#your comic always great c;

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Alphabet: Nightcrawler

a/n: yayy I finally got around to writing again, as I said here's a Nightcrawler alphabet. It feels good to write for the first time in a few months. I plan on writing actual fics though, once I have more out I'll take requests. For now, enjoy a SFW Alphabet! A NSFW will come later hehe. I'm getting the feel of writing him so I'll work out any kinks of things I don't like as I write more of him. I'm going to try to mix the variants of him and not stick with a solid version, so there will be mixes from comics and other shows, etc in his characterization. I hope you enjoy <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?):

Kurt is very affectionate, he's a lover, so he likes to be close to you at all times. He likes giving you hugs, kisses, or simply giving you gifts like flowers or chocolates.

He likes spending time with you too, and he will call you sweet things in German because he likes to see you blush.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?):

He'd be a great best friend, always making sure you're doing good and supporting you through bad times. He'd be a blast to hang out with, he'd teleport you around Genosha and show you all the lovely sights.

He'd always make sure you felt cared for, even as just a friend, he'd still ensure you were safe and sound. He likes to have fun, so anytime you wanted to do something, he'd be down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?):

Kurt is a huge cuddler. He is so soft because of his velvet skin, so he is extra warm. He makes the best cuddle buddy for winter because he keeps you warm, like a heated stuffed animal.

He loves to hold you, he often will rub your back or play with your hair, he will also read to you in German, which almost always lulls you to sleep. He loves to have his tail wrapped around you as well, keeping you secure.

Sometimes he likes to be held though, his upbringing at the circus didn't offer him much affection that way, so he cherishes it when he can be more vulnerable with you. Sometimes he puts that goofy self away and he crawls into your chest and curls up.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?):

Settling down is always something Kurt has wanted to do, but with his lifestyle, it can be hard to determine when.

He's always wanted a family, and he values that at his core, he would talk about settling down a lot with his partner and together, you'd figure out a good time. I think he'd want to settle when Krakoa comes around, after the attack on Genosha, your plans to settle had to be pushed back.

Kurt is German so of course he can cook. He is an excellent cook at a lot of things, but some foods he doesn't normally eat are a bit rough for him. He learns from trial and error.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?):

If he had to, he'd do it in a way where your feelings would be taken into consideration. He'd be as gentle as possible, and he'd let you know that he still cares about you.

I don't think he'd want you out of his life, (unless you cheated or did something really bad), so even if you broke up, you'd still remain good friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?):

Being a religious man, commitment is important to him. If he were with you, it would only be you he'd loyal to and he would date in hopes to marry.

He would go off of you, but dating is a trial run for marriage, and he dates for that. He would imagine your lives together, and he would like to marry after a year or so.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

He is very gentle, he is sweet and tender and learned to be that way because of all the hatred he experienced in his life. Everyone was afraid of him growing up, so he learned to be extra sweet and gentle to make up for his 'scary' appearance. He doesn't want anyone to be afraid of him.

Physically, he is as tender as ever, his touch is so light and sweet. He loves to caress your back or cheek while you sleep beside him, even his tail will run gently up and down your body.

He is very in tune with his emotions and empathetic to those around him. He is understanding, and is always ready to help you if you feel overwhelmed or upset at all. He is very good at dealing with emotions, and will always do his best to make sure his partner is okay.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?):

Kurt loves hugs! He hugs friends, family, lovers. He does it all the time, and he is one of the best huggers out there. He can squeeze happily, hold tenderly, and spin playfully.

When he embraces you, you can feel the love radiating off of him. It is one of your favorite things to feel him hugging you, and of course his tail wraps around you!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?):

He would be a little nervous, but he would say it first. He'd either randomly blurt it out to you, or he'd make sure you were having a special time together and he'd speak it tenderly to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?):

Kurt can get pretty jealous, it stems from his insecurity. When he gets jealous, he will remain close to you with a hand on your hip or around you. He might kiss you on the cheek to tell whomever you're speaking to that you're taken. His tail will wrap around your arm or leg too.

He will grumble against you later on, he might feel a little more insecure after, but some reassurance and he will be okay again. If he got really jealous, he'd teleport you away and he'd take you somewhere so he could make sure you and everyone else knew you were taken.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?):

Oh his kisses...such sweet, amazing kisses. He has experience, so his kisses would be perfect. He'd learn what you like, and he'd make sure you were breathless every time.

His lips would gently graze over yours, he smiles that cheeky grin of his and he would press them fully into yours. The kiss might be tender, might be a little more passionate, but his soft lips would make you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

He loves lip kisses of course, but he also likes to kiss your wrists and the back of your hand if he's feeling playful. He likes getting his temple and neck kissed, even if it makes him blush.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?):

Kurt is excellent around kids. He knows how to handle them, and he is quite playful with them. He always tells you how he wants a few little ones in the future, and he hopes you do too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?):

Kurt isn't a morning person, he is a little whiny and grumpy when he wakes up, and he is rather clingy. He doesn't like to get out of bed but will trudge after you and hold you from behind if you make breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?):

Kurt loves his sleep, he values it. In the circus growing up, his mistreatment went as far as being isolated to a cage with a thin layer of hay as cushioning. So, now that he can have an actual bed, he adores it.

He likes soft blankets and pillows, curling up in them like a nest, and holding you close to him. He buries his face in your hair, or he snuggles into your chest for safety.

He doesn't snore, he learned to be silent when he sleeps, you don't ask why. But he makes a tiny purring noise, and his tail stays wrapped around you to make sure you're still there when he wakes up.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?):

Kurt is a pretty open person. Some of the things of his past that are hard for him might take him a while before he tells you, but he just needs to work up the courage. You know that he was mistreated in the circus, so don't pressure him to tell you. He will tell you everything, it just takes time.

He might tell you something that he is uncomfortable with that reminds him of his past or childhood, his playfulness is more serious when he talks about it so you know he's not joking around. He is so grateful you take it seriously and it makes him love you even more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?):

He is very patient, he learned to be growing up. He can handle quite a lot of shit before he might get a little riled up and upset. Even if he does get angry, he tries to be as reasonable as he can.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?):

He is like a safe, he locks away everything you tell him. Favorite flower, favorite color, little things you like and dislike. He remembers what seasonings you like best with what foods, how you like things cooked, literally everything.

He remembers important things like allergies and triggers, preferences, places to go, everything you say is so important to him. He surprises you with his knowledge too, even you forget you've told him things until he brings it up in conversation.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?):

Definitely when he said he loved you, it was such a special moment between you two and a defining day in your relationship. You grew so much closer, and it was a near perfect day. When he heard you say it back, he swore he died and went to heaven. His heart swelled so much and that day is definitely a core memory for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?):

Kurt is protective to a degree. He knows you can handle yourself, but he absolutely won't hesitate to step up and defend you. If anyone speaks about you in a poor manner, he jumps to defend you, especially if you aren't there. He doesn't let anyone talk bad about you.

If you are hurt or can't defend yourself, expect him to be more agile and aggressive than you've ever seen. He will swing those swords and defend you like precious treasure. (Which you are to him).

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?):

Every single date you have, Kurt puts so much effort into. He makes sure things are perfect, he remembers all the little things, he makes sure that you are enjoying yourself and that you have a wonderful time.

Every gift is special and sentimental. Even if it's silly and small, like chocolate, it is always your favorite flavor and brand.

Kurt will adjust to your love language, and acts of service is something he does a lot for you. He will cook, clean, anything if you're too tired to do it. And he never complains, always doing it with a smile on his face.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?):

The only thing that might be perceived as bad is he might be too playful sometimes. He might be a little too light hearted and silly when things need to be more serious, but he gets better with this habit as your relationship develops.

Sometimes his insecurities about his appearance can fester and they can make him slightly more irritable because he feels like you can do so much better than him. Just be sure to reassure him and it usually helps a lot to hear you say sweet things.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?):

Kurt for the most part doesn't seem too concerned with his appearance, but he does have insecurities when it comes to his looks. Sometimes if he sees an attractive person speaking to you, he feels a little down when he thinks about his own looks.

Besides that, he is very aware of his hygiene because he is covered in velvety fuzz, so he washes himself every day and makes sure he is clean.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?):

Absolutely. Kurt loves you with all his heart, you are his everything. Without you, he would feel like a piece of himself is missing. One of his worst fears is losing you, he often has bad dreams about it and wakes you up at night to make sure you're still with him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.):

Kurt was not a contortionist in the circus, but he might as well have been. Kurt is incredibly flexible, able to bend and twist in unnatural angles. He will show you all sorts of things he can do and loves to hear your praise.

He shakes off from the shower like a wet dog.

One of his favorite smells is fresh, buttery popcorn.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Kurt is a devout Catholic, so he wouldn't want anyone bad mouthing his beliefs. Kurt is very accepting and wouldn't try to convert you or make you believe in things you don't want, he keeps his religious beliefs to himself and only speaks if asked about it. However, if you bad mouth him or his beliefs, he will bristle and he won't like it.

He is open minded to hearing discussions or answering questions if you don't believe, but as long as they are respectful. If you talk poorly about it, he won't be interested in continuing the conversation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?):

As mentioned before, Kurt loves to sleep. He didn't get a lot of good rest in the circus. So now that he is able, he tends to nest and curl up in a pile of soft blankets and pillows. He loves feeling secure and safe, which is something he never really got before.

If you rest with him, he's either holding you or snuggled into you. He likes to sleep in a dark place, it makes him feel more relaxed. Some nights when he has trouble, he listens to religious passages and he falls asleep quickly.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[genericpuff]

And so the titan finally falls.

Its corpse will be hung on display for the public's gawking until August 29th, after which it will be sent into the lockup known as Daily Pass, where completed series go to die.

Okay, all jokes aside though, this day was always coming so if you're unfamiliar with Daily Pass, here's the gist of how it works:

Any Originals series completed on Webtoons is eligible to go into their Daily Pass library. Any income made from this system is, theoretically, meant to go to the creator, but I say theoretically because we don't know what the split is between creators and WT's, and if there's any sort of Minimum Revenue Threshold shenanigans like with FastPass that would prevent a creator from receiving their share. That said, there are creators who have confirmed that Daily Pass is meant to help creators profit off their works after they're completed, so we at least know that.

As for how Daily Pass works:

Once behind Daily Pass, the majority of episodes (save for the first several episodes to give people enough content to get hooked on) are re-locked and only available under any of the three following conditions:

a.) Once per day you get one Daily Pass ticket per Daily Pass series to unlock any locked episode from that respective series. Meaning if you spend a Daily Pass ticket on Lore Olympus, you don't get another ticket to use for Lore Olympus for the day, but you'll still have a ticket to use for any other series you haven't unlocked yet that day. Ticket unlocks remain unlocked for 14 days, after which the episode will be locked again;

b.) If you have already spent your one Daily Pass ticket on a series you're reading but you REALLY want to read more episodes and don't want to wait until tomorrow, you will have the option to either pay for episodes with coins (which, unlike the Daily Pass ticket, is a permanent unlock) or use Ad Pass on eligible episodes (this is a temporary unlock like the Daily Pass ticket, but is only applied for THREE DAYS unlike the 14 you get from the Daily Pass ticket);

c.) Any episodes you FastPassed from a series original run are permanently unlocked, so if you were someone who paid for episode unlocks of LO every week, then congrats! None of those previous qualifications apply to you and you can re-read the series to your heart's content! You win at Daily Pass!

Now if you got through all that and are now thinking, "why is this so confusing???" don't worry, you're not alone! Readers fucking hate this system! I can't wrap my head around how it's in any way profitable for the creators when the people who are willing to pay for it ALREADY FUCKING PAID AND DON'T HAVE TO PAY AGAIN and the people who AREN'T willing to pay for it probably didn't see it as worth paying for the first time around when the comic was still new and updating - so why in the world would they pay for it NOW when they could just use Daily Pass tickets once per day when they were already willing to wait each WEEK for free unlocks?

Granted, the coin cost on Daily Pass series are usually lowered to accommodate the fact that they're completed, but the reality is that many Webtoon readers are already pretty reserved when it comes to spending coins on the app. This is largely due to WT's demographic being predominantly made up of teenagers and children, and while that can make for great viewing metrics, it's not so great in turning around a profit, because kids and teens don't typically have disposable income to spend on webcomics, let alone disposable income that has to be paid through an app store which typically requires credit cards/Paypal/etc.

The bitter irony is that the audience that has the most time to burn on the app also have the least amount of money to go around. So oftentimes - at least from what I've observed after using the app for years - readers will often be VERY picky with what they put their coins towards. Which begs the question again but in a different light - why in the world would someone choose to spend coins from their limited allowance on the app on a completed series that was once available to read for free and technically still can be read for free through ads and Daily Pass tickets?

I realize I'm digressing quite a bit, but all of what I'm going off about is already being reflected in the reactions I've seen from fans of LO who aren't excited to see it go behind Daily Pass (at least, the part of the audience that's been informed, god knows there will be a huge chunk of people asking where tf LO went after it goes behind DP lmao). Daily Pass in and of itself is just a crappy, inconvenient way to re-read completed comics. Even if you opt to do the Daily Pass ticket system, that's still essentially turning the act of re-reading comics into a chore, as it restricts you from binge-reading episodes which you typically would want to do with a series that's already been completed. The concept of new episodes every day might sound appealing as it's more frequent than the original once-a-week schedule, but in practice, it can often have the opposite effect of ruining the reading experience by turning it into a daily task rather than a pass-time the reader can freely participate in at their own pace.

All that said, it will definitely be interesting to see how LO does once it goes behind that Daily Pass wall. I think at best it will probably see an influx of traffic in the coming weeks from the people who either want to re-read it one more time, or the people who never finished it in the first place and see this as motivation to do so (and yes, if you haven't finished LO yourself yet, absolutely do so if you want to see for yourself how it ends BEFORE it becomes an inconvenience LOL). After that though, it'll probably be entirely on the physical copies to drive future sales, but those are a long way away from being completed.

When all is said and done, August 29th will mark the true end of the LO era of Webtoons. If the series finale was a funeral, then this is the moment we set its ashes adrift in the sea and say our final goodbyes.

It certainly was a hell of a ride. The good, the bad, and the absolutely insufferable.

[cupidzgf]

CHRISTMAS MORNING | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: satoru wakes you up on christmas morning to open presents. its 7 am and you want to sleep.

cw: mentions of sexual activity, non sorcerer au, rich!gojo, no pronouns, no smut, fluff, all of it is fluff. w/c: 1.8k a/n: my first post in a long time. ahh kinda nervous I hope you like it! merry christmas eve!

christmas was an occasion that satoru always went above and beyond to make special.

whether it was for his sake or yours, he made sure there was no way to get out of decorating his place, baking cookies, or matching christmas pajamas. not that you mind. you savored the time away from work to bask in each other's presence uninterrupted and entirely devoted to the holiday, but what perhaps made it even more so was the slow wake of your lover beside you.

his hands, warm from where they were pressed against your midsection during slumber, trace the curve of your spine. his fingers dip between the knobs of your vertebrae gently as if trying to rouse you as well. it works because your mind slips from your unconscious state into consciousness with the kisses he presses at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. sensing the shift in your stirring frame, his kisses grow in numbers as they rise up the column of your throat, lips brushing and pressing with varying pressure on previous faded marks.

you lay on your side, facing away from him, and satoru practically climbs on top of you just as your eyes flutter open to get your attention to fall solely on him.

in the blink of an eye, you're met with an infinite void of vivid, azure irises peering at you with an expression you can only describe as childlike.

"it's christmas." a dimpled grin beams from his too-wide smile, devouring your lips in one fell swoop before you can protest. satoru vibrates with excitement, and he pours every ounce into the kiss, holding your face with a giddy glee. "merry christmas."

a sleepy grin of your own curls at your lips as you try to regain your breath from the overwhelmingly passionate kiss you just received before speaking softly in an admiration-filled voice. "merry christmas, toru."

you lay there, admiring your boyfriend, as he practically jumps off the bed and pulls your arm. "c'mon, we have to open presents! pleaseeee," he whines impatiently, tugging at your hand like a small child. you groan, still exhausted from the long night at suguru's house, and attempt to roll over.

suguru's christmas eve party the night before had left both of you exhausted, though the way satoru acts, you would never have guessed. your friend was never one to skimp out on these rare get-togethers with your friend group, formed from years enrolled at the same college. the holiday atmosphere and the rich decor lulled you into christmas cheer, which always made for great nights of booze, food, and rekindling. dripping in wealth satoru insists on buying for you, the two of you made it back in the early hours of the morning, drunk and worn out from socializing.

this, however, did not stop satoru from fucking you into the bed like he had been deprived of your touch (he had clung to you the entire night), where you both passed out after a single round.

now you're paying the price for the long night as his eyes widen comically when you avoid him. he rushes to stop you by throwing himself over you and, despite your protesting, makes you face him.

"nah, uh, where do you think you're going? it's christmas! we have presents from santa–"

"--he's not real, baby. let me sleep a couple more minutes." you chime back, and his expression drops with a huff.

"you don't know that! and we only will when we look under the tree," he states jokingly, refocusing his abundance of energy on getting you up.

you scoff, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "yeah, like you would be on the nice list."

satoru gasps, loud and dramatic, falling to his knees in front of your bed with a cry.

"how could you say such a thing? i'm the kindest, nicest person you know!" he exclaims, a hand hovering over his heart to further the theatrics, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his exaggeration.

"you weren't very nice last night."

his eyes shift, darkening by a shadow passing over his irises as they gain a mischievous gleam. satoru leans over you despite kneeling on the floor. "oh yeah? well, you didn't seem to mind when i fucked your pretty pussy so hard she was crying and screaming my name–"

"ok, time to get up!" you interrupt, mortified by the vivid personification he used to describe last night, your cheeks set aflame by his teasing. you hide from his cocky chuckle and self-satisfied smirk, embarrassment churning in your gut as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"that's what i thought, sweetheart." cocky bastard.

you rummage the floor for a shirt, the blanket covering your lower half as you throw his santa hat off the first one you can find, which coincidentally is his.

satoru whines sadly when his shirt covers your bare breasts, a frown pulling his lips down as your once naked body, decorated in hickeys, is covered. "what's the point of my hard work if you're just going to cover it?" he gestures to the bruises, pouting with the familiar solum look he uses when he wants something.

"i'm not going out there naked, toru." slipping on slippers, you stand, craning your neck to look him in the eye. your exasperation does not go unnoticed by the white-haired male.

"there's no reason you can't," he suggests, tugging you in front of him and letting his hands settle on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "it could be like a christmas present…to me!"

you raise an eyebrow. "i thought you wanted to open gifts?"

his face brightens as he remembers his original goal, his one-track mind making his hand tug you to the door without a second thought and newfound eagerness.

your living room is the same as you left it last night, with your cocktail dress strewn across the back of the sofa and satoru's shoes scattered across the hardwood, but what's different is the snow swirling in slow flakes outside the massive windows. it lands on the window sill, and the rest slowly descends to the world outside satoru gojo's penthouse. the bleak grey does nothing to discourage the sight of the luminescent christmas tree taking up your living room and glittering with a rainbow of lights against the grey sky in the ray of morning light.

a christmas morning crafted from a hallmark movie.

an array of presents ranging in various sizes and shapes overflows from under the tree you decorated weeks ago, and before you know it, you throw yourself into your lover's arms. a teasing remark sits at the tip of his tongue, maybe to poke fun at your elation, but he hesitates, fingers twitching at his side. in a moment so delicate it could be shattered like glass, he frames every second of the scene into memory, holding the warm and achy feeling in his chest close.

arms circle your body pressed tightly into satoru's, butterflies erupting from your stomach when you glance upwards and find him already staring.

"thank you," you muster every ounce of sincerity into your voice, swallowing the lump forming in your throat when he returns your gentle smile with his own.

"don't thank me yet. you haven't even seen what i got you!" effortlessly, he turns your attention away from the raw and achy emotions being pulled to the surface and onto you, where your eyes sparkle with eagerness.

the both of you find a seat on the floor and begin the seemingly endless presents and discarded wrapping paper; the laughter and joy that can only come from christmas morning echo off the walls you call home. and when the gifts are opened, and the faint tune of falling snow is all that's left, you are sure it can't get any better.

even as satoru nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his lips parting to whisper the words on your skin that have never been uttered in a moment of complete clarity. "i love you."

it somehow becomes perfect.

bonus:

staring at your mountain of gifts, ranging from designer to everything under the sun you mentioned wanting during the year, piles around you, and the thrill of being spoiled by your filthy rich boyfriend quickly wears off into guilt.

was his presents thoughtful? yes. overwhelming? also yes. especially since neither the price nor the quantity of gifts you'd given him come close to what you have. so the shame of being spoiled and unable to provide the same, in turn, quiets you into an insecure ball of nerves.

"do you like it?" your heavy gaze lifts to find him, and he squirms where he sits, uncharacteristically nervous. he waits for your reaction with uncertain eyes, wringing his hands together to calm his apprehension. "i tried to get everything you wanted, but i know how you feel when i overdo things…"

"satoru," you breathe, looking over the gifts once more. the following words come in a gentle coo he's come to recognize are used to let him down easily. "i do love everything, but it is a lot. you didn't have to spend so much."

frowning, your gaze flickers to him, and his eyes dip, avoiding yours. "ah, okay. i didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs in a quiet, saddened voice, and you quickly shake your head, realizing he took it the wrong way. shuffling on your knees to where he sits, you fall into his chest. solid and well-defined arms circle your body without a word, and you hear the distinct sound of his breath hitching at the contact.

"never. you're too good to me and treat me so well, baby, but you don't have to spend all your money on me."

"trust me, i didn't," he teases, attempting to regain the lighthearted atmosphere, before adding in a more hopeful tone, "but i'm glad you like your gifts."

"oh yes, the lingerie set was especially thoughtful," you joke, and he cracks a smile at that. only your expression falls a moment later when you clear your throat. "i just hope what i got is okay. i know you've been asking for a new watch and those glasses, but it's hard to find gifts for someone who has everything. i'm sorry i didn't get you more."

the sad murmur and downcast expression made satoru's heart crack, remorse twisting his stomach into knots. "no, no, no baby, i love what you got me. i couldn't be happier with all of your thoughtful gifts." he kisses the top of your head, resting his head on yours for a quiet moment of admittance that makes you fall in love with him all over again. "but everything i want is right here with you, sweet thing."

[jade-green-butterfly]

~Johnalthea💚🌌🌟💘'At All Costs'~

More Johnalthea goodness I was excited to share with you all but this time, in the form of a beautifully breathtaking three-page comic, done by none other than the lovely and sweet @jaguardorado16~✨💓 This masterpiece of a commission was heavily inspired by the demo version of Wish's 'At All Costs' and this amazing fan storyboard/animatic as seen here 🌟 Although the movie is mostly reviewed as mediocre itself (despite the hidden references, secrets and easter eggs to other Disney classics) this song I really enjoy listening to~😌To me, it really gives off John Dory x Amalthea vibes (hence it being their love song list💕) it really fits them~💚💘 You cannot imagine how truly over the moon I am to have this wonderfully romantic and memorable moment between John and Ama brought magically to life~🪄✨🥹I am absolutely love, love, LOVING every single part and page to the stars and heavens above -LITERALLY~!!😍💖🥰🌌🥰💖😍 Every time I look at them this way - dancing and singing amongst the stars together, the song always plays in my head, it's absolutely perfect...EEEEEEE~!!🤩🌟💝🌟🤩And it's great to see Broppy witnessing the beautiful moment too~💙🩷😉

Thank-you ever so, soooo much in a million, my dear JD!!🫂💞😊💞🫂You have done true justice, captured Johnalthea ever so magnificently here in your amazing style~!👏🏻😁💝I am also very happy you see them as a super beautiful and charming couple, just like I do, along with Coossy~!😚💗

Bless you, my dear~🫶🏻😇🪽 It was a real pleasure to commission you and keep up the awesome work in all you do!✌🏻😘💕xoxo.

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Comic Commission (c) @jaguardorado16~✨ Space Trolls (c) @x-elyssa-x~💜 Amalthea (c) @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!) John Dory (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation

'At All Costs' -Demo Version- (sung by Chris Pine & Ariana DeBose) (c) Disney's Wish

[qiupachups]

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

[phyrestartr]

My World Ends With You (1/2) | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 4.7k

#SFW, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it, ZOMBIES BABEY

Note: Tis a continuation of Till Death Do Us Part . Would rec reading that first lest you get mad confused

--

“Did Miguel cheat on you?” 

The question caught you off guard. As far as you knew, only a handful of people got the gist of what happened, and even fewer knew the exact reason why everything systematically fell apart. 

“How'd you–who told you?” You asked Gwen, surprise and trepidation creasing your brow. 

The young lady shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest tighter as she leaned toward the fire you'd made–the one you made out of pure restlessness from staying inside for too long. You decided to pretend you were out in the great outdoors like the old days, and set up a ring of rocks and chairs on the roof to escape the fluorescent lights and white walls. Evidently, Gwen needed a break from it all, too.

“Gabi.” She fiddled with her toque and cleared her throat. “She, uh--y'know. She mentioned it.” 

“Huh.” Your gaze wandered away from Gwen, and back to the fire. “I didn't think she'd remember.” 

“How old was she? When it happened, I mean.” 

“Must've been 11. We split when she was 13, I'm pretty sure.” You sighed and leaned back in your shitty old soccer mom chair. “Guess we were bad at hiding it.”

“Pretty hard to hide that kinda thing from your kid,” Gwen mumbled, dwelling on something ancient and sore in the depths of her memories. “They're more perceptive than you think.” 

You nodded. The stars caught your attention and you stared up, gazing upon the winking lights and shooting comets flying by. Most of those celestial bodies were there when everything happened. Did they remember, too? Were they haunted, too?

“Yeah. My parents thought I didn't know nothin’ either. They didn't know how wrong that was,” you agreed. 

“So he did cheat on you?” Gwen asked. You nodded. She scoffed. “But--why? He always acts so lovey-dovey and gross around you. Why would he–?”

“Good people do bad things,” you said, and continued before she could cut in, “‘n bad people do good things, sometimes.” 

“So which camp is he in?” She asked.

“Pretty sure he's mostly good.” 

“Pretty sure?” 

You chuckled. “I've met ‘bad guys,’ believe me.” You took a breath and nudged some logs around in the fire with a stick. “Miguel ain't like them. He's full of himself, arrogant, stubborn ‘n all that, but he's helped people. He's helping people, even if he's got a crap attitude about it.” 

“Right,” Gwen breathed. Her voice carried something heavy with it. Something uncertain and unwavering, like the teeter of winter into spring, or thunder that wondered if it might rain. Her restless energy mirrored the fire as it roiled and spat brilliant sprays of embers into the cold, night sky; only, the fire would eventually die down, calm itself into blackened coals. Gwen’s torch would not fade as such. 

“You think he’s a bad guy?” You asked. 

“Never really thought he was a good guy.” She rubbed the back of her neck before sighing. “But. Yeah.  Never thought he was a bad guy, either. Kinda feels like a vigilante, or something. But less cool.”

You smiled when you peered over at her. “Maybe like an antihero?” 

“Way less cool than that, but yeah. Sure. An antihero,” she huffed. “But you’re a blue-blood. I don’t think those types are supposed to get along.” 

That made you laugh. “I think they get along pretty well. They do in the comics, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye on everything.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You mean most things?”

You nodded. “Yeah, most things.” You tucked your hands into your pockets and gazed up again, this time losing your thoughts to the endless void of grey sweeping in and devouring all light in the sky. “You don't need to worry about me, Gwen. There’re more–”

“More important things to worry about?” She finished, not sounding too impressed. “Feels like you're using the end of the world as an excuse.” 

You frowned, and wiped the dew of melted snowflakes from your cheek. “Maybe you got yourself a point, there.” 

–

You were the new kid in year 12. Normally, no one gave a shit–it was New York, after all–but you had a tendency to catch everyone's attention when you never sought to try. 

You were a country boy. A fella with a strange tendency to be kind and hold doors open for ladies or help some sorry idiot pick up their dropped assignment. That gentle lilt in your voice, the only evidence that you weren't from the city, always had people staring your way. Boys would mock you, especially when their girls flushed soft colours and whispered while they glanced your way. It didn't help that you were handsome as all hell, too. 

And one day, like a fucking fairytale, Miguel finally ran into you and got hit with the triple threat that was your accent, face, and genuinity–what he didn't expect, however, was to meet you at the Kwan's ranch.

You were clad in boots and jeans and a stupid cliche cowboy hat hung around your neck, hiding the impressive display of shoulder blades flexing and rippling with strong muscle as you shoveled and cleaned out the old hay and debris from the stables. Something warm and melodious trilled under your breath as you worked, and it beckoned like a siren's song--so captivating Miguel couldn't help himself. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You looked over your broad shoulder and blinked a few times, like you were showing off the brilliant hue of your eyes on purpose. A kindly smile made you shine brighter, too, like the sun somehow lit you up from within. 

“Howdy,” you said. 

“Howdy?” Miguel snorted and tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he wandered in. “That's a little too country, isn't it?” 

“Is it now?” The twang in your voice must’ve been fake. No normal person sounded like they were ripped straight from a Western. “Maybe you're just too city.” 

“Hm.” Miguel crossed his arms and leaned against a beam as he watched you continue to work. “Maybe.” 

“Come on, now,” you laughed, “I can smell the city on you. Could probably taste it, too, if I could.” 

Miguel's face burned. His heart pitter-pattered just a little bit faster, soon going a lot faster when he registered the wink you threw his way. Were you flirting? Was it working? Was Miguel swooning? 

Yes, yes and yes. 

–

“Y'know, you don't have to be such a busy body,” Miguel said, wandering into the lab-turned-greenhouse. He had to admit, it looked good. Peaceful. And it certainly helped with keeping everyone fed and happy. So did your presence at Alchemax; you and Gabriella felt like a fresh coat of paint on a beat-up old car. A nice change. Good additions. 

And Miguel felt complete now that you were with him, too. There were still issues, still things to work out and problems to talk about, but it felt nice to work towards something selfish and meaningful. Something that was wholly and unabashedly for him and him alone.

But you were such a restless man. All day, every day, Miguel found you working; clearing snow, repotting, sowing seeds, cleaning, teaching, handyman-ing were all on your resume of husband material and so clearly those skills ruled your mind every waking hour of every day. It didn't help that the other folks In the colony realized just how much of a do-gooder sweetheart you were. Miguel was one more flirty comment away from nuking the building. 

But the way you smiled in the face of adversity let him keep a reasonable cool. Whether it was your awkward attempt to be cordial with someone who so clearly thirsted for you and your attention, or in a sheepish and innocently guilty way whenever Miguel called you out for working too much, you had a way of melting his frigid heart into something cool and light like an autumnal spring.

“I’m just puttering,” you hummed, pausing what you were doing to lean in and give him a kiss, careful to keep your dirt-crusted hands away from him and his neatness. “Just movin’ some of these into bigger pots. Don’t want them to go dying on us.” 

“I think they’d live.” Miguel hummed as he looked over the array of little plants sprouting with flourishes of brilliant emerald. His hand slipped to the small of your back before his arms looped around your waist, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “I need you more than they do.”

You laughed, soft and smoky. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Miguel left a sweet kiss on your neck, right on the odd, heart-shaped-ish scar he used to leave hickeys over back in the day. “They’re not the only ones that need fertilizing.”

“Christ. Did Pete teach you that one?” You laughed, but didn’t crumble and fertilize Miguel. Damn. 

Your partner huffed. “Come on, just–can’t you take a break, viejo?” He kissed your neck another handful of times and buried his face into the strong curve of your shoulder with a most petulant sigh. “Feels like I only get to see you when we go to bed.” 

“Not much different from how it used to be,” you said. “I worked nights, you worked days. Hardly got to see each other.” 

“I hated it,” Miguel mumbled. And you actually paused, your busy hands halting with the rest of your body. “I wanted you home with me. I didn’t want you to work nights.” 

He felt you shift again, the sound of your hands under running water sparking hope in his chest. But he snuffed it out himself–he knew you too well. You weren’t the type to stop when something needed to be done. Miguel couldn’t fault you for it, though, not when he was the exact same way. 

“Miggs.” You turned in his arms and held the sides of his face. “I’m not going anywhere. No night shifts, no driving after gun-toutin’ idiots on the highway, no overtime. You can always find me if you need me.” 

“Would you've come for me and Dana–” he stopped, a bout of regret punching the words back down his throat. The sudden distance in your eyes and the stiffness of your touch haunted him. Why did he have to talk? Why was he still chasing you away like this? 

“Don't,” Miguel pleaded, his hands flying up to your arms, holding you still. 

An overcast of something chased away the far look. Miguel wished he could read you as easily as you read him. He didn't know what you were thinking. Did he ever?

“I still have some things I'm working on getting past, Miggs,” you managed. “I don't--I'm trying.” 

Miguel nodded. What could he say, really? Try harder? Love me more? Get over it already? Your marriage reached a difficult point before the apocalypse; now, it'd climbed to new heights, but problems erased themselves thanks to the simple fact that the world had ended. There were more deadly things to worry about in the present.

“Just let me know if I can help,” your partner offered. And you smiled, tired and weary, unknowingly soothing the frigid panic freezing Miguel's veins. 

“Promise I will.” You gently stroked the arch of his cheekbone with the back of your knuckles. “Just don't worry too much. I'm alright.” 

And he believed you. 

– 

“Who's your friend?” 

The question drove Miguel insane, like a chisel tapping away at marble. Because everyone asked when they saw you, a stupidly handsome, ridiculously tall, polite southern gentleman dressed to the nines in a custom suit Miguel picked out himself–garments he picked out for his fiancé. His betrothed. His to-be husband. 

Miguel's coworkers knew he was taken. He thought it'd be obvious by whom since, well, he rolled up to the event with you and had complimentary outfits with you and you were wearing a fucking ring on the finger.

Still, countless folks introduced themselves to you, sweeping you up into conversations and leaning in too close for comfort. Miguel’s ego swelled, sure; he had the most impeccable, handsome, perfect man in the world, but his jealousy chomped away at his temper. He didn't like people thinking they had a chance with you. It was funny at first, but you were too nice to snap at them, to put them in their places. And, quite frankly, Miguel had had more than enough of watching his damn coworkers throw themselves at you the second they heard that stupid, endearing drawl or saw your charming, lopsided smile. 

He floated to your side, anchoring an arm around your waist while his other hand held a crystalline glass of something golden and fancy. 

“Hey,” Miguel hummed as your eyes met, and he leaned in, planting a soft, sweet peck onto your lips. “Havin’ fun?” The energy around the bystanders shifted dramatically. Miguel felt more pleased than a lion catching its prey. 

“Better now that you’re here,” you hummed, eyes creasing with a gentle tilt of your lips. He loved that look on you. It was the same one you wore every morning when you cooed your sweet good morning-s. 

“I make everything better,” Miguel agreed. He finished his drink and handed it off to whatever poor sod stood beside him. “Guess they haven’t heard the good news.” 

Your head tilted as whispers spread around you both. “Thought you would’ve told ‘em by now, honey.” 

“Well,” Miguel said, sing-songy and so obviously annoyed and bitter with how annoying this event had been for him. He took your hand and brought it up, feigning examination while purposefully catching the light on the band of gold hugging your finger. “I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to not put two and two together.” 

With that, the vibe died. Soft scoffs and muttered words were left in the wake of party-goers as they abandoned the two of you. Some offered anxious goodbyes to you before shuffling off, but many who’d been burned and shit on by Miguel in the past were not pleasant enough to separate you from your man. Which Miguel preferred. 

Miguel smirked to himself, satisfied with his work. Though, when he met your eyes, you looked anything but impressed. Oops. He probably should’ve considered the aftermath.

“Look, they should know who they're messing with,” he testified.

You quirked a brow. “You mean who they're talkin’ to?” 

Miguel huffed, the smallest of pouts forming. “Don't give me that. They were all over you.” 

“Honey, no one's ever gonna replace you, alright? You've got nothin’ to worry about.” Still exasperated, you smiled, and fixed his tie for him, giving it a light tug and tucking it back against his breast neatly. “You think I'd ever fool around behind your back?” 

“What? No.” Why wouldn’t you? You were handsome, a gentleman, a man who could have anything and anyone you wanted with looks and charm alone. So maybe–maybe that's why Miguel did what he did. Maybe he was trying to show you just how wrong you were. 

“Exactly. Now, you stop worrying and try to enjoy the event, alright? Promise I'll stay by your side for peace of mind,” you said with a wink. Miguel melted. You were too good for him. 

“Por dios–yeah, alright, okay. Fine.” He huffed and pulled you in close to him again and gave you a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 

And of course, it was in that moment Dana passed him by with a smile full of secrets and damning evidence–a vault that he wanted to break open and force you to face.  

–

Miles fucked up. 

He yanked open that fucking car door–specifically when told not to–and set off the dinner bell for whatever undeads still wandered the streets of New York. 

The race through the city streets wasn't so easy, not after years of the military, militia and more trying to block off streets, take a stance against the unending hordes threatening human existence–tanks, trucks, barricades and more littered and cluttered the streets like the puddles after a storm. Every vault and jump was uncertain despite determined, never really knowing if the next car the group jumped onto would throw one of you to the ground with a broken leg or twisted ankle. Miguel almost wished Miles shattered his knee. 

Especially when you nearly didn't make it inside. 

Miguel pulled you through just as they got the shitty garage door down, and he pulled you up, eyes wide and jaw set as pain jolted your features. 

“Hey, hey, what's–you're fine. You're fine,” he whispered. His hand frantically touched where they could before settling on either side of your face as you both fought to catch your breath. “You're fine.” 

But you shook your head. “I, uh--need you to back away from me, baby.” 

“No.” 

“I gotta make sure, be careful–” 

“No.” 

You pulled his hands away from your face, and Miguel saw liquid ruby stain his skin, too. 

“Listen,” you rasped as you limped toward a rundown car with your cuffs unlatched from your belt. “We gotta–gotta clear the shop. Miggs, you take care of the doors.” 

But he didn’t. He stood still, shoulders rolling with the heavy breaths he sucked in while you and Gwen puttered around the small, homely garage to the tune of the undead hissing and snarling just beyond the metal door. Miguel took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the–

“I–uh, what should I do?” Miles asked. 

Miguel whirled around and stalked to him, explosive rage fuelling his steps across the room. He grabbed Miles’ shirt and slammed him into the wall, looming over him like a titan. 

“You are not going to do anything,” Miguel growled. Miles’ eyes widened as he shrunk. “This is your fucking fault in the first place.”

“Hey, he’s just a kid–” Gwen tried, but Miguel’s quick glance her way stalled her. “He didn’t mean to–”

“That’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to survive out here and he’s not willing to use his fucking brain to fill in the gaps.” 

“Dude, let go of me!” Miles snapped, panic lancing through the quiver in his voice. “You can’t–” Miguel slammed him into the wall again. The undead shrieked and howled a mere half a foot away beyond the stone walls barring them out. 

Miguel basked in the dread eating away at Miles’ confidence. “It was a mistake to bring you here. You were a mis–” 

You yanked Miguel off the kid and slammed him into the wall, hand clapping over your partner’s mouth while your red-hot stare bore into the back of his skull and pinned him still. Your other hand held firm over his throat. You didn’t hurt him, but the fingertips digging into the straining tendons of Miguel’s neck threatened the opposite. 

“Quiet,” is what you commanded.

The room fell silent. And it stayed that way. It was hard to tell if anyone still breathed or lived in the minutes you all stood, patient, suffocating, and you stayed in that unsure limbo while the bloodthirsty reverie gradually de-crescendoed in the placid muteness. Slowly, slowly, with each wandering corpse that left to chase errant noises or to wander aimlessly with no mission left in mind, the air in your sanctuary began to heal. 

Your grip became kinder, and you let go, staggering back on unsteady legs. Then, you collapsed.

–

Your injury turned out to be a gash, not a bite. It ran across your shoulder horizontally, accented by a few other gouges bloodying your exhausted face and Miguel's busy hands. 

He stitched you up carefully yet thoroughly, eagerly trying to finish the job while you squeezed your eyes closed and gnawed on the belt wedged between your teeth. To your credit, you handled the temp stitches well. You only really shifted and panicked when Miguel tried to flush the wound with what water he had on hand. 

“That should hold until we get back,” he murmured for your ears only. He cut the thread with his teeth after tying it off, and wrapped your arm with a strip of torn shirt. 

You nodded tiredly and let him take the belt from between your teeth. “Thank you.” You sat up a little straighter against the wall and took deep breaths, eyes squeezed closed and brow beaded with sweat. 

Heat flared in Miguel’s chest. If not for you, Miguel would have ripped Miles a new one. He might have even thrown him to the undead in your name. If you'd come out infected, doomed to die, he'd make sure Miles suffered the same. 

“Don't be so hard on him,” you rasped, voice blending with the soft crackle of the unconvincing campfire. 

Miguel's stare hardened into ice. “He could've–” 

“Miguel.” He looked at you, and melted as you leaned into his warmth. “Lectures can wait. We need to get home first.” 

You were right. And it enraged Miguel further. He wanted to take his anger out on something, or better yet someone, but you just–

“You remember when you proposed?” You whispered. 

The creases between Miguel's brows lifted and smoothed. “‘Course I remember.” He slid a careful arm around your waist and held you to his side. He kissed the top of your head and inhaled your scent. “You were coming home from a night shift.” 

He remembered it too clearly, actually. You, being exhausted and out of it, still suited up in your uniform when you came through the door with a yawn. 

Coffee, your other beloved, lured you to the kitchen where Miguel knew you'd find him. Though he hated not waking up beside you those mornings, he cherished the sleepy back hugs you'd greet him with while you both waited for the carafe to fill. 

“Mornin’,” you grumbled into his neck between small kisses. “Sleep good?” 

Miguel always leaned back into you and basked in the wander of your hands and the scent of cigarettes hiding in your words. It all meshed too well with the bitterness of coffee. “Woulda slept better with you here.” 

You hummed, crackly and apologetic. “Good thing that was my last night shift this block, hey? Get to wake up with you tomorrow.” Your fingertips dragged up the hem of shirt in your search to feel the dips and curves of his toned stomach. “And the next day, and the next day…”

Miguel turned in your arms to spy your drowsy smile. He cupped your face, running his thumbs along the bags under your eyes, before giving you a peck. “I think you need a nap, mi amor.” 

“No, no, ‘m fine. Promise. Just need a shower ‘n I'll be right as rain.” You took one of his hands in your own and turned to kiss his palm. “Wouldn’t be opposed to a mid-morning nap, though.” 

“Lucky for you, I'm getting back in bed after coffee's done.” Miguel kissed you again, purposely mooshing his nose against yours. “Go take a shower. I'll pour you a cup.” 

You hummed, accepting the offer, and very very reluctantly separated from your lover. “Just don't make mine too crazy sweet, alright?” 

Miguel huffed. “Tch. I don't even make it that sweet.” But you were already sauntering off to the ensuite, loud yawn punctuating your departure. “Pendejo.” 

The coffee maker beeped not too long after. Thoughts of what to do with the weekend swirled through Miguel's mind with the springy, disoriented bounce of ADHD while he made up both of your coffees, one just sorta sweet, and one just a little (a lot) sweeter. Honestly, Miguel was bad at making coffee to your taste. Too often he'd watch you stand at the coffee maker, measuring cream, sugar and coffee in your quest to achieve a perfect bitterness to sweetness ratio. 

But when Miguel made you coffee, you never complained. Simply requested it not be too sweet. And everytime Miguel handed you that cup, trepidation filling the childish part of his pride, you always declared it was perfect from the first sip. 

Perfect. Like you. Like his life. That's why he needed to–

“Honey,” you called, bringing your partner back to the present. He turned to you, eyebrows raising in interest at just how low the towel hung from your hips–until he saw the small box in your hand. That made his heart start pounding. 

Miguel crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to hide his sheer panic. “Where did you–”

“You forgot it in the bathroom. I think. Found it on the counter.” 

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He really forgot to put that stupid thing away. He really went all cliché romcom and rehearsed in front of the mirror and didn't put the fucking ring away. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a goddamn genius, and yet–

You opened the box because of course you would. Anyone with a shred of curiosity would. And you whistled in a way that only cowboys could. Back when you were both young, you whistled at Miguel like that when he walked by. Lyla said you weren't one to do that, that that was a first for you.

“Damn. This thing looks expensive.” You pulled the gold ring out and looked it over as Miguel came to you. The band was simple gold, yes, but inlaid was a diamond flanked by your birthstone and his, all shaped in a striking baguette cut. The piece was simple and masculine, something befitting you entirely. 

But you were too out of it to realize what the fuck it was you were holding. 

“Bet I could buy a farm with this.” 

Miguel had to laugh a bit at that. “Most people would say a house, you know.” 

“Farm's better. Comes with a house.” You snatched up his hand and examined his fingers, probably sizing up which one the ring–your ring--was supposed to fit on. “Either way, you’re gonna turn heads with a whole mortgage on your finger, I'll tell you what.” 

Miguel's chest warmed. Maybe because of your smooth way of talking, or maybe because you were too sweet and admiring of your partner. Miguel couldn't tell. But it was probably both. 

“On my finger?” He repeated as he plucked the ring from the box. His heart beat in his ears. His face burned. But it was now or never. “I think it'd look better on yours.” 

“What?” You asked, soft and confused, sorta like you'd realized what that ring meant halfway through. “Wait, wait–” 

“I was going to.” Miguel slid the fine gold band on your left ring finger. “But then you ruined the surprise.” 

There was something magical in that moment. Your hand in Miguel's, the sparkle of new promise shining on your finger, the glitter of crystals pooling in your eyes. And your eyes were so wide, like you didn't quite believe Miguel would want to marry someone like you, so he had to say it, if not for the cliché, movie finale:

“Will you marry m–” 

You kissed him before he could finish. Your arms flew around his neck as your weight hit him like a ton of bricks. But he caught you both and held you close, laughing against your lips as the ball of doubt unraveled as every whispered chant of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ touched his skin. 

Those days were good. They were simple. They were The start of everything Miguel could have dreamed of–and then he ruined it. 

“Still hard to believe you wanted me, sometimes,” you reminisced, looking down at the dull, chipped set of rings hugging your finger still.

“You're the only one,” he murmured into your hair. “Even when–even if I–no matter what. No matter what, it was always you. It'll always be you.” Then where's your ring, Miguel?

You hummed and sunk into your partner's warmth more, staying silent with your thoughts as you watched the dim flicker of the fire and the two others collapsed around it. “Try not to be so hard on Miles.” Ah. “He screwed up. But we need to keep morale up.” 

Miguel huffed. “So you only mentioned our–you just wanted me to stop thinking about today.” 

“I wanted you to relax, sweetheart.” God, that smile was so clear in your voice. 

“Tch. Pendejo. He deserves to be yelled at.” 

“By his father. At home. Where it's safe.” 

“Fine.” 

[throneofspicybooks]

✨Azriel x Reader NSFW Alphabet ✨

SMUT - MINORS DNI

A/N This is my first time writing anything like this so please let me know your thoughts 🙏🙏

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Okay we alllll know Azriel would be the most attentive male afterwards. He’s holding you so close immediately afterwards, your softly panting breaths mixing as he praises you gently. “You did so good for me, Princess. I’m so proud of you.” Soft kisses along your skin as he untangled your limbs so he can get a wash cloth to clean you up. He’d run you a bath, filling it with all your favourite scents. Afterwards he’d dry you and moisturise you so your skin can remain nice and soft. He’d be careful of any bruises or marks he might have left on you, depending on how rough the two of you got, bending down to kiss them lovingly. When he was done, he’d let you wear one of his shirts, the length too long as it dangles down to your mid-thigh. You look so cute dressed in his clothes, Azriel has to fight the instinct to pound you into the mattress once more. But he wraps his wings around you, so it’s just a cocoon of the both of you, the love between you feeling so warm, so peaceful. He lays you down in the bed, his steady heartbeat sending you into a deep sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Obviously, Azriel loves every part of you. BUT he especially loves your boobs. If you’re wearing something low cut, his eyes are glued to your chest. Not in a creepy way, in a “I love this woman so much holy shit she has great boobs” way. You’ll stare at him as he stares at your chest, his eyes nearly comical as he shifts between your eyes and your boobs. Ya know how you hold your boob randomly for comfort? Yeah Azriel does that too. You’ll be laying together in bed or on the lounge and he’ll just rest his hand on one of them as you read to him. When you have sex, sucking on them is one of his favourite things to do. He’ll get distracted on the way from your pussy to your mouth, your nipple being tugged into his mouth and his tongue flicking it relentlessly while his fingers play with the others. He LOVES to cum on them. You just look so pretty covered in his seed. And he can’t help himself when he writes his name across your chest in the white liquid.

I’m going to be so cliche and say that you love his hands. The swirls on his hands are just so beautiful. They make him him, which is why you love them so much. They’re always so gentle with you, so soft. Plus, he knows how to use them in expert ways that make you see stars. His abs tho?? Girllll they are rippling. And when he makes you ride them? You turn into a babbling, drooling mess

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Like I said before, Azriel loves to cum on your chest and write his name. You are HIS and there is absolutely no denying it. But he also loves to cum in you. You just squeeze him so tight, he can’t help but cum streams and streams, so much that it drips out of you and he has to push it back in with his fingers. “You can’t waste it, Baby Doll. It needs to stay where it belongs, in your pretty little cunt.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He NEEDS to eat your cunt at least once a day. If he doesn’t, he turns into the most angsty, emo male. Just so grouchy at everyone but you. He prefers to do it in the morning, but you have to be careful. Azriel doesn’t relent. What starts as a morning session can quickly turn into a whole day of you two fooling around in bed.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We already know the male is experienced. But you didn’t know HOW much until he made you cum in 30 seconds flat. Azriel knows EXACTLY what he’s doing. He’s proud of it too, a smirk alighting his face as he watches you come down from your high from between your legs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary is definitely a favourite. Not only does he get to see all his favourite parts, but he also gets to watch your pretty face as you shatter around his cock. He can also fold you in half much more easily like this, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds your tight hole. It also means you can stroke his wings, your finger gently rubbing the membrane has him whimpering into your neck.

BUT he lovessss fucking you in front of a mirror. Kneeling in front of the mirror in your bedroom, Azriel would fuck you from behind, your back pressed against his chest. He makes you watch, the threat of stopping enough to make you watch as you take all of him, your body perfect as you squeeze him tightly. He has access to his favourite parts, fingers coming down to stroke your clit and squeeze his nipples as he whispers filthy praises in your ear.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Most of the time he’s pretty serious. He takes his job (making you cum as many times as possible) very seriously, and he is often going out of his way to set a new record. There was definitely a few times when you were trying new things together. They weren’t quite going right, so the best thing to do was laugh bad move on, the two of you comfortable enough with each other to move past even the most awkward event.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Just a little bit of hair at the base. He keeps it pretty neat for you. It is your preferred seat after all.

He doesn’t care how you like to be. You’re perfect in his eyes so whatever you choose is your choice and he is more than happy with the outcome.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Usually very romantic. If you guys have the time, he’ll make a whole event of it. Wine, rose petals, candles, the works. He’ll whisper praises in your ear. Telling you how good you are for him, how perfect. You’re his good little Bunny, taking his cock so well. Loved to whisper how much he loves as he thrusts into you. He prayed to the Mother everyday for you, and now that he was has you, he’s just so grateful.

But oftentimes you two love to get rough. He’s still romantic, but it’s more subtle. You can feel it in the way he ties the rope around your wrists, how he grips your hips to stop you from squirming, it’s in his grunts as he calls you his dirty little slut. You’re just so pretty with drool dripping from your lips as you suck his dick.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Neither of you masterbate that often, not unless you’re away from each other for a period of time. But you both like to mutually Jack off beside each other. Looking into each other’s eyes and pretending your hand are theirs? Some of the best foreplay.

Az also likes to make you play with yourself while he sits and watches. Just something about it makes him feel like the predator and you’re his prey.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The main ones are definitely bondage, praise, degradation, and daddy. But he’s definitely into biting and scratching, maybe a bit of voyeurism. And he’s absolutely into breeding. It makes him feral and primal. Also begging. It makes him feel needed, especially when you’re nearly crying for his cock.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

You two of made your bedroom the perfect place to fuck. It has everything you’d ever need in it. Why would you bother doing it anywhere else??

That doesn’t mean you don’t tho 👀 sometimes you’re both so needy for each other you can’t wait. You’ve been known to do it against a wall during a night out a few times, just to ease the itch. And during Starfall, you two did sneak off to do it on one of the balconies in the House of Wind, the stars shooting past making Azriel’s eyes sparkle as he makes love to you. Sometimes he can’t get away from work, glued to his desk as he reads reports. You love to sneak in and surprise him with a quick fuck. And he is more than happy to oblige. Bending you over his desk, Az fucks you with wild abandon, sating the need so he can get back do work and fuck you for hours later. There was a time that you two snuck into Rhy’s office to fuck ok his desk, but the High Lord doesn’t need to know about that one.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Literally just everything about you. Not just your body but your mind, your laugh, your smile. Just make eye contact and offer him a little smile and he is putty in your hands.

Also if you gently run your finger along the bottom of the base of his left wing he’s seconds off form cumming in his pants 😳

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think he’d be really into wax play. It’s too close to fire and that scares him :(

Also cnc. If you’re not actively saying yes, even if it is just for sexy times) he’s not really down.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s absolutely a giver. Like I said, if you’re not cumming on his tongue at least once a day, it’s a bad day and he’s grumpy. He once made you cum after just 30 seconds, he’s that good. But most of the time he likes to tease you until you’re begging. Circling you clit but never hitting the right spot, so you’ll have to big him for the release you crave. “You gonna beg me Princess? I need to hear that word. Just one little word you can cum. Come on Baby, let me hear you.”

He does like it when you suck his dick tho. He’s very very long. He loves whatever you do, but he especially loves when you try and take his length down your throat, or take as much as you can until you’re spluttering and gagging. It turns him on to see the drool running down your lips as you make it messy.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of the time is starts off slow and sensual but you’re both so needy for each other that it turns into fast and rough. You often dig your heals into his back and rub his wings to make him to turn fast and feral. It works every time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Prefers not to do them. He loves to take his time and often wants to draw at least 5 orgasms from you. Quickies are never enough time for that. But sometimes it’s needed and he will absolutely make the best of it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves experimenting. He wants to try everything he can with you. Pegging? Sure. A sex club? He’ll try it. a threesome? He’s so down. Trying new things is always fun with you two.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The way this male never seems to tire is a phenomenon that needs to be studied. You’ll be fucked out, your chest heaving and arm covering your face as you come down from your high and he’s somehow still hard???

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys are his friend, not the enemy. He absolutely uses toys on you. They probably don’t have vibrators in Prythian but I’d they do he definitely ties you to a chair with a vibrator on your clit while he sits at his desk and does his work. If he’s feeling extra frisky he gets you to wear a vibrator to dinner with the IC. He loves to turn it up while you’re having a conversation with Nesta, your legs shaking and chest heaving as it becomes too much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The BIGGEST tease. He wants you begging, writhing underneath him, crying for the release. He’ll circle your clit, never hitting the exact spot. Running his fingers up your cunt, playing with your hole but never dipping in. When he finally begins to fuck you he’ll pull away when he starts to feel your cunt squeezing him. Your outraged squeal when you orgasm is denied only makes him harder, the pleading in your eyes making him nearly cum. “Aww my poor little Bunny,” he pouts, “you better start begging me. Beg for Daddy, Bunny. That’s my girl. Let me hear you”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He used to be really quiet, only really making a few grunts when he’d cum. But then you brought up your fear that he wasn’t enjoying it. When he was quiet, you could never quite know if he was enjoying it. Now, he’s very vocal. Grunting, moaning, whimpering, he does it all. Is also constantly either praising you or degrading you. “That’s my good little slut” “You’re such a dirty whore, mine pretty Bunny”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I absolutely LOVE the idea of Daddy Dom Az. He’s definitely a soft dom. When you’re being Brat, he just has to give you a soft look mumbling “please Princess, don’t you want to be good for me?” With a soft pout.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Canonically has the biggest wingspan. He’s super long. You can use two hands and still not reach his tip. He’s thick but not the thickest. When you wrap your hands around it, your fingers don’t quite touch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very very high 😭 if you ask “want to fuck?” He can go right then and there. If he could be fucking you all the time he would be.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He waits for you to fall asleep first. His heart beat sends you right to sleep, but your steady breathing sends him to sleep too. Whether it’s the post-sex high or having you in his arms, he manages to fall asleep quickly for the first time in his life.

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 3: Autumn

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

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

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

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Angst. Canon-typical tragedy (not main characters). Childbirth. A few names that may twist a knife.

Summary: You give Joel a lot to think about.

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

It takes a lot to gain Joel's trust, and even longer to tame him. Thanks for sticking it out this long. We're finally shifting into acceptance mode.

“No, they do not make you look old. They make you look like Joel Miller in glasses. Just like the last five pairs. These are distinguished.”

“Looks like something my old man would have worn.”

“Your dad must have been a stunner. Assume the position. Bottom line.”

Turning him by his shoulders, you square Joel up to the line on the floor across from the eye chart at the back of the Jackson commissary.

“P…E Z O L C…F…T D.”

You pass him a handwritten note. “Good. Now use the bottom half of the lenses to read this one. Do it without squinting.”

Taking the paper, he squints. You pull on his arm to distance it correctly and he stops. He stares at the paper for a while. You might be concerned at the pause if he wasn’t taking a comically elongated time, breathing out hard through his nose, his jaw ticking left to right, feigning decisions, trying not to laugh. “Gimme a pencil.”

Without taking your eyes off him, you reach over to the counter and snag a pencil out of a cup and hand it to him, watch his eyebrows lift, his head shake, and give another dramatic sigh as he marks the paper before handing both the note and the pencil back over to you.

Joel Miller, will you go to the harvest dance with me? [x] yes or [ ] no.

“I don’t think these are gonna work,” he points to the black frames on his face. “Can’t read a damn thing. Not one damn word–” He can’t even make it through the sentence without cracking a smile, and only fully laughs when you playfully punch him in the arm.

“I’ll have you know this is a binding contract whether you can see it or not,” you join him in the tease, fanning the note in his face. “Just how blind are you???”

“Well, maybe I was working up to asking you the same question so…I guess not as blind as you seem to think.”

This slowly melts your laughter down to a smile. “Working up to it? What’s there to work up to? You mean… Did you…not want to?”

When his own smile fades, you realize too late that maybe he didn’t.

While you and Joel have fallen into a close friendship over the past few months, sometimes that’s all it really seems to be. There are moments that come close to something more–an arm draped over the back of your chair–or perhaps across your shoulders–as you stand in the back yard watching the fireflies, always a ready hand to help you up from a chair or the ground. If the two of you are ever in the same room, he’s always near, keeping you on his left where he can hear you. It took a while, but both Joel and Ellie have just stopped knocking when they come by, treating your house as they do Maria and Tommy’s–like family.

There are times he smiles in that way where his eyes shimmer and you think he’s coming around to falling for you. But he never pushes for more and you are beginning to wonder if he even wants that. After all, you’d learned from Tommy what life in a QZ can do to a person….and that’s on top of all the years the brothers spent surviving in some of the most violent and criminal ways possible.

Sometimes when you all sit out on Maria’s porch after dinner and watch the sunset together, he might take your hand in one of his–big, warm, roughened but gentle. And it’s at those times you almost forget about how he’d used it in the past. Almost.

With his bare hands, Tommy had said. Just come up behind ‘em and squeeze.

It takes time to become someone else. You always knew you’d need patience.

You just never braced yourself for something….a little less than affection.

“Listen, Songbird,” he sighs, his jaw shifting hard to one side. “I don’t want you to think–”

“Oh yeah, lookin’ goooooood,” Ellie’s opinion precedes your notice of her entrance. “Hey there, professor. I was looking for a book on relativity. Any suggestions?”

Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, he ignores her sass and turns instead to the commissary register to mark down the inventory he’s taking. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Maria?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, picking up an earthenware mug from a shelf and admiring the owl painted on it. “Her water broke. Baby’s coming. Can I claim this mug?”

“What??” Your body jerks, ready to run, but just barely holding back, shifting all the dismay you were just collecting and using it to power a new anxiety.

Joel’s head whips around, the glasses staying mercifully in place. “What are you doin’ looking for us? Go get Dr. Johnson!”

“Unclench yourself, my good sir. I already did. Went to her–” she says to him and then winks to you,”-- and Willa, thank you very much. You two didn’t tell me where you were going, you think I’m dumb enough to spend time hunting you down first? I’d be looking up and down Main forever. Have been. Almost went out back to see if you were eating spaghetti in the alley with one long noodle between you. Baby’s probably already here by now, jeez.” She spins on her heel, tapping the mug with a finger. “I’m taking this, thanks.”

Joel exchanges a look with you, the former conversation shoved roughly aside for a new concern. “I’ll register it and grab a few other necessaries. You go.”

This is no time to pick up the dropped dialogue but… maybe…should you stay and help? Oh. It takes a second to click that you can leave it to him. You don’t have to tell the man what’s needed for a new baby…after all, he knows more than you. Even if it was a whole other life or two ago.

And with a nod, you shelve your feelings for one more day and jog out the door to catch up with Ellie.

_____

Willa’s just walking out the door by the time you get to Maria and Tommy’s.

“You’re going?”

“For now,” she nods, working her shoes back onto her feet. “She’s got a while to go. It looks like it will be a pretty straightforward labor.”

“Did Dr. Johnson have anything to say?”

Her exhale tests high for irritation. “She’s upstairs. Why not go ask her yourself.”

“Wait. Willa. Did she send you away? I didn’t want to call her, but Joel thought–”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m going to go take a nap so I can get through the night. But she’s using up all the air in the room and what Maria needs is to rest as much as she can and let it come. A good midwife would know that. Too bad the medical authority in this town is a gastroenterologist and not an obstetrician. It’s a baby and she’s treating it like an obstructed bowel.” Muttering something further about obstructions and matters of the bowel in regards to Dr. Johnson, Willa pats you on the shoulder before making her exit. “Maria can have water for a couple more hours, then sips only. Make sure she eats something.”

Upstairs you find your old friend in full concentration mode–laying on her bed, eyes closed, breathing hard, forehead smooth but glistening–as she awaits the next contraction. Tommy’s curled up next to her, holding one of her hands, his forehead to her temple, matching her breath for breath.

Her other hand is being held aloft as the good Doctor checks her pulse. “Family only,” she condescends as you enter the room.

“Good idea,” you say, plonking down at the end of the bed with enough of a bounce that Maria opens her eyes and glares from behind her belly. When you point to her swollen feet and let your eyebrows request consent, she nods, shuts her eyes, and focuses back on the process as you take a foot onto your lap and start to massage.

Maria groans in contentment and Dr. Johnson takes it for discomfort. Turning to you, her silvery hair pulled back into a tight braid, her frown causes her jowls to deepen. “I really must insist that you clear the room. The fewer distractions she has, the better things are going to go for her.”

You pull your stockinged feet up onto the bed. “Is that how it was when you had kids?”

“I never had children,” the doctor snaps.

“I see. Well, Maria said she was gonna freak out if I wasn’t here, so it seems now we’ve got ourselves a conundrum between what the doctor says and the patient wants. But, seeing as how this is her second child and she is very much my family, I think I’m going with her wishes on this. I never got to meet the first one; I’m sure as hell not gonna miss a minute of my new godchild.”

“Who said you were going to be the godmother?” Maria grumbles.

“I did. It’s your own fault. You left the position open and nature abhors a vacuum, so I’m gonna plug my old ass into that hole.”

“You are mixing so many metaphors there. Where’s–nnnnn,” her face becomes a wall of teeth as the contraction hits, her body a live wire as you and Tommy move to soothe. It takes a good minute for her breathing to slow enough to ask, “Where’s…Willa?”

“She says she’ll check back in tonight. You’ll probably be at this awhile.”

“Well, then, if you’ve got your magic healing woman then I’m not really needed here,” Dr. Johnson’s smile only travels halfway up her face. “Blood pressure’s doing well, no signs of abnormality. I’m sure you’ll be just fine. If you need me, you know where to find me. Just send the foul-mouthed girl again. Certainly with a set of lungs like that, she can easily wake me up in a matter of minutes.”

Nobody stops the good doctor on her way out and the train of her passive-aggressive, attention-seeking attitude trails behind her.

“She means well,” Tommy answers your scathing look.

“Your wife didn’t ask for her.”

“My wife’s never been through labor without drugs before. And she’s older now. I just…” his eyes soften on her with concern as he leans in and presses a kiss to Maria’s forehead, “I just want her to be okay.”

“She’s Maria. Of course she will be.”

The subject groans with a minor cramp. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here and go make me a taco. I’m starving.”

She’s less than thrilled with the berries you bring instead– “water and fiber now, carbs later” –but is placated with you reading her to sleep from one of her favorite Amy Tan novels. Every now and then she wakes up with a contraction, but a little soothe in your voice and she’s out again.

After a few hours, Tommy goes to nap in a spare room and Willa returns with a bag full of clean linens, ready to take over, sending you out to get your own nap in.

It’s quiet downstairs, the setting sun throwing long shadows through the western windows, mixing with a few faint rainbows still filtering through the leaded stained glass over the door.

Maria’s not far from you in age. If there were still doctors in hospitals, they’d call her pregnancy not just geriatric, but advanced geriatric. Even with all the medicine that used to be available, she and the baby would still be under the care of several wary eyes. If they both make it, they’ll have beaten the odds. If they don’t–

Slumping down on the couch and pouring yourself over it–just to put your feet up and your head down for a second…just a second–you push worry out of your orbit. This isn’t a world to worry in anymore. What comes comes. All you can do is what you can do. Maria is strong. Tommy loves her. Willa’s capable. The baby’s on time. Everything’s going to be fine.

It has to be.

It hurts too much to consider an alternative.

_____

When your eyes open again, the house is dark and quiet, the sun long since set.

Although, not so quiet when your stomach growls. Nor so dark either, as you notice a faint glow coming from the kitchen.

A simple investigation leads you to a tea candle burning in a jar on the countertop, next to a scrap of paper with your name scrawled on it and a plate covered in a linen dishcloth, under which you discover a flatbread sandwich.

One look at the handwriting and you can imagine Joel coming by to check up on things only to find you asleep on the couch. There was no gentle-but-possibly-disruptive blanket-covering, no “thought you could use something to eat” beside your name on the note. Nothing but reverent candlelight and one word to let anyone who found the plate know for whom it was intended, no requests or commands, just a quiet devotion, a simple offering to a sleeping idol to be taken or left as you chose.

If he doesn’t want you to fall any harder for him, he’s doing a terrible job.

_____

The final labor comes the following morning, Tommy holding one of Maria’s hands and you the other–both of you gritting your teeth as her grip leaves bruises–and Willa holding the soles of Maria’s feet, giving her something to push against.

Joel’s been tasked with guarding the door to the house since Maria’s taken to screaming with each push–not in pain, but in ferocity–and the neighbors have been coming around in concern. He’s quick to turn them around and send them on their way and you’ve gathered from Ellie’s reports that they seemed offended until she started volunteering the information that Willa is upstairs helping out. Then everyone readily accepts that all is well and being taken care of.

But Maria, she’s the real star of the show here. Yes, she’s in pain, and yes, she’s tired and weeping–no tears, dehydrated–but she’s nothing if not a fighter. She wouldn’t be in Jackson without that being true. And, frankly, Jackson wouldn’t be Jackson if it weren’t true either.

When it’s all done and the delivery miraculously comes off without a hitch, when Willa checks the baby boy over and finds him responsive and healthy, ties him off and hands him over to Tommy, taking her leave to go wash up and rest, the room is eerily quiet.

“Hello, little man. I’m your dad,” Tommy whispers, on the edge of tears but too tired to cry as he sits next to Maria and shares the bundle with her, the two of them staring down in awe at the tiny new human. “I’m your dad, and this is your beautiful, strong, fantastic mamma. And your auntie’s here too and we’re all damn happy to meet you. Welcome home.”

Maria smiles wide, the pain already fading to memory, an unnecessary detail she’s gonna leave behind her in exchange for exponentially better days ahead.

“Good job, you three.” Adding to the kiss count on Maria’s head, you start to pick up some discarded towels and sheets, preparing to leave the new family to rest. “Did you finally agree on a name?”

“Oh, I think I settled early on,” Maria sighs, completely in love. “Riley.”

You hum in satisfaction. “Nice. Where’d that one come from?”

“Ellie suggested it and it just hit me right. It’s a good name for a boy or girl, but mostly I liked it because it’s a fighting name. All riled up and ready to go.”

“Sounds like trouble.”

Maria snorts. “Oh, I’m sure. After all, he is a Miller.”

“Damn right,” Tommy whispers, bestowing his legacy.

It’s an easy decision to make, your vow of silence. You’ll never let them know you feared losing her. Not when there’s more now to protect, more to love.

There's been enough fear. It isn't worth your time.

_____

Over the next week and change, a routine easily emerges. You make yourself available during the day for any needs–help with cooking, diaper washing, or just rocking Riley while Maria has a bath or Tommy needs a nap. After school, Ellie comes by and adds two more hands, truly turning childrearing into a village affair. Joel’s the last to add to the party after the sun starts getting low and construction on the new district slows down for the day, earlier if it’s his day for patrol. Every night is family dinner night now and sometimes Riley’s actually awake enough to join them.

Ellie can’t get enough of her new little friend. If she’s got empty hands she willingly fills them with baby, either rocking him or laying him on a cushion to watch him watching her. She’s not had a lot of experience with babies or newborns other than the lambs, but she’s a quick learner. It’s just one more thing that this harder world has deprived her of. Babies were few and far between in the QZ and Ellie seems bound and determined to make up for lost time, not wanting to miss an instant of growth or change.

Joel, on the other hand, is more stoic. If he was hard of hearing before, it almost completely disappears when Riley’s in the crook of his arm. He can’t help but be captivated by his new nephew and you catch a fond smile creeping along his cheek now and then, but there’s always something a little sad behind it, and when the light catches a glimmer off the face of his broken wristwatch, it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking.

It’s during one of these moments when Maria’s napping and Ellie and Tommy are out in the yard, that you finish up the dishes and plop yourself down on the couch next to Joel.

“Your arm tired? Want me to take him?”

“No. I’m fine,” he says quietly, trying not to wake the boy. But the silence is more for himself than the baby–Riley sleeps hard. For now.

You simply draw a knee up onto the couch and lean your elbow against the back cushion, watching them, chin in hand.

“Where’s Ellie?” he finally asks.

“Enough leaves are down. Tommy’s out back showing her how to make a leaf pile. And what to do with it.”

He chuckles, knowing exactly what’s proper and good to do with leaf piles. “We used to have a big maple out back when we were kids. Dad spent hours raking and nothing he could say or do could keep us from demolishing his work. Whip our hides and we'd be back out there the next day making a mess.”

“Well, at least lawn maintenance isn’t such a priority anymore, right? Just think of all the leaf piles this one’s gonna get. Let the destruction commence.”

“Yeah.” It’s slow and subtle, but the light slowly leaks from him, a twilight descending over his brow. “I guess there’s still a few pleasures to be had for kids in this world.”

This is why he’s always so contemplative with Riley. Worrying. Taking everything he’s seen and experienced and piling them onto one little baby, doing the parent thing, hoping that they’ll have a better life…but doubting that it could ever happen.

“There’s always going to be something, Joel. If the world hadn’t gone to hell, there’d still be car accidents and kidnappers and war in some far off country and the capitalist job market. A kid has every chance to have a good life in this time as in any other. And even if it isn’t in the world we remember, this one has you and me and all of us in it to look after one little boy who gets to live a life. Isn’t that what’s great?”

“Is it?” He finally turns to you. “You think it’s a good idea to bring a kid into this disaster?”

His eyes lay bare the puncture you’ve made in him, his sorrow and apprehension starting to vent, and it seems he hopes you can patch the hole because god knows his hands are full and not steady enough to handle the delicate procedure.

“Hey. Kids are going to happen, Joel. People are still going to find each other and fall in love and I hate to break it to you, but babies are sometimes a consequence of that. Biology’s a hell of a thing. But just because it’s not the world we knew as kids doesn’t mean it’s not worth living in. In fact, Ellie and Riley are going to do better than us, because they were born into it. They’ll have all of this kind of living in their bones from birth and don’t have to take twenty years to relearn it all. Or use up twenty years living life with regret.”

You expect him not to take that well, but he surprises you, softens, and turns back to the baby, his eyes skipping to his watch.

Maria told you once that sometimes she’s glad that Kevin died. He was still young–only 3 and a half–but he would have remembered. He would have held trauma. Back then, a lot of the little ones were lost, either to hunger or to attack…they didn’t know enough to be quiet.

Sarah on the other hand…. Joel didn’t know it, but Tommy had said once that Sarah would have never made it in this world. Too good. Trusting. Gentle. She would have been taken advantage of or become severely damaged by the shift coming in her formative years. Children are resilient, but a teenager’s psyche could be a difficult thing.

“Still not a good idea,” he mumbles. “But he’s here now.”

“Thank god. Maria needed another man in her life to boss around.”

He’s not budged by your joke. Instead, he side-eyes you, hits you with a cynical question, trying to knock you off your rosy pedestal. “If you’re so happy about kids, why don’t you have any of your own?”

You shrug. “Got sheep. What. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what.”

“Not every woman wants kids, Mr. Man. Even if they like them a whole lot.”

“Biology’s a hell of a thing.”

Catching his not-so-clever info gathering, you smirk. “I had other things to concentrate on. And in the meantime, the factory had blessedly closed down.”

He can’t help the instinct that makes him truly assess you now. “You’re not old enough for that.”

You chuckle. “I’m starting to think what you don’t know about women could fill a few books, Joel Miller. You let me know when you’re ready to brush up.”

It’s at this point that Ellie calls in from the porch, telling Joel to “get your flat ass out here! Tommy says you’re a champion leaf-piler!”

“Goddammit,” he hisses as Riley starts to stir.

“Go on,” you smile, holding your arms out for the baby. “I’ve got him. We’ll need to wake his mamma up so he can eat soon anyway. Go on outside and play with the other kids. Be home before dark.”

_____

A few nights later, you’re making assessment in a full-length mirror on the inside of a closet door in a room in your house you very barely use. When was the last time you really had a look at yourself? And when was the last time you wore a dress?

Sure, it’s a fall dress, fine-knit by Addie as a gift for bringing her on as a Roostling so many years ago. You keep it for special occasions, which means you get to wear it maybe once a year. The wool is undyed, so the natural oat goes well with your brown leather work boots. Unfortunately, shoes are at a premium, so having a second pair just for fancy isn’t really a thing anymore. Doesn’t matter. The weather’s been a bit wet and the streets a bit muddy. Boots’ll do you just fine.

But you haven’t worn your hair like this in ages. Freshly washed and let to dry rather than set back or under a bandanna for utilitarian purposes, you almost forgot what it looked like natural like this.

You almost forgot that you could actually clean up quite pretty. Huh. Imagine forgetting a thing like that.

The knock at the front door’s expected. Even though Ellie and Joel come and go as they please, tonight you knew he’d do the polite thing and knock. The comfortable part of you wants to call down and tell him to just come in. But the hopeful part of you knows that this is his way of making an effort. Of taking a step your way.

“You sure?” you’d asked Maria earlier in the afternoon. “You’re gonna be okay for the night?”

“It’s a dance, not a trip to the moon. And Ellie’s here. We’ll have fun.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly not happy about diaper changing duty, but smiling through it. “Please. Go. Get him out of the house. The later he comes home the better. Bonus points if he’s not back until morning.”

“Jesus, Ellie.”

Maria only smirked in full agreement.

He’s waiting on your porch when you open the door, one thumb tucked into his belt, the other holding onto a porch pillar as he examines the sole of one boot.

“You step in something?”

“Shit, I hope not. I just cleaned these. I thought–” but of course he stops when he looks up and sees you. Joel himself doesn’t have a lot of extra clothes, and is dressed in a clean dark flannel and jeans, nothing you haven’t seen before–although tucked in this time–his hair is still wet and slicked back, exposing more of the gray.

Your getup, however, is a new sight for him, and he’s struck enough to let it show on his face. So you give him a twirl, let the dress swing a bit. “Get your fill, I only bring this out like once a year. You’ve earned it this time.”

The smile is subtle, but it’s there, along with the tiniest of nods.

It’s not a long walk to the mess hall, but on your way you both determine that Joel’s definitely stepped in something, and yes, it’s still worth holding his hand. Horses are gonna horse and stepping in crap is an everyday occurrence when you live around animals at the end of the world. He seems grateful and maybe a bit chagrined, but neither does he seem ready to let you go.

The mess hall’s brightly lit; several jack-o-lanterns carved by the town’s kids adorn the long tables which spill out into the street to make room for the buffet and the dancefloor inside. A good portion of the town is out tonight and mingling under the canopy of string lights.

Addie and Goldie are the first to find you and greet you, the former admiring her own handiwork on your dress–even if she’s much improved over the years–and the latter pushing mugs of warm cider at you and Joel. Willa, it seems, took to the Roost short after Riley’s birth, always opting to take solitary watch during big gatherings and celebrations. But she did help with the decorations and is responsible for a good portion of the cornbread on the banquet table. When they start asking questions about the baby, Joel politely excuses himself, muttering something about getting you a plate.

“And how’re you doing?” Goldie asks, nodding after Joel. “I didn’t think that grump would warm up to anyone, but I suppose you’re tenacious enough when you want someone. I don’t blame you. Grey Fox indeed. If I was twenty years older, we’d have to share.”

“Yeah, he’s coming around.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever take up with anyone again. I heard Ellie had a run-in with the lye.”

A sudden lump rises, nothing you can’t swallow down. “She’s fine. And so am I. Maybe I'm a little lonely is all. Maybe I got a type. Here’s to hoping I’m wrong where it counts!” You smile wide, clinking your mug with Goldie’s and drink deep, chasing away whatever guilt rudely decided to come calling.

Tonight’s supposed to be happy. Tonight’s your night with Joel. Just you and him. No family, no interruptions. The past is the past. And this night is easily the first of many.

Soon enough you catch him waving you down at one of the tables and join him for dinner.

“Figured you weren’t picky, so I got you some of everything.”

“Hells bells, Foxy. Were you planning on dancing with me at all tonight? Because I won’t be able to move if I eat all of this.”

At least he swallows what he’s chewing so he can answer you between forkfuls. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat what you don’t.”

“Then how are you gonna dance?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t plan on gettin’ rowdy. Not with these knees.”

“Oh my god, you old man. Did you really come here with me just to sit and eat? There’s a band playing. And they’re good. You’re not gonna dance with me?”

“To be honest,” he says, straining above the chatter spilling out of the hall and taking another bite of chicken, getting it mostly down before continuing with a pained squint, “I was never good at it. One of those ‘stand around with a beer and watch the band play’ kinda guys. But a pretty girl wanted me to slow dance, I could do that. More swaying than anything.”

“Well I guess that’s something to look forward to then.”

“Good thing you’re easy to please.”

It’s another hour sitting at the communal table, the night settling in and the fiddle and guitar music rolling out from inside the hall. A few friends come by to visit, Missy Tippett makes her way to Joel’s right side to flirt and he pretends to hear her, answering all questions with a “yep” even if they aren’t yes or no queries and you do your best not to laugh. True to his word, Joel takes on the leavings of your meal–nearly half the plate–while you chat with folks, and he rises beautifully to the challenge. Without having to scrape and scramble in the QZ or starving out in the wilds, he’s put on weight since the spring, just enough to fill out his hollowed cheeks and pleasantly soften down his belly. He keeps active with the construction enough that he’s putting away more fuel than storage, but it’s good to see him enjoying the harvest.

You’re mid-conversation with one of Willa’s brothers when Joel taps a knuckle on your elbow. Turning to find him with his chin in his hand, he points inside of the mess hall where a slow song just started, an old Buddy Holly tune, True Love Waits. The time has come then. Like the worn shoe that he is, he gets up and re-tucks his shirt as you excuse yourself and then let him lead you inside to the dance floor.

He’s an old-schooler, guiding you close around your waist and taking your hand in one of his.

In all the time Joel and Ellie have been in Jackson what you’ve felt toward him was a strong pull, a crush, an attraction. It’s been years since you felt drawn to someone like this. But it isn’t until this moment that you actually register the ramp up and learn that your species of butterflies don’t really seem to reside in your belly, but behind your sternum. The tip of your nose and chin tingle with the proximity to his, his breath warm and apple-scented, his flannel smelling of soap and being dried in the sun. His hand fits perfectly at your lower back and your arm was made to curve up and around his sturdy, ample shoulder.

It’s that feeling where you can’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a fraction of a second for fear of losing control, and so you focus on his chin instead, yearning to land your lips there.

It takes most of the song to realize he’s doing the same with the top of your head.

You should say something; it feels odd not to be poking fun somehow. But then, you can’t think of a damn thing to say now that you’re exactly where you’ve been wanting to be all these many months. Well, nothing witty anyway.

“It’s been forever since I slow danced with anyone.”

“Out of choice, I assume,” he answers after a while. “Seems odd you being here so long and not spoken for.”

“Not everyone has to be paired up for life to be worth living.”

“Maybe not. But it looks like you want to and I’m not sure how anyone says no to you if you set your sights. You’re damn persistent.”

The song ends and you break to applaud, ready to quip back. But there’s a look on his face, and expression that you’re not able to categorize in the context of this moment, only that it looks like he might want to leave or be alone.

“Joel, I’m sorry if I pushed you. I know you’re still settling in. I didn’t mean to–”

But the next song starts up, sweet and slow–You Belong To Me–and he doesn’t give you a chance to finish. He just pulls you in close, tucking your head against his shoulder under his jaw, taking your hand again and holding it against himself.

“I’m settled,” is all he says as you sway.

Determination. That’s the expression. A commitment laced with lingering sadness or fear.

And that’s okay, you think. After everything he’s been through, that’s okay. As long as he wants to be here with me, everything’s going to be okay.

At the end of the song he peels away, and while the expression has softened, it still remains.

You reach for his hand. “You wanna walk?”

He nods. You let him lead.

Outside in the crisp autumn night air, he doesn’t take the direct path to your house, instead, he ambles slowly down another road, toward Maria and Tommy’s place.

Joel’s a thinker. He’s got things to say but needs to put them in order in his head first. So you let him organize while you walk slowly beside him, the light and the pretty violin ballad fading behind you. It takes a little longer than you expect and you’re almost to the house when he finally speaks.

“I’m not good at this.”

“You say that like there’s one right way. Like I’m expecting something out of you.”

It’s obviously not what he expected you to say. “But you are.”

“Okay, maybe. But I’m also willing to meet you where you are.”

“No, that’s not what…” he breathes out hard, frustrated that his thoughts are getting out of order, but you wait. “You should be…expecting…something. You should want me to…reciprocate.”

“I do want that, but I can’t force you and I know it.” You amble on, watch his jaw tick. “Joel, I’m crazy about you and I’d love nothing more than for you to feel the same way about me. It’s been a long time since I felt that way about someone. But I know it’s different for you. I know you were more recently attached, and for a long time–”

“It wasn’t like that. Well…wasn't like this, anyway.”

You follow him silently past Maria and Tommy’s place–dark, everyone asleep–and take a turn that will eventually lead you to your own house. A block goes by before he finds his next words.

“Tess and I…our lives…we were…rough with each other. Cared for each other, but we were hard. We had to keep on our toes, couldn’t let feelings get in the way or make mistakes. But all that…stuff… We had each other physically but we kept a lot at arm’s length. Like a survival mode. Conserving our energy for things that kept us alive. Safe.”

“I think I understand. Tommy said–”

“Tommy didn’t understand shit. He thought I was using Tess. But he was wrong.” Even if he’s keeping his voice even, his eyes cold, you can see his fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of your eye. “I…I needed her and didn’t know it. She was right there and I should have… told her so. That’s what I think I’m saying. I don’t have any practice in anything that isn’t just surviving. And I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“Are you pulling a ‘you deserve better’ on me?”

Another look of surprise. Again, you’ve thrown him for a loop.

“Because I do deserve better. You’re right. I do deserve to be loved and to be adored and to be happy. But so do you. Most of us do. Doesn’t mean everyone’s gonna get it. Sounds like you spent the last decade and change denying it for yourself and to someone else. But at least you had someone. At least you knew where you stood. Me, on the other hand…I spent the last decade remembering something like that and wishing it would come back, knowing it wouldn’t, and beating off any chance of having it again like a damn fool. Maria ever tell you about Troy?”

His headshake is subtle, but his look of concern not so much. You decide to let it roll off you just as you had with everyone else in the past ten years.

“Figures. Tommy’s got a big mouth but Maria’s always kept her trap shut when it’s not her story to tell.

“Troy was my...husband. We were married for three really good years. He was a refugee, like you. Came through from Seattle QZ with his sister. Ash was a wild one, loved the sheep. She was the last trainee we had before Ellie came out. She had a habit of wandering though, hopping the barrier for berries and honey and just to run free in the woods without a care in the world. Almost cut her off from going out to the Meadow, but Troy spoiled her, took her side in most things. His only weakness. Damn, I loved that stupid man so much.”

Coming up to your house, you take a seat on the steps, not ready to go inside yet. As you continue, Joel follows your lead and ends up beside you.

“You ever wonder why Maria and I don’t live on top of one another? Troy and I lived in the house next door. Once he died, I couldn’t bear to live there anymore.”

The breeze picks up and you give it a minute to die down. Joel’s voice pushes through your silence just above a whisper. “What happened?”

“Troy and Ash were out at the meadow and they weren’t answering the check-ins. So Willa and I went out there with the patrol. Right away we see almost the whole herd gathered in one lay. Not like them unless they’re protecting a sick or injured one. And that’s what they were doing, all huddled around the hole.

“Can’t say for certain how it went down, but from the looks of things, Ash got herself bit, nearly took off her forearm. Back then the area wasn’t so cleared out and Ash liked to play her chances outside the barriers as I’ve said. Must have scrambled back in and come looking for Troy or he brought her back thinking he could fix it and found out he was wrong. He blew her face clean off. He must have dug the hole and put her in it. Covered it with lye. Got in there with her. Shot himself.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Bodies were in pretty rough shape when we found ‘em.” The stars are bright tonight as you blink back tears in the dark. “I shouldn’t have let her go out there. I thought he would get her to take it seriously. I should have pushed. But. They were so close and I also know that I couldn’t ask him to choose my wants over hers. And in the end it looks like he wouldn’t have picked mine anyway.”

The power from the dam is being conserved for the harvest dance tonight, so the streetlamps are dark on your row. But the moon’s bright enough to catch Joel watching you, reassessing you.

“I’m very, very capable of deserving love, Joel. And I’m capable of giving it with my whole, stupid heart. I remember what the world used to be, and how it turned on a dime and how we all lost everything we were and had. And when I met Troy I thought that love could fix it. Nope. It doesn’t fix it. The past doesn’t go away. But it’s nice to have someone to walk through the better days with. To choose to live in the present and make it brighter.”

As if the world is an underscore to your story, one last, lonely cricket interrupts the silence, a holdout for the season, waiting a little too late to find itself a mate and a home.

“I’m a murderer, Songbird.”

It’s a simple statement.

“I know you are.”

“Just so you know. Just so you know what you’re getting into.”

Now it’s your turn to gather your thoughts. “We’re all a pile of our many selves. Who we were, who we choose to be going forward, how we see ourselves, how others see us. It’s all there, always will be. All of us a little broken. Fractured. But it doesn’t have to be just one thing forever. There’s no mark of Cain here. Just making choices every day to be the person you want to be. You find your people and you take care of them as best you can, and they do the same for you. You slip up, you start over tomorrow.”

And now it’s his turn to blink up at the night sky.

“You did what you had to do, Joel, we all did. We all had to revise the moral manual for a minute. Nice thing about Jackson these days is that there’s nothing you have to do. You can just do what you want, what makes you feel whole and alive. And if that’s something different every day, then that’s your choice. You say you’re not good at this, but you are. You danced with me. Walked with me. Listened. You’re just as good as you have to be and if you want to be better at it then you just...try again. You get unlimited tries.”

His expression is muddled in shadow, his face turned out of the light and focused on you.

Suddenly tired, you stand up and walk up the stairs to the door. “I had a nice time tonight, Foxy. The best. Even if it ended on a downer.”

“That’s my fault.”

“No. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just what life is now sometimes. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He’s slow about it, but he climbs the last few steps to the porch. You were wrong about the solitary cricket; there’s still a few still pushing the limits, challenging the first frost, singing to the moonlight.

Reaching out, letting his fingertips trail your arm all the way down, he captures your hand to keep you still and moves in, slow and quiet.

When he finally kisses you, it’s a tentative declaration, a promise of what he can give right here, right now; his kiss lingers in apology, showing you in every way that he has trouble letting go, unpracticed in being tender, but he’s willing to try.

Finally.

Every second lingered is worth the wait, only because you can feel that it won’t be the last.

“Guess I shouldn’t put off until tomorrow what I can start on today then,” he says when he steps back.

“That's a real good start.”

There’s not much more to say as he makes his way down the steps off into the night and toward his own house. No need. No expectations. There’s always tomorrow.

And since Joel’s come to town, it seems like every tomorrow’s usually been better than the yesterday before.

_____

You’ve been sitting on Maria’s couch knitting a sweater in the chilly morning sun for at least a good hour when Ellie comes down from upstairs.

“Oh hey, you’re here,” she says, throwing herself down on the floor by your feet and beginning to paw through your basket.

“I am. Didn’t have any plans today, thought I’d come and be on hand. How’s Riley?”

“Down for one of many naps. He’s growing so fast already.” Finding a full spindle in your stash, she begins unwinding it and forming it into a neat ball with practiced hands.

“That’s what babies do. He’ll be walking and talking before you know it.”

“We should bring him out to see the sheep when he’s walking.”

“We’ve got a corral of milkers in town he can visit. Probably not a great idea taking kids out of town. You’ll see when he’s up and about. Little kids like get away from you and hear themselves scream. Hard to keep safe if you’re dumb and loud.”

“Oh. Right.” She’s silent a while, slowly building her yarn ball.

“Something you wanna ask me? It’s not like you to volunteer to help with this part.”

There’s a certain way Ellie chews her lip and scrunches it at the same time. “I was thinking of asking you…if I could stay behind next time you go out to the Roost.”

That makes you chuckle. “Riley’s a little more fascinating than the sheep right now, huh. What. You thought I’d be mad?”

“No, just…I do like being out there. But I also feel like I can help here. For now. And I know you’re skipping your weeks to be here and I thought if I stayed you could go and then there’s still enough of us around….”

“The sheep are in good hands, they can wait. I’m in no hurry and I don’t mind being here. But I appreciate it.”

The yarn’s coming to an end, the ball in her hands reaching a pleasing softball size. “Can I ask you a favor then?”

“Of course.”

“Tommy went out to the reconstruction site and left his lunch and Maria asked me to bring it to him so he doesn’t come home for it and wake her or the baby.”

“But you wanna stay here.”

“Yeah.”

“Good timing.” Smiling and finishing up your row, you tuck the needles and sweater into the basket. “It’s a nice, dry day for a walk and I’ve been meaning to go see that sector. Tell you what. Eye for an eye. I go out there, you ball up all those spindles while I’m gone. Don't undo my knitting."

What the autumn sun is lacking in warmth, Ellie makes up for it with that spark of unbridled joy. “Fuck yeah, deal!”

_____

Swinging a bundle bag full of Tommy’s lunch and other sundries, you walk out to the old north edge of town. The wall’s come down here, another one erected a handful of blocks beyond, re-civilization slowly sweeping and expanding out as the need arises. The houses are in varying stages of disrepair, repair, and some have come down to use for scrap. Your elementary teacher’s house is still here, getting a spiff-up treatment and you’re remembering Mrs. Erstine and her roses fondly when there’s a sharp whistle and call of your name.

Joel’s walking down the block toward you with an easy smile and you return it as he nears. It’s been a couple of weeks since the harvest dance and you haven’t seen each other much outside of family dinners and scattered evenings at Maria and Tommy’s’. Between the rush to get some of these homes fit for winter and you helping out with all the canning and preserving down at the mess hall, a twilight trio on the porch with Ellie here and there has been your scant means of together time.

“What’s brought you up this way? Everything okay?” He’s good enough to bend his neck a little so you can meet his patchy cheek in a kiss.

“Tommy forgot his lunch and Maria wants to spare him a trip.” You hold up the bag. “And I brought treats for you too.”

His finger hooks the bag, trying to peek in. “Really.”

“Nah ah, not until you take me to your leader.”

“My leader,” he scoffs, turning and leading you up the street. “Ain’t nothin’ he can do I don’t have to come up after him and fix.”

“Speaking of fixing, we could use new shingles at the Roost. It’s been wet and I’ve heard there’s a leak.”

“Yeah? When you going out next? I’ll go out with you.”

Turning onto a more wooded road, you both follow the sound of hammers. “Well, Goldie’s up there now and I usually take after her. I suppose I could go next week before the rains really start up.”

“Next week then.”

As you approach a beautiful A-frame home, Tommy’s over to one side at a couple of sawhorses, measuring out a beam. Joel calls out to his brother with the same whistle he gave you.

“It’ll be just you and me,” you say. “Ellie wants to stay home with Riley.”

Joel’s head whips around. “What?”

“Hey there, ma’am-o-jam, what brings you up here? Everything alright?” Just like his brother.

“Yeah, all’s well. You forgot your lunch and my legs needed a stretch.”

“Oh shit,” he grins. “I was just starting to get hungry. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You gesture to the house. “This is really beautiful. It’s like a bigger version of the Roost.”

“It’s nothin’ like the Roost. It’s on the ground.” Tommy smiles as you swat at him. “We’ve started with all the houses that need the least amount of help, tearing down the ones that need the most to fix ‘em up. This one had a lot of protection from the elements–the sun and the snow–from all these pines around it. All the windows still in place. Mostly just had to clear out a couple of overgrowths in the basement–probably the previous owners gone to seed. But it’s all good treated hardwood. Good bones. It’ll stand another century or two.”

A small, involuntary shiver passes through you at the casual mention of dead infected. “Did you burn them? The previous owners.”

Your reaction doesn't escape Joel’s notice. “Did it myself. There were a few in this section. It’s okay. They were long gone. Dry as a bone. It’s safe here.”

He’s earned a smile, even if it’s a sad one. “That’s good. They must have loved this house, to want to stay here, even when they didn’t know any better. Can’t blame ‘em. Anyway,” you go through your bag, lifting out a small parcel and handing the rest to Tommy, “here you go. But this is yours,” offering the parcel to Joel but then snatching it away as he reaches for it, “only if you promise to be honest and tell me if you like it or not.”

Joel’s eyes light up when he opens the package. “Holy shit; is that…pecan pie?”

And Tommy winks as he takes his lunch and walks back toward the house.

“Heard it was your favorite.” You can’t help but laugh at his big dumb grin. “Don’t be too excited! I obviously had to make every substitution. Walnuts for pecans, honey for sugar; it’s not exact, but it should be close enough. Been working on my bakes.”

Taking a bite, he shakes his head in what at first seems like pain but soon reveals itself to be the opposite. “Damn woman. And you only bring me one piece?”

“You’re a carpenter. That’s a triangle obviously cut out of a full circle. You know there’s more where that came from.” It’s a pleasure to watch him lose a battle against another big bite. “I take it you’re happy.”

His mouth full of sticky sweetness but the crow’s feet setting in, all he can do is chew and cock his head, looking you over as if to say, damn right I am.

_____

Joel’s quiet the whole ride to the Roost. It’s easy to guess what’s troubling him. A whole week alone should be exciting, but he’s worrying about expectations again and there hasn’t been much time to talk about it…or he just didn’t want to.

“Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

“Present.”

“Bringing a Grey Fox in at the north gate.”

“Noted. You brought your own sheets I hope.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Joel’s frown and straightened shoulders as he suddenly loses the sympathetic gait with his horse. “Yup. Both sets. For two beds. Man’s here to work on that roof and I’m only payin’ him in food.”

“Ooof. Poor Joel. He deserves better.”

“Yeah, well I’m working on it. Boiled water last night and I didn’t even burn it.”

The banter seems to have relaxed him back into the saddle sag for the time being, and you keep it up until Goldie has you in her sights.

“I know you like sleeping under the stars, Foxy, but it’s been cold and wet. Bed’s yours. I’ll take the top bunk.”

“Fine,” he grunts.

“And you’re not allowed to go up on the roof unless I’m around to spot you.”

“I can handle it.”

“Oh, I’m sure, but my nerves can’t. And this is my domain. I’m the boss out here.”

This gets you one half serving of smile with a side of eyeroll. “Yes ma’am.”

Once you’re settled in, Joel descends the ladder and starts going through the woodpile, looking for adequate repair material, taking up the axe to split some logs for shingles while you go take a cursory round through the meadows.

The sheep are mostly on the near side by the copse of trees housing the Roost, keeping a tight flock, settled down and facing into the wind. A few bleat as you arrive but none of them skitter, allowing you to pat a couple as they chew cud and to check any for painted marks in case Goldie found one of them sick or lame. Other than one small ram that wants to playfully butt you in the thigh, all seems well. The rest of the flock is mostly down by the river and you take a little time to make some noise and shoo them toward the others before circling back to the Roost….

…which is where you find Joel Miller up on the ladder prying at rotted shingles.

“What the hell did I say, Cinnamon Roll?”

“Hold your britches,” he calls down. “I’m just assessing.”

“How am I supposed to get up there and you got the ladder?”

“Oh now we have a quandary,” he jokes. “What are you gonna do if I don’t let you up?”

“You think I haven’t slept out with the sheep before? I’d have no issue with it but that it’s gonna rain, so maybe you should let me up so I can help and make that repair go faster.”

Coming down and moving the ladder to the balcony drop, he scans the sky with doubts. “What makes you think it’s gonna rain?”

“Because I read sheep.”

“You read sheep.”

“Yeah. They spell it out like a marching band. RAIN. Big letters. Cursive. Could you just–”

The ladder comes sliding down with a thunk and you climb, taking his helping hand as you reach the top.

He smirks. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

All you can do is shake your head and hide your grin. “Don’t you dare. I’m gonna get my gloves.”

As he starts to heft the ladder back up, you go inside and quickly grab a wool hat and a pair of deerhide gloves from your pack. Turning to go back out though, a glint catches your eye near the door.

There’s a new nail in the wall.

With a broken watch hanging from it.

Huh.

This must be the place where he feels like he can be free of it and of the past you gather it represents for him. A special spot for it by the door where he won’t forget it when he leaves, somewhere he can see it if he needs it, but not carry it so much.

It’s a nice piece but for the hole. Well cared for. 2:40. You realize with a little regret that you missed the anniversary, that Outbreak Day no longer registers. Which means you also didn’t–

He doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday, Tommy once said.

It had come and gone without much fuss. But also without any noticeable misery. Railroaded by a new nephew and hard work.

That’s good. He’s not forgetting, just letting it rest. Someday it will be a good day again.

“You gonna get out here and hold this thing or what? You’re the one said rain is coming.”

“Not me. It was the sheep. Hold your britches or get a better belt. I’m coming.”

_____

A gentle roll of thunder wakes you in the night and the Roost is dark as you listen for a moment to the rain pattering against the roof slanting up and over you, inches away. Tuning in, you train your ear for a hard patter, a splotch, any indication that the roof patch didn’t hold, but of course it has. It was mended by Joel Miller himself.

Well, at least it’s dry, but damn, it’s chilly. A glance toward the little iron stove shows you nothing but darkness, which means the fire’s out. As much as it hurts to leave the little nest of warmth you do have, it’s probably better to relight it and warm the place by morning, so down the bunk ladder you go, being as quiet as possible.

Somehow, it's always comforting waking up at night at the Roost. Your house in town is too quiet at night, too full of the possibility of unfamiliar ghosts--of those that lived there, of the society it held, of your own loneliness. At least out here you feel held by the trees and needed by the sheep. There are ghosts buried out there in the meadow, but they're long gone now, part of the land itself, land that was always wild and free and full of the kind of life that wasn't destroyed all at once in one day. Night at the Roost is a quiet comfort, a place of purpose and sisterhood and family. It's full of wooden and woolen things made by hands you know and is welcoming to everyone, including the moonlight and the stars.

It takes a little doing with the wind up and you have to manipulate the flue a bit, but after a few minutes there’s a lovely crackling and smell of pine. Padding over to the chair by the window to snatch the wool blanket there, you stop for a minute to look out at the storm, trying to catch a glimpse of the sheep in a flash of lightning, but there’s not much of that to be had, so you wrap the blanket around yourself and make your way back to the bunk ladder.

“Sheep okay out there?” Joel mumbles in the dimness from his bed, somewhere near your knee.

“They’re fine. Did I wake you up?”

“No. Been listening to the rain a while. You cold?”

“Yeah. Fire went out. You?”

His answer comes in the form of something like a sail in the darkness and it takes a second to realize that he’s holding his blankets open in an invitation. “Come on. You’re gonna let the heat out.”

Sliding into Joel’s warmth is an easy decision to make. And it’s not just the warmth of his sheets, but that he brings the covers around you, pulling you all the way into his chest against his soft old undershirt, tucking you in under his chin, wrapping you up in his whole, woodsmoke-scented self.

Every tension in you simply melts into bliss.

Resting his lips against your forehead, his breath fans gently at your hair. “I could get used to this.”

A long hum rides out on your exhale. “I think I already am.”

“You’re a good woman, you know that?”

“Spoken like a true Texan.”

A long kiss presses into your forehead. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’m gonna do my best to be good again, Songbird. Hope I can be what you want.”

“That’s easier than you imagine. You’ve been what I want since you showed up around here, so I’m already quite pleased. Hope I can be what you want.”

A new warmth takes you over as he starts to spread his hand along your back, simply running over your contours, testing out what it’s like to hold someone this way, slowly caressing, lightly squeezing, tucking you in tighter. “You seem to know what I want before I even do. I look forward to finding out what I want next.”

“Well, I have to admit. Your brother tipped me off about the pecan pie.”

He laughs a little as he tips your chin up to meet you in a kiss in the dark. It’s hesitant but hungry; a long time needed and a long time savored.

“Did your sheep say it was supposed to rain all day?”

His hair and beard ruffle softly under your fingertips. “I didn’t ask, but I think it probably will. Sure hope that new roof holds.”

“We could always just stay right here and keep an eye on it.”

“See? You know exactly what you want. We can do that. I’d say that’s a good day’s work.”

His hand splays big and warm on your back, pinning you close for another kiss. “I tend to agree.”

_____

PREVIOUS: SUMMER

WINTER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[jellyfishoreo1206]

hey dude! really like ur work lol :3 can you write a tf2 medic with a fem or gn reader who is alternative (like punk/goth?) it can be headcannons or a drabble or whatever u want :) thanks bud!

Medic with an Alt! Reader (gender-neutral)

Notes: Of course! Again, I'm sorry if it seems like I ignored your ask! For that, I'll attempt to make it extra long :3 Please correct me if I get anything wrong about the history of Alternative fashion/music, I mostly referenced Wikipedia, but I don't think there was enough information for me to go on. I didn't know if you wanted this to be a romantic pairing or just platonic, so I'm doing both!

So coming back to this, I realized that the first half of this is talking about Alt Reader, but then the next half it's literally just romance head cannons that have nothing to do with the ask. I've been carried away by the amount of ideas that have been flooding my brain at night that I completely forgot what I was doing in the first place. At this point, I'm just rolling with it, I'm sorry Anon

Warning(s): Medic being medic, cussing, mentions of reader smoking, slight spoilers for the TF2 Comics.

M/C = Merc Class

---

Platonic

Considering that this is the late 60's (and alt becoming a thing somewhere in the 1970's or 80's), Medic would take a keen interest in you.

Whether you take interest in Emo, Goth, Hip-Hop (which apparently is a form of Alt fashion! Good to know), Punk, Rocker or Grunge fashion; all of them have a few things in common, they all stand out from the mainstream fashion going on in that time, some are more artistic and attention-grabbing, and some coming to be as a break from beliefs.

I'm not going to lie to you, at first he thought it was some type of disorder

"I want to find out what's wrong with them" That's what's going through his mind 😭

He's so curious, you're going to be his new subject of interest until he has studied every inch of you

Whether that be operating on you or studying how you behave from afar.

---

Several days have passed since you've joined the mercenaries. You seem to be adjusting well enough to the team, getting along semi-okay with your teammates (if you ignore how the on your first day Soldier nearly killed you because he mistook you as a demon, shouting absolute nonsense). Engineer has been one of the most welcoming out of your teammates, offering to show you around and letting you know what to watch out for.

But there is one teammate that you can't even bring yourself to being around. The Medic.

God, you would think that the Engineer would at least warn you about him and his behavior, dude is seriously all kinds of creepy.

Ever since you got here, he's been watching you like a hawk. Always seeing him out of the corner of your eye, conveniently always being in the same room as you; Hell! Even following you out in the battle field. You even think you woke up to him crouching menacingly in the corner of your room, watching as you slept with a creepy smile on his face and an insane look in those eyes of his. (Desperately wishing that it was some kind of paranoia-filled nightmare and praying to whatever god that is up there that it wasn't real.)

"I swear! Was it something I did??" You decided to express your concerns to the Engineer, considering he is one of the more reasonable one's out of the mercs, and being the first person you hit it off with when you first arrived. He hummed in thought—putting down the sentry gun that he was tinkering with—turning to face you as he pushes his hard-hat back into place.

"Medic is a strange fella, I know tha'. But I don' think I've ever heard him act like this..." His response only seemed to add on to your distress, sitting yourself on the floor of his workshop with a loud groan. Great, so even he doesn't know what's going on either. "I'll hafta talk with him la'er, see wha's up with 'im."

"I appreciate it, Engineer."

"Please, call me Engie."

---

When the Engineer brought up the Medic's behavior to him, he just laughed it off

"Oh Herr Engineer, you must know as a man of science that this is simply an observation!" "...What exactly are ya' observin'?" "Haven't you noticed? How they dress! Is it a form of trauma? Or a type of disorder! I must find out!" *Cue him holding a bloody hand saw in the most menacing way possible* "Then..why don'tcha jus' ask them up front?" "I like my methods better."

Yeahhhh, he has a really bad case of autism

When Engie told you what the Medic told him, you just got even more confused.

What would the way you dress have anything to do with your mental state?

I mean, yeah, you've turned heads whenever you went out to do mundane tasks back home (such as picking something up from the store or returning something to a friend), and you had several people tell you that'll they will pray for you, but you've never had someone assume that it was straight up a disorder??

The thought itself just confuses you

Engie was right about him being weird..

---

A month has passed, and it seems like the Medic's behavior has calmed down a bit. Emphasis on a bit.

He stopped following you around out in the battlefield as much and seems to be getting back into his regular schedule of being the medic for the team; but you're starting to notice something else...

It seems he's attempting to talk to you! The whole entire time you've been here at the base, you two never actually had a proper conversation (mainly it was because you were attempting to avoid him as much as possible at the start, and Medic because he just saw you as another subject). The first time it happened was late at night, almost the early hours of the morning. You were in the kitchen, making some coffee for yourself and the Engineer (who has yet to go to sleep). You were pretty sure it was only the two of you awake at this time, since you didn't hear anything else other than the distant clinging and clanking of the engineer's machinery.

With both hands occupied with a mug of hot coffee, you were about to make your way out of the kitchen when you felt your heart drop. Jesus FUCKING CHRIST, HOW LONG WAS HE STANDING THERE????

Might as well be called The SPY instead with how fucking quiet he was.

You both made awkward eye-contact—awkward for you anyway—he seemed tired, but that didn't stop him from smiling at you—teeth and all.

"Ach, guten morgen!" He offers a small wave, his voice cheery despite his obvious exhaustion.

You didn't say anything, you bolted out of there.

Nope nope nope nope nopenopenope-!

---

The Medic didn't seem to take that reaction personally

If anything, it made him more curious

So he attempts to strike up another conversation, but this time with company around, since he was scolded by the engineer the very next day

Whether it was during dinner-time, before a match, or even game-nights (as chaotic as they can be); he always attempts to strike up conversations, whether you don't respond or you give one-word responses.

Going on to long rants about any topic that comes to mind, whether you want to listen or not; most of them are usually about the human biology or his previous experiments

You wish you could erase the memory when he told you he got a man pregnant with baboons.

When you asked why he wanted to talk to you, he merely gave a shrug and a almost sheepish smile

His response?

"Oh for no reason, I just got bored when I realized there were no results in my observations."

Yeah

You kept your distance as much as possible, still feeling a bit uncomfortable around the man

Though it eventually started to slowly fade away when he kept attempting to talk with you, a big part of it was also due to his birds perching themselves on you whenever you needed something from the medbay, cuddling up to you in a mass of feathers

You actually started to enjoy the conversations when he asked why you dressed the way you did

---

"Let me give you a brief summary," You start, sitting on the worn-out couch with the Medic on the far-end, a freshly lit cigarette in-between your fingers, "-there's a small community of us, people who also dress like me. But like I said, small community, not many of us." Taking the first drag of your cigarette, you see from the corner of your vision Medic holding a scolding look, eyeing the cigarette in your hand with disgust.

Blowing the smoke out in small puffs, you continued, "But, the reason why we dress the way we do, there's several and it varies from person to person."

"It could be a way of self-expression, a break from the mainstream style, or...damnit, I always forget the last one's. But there's many reasons why is what I'm trying to get at."

"What was your reasoning?" The Medic finally spoke, crossing his legs as he (un)discreetly takes out a notepad, writing down the information that you have just stated. The question processes in your brain, taking a long drag, repeating it over and over until an answer formed.

"Mm, nearly everyone dresses the same, no variety in their fashion." Finishing the last of the cigarette, you put it out in the ash tray atop the coffee table, leaning back into the couch with a stretch. "Everyone is always expected to dress the same. I wanted something different."

"Interesting..."

---

Romantic

Now for the romantic part of the relationship, it would take him FOREVER to figure out that he likes you

YEARS if nobody brings it up

He would just brush it off as excess adrenaline from the battles (even if there was a ceasefire)

He would also began to show a certain type of favoritism towards you (his birds especially)

Whether that be storing a jar of lollipops in his office for you to take from (and only you), telling you a in-depth explanation/step-by-step of his experiments before anybody else, scolding you whenever you do something that's unhealthy, or just treating you like a normal doctor whenever it comes time for the yearly check-ups (like not experimenting on you/doing a random surgery or injecting random chemicals into your body to see what effects it'll have on the battlefield.)

---

"Aye, doc! How come you only give M/N loli's!" For what seemed to have been the tenth time that day that Scout has complained about the same thing—over and over again—it was starting to get on the doctors nerves as he attempted (emphasis on attempted) to rescue his beloved bird that has somehow snuck his way inside of the scout and got himself tangled in the intestines while the Medic was preforming surgery.

"And for the last time, Scout." A sharp snap fills the tiled-room, a small piece of the Scout's rib cage in-between the Medic's gloved fingers, throwing it somewhere behind him without much concern for it as he continues with his current task at hand, "They aren't such a nuisance, unlike you."

---

That's his only excuse whenever someone asks really :/

He always seems to enjoy your company the most out of all the mercs and is seen with you more times than anybody else on the team

It's until one of the mercs bring up his favoritism from another point of view that he begins to think...differently

Not a bad differently, but a "What do I do" differently

Like that's the moment when he begins to realize his affections for you

Personally, I believe that man has never been in a romantic relationship/had romantic feelings for someone

So him being in love for possibly the first time in his life, he's stumped

Like what does he even do in a predicament like this???

Would probably go to Engie or Heavy about this predicament for some sort of guidance.

His behavior around you would change a bit

He would still act like his regular self

But with you around he could be seen fidgeting with whatever he has in his hands and stumbling over his words more often, maybe even calling you pet-names in German

There will be times where he'll have a red flush seen on his normally pale face whenever you do something he sees as attractive/adorable (whether that be ruthlessly killing the other team, laughing at something one of the mercs did, cooing at Archimedes, etc.)

Like, flushed to the tips of his ears down to the nape of his neck type of blushing

You can tell he's blushing whenever his glasses fog up <3

---

"Who's a pretty bird? You're a pretty bird!" Said blood-covered dove cooed at the various praise he was receiving from you, flapping his wings in a joyful matter. You came to the medbay to ask Medic for something that the Engineer needed but quickly got sidetracked when a certain dove flew down from his perch and decided to greet you.

Bringing a finger up to the dove, you give him small gentle scratches atop his head, continuing to coo at the bird with a big smile stretched across your lips.

Medic watches as the whole thing happens from his desk, a look of adoration in his eyes as he watches the on-going interaction between you and his bird. A feeling of warmth began spreading across his face, the beating of his heart increasing just from the sight alone.

He's absolutely clueless on what to do—the well-composed Medic, the man who has made a deal with the Devil and tricked him, sowing 8 souls to his very own, and has done many experiments that should be impossible to achieve—is confused on how he should proceed with his arising feelings for someone he considered a colleague and friend.

What a very troublesome situation.

---

He would probably be a bit straightforward when he decides to confess to you, probably in a private space like in the Medbay or when it's late at night so nobody is awake to walk in on the two of you

When I say "a bit straightforward", I mean like he'll beat around the bush for a brief few seconds before just going for it, and keeps eye-contact throughout the whole thing

If you accept his feelings; he's ecstatic! But he doesn't know how to act, to say.

'What do couples do??' 'How does one act when they are in a relationship?' Mainly the questions that are going through his mind

If you reject his feelings; he'll become quiet and distant around you. He might even be a bit mad at himself, whenever he's by his lonesome; staring at his reflection on his bone-saw as his birds attempt to comfort him

Like, you guys will still talk, but it'll just be awkward—a tension between the two of you

Okay moving on.

Once entering a relationship with the Medic, it's best if you take things slow; discuss boundaries with one another, what to do and what not to do, etc,.

Would probably become a bit more touchy? Like, small brushes against your hand or one of your limbs, holding you hand or just linking pinkies with you whenever the two of you are alone

Like those kind of touches, soft.

Kisses would probably start off small too; small kiss to your knuckles or a kiss to the palm of his hand to bring a flush out of him (Though he prefers both of these in private)

Would absolute want to attempt to do your hair and make-up

I feel like he's either the kind of person to keep his love life private, but also not? Like, he would drops hints that he's in a relationship with you, but they are so subtle they fly over a few of the mercs heads

---

Again, Anon, I'm sorry for going off-topic

[gffa]

I adore your batman stuff very much. I recently read the Wayne Family Adventures, and now I really want to read some more. Do you have recommendations on comic lines to follow?

Hi! I'm glad you're having fun with getting into comics and enjoying the posts around here, it's always nice to have new blood (or returning blood, in my case)! <3 I would give a gentle caution in that Wayne Family Adventures is sort of in a class of its own in a lot of ways, the characterization is much softer and fluffier, while the mainline comics are darker and messier, the characters are definitely not always as nice as they are as in WFA. That's no shade on either of them, just that I want to give a quick warning that if you're stepping from one to the other, the culture shock can sometimes be more than you're expecting. (And also keep in mind that comics are a shifting landscape, there's no one "true" version of many of the landmark moments of characters' lives, you'll see events often retold, you'll see comics that later get retconned, you'll see comics that are in different continuities/set before or after a universe-wide reboot, etc. Don't worry about it, just recognize that you're reading a story to enjoy that story, not as Hard Continuity!) That said, some of the lighter comics that I think would be fun if you're looking to come over from WFA are:

Li'l Gotham is a cute parody series that's super adorable, has some lovely art, and is nice little self-contained stories that are humorous. It's not in mainline continuity and it's even softer than WFA, but it's deeply charming and it's a fun, quick read.

Super Sons (2017) by Peter Tomasi is in mainline continuity and it's focused on Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent becoming friends, bickering all the while, and getting into hijinks. It tends to lean more humorous and cute, so it's a nice stepping stone up to regular comics.

Robin and Batman (2022) by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen is a good litmus test for whether you might like regular comics--it's a short 3-issue mini-series focused on Dick's early days as Robin and the complicated, thorny relationship he has with Bruce about it. It's one of my favorite, it balances what a terrible gremlin he was with what a little angel he was and the emotional beats are painful in the best way.

Robin: Year One (2000) and Batgirl: Year One (2003) by Scott Beatty/Chuck Dixon and Marcos Martín/Javier Pulido are good places to start for both characters, and hold up okay considering their age. The art is a bit stylized in a way I really like, it lends it a charming old-fashioned vibe while still being pretty to look at, and there's some solid character moments in both.

Nightwing (2016) by various (starts with Tim Seeley, but it's been several authors by now) is one of my go-to recs, I think it's a great jumping on point, has a lot of really nice art, and often tells fun stories, as Dick has some of the best connections to various other characters in the universe.

Nightwing (2016) by Tom Taylor starts with issue #78 and is a great jumping-on point and Taylor's writing is just very light-hearted, action-packed, quippy, and fun. Starting here saves you from having to slog through some of the worse arcs of Dick's series, you get Bruno Redondo's fantastic art, and you can feel the affection for the character, the author and artist love this character and want to make him very cool, as well as they love his relationships with other characters, so you get good Bruce guest appearances, Babs appearances, Damian appearances, Wally appearances, Jon appearances, etc.

Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley and Baldemar Rivas was a fun self-contained mini-series that had all the Robins working together and I don't think it should be taken super seriously as a case story, but it had some quality banter, some hilarious moments, and a great look at these chaotic gremlins all shoved into a mini-van together to go solve a case.

Batgirls (2022) by Conrad Michael W./Becky Cloonan and Jorge Corona is focused on Babs, Cass, and Steph as a trio and being adorable together, with some humorous moments, cool art, and fun Batfam moments. It's nice that they get the spotlight and the chance to shine (it's their book, so they get the majority of the cool moments) and it's not super-long and you can jump right in.

Batman: The Knight by Chip Zdarsky and Carmine Di Giandomenico is a "Bruce travels the world to learn the skills he needs to become Batman" and I'm really in love with the way Zdarsky writes a Bruce who is deeply complicated, messy, coming from a place of loving deeply, but also this man has twenty seven different flavors of fucked up trauma going on in that hell brain of his. Zdarsky's current run on the main Batman title has been my jam, but that's a bit of a darker leap than this one, and I think this one is a great way to get to know Bruce Wayne as a character.

Batman: Urban Legends volume 5 has a story called "The Murder Club" that is basically "Thomas and Martha Wayne are time traveled into the future and see what's become of their son, they're not thrilled about it, but come around when they see the people that love him so deeply--primarily Dick, Damian, and Alfred." and was an absolute BANGER for me for feelings, gorgeous art, and some great character moments.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2022) by Mark Waid and Dan Mora is an absolute knock-out, it's Bruce and Clark in their early days of their friendship, where Waid is one of the best writers in the industry for how fun his stories are but also how well he knows the characters, Mora's art is often THE portrayal I think of when I think of the characters, and there's a ton of bonus guest appearances from various characters across DC's universe. Also, I am biased, Dick tags along a lot, as he's still Robin at this point in time, and it's a great dynamic between the three of them.

Batman: One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze by Gerry Duggan and Matteo Scalera was easily the standout of the "One Bad Day" stories for me, it's set in the early days of Bruce & Dick as Batman & Robin and it has ADORABLE sunshine gremlin baby Dick Grayson, a genuinely touching story about Mr. Freeze and his wife, and some beautiful art.

Year One: Batman/Scarecrow (2005) by Bruce Jones and Sean Murphy is a fun look at the early days of Scarecrow, but also has absolutely banger baby Dick Grayson content, there's a scene where Bruce literally just grabs him by the scruff of the neck to haul him out of the way of a crowd about to stampede and it's the funniest thing because that 12 year old could destroy your face with his fists but also Bruce can literally pick him up one-handed. There's some great banter in there and it's just a super fun dynamic.

As you make your way through this list, keep the author/artist and year listings in mind, as often times there are multiple series under the same title and some are more relevant to what you're looking for right now than others. Like, there have been three different volumes of "World's Finest", but I want to direct you specifically to the 2022 version because I think that'll work better for you. Similarly, Nightwing 1996 is one of my faves, but I think the 2016 version will work better at drawing you in right now. This is definitely biased in favor of my faves, but I honestly think they work for good jumping on points for someone new to comics and who's coming from WFA and might not want to get into the messier stuff of the mainline comics right away. Hopefully, you'll enjoy these and anyone else who wants to transition from WFA to reading mainline continuity comics, feel free to join us! Yeah, comics fandom can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but genuinely there's a lot of really fun moments to love and the characters are so much more fun when you're reading their stories with all the history and depth behind them!

[comicgeekery]

Sherlock and Shoscombe

So, after the deep dive I did with Sherlock & Co and the issues with the Case of Identity storyline, I thought it was only fair that I talk about their take on The Adventure at Shoscombe Old Place.

*Ahem*.....This was a lot of fun! I just looked up a summary of the original story because I didn't remember it well, and no wonder! It was the very last Sherlock Holmes story Doyle published, later collected into The Casebook, and thus...one of the boring ones. I'm sorry. I really don't like The Casebook stories. It's also the last batch of stories that the Doyle estate was clutching onto before Sherlock went fully into the public domain, which makes the story feel doubly tedious to me.

But! These episodes were a blast! Practically a survey of all the best parts of Sherlock & Co! There's fun banter! Heaps of character background! A really clever update to the original set-up! BRILLIANT acting and foley work! A cheeky cameo! And a truly exciting, satisfying end! I think this is the most direct information we've gotten about John's past since, well ever, but certainly since we learned about his memories of his dad. Now we know that he grew up in a very class-divided town that once felt so much bigger. And he was deeply in love once, with a woman he lost partially because of classism. (Which is such a great mirror for Beatrice and her husband's situation!) He also lost his friends because they had privileges he didn't. (Did John join the military partly as a way to get away from his roots? Out of a desperate need to be praised as a hero?)

No wonder John has so much resentment for the wealthy when it's so deeply personal. I think it's going to be comically awkward and VERY interesting when he finds out that Sherlock is mega super rich. Holmes is often theorized to be the son of a lord in canon. I figure he's at least from a wealthy family that was able to pay for him to go to tons of fancy schools. And then personal tutors. And a full-time staff that always took care of cleaning and stocking up the groceries. (For all his observation skills, I do think Sherlock grew up never considering who made his household run.) I think part of why Sherlock has been so touchy about John's anger at rich people is because Sherlock is SUPER nervous it would ruin their friendship. I am also so pumped to see what the podcast does with Mycroft! I wonder if his autism might be more limiting than Sherlock's. Like he's got the genius skills, he's got the deceptively powerful government job, but he can't handle going out into the world. Going to Baker Street would be an ordeal. Might have a full meltdown if he's not at home, work, or whatever the Diogenes Club is updated to. But.....It's hard to tell how much Sherlock & Co wants us to suspend our disbelief about some things. John and Sherlock have very clearly committed a LOT of crimes on their publicly available podcast. Maybe that will never be addressed or MAYBE Sherlock, Mycroft, or other Holmes allies have been bribing and intervening to keep them from getting arrested. Imagine the drama! "You hate the rich, but you owe all your success to MY money and power, 'Dr.' John Watson!" *Blinks rapidly*

Where was I? Oh yeah, Shoscombe. That. God. Damn. Chase. Scene! So bold for a podcast to have a climax with a car chase at the center. The foley work was top-notch for the driving and the terrain and then the crash and sinking in the lake. Whoever plays John Watson, you did an incredible job! The reckless car chase where, OF COURSE, he still narrates everything, the diving for Robert (and the clever layer of the recorder fritzing), and that CPR! It was all so engaging and believable! I love when John does doctor stuff generally, but this was my favorite example since the gunshot wound at the wedding with The Solitary Cyclist. Not sure I buy Robert's at-home crematorium as being 100% good, but I can believe John thinks so. Might help that John's a bit more desensitized to cutting into corpses than most folks. Finally, I'm sure folks are quite excited that a certain James made a cameo. (Maybe he's interested in why Sherlock and John keep getting away with all their crimes.) I knew he was going to show up at some point, and making Moriarty a listener shout-out is delightful. I just hope it's a while longer before he's ON the show. It always frustrates me when Moriarty winds up becoming basically Lex Luthor. Then again, we've already had similar cameos for Irene Adler and Baskerville Hall (and probably some I've missed) without them showing up yet. We'll see how it goes!

Good job, Sherlock & Co! I'm excited to see what you do next!

[mxomo]

eating at home ♡ ︎miya atsumu

How Netflix & Chill goes when Atsumu feels like showing off. c/w: dick sucking, mild exhibitionism a/n: i reread hq final arc and this came out. i’m not sorry. i’m not.

He’s finally fallen into a routine with you now that the season has started and your projects have steadied, so you were both super busy still but your schedules lined up more which meant you got to spend more time together

Unfortunately that time was usually after a long day of work, so your default date night became splitting collection responsibilities for food/drink and then meeting on the sofa nest after a quick shower and decanting food on plates for either movie or game night

The process of picking something to watch included bickering about scrolling through the watchlist every single time before you eventually settle on the first thing you both considered when the food is all done

You thought it was pretty funny after a few of these date nights how you’d spot a third limb in his trousers every time you hit ‘play’ on whatever you’d decided on for the evening

“I hope you’re still hungry,” Atsumu says almost every time, waggling his eyebrows suggestively (/comically) as he boldly pulls down his sweats enough to expose his jewels to you (who said romance is dead?). Sometimes he will take the base of his cock and wiggle it at you as part of his seduction, winking salaciously to top off his attack which served as a great excuse to touch himself when he was extra horny.

“You’re an idiot,” you say dryly in return, rolling your eyes at his pouting but shuffling down to settle your head comfortably in his lap as he beams at you. His cock swells when he spots you licking your lips, focused on him entirely as warmth blooms between your legs.

One such date night was interrupted by a consistent buzzing from the setter’s phone, every five minutes like clockwork until he finally checked his messages, frowning as he held your head in place as his mood would only worsen if you were interrupted in your delicious suckling.

Sakusa demanding that Atsumu make his presence known at the bar the team had been dragged to by the sunshine duo (Bokuto & Hinata) - how dare you ditch without telling me and leave me in the presence of these sunshine psychopaths?

Atsumu tutted, staring down at you as he considered his options.

On one hand, he always enjoyed being out with the team, even if his social batteries were dead afterwards. It’d been a while since they’d been out and there had been talks of other teams showing up, so it would’ve been a fantastic evening. Bokuto and Hinata never failed make a good time for everyone. Sakusa would provide endless entertainment in his discomfort and likely pay for Atsumu’s last drink and ride home with him if he did show his face.

On the other hand, your cheeks were flushed pink and your mouth sloppy as you feasted on his  cock like a starved woman. Your hands cradling his balls as your tongue spun circles around the tip, the sight of his member disappearing into your mouth and your skillful massage of the base with your tongue as your throat contracted around him. The hard ring of muscle into your throat made his breath catch with every bob of your head. Throwing his  head back, Atsumu groaned ecstatically at the sensations and his circumstances, tangling his hands in your hair in a desperate attempt to keep himself from coming undone right there.

“Baby, hold still,” he breathed, quickly positioning his phone camera to capture the captivating sight of his cock buried in your throat, your hair hiding your face from being too recognisable but clearly capturing your tongue pressed hotly against his balls. Snapping a couple of photos, he switched to video and hit ‘record’ just as your need to breathe started taking over. Pulling your head back, Atsumu caught the moment his cock popped out of your mouth, slapping you in the cheek before you manoeuvred to catch him again in your next breath, never one to let him escape for too long, smiling slightly when you succeeded.

You settled into position, sucking straight in as you hummed at him, somewhat inquisitive about who was so interested in speaking to him that evening. Atsumu hissed as his member seemed to get even hotter, pulsing in rhythm to every motion you made.

Atsumu’s breathing getting heavier didn’t escape your notice as he turned his attention fully back to the phone, finally stopping the recording. “Omi-kun is upset that - ah - that I didn’t meet them, s-so I’m going to show him what I’m doing instead, okay? Jesus fuck, baby.. yes, just like that..”

Frowning at him, you shifted to sit up but was stopped by his hand holding the back of your neck, gently but firmly keeping you in place. “It’s nothing  he’s not seen before, and you look so pretty.. you didn’t mind last  time, did you? It’s just Omi-kun.” His hands started working the muscles  in your neck - shockingly soothing when you remembered how long he’d  been fucking your face for - before working his way down your back, digging his fingers into your sweet spots as he worked his way over the curve of your backside. His much longer arms had no issue reaching the apex of your legs, slipping two fingers into you as you spasmed in  response to the unexpected intrusion, the blush on your cheeks deepening  rapidly as you tried to moan around the obstruction in your mouth.

“So, I’m just gonna ask again. I’m gonna show Omi-kun proof that my evening is much better and that I’d be a madman to join him. You good with that, baby?”

You wanted to shake your head ‘no’, because how humiliating for his teammate to see you gagging for his cock. It was bad enough the last time Kiyoomi walked in on Atsumu fucking you stupid - you had barely registered when the door opened in your direct line of sight and you made eye contact with the spiker from your incredibly exposed seated reverse cowgirl position. You didn’t miss his eyes zeroing in on where Atsumu was thrusting diligently into you, unaware of your new guest (?), the slapping of your bodies connecting drowing out the small creak of the dormitory door. Your cunny registered his presence before your brain did, and you clenched hard.

Your  thoughts were still trying to catch up to your brain and Kiyoomi was still frozen at the doorway when Atsumu pinched your clit and you lost your fucking mind. With a squeal, you broke eye contact with Kiyoomi as your pussy gushed juices harder than you ever had before, missing Sakusa by inches as he snapped back to reality and slammed the door shut with a curse. Atsumu had laughed for nearly ten minutes when you’d told him that Omi-kun had caught you both, a gleam in his eye as you hid your face in his chest and tried to ignore the tingle of him continuing to move in you, slowly. “So you came so hard because someone else was  looking at you?” Atsumu teased, pinching your nipple when you shook your  head desperately ‘no’. “Liar. You loved it.” Your boyfriend hadn’t let you live it down since.

Including now. “Oh,  your pussy fluttered. I think your pussy would like me to show Omi-kun how pretty you look when you enjoy your dinner. What do you think?”  Atsumu teased, twirling his fingers and massaging your g-spot expertly.

“Mmm,”  you eventually nodded weakly, unable to form coherent words and closing  your eyes shyly as you tried to push down the feeling of humiliation at  your body betraying you. It was embarrassing, Kiyoomi seeing you like  that, so why was Atsumu showing you off making you tingle like this?

“Fantastic,” Atsumu grinned cheekily, chuckling as another admonishment from kiyoomi pinged on his phone, demanding a response.

Yes, Atsumu would be a total fucking idiot if he went out over spending the evening in with you.

One photo of your cheeks stuffed full with his balls, the short video he just took with the message “baby wanted to eat at home” was sent to Sakusa, which was read immediately

“You piece of shit” is the only further message he gets from his dear Omi-kun which  causes an odd tingle of joy to bubble in Atsumu’s chest

Atsumu ignores his phone for the rest of the evening in favour of piledriving you into utopia and Sakusa learns to never contact Atsumu on a date night unless his wank bank needs new material. (￣▽￣)

masterlist

[sporesgalaxy]

good morning on this fine friday at 5am my time! circe clawthorne jumpscare.

I truly think this is very very close to final, moreso than usual lol. I'm quite happy with this

I really can't tell if it would be more difficult for me to try and convert this into proper paragraphs or make it a comic...

well here it is. but wait there will be more!

•••

?: [distantly] Philip?

?: [closer] Philip!

?: Philip Wittebane!!!

P: [weirded out cuz hes in the middle of the woods] What in the–

C: [running up to him excitedly] Philip!!! It’s SO good to see you again!!!

P: [backing away] See me again? Do we know each other, Miss?

C: !

C: Come on, Philip!

C: Surely the King of the Witch Hunters can recognize the Dread Witch Beezelbella when he sees her!

—

P: …

C: [smile falters nervously] ...

[Philip bolts]

C: Wh- Philip!

[He sprints through the woods as fast as he can, but weaving between the trees slows him down.]

[Circe suddenly cuts Philip off, riding on her staff]

P: [flinches away from her so violently that he falls on his ass] GAH!!

C: What are you running away for?!

P: [shielding his face, peeking at her erratically, as if afraid to look directly at her for too long] You’re not real!! You’re some cruel illusion!!

P: Sent to– to torment me, or tempt me to forfeit my soul to the devil!

P: Well it WON’T WORK!! So– gh– [flails his hands in her general direction] BEGONE!

–

C: No no no no! No tricks, I promise!

C: [REALIZES SHE IS LEVITATING] Ah!!! Er…

[she jumps off the staff and holds it behind her conspicuously, too frantic to remember to store it as a palisman]

C: [smiling nervously] I meant to save that for later!

P: [STARING]

C: Here. :) [holds out her free hand to help him up]

P: [looks somewhere btwn angry and scandalized]

[Philip pushes himself further away from her before standing up on his own. He struggles a little because he now seems reluctant to take his eyes off her. Circe looks saddened but not entirely surprised.]

C: Really, I--

[tries to gesture, but is still holding the staff in one hand, and ends up accidentally swinging it towards Philip.]

[Philip flinches again, and stares at it like it might explode.]

[Circe quickly reduces the staff to just a bird and pockets the palisman in her cloak]

C: [smiling apologetically, holding up palms to show she’s unarmed] I’d never dream of hurting you!!

C: [looking at him and still smiling but with pleading, sad eyes] You know that, don't you Philip? No matter how we've changed, I...I'll always love you.

P: [mentally recalculating] …I...see.

C: [beams] Yes!! I pinky promise! [holds out pinky for a second, but quickly drops it]

P: [less defensive body language, but still clearly a little wary] Hm…

–

C: [a bit nervier] Ah-- before we go any further, I need to re-introduce myself!!

P: [skeptical] Re-introduce?

C: [trying to stay chipper but looking more stressed] I know I look different, but it’s…it’s still me!! [she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, looking a bit uncomfortable] See?

P: The…Dread Witch Beezelbella.

C: [frustrated] Your sis– your sibling!!! You know, the one who raised you?? Who spent all those years putting gruel on the table??

P: [frowning] The one who died seven years ago.

C: Er– well– I had to...go away for a while. But I’m here now!!

C: [trying to bulldoze through it] And really hardly anything has changed!

C: I've simply learned I’m much happier being your sister! That’s not too complicated, is it? You understand, don’t you??

P: I…suppose–

C: [bulldozing again] Spectacular!!!!

C: So, you’ll call me Ci– [seems to realize something] Er…just C.C. is fine for now! [nervy smile]

[Philip gives her a perplexed look]

C: Probably easier and, er…good for an Adjustment Period! [nods to herself]

P: [mostly just baffled] …C.C.

C: [nodding more] You've got it!! Same person, new gender! None of the old name and no man words, pretty please!

P: --

C: [before Philip can reply] Great!!!

C: Now, with all THAT out of the way: It’s YOUR turn! [stepping closer to him, as though she wants to hold his hands] Tell me everything! How are you?! What’s happened while I was gone? What have you been up to??

–

P: [leaning away] Oh. Er…

P: I’m…doing very well. I… [“thinks”, bringing a finger to his chin a little too theatrically]

P: …Goodness, so much has changed, I’m not even sure where to start!

P: Really, you ought to just visit the house with me and see what’s changed for yourself. [grabs her arm and gently tugs]

C: [Withdraws, very nervous] Oh, no no no, I can't go into town.

C: You and I of all people should know how–!

C: --!

C: [Squints]

P: …Is something the matter?

C: [Squints harder]

C: ...Do NOT Witch-hunt me, Philip!!!!

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about. I'm only trying to show you--

C: Oh for goodness' sake, NO!!!! I will NOT set foot in that town EVER again!!

P: ...Then you should wait here for just a moment, and I'll return shortly– [beginning to walk away]

C: [Grabs his arm to stop him leaving] [exasperated] I am not an idiot, Philip!!!

C: [sighs] Look, I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept, but magic didn't turn me evil! I'm still just ME!

P: [MAIDENLESS STARE]

–

[Circe continues holding Philip’s arm to keep him there, and for now, he lets her.]

C: As it turns out, you DON’T have to sell your soul for magic! We were completely wrong about it!

P: [EXTREMELY skeptical] Is that so?

C: [frustrated] It’s true! I could prove it to you!

C: ...Well, I guess I can’t PROVE that I still have a soul. Not that I know of. [to herself] I wonder if there’s a spell for that…

P: [extremely sarcastic] Perhaps we ought to enlighten the entire town to the existence of this fascinating *benign sorcery*.

C: [annoyed] Really, Philip?

P: Well, why not?? Since you can *prove* that it’s harmless, let's go prove it to everybody! It would make our lives *so* much easier…

C: Stop it.

—

P: Why, no one would have to do chores ever again!

C: Philip!

P: Maybe we could all be in one big witch’s coven together--

C: ENOUGH!!

C: You've been clear enough already!!!! You still don't like magic, and you don't trust me!!!

C: [takes a deep breath] ...

[Gently, Circe lets go of Philip's arm, which she had been gripping rather tightly.]

[She watches as though expecting Philip to bolt again, but he doesn't.]

[She fidgets with her sleeve as she continues.]

C: Philip, please. Just...just listen to me for a moment.

P: [Opens mouth, looking indignant]

C: [cutting Philip off] You don't have to believe me! I know that you...probably won't. I had hoped--

C: [doesnt finish that thought, looking bitterly sad]

C: ...There's something I need to tell you, but I want to know you'll listen.

P: [scoffs] Why bother if you know I won't fall for it?

C: Because...! Because I have to do something!

C: ...Philip--

[She reaches toward him, and he shrinks back.]

P: You've been gone for nearly a decade.

C: ... [confirmingly guilty face]

P: It took you that long to-- to bother telling me anything?!

P: Why in the hell would I want to believe that?!

—–

P: How could I?!

P: How could I possibly believe that you’d *vanish without a trace,*

P: and then– *reappear out of thin air,* just because-- what, the whim finally struck you???

C: No--! It-- it wasn't a whim, Philip, I would never--!

P: [pulling at his hair] AGH!! Then where have you *been??!!!* Why come back *now??!*

C: I-- it's difficult to explain--

P: I spent YEARS trying to hunt down that *witch*–!

[Circe grimacing/wincing rxn shot]

P: [gesticulating wildly] YEARS hopelessly wondering what might’ve become of you!!!!!

P: I WASTED my LIFE searching for answers!!!!

P: Of course I don't want to believe this!! That you could have come back this whole time, but-- [voice breaking]

P: ...But you chose not to.

–

C: 😟

P: [still angry, but quieter now] And what a cruel joke it would be, for you to finally be here.

P: [hand gravitating towards knife on belt] After I’d finally managed to give *up* on you.

[Circe wants to hug him. She wishes he were still small enough that she could pick him up and squeeze him with all her might. But she thinks better of it. No matter how much she loved Philip, she couldn't afford to trust him right now.]

[Philip's hand is hovering over the spot where Circe knows his knife sheath to be. She feels her heart break a little more.]

[She steadily meets his eyes and keeps her hands at her sides, ready to pull out her staff if necessary. She won't be able to hurt him the way he's apparently resolved to hurt her, but she could run away.]

[She had desperately hoped that Gravesfield's claws wouldn't be sunken so deeply into him, but she knew what it took to survive there. And he had been forced to survive it even longer than her.]

C: ...I’m sorry, Philip.

P: ...

C: I'm sorry for leaving you in Gravesfield alone.

C: I didn't think I had a choice.

[Circe shifts her weight uncomfortably. It feels wrong, measuring how she speaks to Philip, her brother, the person who knew her better than anyone not too long ago. But he isn't the only one she's protecting anymore.]

C: ...truthfully, I…

[It feels loathesome to admit after so many years of spending so much of her energy hiding it.]

C: …I thought you would be better off without me.

—

P: [genuine confusion] ...What?

C: You're a genius, Philip. I knew you could do anything you put your mind to. Make a real future for yourself.

C: But I-- I could barely even keep us fed until we--

C: [looking terribly guilty] ...started working together.

C: I thought that once you could take care of yourself...

C: You could have a normal, happy life. Without me.

P: [pissed] And how do you know that you couldn't be a part of it!? You ran away before you even tried!!

C: I tried for years!! All my trying ever did was put targets on our backs!!!

C: [bitterly] Because I couldn't hold down any job but the most dangerous in Gravesfield.

---

P: What targets?! We were heroes!

P: If you had just stayed, if you had never listened to that witch, we still would be!!

P: Did she say I'd be better off without you?! Is that how she convinced you to leave?!

C: [low, serious] No.

C: I... [ashamed] ...I made up my mind before I met Evelyn.

C: I had already decided you were better off without me.

C: [intense] She's the reason I'm still here to discuss it with you.

P: [shocked, unsettled, doesn't want to process that]

P: That...that can't be true! Everything was fine until she came along!! This was all her fault!!

P: You'd still be normal if it weren't for her!!!

C: [angry on Evelyn's behalf] No!!! I was never normal!!!!

C: And you were the only person who couldn't seem to tell!!!

C: [tearing up] It was going to get us both killed, sooner or later!!!

C: *I* was going to get us killed, because I'm like this!! Because *I* can't live a normal life!!

C: I wanted to protect you. To make your life easier than mine had been, but--

P: You were protecting me just fine before you ran away!!!

P: And what's this nonsense about us getting killed?! We were heroes! We saved the whole town from evil!

C: We were never heroes! We weren't saving anyone!

C: We punished people who didn't fit in!

P: Didn't "fit in??"

P: We punished monsters!! Demons who tortured our neighbors!!

P: Any one of those witches would have sacrificed all of Gravesfield to the Devil had we not stopped them!!

C: And what about us, Philip?!

C: Is there anyone in Gravesfield we wouldn't have sacrificed, had the court willed it?!!

C: [crying] We were such hypocrites!

C: The suspicion, the accusations-- it was exactly the way they used to treat us!! We were outsiders, too!!

P: [falters. that kinda gets to him but he wants to pretend it didnt]

C: [miserable] I justified so many awful things to myself. To you.

C: All because I was too scared to see the truth.

C: And once I finally did...I was too gutless to ask you to face it.

C: We were never any better than anyone else.

C: All of it...

C: It was just murder.

P: [not as much conviction] Don't be ridiculous--!

C: Don't be naive!!

P: ...

C: ...

C: ...I am truly sorry, Philip.

C: I'm sorry that I got us into this mess.

C: I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you like I was supposed to.

--

C: I was rash. And stupid. But I only ever wanted to keep you safe.

C: ...I still want you to be safe. I'd hoped you could understand, but...

C: [difficult for her to give up on him] ...if you refuse to listen...there's nothing that I can do.

P: [trying to not want it to be real] ...

[Philip looks conflicted, frustrated, trying to find his anger and righteousness again]

P: I-- rrgh!! You're impossible!!!

[He begins to walk in one direction, pulling at his hair, then suddenly turns on his heel and walks the other way again]

P: [exasperated, tring to convince himself] Literally! This is-- this is all impossible...!

[He buries his face in his hands and plops down on a log with an angry grunt]

[Circe watches him, wondering what he’s thinking now.]

[After he just sits there with his face in his hands for a moment, she slowly approaches and sits carefully next to him.]

P: [he is resting his elbows on his legs. He clasps his hands, uncovering his face, forehead against his intertwined fists.]

P: ...

[shot of Circe looking at him sadly]

–

C: …Are you happy in Gravesfield?

P: [Hands still clasped, his eyes open, looking into the woods] …

C: Philip?

P: [flatly] That doesn’t matter.

C: [Leaning forward, trying to look in his eyes] …It matters to *me*…

[Philip unclasps his hands but remains hunched over. He instead holds his elbows, which still rest on his legs. Does not look at Circe.]

P: [cold] So you say.

[Circe shrinks back]

[the two sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp, and the bare tree branches sway in the breeze above them.]

–

C: [quietly] …are the trials as bad as they used to be?

P: …

P: [even tone] Less frequent.

C: [hopeful] That’s good.

P: … [furrows his eyebrows]

C: Do you still–

P: Yes.

C: [saddened] …

P: I am protecting people.

P: I’ve prevented what happened to you from happening again a dozen times over.

[Circe pales. Philip still is not looking at her.]

P: [clearly bitter about something] I’m *careful.* [seeming more vexed than proud] I’ve done more research than *anyone.*

C: [examining his face] …Research?

P: …

C: [dawning ] Do they *understand* that’s what your doing?

P: [intensely, looking only at the ground] It doesn’t matter. I can prove it.

C: [scared] Philip, are you in danger?

P: [breaks a twig off a branch on the fallen log with his left hand] [curtly] *No.*

P: [looks annoyed at the stick momentarily. passes it to his right hand] Because *I* am not a witch.

P: [slightly hesitant] …obviously.

—-

[Philip starts doodling in the dirt with the twig]

C: [losing patience with his stubborness] Do you honestly still believe that only real witches get accused? Get *punished?*

P: [stops drawing. gives her an angry sideways glance. then glares at the dirt again] …

P: …*Yes.*

P: As long as you do it *correctly.*

C: [furrows eyebrows] ……

[Philip resumes, scratching the dirt more forcefully.]

C: But–

P: Witches die because they are born doomed.

[as he says “doomed,” Philip finishes drawing The Belos Mask with a final, forceful scratch]

C: That’s what we were *told*. That doesn’t mean it’s true.

[Circe looks at Philip, expression somewhere between grim and pleading, but he won’t look up from his sketch]

——

P: [darkly] What does that mean for you, then?

[Circe is taken off-guard]

P: Do your witch-friends know what you used to do?

P: Or are you lying to them, too?

C: I–!

C: …

C: [quieter] …Not all of them know.

P: [snidely] Hmph.

C: [with a bit more conviction] But the ones that *do* know…

C: They know that I was scared. And trying to keep us safe.

C: There are people who understand that I truly thought I was doing the right thing.

C: [guilt] That I would give anything to undo it now…

C: [focusing on Philip again] They trust me, and love me, even though I’ve made…terrible mistakes. Even though I’ll *always* make mistakes.

C: [trying REALLY hard to get through to Philip] *Gravesfield isn’t all there is.*

P: …

[Philip scratches out the doodle forcefully.]

P: [unhappily] Good for you.

—-

[a prolonged beat of silence, save Philip’s stick scraping against the ground as he scribbles slowly, randomly on the spot where the doodle used to be]

C: ...If you want–

[suddenly, Philip throws his stick to the ground and turns to Circe]

P: [frustrated noise] Would you just get this over with already?!

C: [taken aback] What?

P: For Christ's sake, I don’t care what you want anymore!! Just take it!!!

P: You win! Enough with this awful vision!!

C: [baffled] Wha–! I-I’m not–! You still don’t believe that I’m real?!

——-

P: You *can’t* be!

P: [breaking a little] I only *want* you to be real!

P: I *want* you to be *alive*!

P: I don’t *want* to be *alone* any longer!!

P: But you insist on dragging out this awful charade!!

P: [becoming more desperate than angry] Why can’t you just lie to me?!

P: Tell me that you never wanted to leave at all!! That you're back for good! That nothing’s changed!!

P: *Something*– *anything* that’s actually easy to go along with!!! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?!

[Circe looks hurt]

P: Don't I even get to die thinking that I could be reunited with– with you?!

P: [losing steam] …What could you possibly want that you haven’t had the chance to take from me already…?

[a beat. Circe’s expression has closed off considerably. Philip rubs his face for a moment, then looks up again.]

P: Please. Get it over with. Kill me, or whatever it is you came here to do.

P: Or for God’s sake leave me be.

[wide shot of them sitting in unhappy silence]

——

C: [very quietly] …Alright.

[Circe stands, brushes her skirt off. Philip remains sitting, not looking at her]

C: I suppose I’ve done all that I can, then.

P: …

C: I won’t disturb you again.

P: …….

C: I’m still thankful that I could see you one last time.

P: ………..

C: [trying to keep composed] Please…stay safe. Take care of yourself.

P: ……………..

—

C: I love you.

P: …………… … …

C: [offscreen] Goodbye, Philip.

[she walks away]

[a beat passes]

[Philips resolve breaks. As he looks up–]

P: Ca– C.C., I–

[–he realizes he is alone again.]

P: ….

P: [slowly, he stands. brushes his jacket off. walks away.]

[getosbunsblog]

Levi NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He lays there, you leaned against his chest. Plays with your hair or you play with his. Talk about video games and then go for a bath

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hair and horns. He just thinks they look cool. You, he can’t get enough of every single part of you, he feels lucky you even notice him. But if he had to pick I feel like he’s a neck guy. He just loves looking at your neck and collarbones and imagining marking them up with love bites

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I THINK HIS CUM HAS GLITTER, yes you heard me glitter. I think it has a blue iridescent shine to it. Which makes it look really pretty when it drips out of your hole

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hentai? Not after he met you. Definitely jerks off to you and your pictures you post on social media. I don’t think he even likes hentai that much anymore because he can probably only get off to you. We all know he’s a big fat pervert so maybe he takes sneaky pics of up your skirt or you changing, for scientific reasons.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s SOOOOO difficult. Idk if he’s a virgin, but homie is definitely lacking experience. He’s like hella old tho. So he probably isn’t a virgin. But again, still lacking a ton of experience

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You riding but he moves your hips. He has a control issue and he always needs to be in some kind of control. Also doggy. He loves doggy. He will destroy your organs with his cocks in doggy

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s so serious that it’s comical, like if you so much as smile in a goofy way he gets so insecure and insulted

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Blue pubes. And idk man. He might be waxed…..

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s not great at intimacy but he enjoys it and loves the feeling of you being there emotionally as well as physically

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He takes your panties and sniffs them to get off. He wraps them around his painful erections and strokes himself up and down pretending you’re there with him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He likes being degraded. But he still doms, but he also does some degrading back at you. “I can’t believe you’re letting someone like me fuck you” and “you must be a real easy slut if a gross shut in can get in your pants”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed and his bean bag. The tub is a little bit inconvenient

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Jealouslyyyy, is like the biggest one. If u even laugh at mammon he wants to claim you. He’s can’t stand it when you talk to others. Especially lord diavolo. He’s just so perfect and him and Levi are so different

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not hurting you, light hair pulling but he cannot bring himself to even lay a finger on you in a violent manner, he refuses. Even if you beg for it, nope. He’s just too infatuated with you to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He has that snake tongue man, he’s a god at oral. Like better than he is at video games. When you go down on him tho, he takes a while to get comfy. He might cover his face the first few times, but after he knows you aren’t gonna judge him, he’s all cool with being loud and taking his hand away from his face

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends. He most definitely enjoys just having you sit on him and cock warm him, but if you talked with mammon too much that day, or didn’t respond to his text quick enough he will find you. And when he does he’s pumping in and out of you so fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Eh. He feels indifferent to them. He would prefer to take him sweet ass time, but hey he’s not gonna stop u

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jealousy. He will make sure you’re extra loud when he pounds you in his room but he’s not to fond of doing it outside of his or your room. He doesn’t like the risk of someone else seeing you like that

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sadly I think he has the second lowest stamina out of his brothers (after belphie ofc) and that’s not always a bad thing. He’s still a demon and still has a ton of stamina compared to you

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A fleshlight. He he got one that has your skin tone and everything. He’ll use them during fun time. But u have to bring the extra things. He’ll let you do whatever you want. Or if u want him to do anything to you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Horribly inpatient. Not a tease at all. Not slick enough and not enough skill with the ladies. He might try sometimes but he’ll just get embarrassed immediately. Then u need to tend to his wounds

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s the one person louder than mammon. Literally whimpers, moans, yells. The whole nine yards. Even if he’s dominant. He still whimpers and moans like he’s the one getting his insides rearranged

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Idkkkk I know SUB LEVI is a big thing but I think he’s just a shy soft dom, maybe he’ll want you to dom him and degrade him sometimes but he stays in charge for 90% of what happens. Ahem I also am a firm believer in panty stealer levi

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

TWO DICKS. You heard me, two. I think the lower one is 8.5 and the top one is 9.5 roughly. And in his demon form the tip becomes a dark blue

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s so ducking horny, you breathe, he’s hard. You bend over, he’s hard. You say his name in a sweet tone, he’s hard for hours. He’s a total perv. He’s just a shy little perv.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not fast. You’re long asleep before he even does. He’s probably playing on his Nintendo switch lol

[evercelle]

Who or what were your art inspos throughout the years?

i've always been a huge fan of ryoko kui! i even own some of the original dayderam hours from the harta issues (': her mastery of anatomy, panelling and comedic timing is self-evident on every page of dunmeshi, but i also think the great love that goes into the worldbuilding is wonderful... and the way she reverse on a dime from comedy to horror is sooooo good and yummy

i also really admire yuko ota (johnny wander, barbarous) and kamome shirahama (witch hat atelier) for same or similar reasons! all their comics are beautifully composed!!

i've only gotten to know them in the last few years but my friend mim (@/rouwan on twt) makes such gorgeous paintings and comics, i look at them all the time :)c

[jainiss]

hello!

bringing an oneshot where you meet zoro, ace, buggy and mihawk, from one piece, thru your adventures. You don't know exactly who you like the most, but then, one of them catch your eye.

- I did the pros and cons and who you choose, with each one of them. -

Hope you guys like it ~~

Ps: forgive me if there are english mistakes. English is not my native language.

Ps2: all fictional.

You had embarked on a grand adventure through the Grand Line, seeking not just treasure but also love. As you sailed the vast ocean, you encountered four intriguing individuals: Roronoa Zoro, Portgas D. Ace, Buggy the Clown, and Dracule Mihawk. Each of them had their own unique charm and quirks.

As your journey continued, you spent time with each of these intriguing individuals, getting to know them better. Each encounter deepened your feelings, making your choice increasingly difficult. It was a journey filled with laughter, danger, and surprises.

a. Choosing Zoro

You think of the pros and cons about Roronoa Zoro:

Pros:

- Strong and skilled swordsman, dedicated to his goals.

- Loyal and protective, willing to sacrifice for his crew.

- His sense of direction might lead to comical situations.

Cons:

- Can be gruff and distant, slow to express his feelings.

- His dedication to training may take precedence over romance.

In the end, your heart led you to Roronoa Zoro. Despite his rough exterior, you saw the depth of his loyalty, the strength of his love for his crew, and the beauty of his dedication to his dreams. You found in him a partner who would stand by your side through thick and thin, even if he occasionally got lost along the way.

With a smile on your face, you confessed your feelings to Zoro, and his stoic expression softened as he reciprocated. Together, you continued your adventure through the Grand Line, knowing that your love would guide you through any challenges that lay ahead.

------

b. Choosing Ace

You think of the pros and cons about Portgas D Ace:

Pros:

- Charismatic and adventurous, with a warm and fiery personality.

- Possesses a powerful Devil Fruit ability (Mera Mera no Mi).

- Willing to go to great lengths to protect those he cares about.

Cons:

- A past filled with danger and enemies.

- His sense of duty to Whitebeard's crew might create conflicts.

As your journey continued, you spent time getting to know each of these captivating individuals. Your heart couldn't help but be drawn to Ace's fiery spirit and his unwavering dedication to his crew. The more time you spent together, the deeper your connection grew.

In the end, your heart led you to Portgas D. Ace. His passionate nature and fierce protectiveness resonated with you on a profound level. You recognized that love with Ace meant embracing a life filled with adventure, danger, and unwavering loyalty.

With a smile on your face, you confessed your feelings to Ace, and he responded with a heartfelt embrace. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing the challenges of the sea and the world with determination and love.

--

c. Choosing Buggy

(just because ❤️)

You think of the pros and cons about Buggy, the Clown:

Pros:

- Brings humor and laughter wherever he goes.

- Unpredictable and adventurous, always up for a good time.

- Carries the potential for comedic situations.

Cons:

- Can be self-centered and unreliable in serious situations.

- His clownish nature might get on your nerves.

As your adventure progressed, you spent time with each of these captivating individuals. Buggy's comical antics, his flair for the dramatic, and his ability to make you laugh won you over. You discovered that beneath his clownish exterior, there was a charm that you couldn't resist.

In the end, your heart led you to Buggy the Clown. His ability to turn even the most dangerous situations into comedic adventures captured your heart. You realized that life with Buggy would be full of laughter and unexpected twists.

With a grin on your face, you confessed your feelings to Buggy, and he responded with an exaggerated and theatrical declaration of love. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing danger and chaos with a smile on your faces.

--

d. Choosing Mihawk

You think of the pros and cons about Dracule Mihawk:

Pros:

- Elegant and mysterious, with unmatched swordsmanship.

- Offers a life of luxury and tranquility in the castle on Kuraigana Island.

- Possesses a calm and collected demeanor.

Cons:

- May prioritize his solitude and fencing over companionship.

- The world's greatest swordsman, which comes with its own set of responsibilities.

As your adventure unfolded, you spent time with each of these captivating individuals. Dracule Mihawk's refined elegance and mastery of the sword drew you in. You discovered the beauty in his solitude and the depth of his knowledge.

In the end, your heart led you to Dracule Mihawk. His aura of elegance and his unparalleled swordsmanship resonated with you on a profound level. You recognized that love with Mihawk meant embracing a life of tranquility and refined passion.

With a gentle smile, you confessed your feelings to Mihawk, and he responded with a subtle but heartfelt acknowledgment. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing the challenges of the world with grace and determination.

Byebye ~

© jainiss ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ