURKEYS EITHER I'M DOING TURKEY RESEARCH TOO -

#megara.txt #birds #ask #you found it #the bird button #ya push the bird button ya better be prepared to hear about birds #there's a channel in my dungeons and dragons discord server reserved for them to let me talk about birds #in an unsurprising turn of events this is why i go by starling

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navree · 8 months ago

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Hotds biggest mistake i think is breezing through so many years in the first season. The actual war doesnt in context last that long compared to the buildup. Firstly as you said we dont get to know a lot of the characters. Especially on team black. We get to know Rhaenyra and Daemon and then Rhaenys and corlys, who one can argue isnt really team black. Weve got Aegon, Heleana, Aemond, Alicent, Otto and Criston. They really should have put in the time to develop Jace and Luke as characters. And then theres the fact it put holes in the story and makes it inconsistent. Like Rhaenyra going from not wanting to have children to giving birth to her third.

Rhaenyra and Daemon are the only ones who get consistent characterization (can't even really say development because it's not like they grow or change during season one, but they have characters). Rhaenys and Corlys don't really get anything up until about episode five, then a bit in episode seven, then Rhaenys has some stuff in episodes eight and nine (tho not really except agreeing to Rhaenyra's marriage proposals for literally no reason), and then in episode ten they have personality transplants. And of course, Jace and Luke and Baela and Rhaena are set dressing, while Joffrey and Aegon the Younger and Viserys the Younger could be vanished from the Earth entirely and no one in the audience would even notice. Meanwhile, in contrast, we have a lot of information on all of the Greens, they're all not just fully fleshed out characters, but they're characters who change and grow over the course of the season and whose evolution we can chart using the actual text of the narrative in a way that's internally consistent (except for maybe Otto and Larys, tho Larys is just a victim of ableist writing full stop). And again, that's an issue, because it means I don't know why the Hell Rhaenys and Corlys are on Rhaenyra's side at all, and I felt nothing when the inciting incident for this entire awful conflict, Luke's death, happened, and I don't really care how most people in his life are going to feel about it beyond Rhaenyra.

Really, if the show was gonna start as early as it did, which I don't mind due to how they changed up Rhaenyra and Alicent's dynamic, the entire first season should have been a Milly and Emily season. We should have had time to see their friendship, see how Rhaenyra changed as she grew into her role and/or failed to measure up to aspects of it, see how Alicent grew into both queenship and motherhood, seen the relationships develop with people like Harwin and Criston and Larys and Laenor (and for personal reasons I would have liked to see a relationship develop and then devolve between Rhaenyra and Otto, but that's for another time), see how Rhaenyra might start thinking about wanting children beyond just duty, see how other characters react to the changes in these two's circumstances, and especially see more of the fallout of changes to Alicent and Rhaenyra's relationship in Alicent and Rhaenyra. And also see more of Daemon and Laena's courtship and marriage and relationship, for me personally. And then season 2 we get the adults and we get to spend more time with their adult versions, as well as with the second generation, which allows them to be fleshed out better too.

#personal #answered #anonymous #yeah i've been on the 'they crammed way too much into this season' train basically since the halfway point of season 1

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year ago

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helloooo!! i just wanted to say that push me gently is fucking amazing (like everything else u write ofc) i especially loved the end cuz it was kinda unexpected to me, as soon as wednesday said she caught them i was sure larissa is gonna back down, be cold to abigail and think it was all a mistake but she didnt!!! and now i fully believe she is in love even tho its only been two days hehe <3

awwww thank you!!!!!! <3 i don't think larissa would do something like that just because of wednesday tho! like you can't be working with teenagers and base your decisions on their stupid opinions lol, you gotta be prepared for being roasted and mocked by them and not take it personally lol. i mean it would be VERY inconvenient if there were pictures of her kissing another teacher but there's like no law against it i think, at least where i come from. you'd have to like, take some measures against possible evaluation bias etc. but it's not like illegal haha maybe a bit frowned upon (maybe there'd be some ugly gossip and shit, in the beginning), and also at a magical school like nevermore i don't think it would be that big of a deal? like in such cases it is most likely that the teacher would not be evaluated by the principal -- an assistant principal would probably handle all interactions with the teacher, so it would be like a bit of a hassle, but not like, unheard of? so in the story i feel like larissa would wanna see where this goes and if she sees it's going well they'd let other people know and like it would be handled as professionally as it can be larissa, in my mind, isn't that concerned about what other people in the school will say about her relationship (i think she's more concerned with how the school appears outwardly) plus i don't think people in an outcast community would like care that much about other people's personal and sexual lives, so for her, it is more of a personal struggle, especially (!!!) bc of the age difference. there is a definite power imbalance and these things need to be handled carefully -- so she would want to be cautious about that -- but i think what bothers her most is age haha, she will have some angst about it in the next chapter! so yeah, i think something like that (larissa turning cold) would only happen if she had personal insecurities about the relationship, if that makes sense -- def not bc wednesday was being a lil shit. she already had her moments of inner conflict and when Things Happened on the roof she was like fully conscious of what she was doing and now that she did what she did i don't think she'd be like whoops backsies! i am planning chapter 3, so we shall see, but there won't be any major angst bc i just want fluff and all the warm feelings!!! no major angst or turmoil in this story, just fluff and smut and crack and cozy feelings

oh p.s. - so yeah i don't think she'd have a problem with people finding out she'd have a problem with people finding out this early -- also she'd have a problem with students having a picture of her kissing someone on their phones lol

#i got an ask!#as you can see i clearly have Thoughts about this #jfdishgfsd #sorry if my thoughts are jumbled lol

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ohsomightypeaches · 1 year ago

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I'm late 😩😩😩😩

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

🥹 look at my feral cat man ✨️resting✨️

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

💀💀💀 joel no

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

Ellie no 💀💀💀💀

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat.

LOL 🥺 its cute tho shes excited

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

🤣 i will now dub her feral kitten. She doesnt gaf and i love that 😌

‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’

LOL!!!

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

LOL if you keep this up he might never come back

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

Lucy LOL

‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’

Good looking out Lucy. I love how everyone knows.

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

Aw my excited feral kitten 🥹

LOL I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

😌 good for her lol

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

👀 mmhmmmmm

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.

What a description 👏👏👏👏👏👏

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

OH I CAN HELP YOU KILL SOME TIME

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

He knows what hes doing

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

👀 atta girl - okay but like since its during apocalypse SHOULD WE NOT CONSERVE WATER AND SHOWER PERHAPS ✨️TOGETHER✨️ dont mind me im parched too.

‘Never.’

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front.

lol not the lakers shirt making an appearance

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

SURE 😏 we believe you

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

Lol i see that caught him off guard

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

WE LOVE AND APPRECIATE THE TUMMY IN THIS HOUSE 🙏🙌🔥

His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’

🔥🔥 JOEL

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

YES oop was that too enthusiastic? Let me try that again ✨️✨️YES✨️✨️

One day.

Oooooof the power of these two words.

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

💀💀

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.

LOL!!!!! She even gave him veggies

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I love this AU where Joel is actually living

IV ║ Notch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, but not that explicit

Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.

Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️

Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.

It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.

But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.

But she didn’t say anything.

What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly.

As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her.

Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.

And then, one night, it happened for him too.

Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.

It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.

He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.

So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.

‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’

For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table.

7:30.

What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.

His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.

Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’

Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.

Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’

Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’

He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’

Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’

‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.

‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.

But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’

Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face.

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

They turn out to be fifteen minutes early.

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat.

Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.

He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.

Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -

But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.

‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

Joel growls. ‘Manners.’

Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’

Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’

Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.

Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’

‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’

He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’

Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’

Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’

He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’

Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.

It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.

You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door.

Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.

You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -

Since the kiss.

You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.

Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.

Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.

‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile.

You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’

‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’

Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here.

Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it.

That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’

Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it.

‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’

Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’

One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.

Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’

Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’

He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’

You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’

The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’

At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response.

‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’

‘Like this?’

‘Wait - slow down.’

A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’

‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’

A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’

‘Alright, you ready?’

‘Come on, Joel -’

With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.

‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows.

‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease.

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’

He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’

The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.

It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -

A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.

The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.

Joel is sweating. A lot.

His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity.

There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -

‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’

‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -

Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’

You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat.

And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.

‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths.

Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.

Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -

Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.

Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.

The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking.

Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention.

He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’

You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.

‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.

‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.

He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’

Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind.

You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’

By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.

Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.

Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.

He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist -

‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares.

Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.

‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’

He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’

‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.

‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’

You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’

Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’

Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.

The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.

He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -

It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.

You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’

You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’

‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’

You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.

As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’

You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.

And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.

He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.

He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.

He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.

This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.

Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.

Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.

He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’

‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’

The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’

Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.

Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’

Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’

‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -

Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell.

Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

You don’t need to ask him twice.

He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’

Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.

The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.

The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.

Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.

He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’

Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’

Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’

Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’

The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’

After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’

It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.

‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’

Joel rasps, ‘Good.’

With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -

But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’

You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…

The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.

Oh. Fuck.

With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow.

He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.

‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’

Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.

‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument.

Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’

His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’

You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.

His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

‘No bra?’ he prompts.

‘No bra,’ you parrot back.

His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’

‘No panties -’

You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.

And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’

You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’

An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.

You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch.

His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’

‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’

His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’

‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’

The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’

‘Maybe,’ you tease.

You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his.

‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear.

‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.

‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’

An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.

Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’

It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’

‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’

Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’

He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’

‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.

Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’

Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’

He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’

You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’

He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’

‘Ok then -’

You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’

You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -

Joel is hard.

The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.

Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’

Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’

Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’

Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact.

‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.

You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.

You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.

Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten.

Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.

Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.

Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.

Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’

You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’

You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.

When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.

Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’

You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.

‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’

He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you.

One day.

Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.

‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’

When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.

Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.

Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’

You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’

You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’

‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’

Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.

Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her.

Her jaw hits the floor.

‘Oh. My. God.’

She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.

With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’

Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’

Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’

Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’

Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’

He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.

‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin.

Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️

I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰

#look at my feral cat man being domesticated slowly but surely 🥹#fuckyeahseams #seams iv #series: seams #joel miller x reader #joel miller

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brolantra · 9 months ago

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People put God in a box because that’s the only way some people can make sense of anything.. putting things and people and concepts in boxes. Indoctrination and dogma has completely separated everyone from truth and from one another. But God is so much bigger than any box that’s ever been placed on him (and her.. them, if you will.) This is one of those years you’re gonna see the lid of that box blown clean off. And in the years to come. Spirit… source… the universe… God…. speaks to people in many different ways… and they’re all valid. The biggest mistake humanity has ever made is believing only “their” God is the right God. The biggest mistake the so called conscious community has made is convincing people they are God all on their own. We are co creators. We are the Gods of our reality. But God is the palm.. and we are the fingers. Going by that philosophy, if you’re not connected to the palm you’re just an amputated finger.. lifeless & rotting. I’m thankful for the path God called me to. Learning about so many different spiritual beliefs, ancient religions, practices & philosophies. I see it all for what it is. It’s all extensions of the same energy source. We are all extensions of that energy source. As humans we are hard wired to worship, and if you don’t cultivate a genuine relationship with some higher representation of God and follow the principles set forth (cuz that’s what really matters ultimately), you are bound to worship money, material possessions, or something dark. & you’ll convince yourself that’s not what you’re doing. You can’t survive this reality without money… but so many people desire money not to merely survive.. but to run as far away from themselves and their truth as possible. I’ll never subscribe to this belief that healing means suppressing your feelings and ignoring the truth of our realities. We are fully divine, but we are also fully human. And that’s where God wishes to meet us. In our humanity… that’s why we’re here to begin with. To experience the full range of human emotions.. tragedy.. trauma.. triumph… and true healing. We are here to learn lessons that will aide us in the evolution of our souls. And we’re here to serve the bigger picture… whether we realize exactly what part we play or not, we all have a part to play. I’ve been stripped of everything 3 different times in the past 8 years. And I’ve been shown every time that God always provides. I grew up in a Christian family. I can remember being 8 or 9.. experiencing so much trauma in my home and just pleading with God. Telling God that I wanted to believe but everything I was experiencing was making it so hard. God made me a promise, a promise I’ll never fully share online. I’m reminded of that promise all the time tho, and I know God is real. The way God shows up in my life would knock most peoples socks off.. a lot of my experiences I keep to myself partially because I know it sounds crazy but mostly because it be between me and God for real. Im reminded all the time that my path is my own and extremely personalized. I’ve had a very unique path because I have a very unique destiny. There’s nothing in this world that can shake my faith… nothing. Other peoples hatred, pessimism, and boxes will never convince me my real lived experiences did not happen. I have my whole mind. And I know who I am. I have fully self actualized and I know exactly who governs this body. I also know I STILL wouldn’t be shit without the God outside of me either. I’ve healed bipolar disorder, chronic anxiety, and I’m on my way to healing c-ptsd too. Where I’m headed… the things God has called me to do… can only be accomplished by me and it requires me to heal all of this shit. So I can show others just how possible it really is. Thankful & blessed beyond measure. I get tired.. I grow weary & frustrated. But my trust in God outweighs every single one of my worries or frustrations. Even through the pain I remain grateful & excited for a future I can’t consciously conceive just yet.. but I know it’s coming 🥹

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moonchildstyles · 2 years ago

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Moonie moonie moonie wait :(((( what if after aster and angels anniversary trip, they are back home, it’s the first night back and angel is :( she doesn’t wanna go sleep at her place cus she’ll be lonely after spending all that time with him so ofc he asks her if she wants to sleep over and she’s like :D okay!!!! And maybe they are laying in bed because they just 🥸 ya know they are in the honey moon phase still even tho it’s been a year 🤭 and Harry try’s to gently move her off his chest and she’s :(((( where you going :(((( and he’s “just the bathroom baby…I’ll be back” and she’s “oh okay…hurry back” and he’s laughing cus :(( she’s adorable and she’s “wait! Will you bring me my bunny from my suitcase on your way back?” And he’s “course angel” and after he does what he needs to do, he looking in her bag for her it and he’s “angel? You sure your buns in here?” And she’s “yeah…should be in the big pocket. It’s not?” And he’s “I don’t see it baby” and she sits up out of bed and “what? Are you sure?” And he’s like “maybe you put it in mine by mistake, let me check” and she’s :(((( all upset because :((((((( her bunny :( and when they can’t find it any where after tearing both suitcases apart she’s “I must of left it at the hotel by accident:(“ and he’s “oh angel. It’s alright love. I can buy you another?” Cus he can tell she’s really upset and trying her hardest not to cry :( and she’s shaking her head “no! No..:( won’t be the same :(((“ and she’s blinking back tears and he’s “oh lovebug:(“ and he pulls her into him and just comforts her :(((( and she’d be soooo so so upset the rest of the night and even for dayssss after :( but she didn’t know that Harry called the hotel after she fell asleep that night and asked if they had found it, and if they did if they’d ship it to him. And I feel like he’d soooo wrap it up again when it arrives to his house and give it to Angel and she’s ??? Why are you giving me a present?? And he’s just open it Angel and she’s “?…okay…but I don’t have anything for you:(“ and that would make him laugh and kiss her and “not expecting anything…just open it baby” and when she opens it and sees it’s her bunny she’s sooooooo :((((((((((((((((((((((((( and she’d tackle him in a hug when she realizes what it is and be all how’d you get this?! And it would just be v soft :( and for days after she’d be so attached to it :( and would not be able to sleep with out it even if Harry is in bed with her :(( and she’d just be sooo so so happy and grateful for him :(((

WAIT STOP IT:(((( she would be DISTRAUGHT if she found out she left her bunny on vacation like she would barely be able to sleep bc shes just....sad and its that anxiety of leaving something important somewhere far away where she cant get it back right away:( BUT OMG :((((((( HIM FIGURING OUT TIMEZONES AND CALLING RIGHT AWAY TO GET IT SHIPPED BACK LIKE HE'D PAY FOR EVERYTHING JUST TO GET IT BACK TO HER :( and ofc he'd wrap it all up w the bow and everything when he gives it back and shed so sososoosososo excited when she sees what it is and she knows its the one its not one that he bought again and it just means so much to her ofc she gets teary and hugs him so hard telling him thank you over and over an d asking how he was able t do this and just thank you so much harry:(((((( he'd def get so many kisses that night and she'd probably smash just for good measure but yes she'd sleep w it every night even when shes' w h:(

#anon #ask #aster inspo #concept

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m4lexxx67 · 1 year ago

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I did not expect this to blow up so much, seriously, this is so weird and incredible. Thank you all so much for the incredible feedback, it made my fucking week ^^

And since a few people asked how I did this, I thought I'd take the opportunity to ramble about how I paint shirts and hope that those who asked see this <3

First off, if someone wants a hoodie or a t-shirt with this design for themself, I'm totally cool with you using this as long as you only do it for yourself and don't profit from it and give credit if you post it somewhere. Also please send pics should anyone actually do this themself 😊

So how did I do this?

First I made a sketch on paper and like I said calculted how big and how far apart everything had to be (I even measured the space I have for the letters lol). Then I put it up against my window and traced the backside with pastel chalk (I used different colours to better tell apart the different parts of the design and used scissors to get a finer edge on the chalks so I could draw more delicate lines (if you do this, do it over a glass of water because you will not get rid of the dust if it's not floating on water!))

After that, I used a wet cloth to dampen the hoodie so that when I pressed the sketch onto it, the chalk would stick better to the fabric. Which worked really well (I'm pretty sure I sketched where the fly should go before that and while wearing the hoodie so I'd know how it would look. Also put a piece of card board inside the hoodie so that it stays flat and to protect the backside of the hoodie. And when you press the chalk on the hoodie, use a lot of pressure, like slapping your paper everywhere that you want the chalk to stick to the fabric, your chalk print cannot be to exact) but it's still just basically chalk dust so as to not risk to destroy the chalk print which was essentially my sketch I used these pens I got from amazon that can draw on fabric and vanish when you put heat on it (It's probably better to wait until the fabric is dry before you use these, but I'm impatient so idk if I did this). I defined the sketch with those so it wasn't just vague shapes anymore but something detailed drawn with a pen. And then I had to do this all over again because I did not like the position of the print lol.

Anyways, once the sketch was where I wanted it to be I used fabric paint to paint what you can see on the photo. (Most of the chalk was gone by then because of my hands (do not touch the areas that you haven't otherwise secured yet or move the hoodie to protect the chalk sketch as best as possible!) and because I used a lint roller (this is the latest point where you should use one because you don't want dust or lint to make your life harder; if you want, you can also use one before you wet the fabric but do it again before you apply the paint, just to be sure.) to get rid of anything I don't want to stick under the paint but also the chalk dust. You can also use another wet cloth for the chalk dust, just be careful to not ruin the more secured sketch; should you use the pens I used, that should be fine tho. You should just get rid of as much chalk as possible to not ruin the colour of your actual print, especially if it's supposed to be white. Although you can still paint over it, if you do get chalk into your paint)

I started by painting the writing first so the fly would look natural on top of it and so there were no weird gaps. But I do believe that I painted the outlines of the fly with one layer of paint because I was afraid the hoodie might somehow get too hot and the pen would vanish. Also, I used a ruler to add in some guidelines from the pencil sketch to keep myself in check and correct any mistakes that might have gotten the writing or all wonky or something.

When the writing was done (the fabric is black so obviously you need several coats of paint for the paint to be opaque) I painted the fly over it with yellow and filled in all the details of the fly (some areas I wanted to stay clear of paint I vaguely sketched with the aforementioned pens and just kind of carefully crept closer to the shape I wanted it to be if that makes sense) and when that looked like one (because you could definitely see that all the details were kind of added on to a bigger patch of paint) I went over it all with a mix of yellow and just a little bit of black to give it a green touch without it being too close to actual green and to stay closer to the kind of dirtier colours that MCR are using for their Foundations of Decay stuff. (I would have used yellow and green but that probably would have become too much of bilious green and wouldn't have fit. I found out about being able to use black instead by trying the colour scheme on a piece of black cardboard and suddenly the yellow looked green because of the black shining through and it was perfect. So try to find the colours you want to use before you start, especially if you only have a handful of colours and have to mix everything else yourself)

Lastly, when I was done painting I let it sit for at least 24 hours and then flat ironed it with a sheet of baking parchment between the hoodie and the iron so it wouldn't come off when washing it.

This got so long, oh my god, but that's it and I hope this helps someone ^^

Finally fucking done with this one, jesus fucking christ this took me so long! (Mainly because I took several month-long breaks from working on it lol) But it's done and I can't wait for it to be cold enough to wear, it turned out so good!!!

But there was so much math involved in making the design, seriously, it was so hard to fit the fly to the words in the background and make them the same size and all and I'm pretty sure it only worked out because I used the wrong measurements or made a logical mistake, something like that lol (it's been a while, I think I made the sketch in like January or February)

#art ramblings #diy #tutorial #idk if you can call it that but I'll tag it just to be sure

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novamirmirsblog · 3 years ago

Text

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

��No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #Tony stark #natasha mcu #mcu imagine #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff imagines #natalia alianovna romanova #pepper potts

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