#au where dash finds out really early

[yudamori-art]

kwan's got the spirit he's just a little confused i promise im normal about this show (not)

[katiexpunk]

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that. 

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two. 

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet. 

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office. 

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists. 

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.” 

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits. 

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid. 

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month. 

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts. 

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old. 

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time. 

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++ 

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30. 

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits. 

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you. 

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand. 

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty. 

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking. 

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse. 

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep. 

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place. 

 "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table. 

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked. 

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself. 

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake. 

He’s just another customer. 

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy. 

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible. 

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it. 

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back. 

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it. 

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it. 

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it. 

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented. 

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell. 

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright. 

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you. 

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer. 

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it.  Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot. 

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You. 

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore. 

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip. 

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello. 

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is. 

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that? 

Jesus. 

No. 

He’s just a customer. 

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything. 

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back. 

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan. 

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet. 

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever. 

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone. 

But you don’t call or text. 

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager. 

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type. 

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock. 

Fuck. 

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except – 

Somethings wrong. 

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off. 

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense. 

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight. 

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that. 

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now. 

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.  

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect. 

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two. 

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. 

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened. 

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal. 

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you. 

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind. 

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you. 

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one. 

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need. 

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her. 

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response. 

Rip off the fucking bandaid man. 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.  

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?  

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 

But no. 

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his. 

“Ki–” 

Fuck it. 

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more. 

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral. 

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.  

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. 

Fuck. Yes. 

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more. 

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. 

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots. 

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body. 

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now. 

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby. 

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you. 

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you. 

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More. 

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you. 

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line. 

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away. 

Please, he pleads to himself silently. 

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan. 

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you. 

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing. 

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core. 

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again. 

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste. 

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now. 

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.  

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now. 

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

 “Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him. 

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare. 

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind. 

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time. 

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him. 

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless. 

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.  

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second. 

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him. 

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you. 

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it. 

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own. 

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both. 

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day. 

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with. 

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept. 

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat. 

He wants more. 

And something tells him you do, too. 

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

[starry-bi-sky]

miscellaneous danyal al ghul things

specifically about the danyal al ghul from my post/prompt here and i wanna get my misc. headcanons/thoughts on him (especially in his early stay with the fentons) out here before i make any other danyal al ghul aus

list under the cut because whoops this got longer than i expected. which really i should have expected

the Fentons are unaffiliated with the League, which was perfect for Danny faking his death.

he struggles with empathy. Empathy was not taught nor encouraged while he was with the League, so it's a skill that's been pretty stunted. At 15 he's better at empathizing with people, but he still struggles with it. He's pretty bad at reassuring/comforting people and usually acts as an emotional rubber duck for Sam and Tucker to vent to if need be. He sometimes offers blunt and sometimes mean opinions, especially if its about another person.

Sam and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin, they are however, pretty positive that he used to be part of an eco-fascist cult with a focus on martial arts?? They've been helping him tone down some of his more,,, extreme views on humanity ever since they caught wind of his more extreme ideologies.

He and Sam are still avid environmentalists and feed into each other quite a bit. They spend plenty of time at protests and pestering the school into more eco-friendly options.

Dash is not dead on the sole fact that Danny knew he had to lay low in Amity Park and killing someone was not, in fact, 'laying low'.

he did, however, traumatize him when Dash first tried to bully him. Safe to say, Danny is not bullied at school and neither are Sam and Tucker.

Danny didn't make any friends in his first year at Amity Park. He was surly, grumpy, standoffish, more stubborn than Sam, and pretty self-important about himself. Jazz was trying to teach him against these things, but she is a 12 year old unaffiliated with the League. Danny did not respect her nor listen to a word she said. It wasn't until like, year two that he finally started paying to mind what she was saying and slowly started to improve on himself

Sam approached him first, he rebuffed her quite harshly, and then Danny approached her sometime afterward when he overheard her talking about environmental rights. Sam completely ignored him though when he agreed with her, and Danny had to later learn that he needed to apologize for being rude to her when they first met. He did so eventually, and they started to talk more with Tucker and Sam.

Danny's a bit more reserved than he is in canon, although he steadily learns how to act as a regular teenager when he's out in public. He's a bit more friendlier at least, although when he's around Sam and Tucker he drops the act. He still has a somewhat formal way of talking, it's just become more casual after a lot of ribbing from Sam and Tucker. When he's angry or annoyed he starts talking poshly though.

His humor is relatively the same as in canon, if somehow dryer and more insulting at some points

Those rare moments where he gets really pissed usually ends up with him insulting someone in arabic or any of the other languages he picked up from the league. He is the go-to for Tucker's Spanish homework. (Tucker makes that mistake and learns that Danny is a very strict teacher)

while Danny doesn't view the Fentons as his parents, even five years after living with them, he does respect them to some amount. He respects them enough at least that when Vlad Masters comes sniffing around, he is suitably offended on both Maddie and Jack's behalf. And when he finds out Vlad was the one who tried to kill Jack and tried to tell him to renounce him as his father/parental guardian, danny threw a suitably sharp object at him and insulted him quite horrendously

Vlad still wants him as his kid. In fact perhaps even moreso after this.

Danny trains with Maddie to keep up with his training. It's not quite the same but it prevents him from getting completely rusty

Sam and Tucker know that Danny has a little brother, but nothing else beyond that other than Danny cares about him quite a lot and that he got his facial scar from keeping him safe.

Danny cares about Sam, Tucker, and Jazz quite a bit, but he struggles to convey it. Especially early on when he realized he cared about them and like instinct started being harsher to them and more critical of their actions. This resulted in quite a few arguments with Sam and Tucker and Jazz until he got sat down and told outright that the way he was treating them wasn't okay. It's a process he's still trying to unlearn even at 15. He has become kinder towards them as a result, and has begun looking for what they did right rather than what they did wrong.

He harbors a lot of guilt over how he treated Damian in the League, and its a pretty big conflict he has with himself since he's torn between telling himself it was for the best to make sure Damian survived the League, and feeling like crap over how harsh/critical of Damian he was and realizing that he probably could have come up with a better way of training him despite being a child himself at the time. Danny comes to the realization that more than anything, that he just wants to apologize.

His ghost form, specifically is outfit, is a combination of his hazmat suit and his uniform from the league, and he carries a sword with him. He also doesn't know how to react to Dani, honestly. Although it is fair to say that he figures out she's a clone instantly because of her whole 'I'm your third cousin once removed' thing and he freaks out. She spills the beans pretty quickly after that. And Danny is pretty skittish around her - or the equivalent of skittish. Her being younger than him kinda reminds him of Damian, so he's uncomfortable by her presence but learns to warm up to her.

[melanirana]

Hi! If it's not a spoiler, I was curious about your ocean symphony fiasco Eclipse. What happened to his partner? I'm assuming he had one because he has children, Sun and Moon.

So, before I stat some context about me. I’m Autistic with a dash of ADHD and I really like animals and their biology.

Let’s talk this AU’s Mer biology and mating patterns.   

Mer are pack hunters and live in schools with up to 50 members. Solidary Mers are as rare as they are big, Mers tend to become solidary at a size of roughly 12 meters (39 ft.). The school dynamic of Mers is similar to that of Orcas, the school takes care of the young together. The school plays together, learns together, travels together and hunt together but not as “cruel” as Orcas, however, still efficient.

One difference between Orcas and Mers is the fact that there is no matriarch that leads the group but rather the oldest individual. This individual can either be male or female since both sexes are part of the school. Batchlor groups can from, both male and female, but don’t tend to last longer than two years.

If an individual is separated from its school or lost, they will sing a song unique to its school and its members would respond with the same song, this song is taught to the young very early on. A Mer could be on the other side of the Pacific Ocean and its school on the other, it would still find its way back.

If a Mer is ready to mate the male will separate from its school and find a coral reef where he would settle down and sings his song for a female to hear. Once a female hears his song and is interested, she also separates from her school. She will approach and or observe the Mer before deciding to mate with him or not. If the female decides to mate with the male, she will sing her own song back to him and the courting starts.

The courting process can lats up to a maximum of two months, in this time both mates will display their hunting, scavenging and overall survival skills. During this time, they will also establish an emotional connection through grooming, cuddling, conversations and singing in duets. All this happens before the actual mating.

The mating is just like that of seahorses. The female will develop an egg for a week, then lay the egg and hand it over to the male. From that point the females role in the mating process is finished. Once the egg is laid, she may stay with the male for a couple more days, which is not too common but after the egg is laid, she leaves and returns to her school.

It is highly unlikely that the same two Mers will meet again, whether that is to mate or just a random encounter. Which also helps broadening the genetic gene pool.  

Females do not contribute to the actual raising of their young, just like seahorses, they lay the egg and let the male take care of it, while she can mate again a few months after. That is the reason why Mers have an equally as fast reproduction rate as humans, balancing out the high death rate.

The male will return to his school once he received the egg and protect it. After 40 days the young will hatch. The entire school will help raise it, even the females of the school will help. The young will never meet their mother and they don’t need to, as everything important is thought to them by the school and their father.

Ther is a very rare phenomenon that has not yet been observed by humans and a rumor amongst Mers.

This phenomenon is Mers staying together after mating and raising their offspring together. This is extremely rare, even rarer than twins. In this chase the two Mer that meet to mate stay together and form their own school with their offspring and other young they adopt, that are either abandoned or lost their school/ father, forming a family unit.

Eclipse was lucky to meet his mate. At the time he finally decided to find a mate he was already the biggest, active, Mer at the time. This caused him some problems, manly every Mer was afraid of him because Mer his size tend to be cannibalistic. Another problem was to find somebody close to his size. As the biggest active, second biggest living, Mer that is going to be difficult.

But luckily for him he did find somebody, or rather she found him. This Mer was the sixed biggest living and the eleventh biggest overall. Still a bit smaller than him, length wise, only by a couple of feet and with a slimmer body type. The both of them clicked instantly, Eclipse being the calm goofball and her being the loud goofball.

The two stayed together for four months, which were filled with a lot of cuddles, kisses and goofing around. After Sun and Moons egg was laid their mother stayed with Eclipse for another week before she left. Neither of them wanted the other to leave but “it’s what Mers do” and they can’t go against what Mer are supposed to do.

So they separated. Eclipse had no school to return to and neither did she, so they returned to a live of solidarity. At least for Eclipse it didn’t last too long, as Sun and Moon soon hatched, and Eclipse devoted his live to them since. This allowed him to shove the feeling of loneliness he felt since his mate left to the back of his mind.

Sun and Moon are Eclipses only biological children but not his only children. It was not uncommon for Sun and Moon to leave for reef exploring as two little Mers and coming back as three little Mers. Or coming back as two little Mers and an abandon egg.

Eclipse never said no.

Hope I answered your question :D    

[peachesofteal]

Hello peach hope you're doing well!!

I want to say that I love your writing, i grow too attached to it especially dead disco, you have no idea how it represents my deepest weaknesses and things in me that i never seen written in details that hit the right way, the way that darling is loved and wanted and even cherished by them yet she's so drown in her "what ifs" and worst case scenarios... i don't know if you do requests but my birthday is coming by, and well my birthday aren't the happiest days so every year i act like a workaholic in grieve, so i thought what of darling is like this and both her lovers notice how gloomy and on edge she gets when her birthday approach, how she may fake her birthday dates and never really talk about it when it's one week away...i think it'll hurt good, thanks again! 🩷🤎

⛈️

Hi love! Sorry this is a bit late, if your birthday has already passed, I hope it was okay for you. I usually feel like there’s a raincloud following me around on my own birthday, so I can relate to not enjoying it so much. I hope you like this! 🖤

18+ MDNI brief mention of spanking and praise kink, angst, comfort, emotional issues, Simon is in charge, darling is her own tag-warning / no au / dead disco canon - early relationship

It started with a lie.

A lie you had told months ago, on the patio, glass of wine in your hand. You had been enjoying the summer sun, curled up in your underwear on Johnny's lap, Simon's fingers working circles into the balls of your feet.

"My birthday just passed, actually." Johnny startled underneath you.

"What? How come ye never told us?"

"I don't know..." you swallowed, hard. "We had just started hanging out, I didn't want to make a big deal." The lie is incredible. So many half truths, twisted into something so false.

The reality was, your birthday wasn't for another few months. And you usually didn't make it a big deal, had stopped celebrating it years ago. Once everything started to feel hollow. Once you started to feel like maybe, your birthday really wasn't something to be happy about. Maybe, if you just pretended it didn't exist, it would sting less. Hurt less, when others did too.

"I wish we had known, darling." Simon interrupts your thoughts, and you shrug.

"Next year."

"Is everything alright?” Simon’s hand squeezes yours, drawing your attention from where you’re staring at a book, but not really reading. He can tell. He always can tell. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Your jaw tenses and relaxes with one breath. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” In reality, you were fine. Everything was fine. Johnny was in the kitchen, you were half sprawled across Simon with your paperback. You had a full belly and two doting, loving, warm partners, home, together, in the flat. What more could you want?

It’s hard to explain, the feeling of your impending birthday. The doom spiral that it begins in your heart, the sucker punch that it will deliver the morning of.

The guys don’t even know it’s your birthday, they think it’s not for however long ahead the made up date was.

You can’t decide if it’s worse, or better that you lied. Probably worse.

Will they remember? You never gave them a definite date. Will they push you on it?

You sneak a glance at Simon and realize he’s watching you, studying your micro expressions and picking them apart.

Definitely worse.

You feel awful when you think about how disappointed they’ll be if they find out, how Johnny’s face with twist with sadness, confusion.

You mentally cross your fingers, and hope it never comes up.

Your hopes are drastically dashed the next day, when you come home to a silent flat, Simon sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded.

“Hi?”

“How was your day?” He asks and you shrug.

“Fine.” You peer into the fridge, feigning interest to avoid whatever the fuck is happening at the kitchen table right now. “Where’s Johnny?”

“Out.” Out?

“Out where?”

“On an errand. Come here.” It’s a command, something you recognize now, and your mind goes on red alert, chest rattling with a shaky breath.

Your feet deliver you to him on auto pilot.

“You got something delivered today.” There’s a shiny piece of postcard barely peeking out from his palms, glinting in the kitchen light. “It’s from your dentist.”

“Oh.” You laugh, nervously, scratching your neck because you don’t know what else to do with your hands.

“They wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Since it’s on the fifteenth.”

Fuck.

Your brain splits in two. One half of you wants to double down and assure him it must be a mistake. The other half wants to say you’re sorry, burst into tears and crawl into his lap.

“Darling?”

“Yeah… I uh… it’s uh.” He raises an eyebrow and you trail off, eyes finding the floor, hot shame crawling up your spine to your cheeks.

“Why did you lie?” You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. No words, no lies, no rebuttals… just- a void. Nothing.

The walls feel like they’re ten feet closer to you, squeezing in on all sides, bearing down.

“Hey, hey.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you closer into his body while you suck in a hurried breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t tell him. You don’t want them to know.

“I can’t.” You whisper to your feet, and he strokes a thumb across your pulse point.

“You can’t?” He pushes, like you knew he would. It doesn’t take much for you to fold, and when he squeezes you wrist encouragingly, you break.

“I… don’t like my birthday. So, I lied. I said it was a while ago so you guys didn’t know.”

“Why do you not like it?” You shrug.

“I don’t know. It just always seems so, empty. It makes me sad. When you’re a kid, birthdays are special you know? And then as you get older they just get… worse. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate but I only ever feel alone. I feel like, I don’t know. Like it’s just sad. And not special.” Your lower lip trembles, but you swallow down the lump in your throat, unable to let yourself fall apart, unable to fall beneath the weight. “I can’t explain it but there’s always a pit in my stomach, the morning of, and I can never shake it. It’s not like my previous relationships even really went out of their way to do something, so I… I don’t know.” You cut yourself off from your ramble by biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ward off a tidal wave of emotion.

“I see.” He pauses, and then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “And you were worried you’d feel the same, with us?” You shrug again. “Did you think we’d disappoint you?”

“No!” You blurt. “No, I just- I didn’t want the expectation. I didn’t want-“

“To be let down.” You shake your head with a denial, but Simon only nods, face grave and serious. “You always feel alone on your birthday. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because-“

“Because you don’t trust this yet.”

“That’s not true.”

“You trust us, darling. I know that. Johnny knows that. But trauma is muscle memory. It takes more than a few months with a new relationship to heal the build up of the pain and experiences you’ve been carrying.”

You can feel yourself twisting on the hook of his words. It’s so hard… to believe. To know. To trust but… this. Him and Johnny- you know it’s real. You’re terrified it’s real. It gives you the sweetest dreams and the scariest nightmares.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“That’s alright, love. I’m not angry.” He watching you closely, cradling your jaw when your lip picks back up with it’s quivering. “But I think you need to feel better. I think you’ve been bottling this up for weeks now, haven’t you?” You suck in a deep breath, ragged and raw. You’re buzzing now, feeling too big for your skin, your clothes, your nerve endings rattling inside your body. “Should we sort it out?”

You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Yes, Simon.”

When Johnny waltzes through the front door an hour later with a cake and a dozen balloons, he’s half curious, half elated to see you over Simon’s knee with your pants around your ankles, wide palm smoothing the raw skin of your ass as he hums sweetly to you.

“Shhh, good girl. I know, I know. It’s alright. You did so good for me.” Simon calls over your sniffling. “Johnny, c’mere. I think our girl is ready for her first gift.”

[wheeboo]

meet cute: the coffee shop | joshua hong

SYNOPSIS. in which you choose to go to the coffee shop for a solo date, not expecting to be trapped inside from the weather with the cute barista. PAIRING: joshua hong x gn!reader GENRE: fluff, meet cute, first meetings, implied college au WARNINGS. none WORD COUNT. 2.1k

notes: welcome to your meet cute with joshua!

← MEET CUTE MASTERLIST for the 1k celebration !

...the coffee shop!

There was one you always went to whenever you wanted to go somewhere to study or to relax. It was slightly farther away than where you live, but there was just something about this specific one you love that you didn't want to go to any other ones. It was the first place you discovered when passing by the city at the beginning of your hectic life.

Glancing out your bedroom window, your face lights up to the sight of the early afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the city. There's a scatter of thin cotton-white clouds drifting across the skies, and without a second thought, you quickly pack your laptop, a notebook and pen for any spark of inspiration, and headphones before dashing out the door.

There's a spring in your step as you head towards the bus stop nearby. The sun's warmth embraces you as you patiently wait for the bus to pull up at the stop. Once it arrives, you settle into a seat near the window and watch the cityscape glide by as the sunlight dances on the buildings.

After a pleasantly short ride, you step off the bus and make your way to the coffee shop just a few blocks down. Upon entering, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greets you like an old friend. It's been a while since you've last been here, but the comfortable familiarity immediately brings a smile to your face.

You take your place in line, and as you wait, you take in the sights around you. It was way less busy than you expected, and you notice some people engrossed in their own books or laptops with a respective drink next to them. It's quiet and peaceful, just the way you like it.

"Hey, welcome to Pledis Coffee, what can I get for you today?" are the words that greet you when the person before you walks away to find a seat. As you bring your gaze back to the front, you didn't expect to be welcomed with an unfamiliar man and perhaps the most charming smile you've ever seen.

"Um..." You clear your throat and cast your eyes briefly down to his nametag𑁋his name is Joshua, you read𑁋before glancing back up at him, feeling some warmth in your face and your words catch annoyingly in your throat. So instead of saying your order, you impulsively blurt out, "Uh, what do you recommend?"

The question falls from your lips so quickly before you can act, and you suddenly feel stupid because you knew exactly what you wanted to order the moment after you said it.

You notice the way his brows quirk up, almost like your question had caught him off-guard as well. He appears to think for a moment, lips forming a smooth, thoughtful line. But when he brings his eyes back to you, there's a slight smirk to his face.

"Hmm, well, how about I surprise you?" he asks instead, and his voice is so clear and light, yet playful.

He wants to... surprise you? It's not something you're used to when it comes to ordering, but there's a certain look in Joshua's eyes that makes you cave. You nod, a small smile playing at your lips.

"Sure," You reply boldly, curiosity piqued as your straighten up your posture. "I like surprises." (You really don't, but for the sake of this moment, you guess you do.)

Joshua's smile widens, and it's almost as if the coffee shop brightens as well. "One surprise coming up then. Anything else I can get for you?"

You shake your head slightly, managing to return his smile. "That's it, thank you."

"Okay. And can I get a name for your order?"

"Y/N."

With a nod, Joshua finishes inputting your order, and you're momentarily lost in his focused gaze. He retrieves a slip of your receipt from the printer and hands it to you with another smile𑁋his eyes even smile as well.

"Feel free to find a seat. I'll bring your order to you," he tells you, gesturing with his eyes to the empty seats of the coffee shop.

You flash him one last grateful shy smile, feeling a flutter in your chest as you take the slip of paper from his grasp and hide it from your eyes' view.

You settle into a seat at the corner next to the window. The sunlight filtering through bathes the surface of your table in a pleasant glow. You set up your laptop and notebook, along with connecting your headphones before scrolling through your endless playlists and setting on one that sets the mood.

Some time later, you spot Joshua at the corner of your eye making his way around other tables with a tray in hand. His eyes find yours, and that charming smile lights up his face as he approaches where you sat. He places a steaming coffee mug and a plate with a cinnamon roll before you on the table. The sun rays pouring inside cast a glow on the soft features of his face.

"Here's your surprise," he says, voice carrying that same warm and friendly tone, yet with a hint of playfulness.

As you take a closer look of what's in the cup, your eyes widen to the intricate latte art on its surface, seemingly depicting a delicate flower with petals unfolding in the creamy foam. It's breathtaking, and you're almost reluctant to drink it.

"Woah, this is... amazing." Your eyes linger on the cup, mouth still agape. "How did you do this?"

Joshua just shakes his head, voice carrying a hint of tease. "It's not a surprise anymore if I share the secret, you know."

You grin, feeling a slight blush creeping into your cheeks at being caught in your curiosity. "Fair enough, I won't pry then."

He winks playfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I'm impressed, really. I've never seen anything like this," You tell him. "You really have a knack for this."

His cheeks turn a faint rosy hue, and he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Thanks." Then he clears his throat, "The cinnamon roll is freshly baked and on the house too, so I hope you enjoy that as well."

He’s... giving you a cinnamon roll for free? "I definitely will, thank you."

As Joshua turns to leave, you can't help but steal a few more glances in his direction as he goes back behind the counter to tends to other customers.

With your drink in one hand and a fork in the other, you take a savoury bite of the cinnamon roll, which melts easily in your mouth. Although still hesitant to ruin the latte art, you take a sip of the coffee. The flavours are smooth and rich, with hints of caramel and a subtle floral pinch that lingers on your tongue that you can't help the quiet mmh leaving your lips at the taste, to which Joshua catches sight of at the side with a small, proud smile.

Then you set off to work on your laptop, putting on your headphones and silently bopping to the music filling your ears.

Time seems to pass quickly, indicated only by the subtle shifts of the light filtering through the windows. The sky outside gradually darkens with thick clouds, casting a muted, dusky tint over the scenery. However, you remain blissfully unaware of the transforming weather and the people around shooting frequent glances down at their phones, only engrossed in putting your imagination to words and occasionally sipping the remains of your coffee and cinnamon roll.

At some point, you notice the gentle tapping sound against the windows growing louder. Finally looking up from your laptop, your brows furrow to the raindrops sliding down the glass. There's a soft drizzle outside, the roads glistening as if painted with a wet sheen. You check the time and notice that it's been quite a while since you arrived at the coffee shop.

And you realise that you did not bring a damn umbrella with you.

Then just like on cue, the rain's intensity suddenly increases, and a low roar of thunder makes you jump in your seat. You watch as people hurry by outside, pulling up their hoods and opening umbrellas of their own. Well, you definitely did not expect for the weather to take this turn, and you contemplate whether to wait or make a run for it and hope you don't get too soaked.

Groaning quietly, you pack up your laptop and belongings and stand up, lingering behind a small crowd of other people also trying to leave to the coffee shop. However, you take a pause in front of the door, biting your lip in contemplation.

"You don't have an umbrella, do you?" A familiar voice from behind makes you sigh in response, and you look back to see Joshua wiping down the front counter.

You offer a rueful smile. "I didn't exactly expect a rainstorm today."

Joshua chuckles softly, setting aside the cloth he was using and walking over to you. "Seems like we're in the same boat then."

He glances at your worried expression𑁋at the way your shoulders slump disappointedly and how your eyes dart to the rain outside as if trying to coerce the rain into stopping. His playful smile softens into a thoughtful one, and he takes a step closer to you.

"Tell you what," he begins. "I'm just finishing up with my shift, so we can wait a bit until it calms down. And I have a jacket which is better than nothing, so..."

"Ugh, but I have to get to the bus stop. I don't really live close to here."

"Then I can take you to the bus stop."

You turn to him, surprised. "You'd do that? But what about you?"

Joshua shrugs. "I can always grab a taxi or run or something. Plus, I don't live too far from here anyway. But I don't want you to get soaked."

Though taken aback at first, you feel some weight lift off your shoulders and your heart bloom with warmth at his offer.

"I... I'd appreciate it, thank you," You murmur sheepishly.

He waves it off casually. "It's no problem at all."

You stand near the counter as Joshua finishes up the remains of his shift, even conversing with him while keeping an eye on the rain. He tells you he's studying in education in hopes of becoming an elementary school teacher, or his other potential dream of opening his own café one day, and you find the thought so adorable. When you tell him you're studying literature, he gives you the casual I knew it, you give off those vibes eye roll.

When his shift finally comes to an end, he hangs his apron on a hook and grabs his own jacket before making his way over to you. As you glance out, you notice the rain had become significantly lighter.

"Looks like it calmed down." Then he turns back to you with his jacket in hand. "Ready to head out?"

You give a nod. "Yeah."

With Joshua by your side, you both walk out into the light rain. Just as you step outside, he removes his jacket and holds it above your heads, creating a makeshift umbrella with a chuckle.

You both share a laugh as you huddle close under Joshua's jacket-umbrella, your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk together. There's still some droplets that manages to stain your clothes and face, but being next to him makes the rain less of a bother.

When the bus stop comes into view, you feel your heart sink at the thought of parting ways with him soon. He brings his jacket down to the side once you both settle underneath the shelter with some other people approaching, strands of his dark hair dampened from the rain. You both let out a synchronised breath of relief.

"Thank you," You tell him, keeping your voice low. "for everything today, by the way."

He gives you a smile, a sight you wish to see more. "Of course. Glad I could be of help."

The rain continues to drizzle lightly, and you find yourselves standing close together under the shelter of the bus stop. Time ticks by as you engage in casual conversation, sharing small snippets of your lives, before the sound of a bus coming to a halt breaks your attention away.

You glance at him hesitantly. "Guess that's my cue to leave."

There’s a bittersweet look to Joshua’s face. "Looks like it."

The bus brakes hiss softly and the door swings open, some people pushing past you to get on. With a final, reluctant look at Joshua, you turn toward the doors. But just as you're about to step into the bus, a hand gently catches your arm, causing you to turn back to him with surprise.

"Wait, Y/N," Joshua calls out. "Before you go, could I maybe get your number? I'd... like to see you again."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you barely have time to fully process as an eager grin spreads across your face. You're both quick to pull out your phones and exchange contact information before your feet whisk you away onto the bus.

The door closes behind you, and you sit in a seat closest to the window. You glance down at Joshua, and he gives you a small wave. You wave back, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

And as the bus starts to pull away, you sink down in your seat with a contented sigh.

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send an ask, reply, or dm to be added to the taglist !

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[star-vessel1237]

What I’m made of... (Metal Sonic!Yuu )

Summary: What if Yuu was a clone of Metal Sonic? Chaos that involves a group of first years, a cat (kinda), and a somewhat overpowered robot.

Warning: Curse words, long post

(A/N: I ran a poll to see if you wanted a clone version or the actual version of Metal Sonic and the clone got picked. Either way, I’m going to be having fun writing this one. Now, onto the AU!)

So as for what kind of clone they are, Metal!Yuu is a clone made by G.U.N. to try and combat Metal Sonic and any future Eggman threats (Alt. option could be modified Phantom Ruby clone, but this makes more sense)

Either way, they have the strength and most of the powers of Metal Sonic along with a copy of his memories, but their unfinished and have none of the original Metal’s personality, if any at all

Metal!Yuu in other words is “an unfinished project”

The reason why they are unfinished (and thus not having all of Metal Sonic’s powers) is because they were made half-way through the war during Sonic Forces

They were sent for early field testing, but didn’t come back, deeming them a failure

But really they got isekaied to Twisted Wonderland by being hit by a carriage

When they got there, they immediately reawakened when Grim was burning the coffin to get out

Metal!Yuu broke down the door with ease and didn’t give Grim the time of day, their directive more set on finding out where they were

Grim only managed to catch up to them because they tripped on their robes (their only 3′3″ for pete’s sake)

Either way they were found by Crowley and were forced to go to the Mirror Chamber

Some of the students were a little confused, there was one more student and it seemed they were shorter than Heartslabyul’s housewarden

But then...

“Somebody, stop that raccoon!” That was all they needed to hear. The “lost student” then rushed out of the room, a cobalt blur picking up speed, as they dashed out of the chamber doors. Azul and Riddle being affected the most of the back lash of wind that followed after the “student” rushed past them.

“What in the world!” Azul exclaimed as the wind finally passed.

Crowley was perplexed by what he just saw, but was even more so when they saw the “student’s” ceremonial robes thrown to the floor. While most did take up a fuss about the action, their complaints about the mysterious first-year was quickly shut as they returned to the Mirror Chamber. In the same cobalt blur in wind that passed them, they heard the yelling of Grim as he was forced onto the floor and all of the students and staff got a good look at this new “student”.

When they were expecting a small human, it was instead a strange blue metalic looking robot. While small that didn’t make it look anymore dangerous as they held the small creature to the ground.

“W-well,” Crowely stuttered out, “you certainly are, unique.” The strange student let out a strange sound as if to respond. There were then screams heard as the whole chamber erupted into the chaos of yelling and questions.

Everyone had to be calmed down after the incident in the mirror chamber

Crowley also had to force Metal!Yuu and Idia into his office to figure out their origins, since you know, Metal!Yuu can’t really talk

Either way, Metal!Yuu ends up staying at Ramshackle in which they get along with the ghost, after they were convinced by said ghost to not blow up a new hole in the dorm

They also made Ace scared when they took the fireball that was flung at the Queen of Hearts statue like a champ, not even a burn mark was on their exterior

They’re just very good at being intimidating despite their small size

But when people started learning more about them, Metal!Yuu was actually quite harmless. Best described as both a dedicated machine that’ll follow any task and a curious soul who wants to learn more about the world around them (A child, they have the mentality of a child)

Metal!Yuu also “talks” via pencil and notebook, gestures (They're quite expressive), and sign language, until they get a voice box that is

Ace: Hey, what do we even call you anyway. I mean Metal’s cool and all, but I bet it’s tiring getting called someone-else’s nickname.

Metal!Yuu: *Makes a ‘kind of’ gesture with their hand*

Deuce: Well, have any ideas.

Metal!Yuu: ...

Metal!Yuu: *Writes down their deiced name in their notebook before showing it to the Braincell Duo and Grim*

Grim: Y-U-U. Yuu? Really, couldn’t have come up with something better.

Ace: Yeah, gonna have to agree with Grim here. Little boring don’t you think.

Metal!Yuu: *frustrated noise*

Deuce: Well if you like it. *sticks out hand to shake* It’s nice to properly meet you, Yuu?

Metal!Yuu: *Happy noise as they shake Deuce’s hand*

Bonus before closing off, they become the most close to Ortho as both try to find themselves and experience life

Okay, I’ll write more about this AU when I feel up for it since it’s the dead of night now. Either way hope you enjoy the AU!

[notasapleasure]

WIP ask meme

@stripedroseandsketchpads tagged me in this. And oh my god. If you think there are Too Many Words in the fic I publish, you should see my poor notes app. Here is a sneak peek of its contents. I haven't edited for brevity/those I'm actively working on, these are just all the unfinished files I could find. Some I don't intend to do any more with, others I'd really like to pick up again. The only ones being actively worked on right now are the Andor Saga AU and the first one on the list for Andor.

I put ALL the Lymond I could find in mainly for @oughtaagh who has been leaving the most lovely comments on my Lymond fics that I have totally failed to respond to. I'm sorry! I will cycle back round to Lymond one day, it's inevitable <3

Tagging uh.... @distressednoise, @r0b0tb0y, @faceofpoe, @donnaimmaculata, @batri-jopa, @elwenyere, @notabuddhist and anyone else who wants to say I tagged them! Also sorry if you'd already been tagged, I'm not keeping up with the dash very well at the moment!

Anyway please send me asks/comments/cease and desist orders about these. xxx

ANDOR

C: We decided we were thirsty, and you wanted to go to Cavo's. As yet untitled Brassian alternative scene - what if instead of a great collaborative cover story this was a great collaborative fuck? Almost(?) finished?

Saga AU pt 2. This actually does have a working title of 'The Bear and the Berserk' but this doc is just a short bullet point list of plot things for a specific part of the fic.

Cassian pov. It's a Cassian pov chapter! For...drumroll...the first chapter of the Saga AU pt 2! The rest is going to be back to Brasso FPN. The file actually includes a rough first draft of chapter 2, as well.

"You're up early this morning," Bix says lightly. A follow-up chapter to Only Ever Just One Night started back when I had epic plans for continuing this, bringing in Cinta and Vel and Luthen, whumping the hell out of Brasso, and having Cassian rescue him. This is just one scene of awkward conversation with tea though.

Oh god it developed Plot. Related to the previous chapter - a bullet-pointed list of things that might have happened in this fic I Wil Not Write (not least as I'd rather just see what happens in S2 first anyway).

AND THEN WE DANCED

It was a sunny day in Batumi... Patchy few paragraphs of the next chapter of Inchoate.

Plannnnns (again). Plans for how Inchoate would/will continue.

THE LYMOND CHRONICLES

Canon-verse/other AUs

Multiple pieces of follow-up to The next man with a ladder, Danny/Jerott post-canon: It was dark when they rode into the port town... [Chapter 3, basically done, plus most of Chapter 4 but it devolves into broken paragraphs at the end]. "I'm going to the other bed," Danny said in a voice like someone was standing on his throat... [??? there's loads of this written! This is the file where they Get Down To It] Stitch the scenes together [a few paragraphs in which I hoped to make a logical leap from Chapter 4 to fucking, but seemingly never quite got there].

Lymondar saga draft. Actually two files of the abortive first effort at writing a saga AU. I was trying much harder to write in saga style and playing with lacunae in a way that was fun for me but exceedingly nerdy. I think I found the idea more fun than the execution, too.

St Seb. Remember ages ago when I was writing a post-canon 'Jerott gets shot full of arrows and has to admit his feelings because he thinks he's gonna die' fic? This is the file! Some bullet points and some text, some of which I even posted as Sunday sixes way back when iirc.

Fait prosperer qui n'est à croire vain. Fuck me, there's LOADS of this. Pawn in Frankincense/Ringed Castle AU where Marthe steals Lymond's ride with Kiaya Khatun and persuades her they should take over Russia together. Meanwhile Francis is left with Jerott. Hahaha. It kept getting longer because Francis kept trying to escape and I kept finding ways to drag him back, but the 'and now kiss!!' with the two of them behaving in character was just not coming easily.

Francis Crawford's Holistic Inquisition Agency. I wrote this??? One chapter of a Lymond/Dirk Gently AU, where Francis is obviously Dirk and Jerott is a furious/bemused Todd.

She tried every instrument, she redrew every chart. A few short chapters, never finished, of Marthe wrestling with her role in canon and her fate as assigned by La Dame. A couple more paragraphs of a similar sort of thing in Volos.

Malta. Half-arsed few paragraphs of wondering how Jerott would cope with meeting a fellow Knight being imprisoned for sodomy.

Band AU (my 1980s rock band AU for the series, see also @theartistknownaslymond)

Au of an Au. What if, after the Battle of the Bands at Solway, Jerott went to stay at the Edinburgh townhouse for a while and he and Francis got to collaborating in the shed? There's quite a lot of this and it's quite fluffy.

Out out out! The band celebrate Thatcher's downfall. Happy epilogues for everyone! However it's an epic task trying to do all the characters justice, so I was trying to write it as vignettes to match each song on the playlist. Six-ish are written. And earlier draft with plan for characters intercting is in Ding dong the witch is dead.

Jerott/Marthe - four times it just about worked, one time it really didn't. What it says on the tin? aka you just know Jerott has said 'Francis' instead of Marthe at least once when he comes. Only the beginning of the first time exists in this chapter, but I think I explored the idea elsewhere, whenever I dig up that file...

DWTH missing scene. Jerott/OC missing scene from Don't wake the house. Not finished, probably not going to be finished. I think I have enough Jerott smut on the go.

Workshop. Patchy draft of pre-canon Jerott and GRM 'therapy' session in which GRM learns about Francis Crawford and what a hold he has on the boy he thought of as his own plaything. GRM doesn't like sharing.

F/P. Draft of a fluffy kiss prompt someone (@erinaceina? @notfromcold?) sent for Francis/Philippa. Post-canon pregnant Philippa and worried Francis written when it was too hot in summer. It's probably complete enough to post tbh! hmu if you want it posting.

Jerott behaving badly (again). Somehow this ended up in the 'comfortember' section of the notepad, which...no? Maybe it was intended to be originally, but it grew a life of its own. Post-canon, post split-up with the OC, pre-getting together with Danny. Joining the mile high club and regretting it, then ending up crashing at Joleta's (who he meets coincidentally at the airport, NOT who he's screwing in the airplane loo!!). It's meant to end up cathartic, but didn't get finished :') I'm actually really pleased with what I have - post-canon Joleta is so much fun to write!

Somewhere (Google Drive?? an actual Word doc??) there is also loads and loads and LOADS of Pawn in Frankincense band AU around Baron Morgan's place (the Aga Morat), featuring fucked-up Francis/Morgan, fucked up Marthe/Kiaya, fucked up Francis/Kiaya, and bewildered cold turkey Jerott. There's also some Jerott/Marthe from later on.

Other

Crossover. A sequel to my ATWD fic I will shake mountains, where Merab and Irakli encounter celebrity diners in the restaurant they work in: respected musician Francis Crawford and friends take the boys for a drink and share queer/artistic inspiration/history with them. There's quite a lot written but I couldn't quite manage to finish it off.

St Mary's. Another ATWD/Lymond crossover, placing Merab and Irakli among the mercenaries of St Mary's. Mostly bullet points.

3m. Furious that there was no fic for the film Three Months I decided to jot down a scene I wanted to see afterwards. I wrote four lines and cannot remember what my plan was at all.

[tinkerbelle05]

The Way They Love Their Drinks

Characters: Neteyam, Lo’ak, Ao’nung, GN!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 760

Summary: Headcanons about these characters’ hot drinks. Modern AU, aged-up characters. Think like early 20’s

Warning: none :)

Tags: @love-me-a-good-prompt, thank you for write such a creative prompt.

Taglist & Masterlist

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Neteyam

In general, Neteyam loves coffee with 3 sugars and one cream

He attempted to drink it black like Jake but he couldn't take the bitterness and briefly feared for his father’s sanity

He loves coming to your apartment to make it because “your coffee machine is just so much better what can I say?”

He wasn’t wrong. The coffee machine was a house warming gift from your mother. It was one of those fancy coffee makers that you didn’t know exactly how it work with all of its different functions and buttons.

Sometimes, if it’s a calm day you will put on a random playlist of songs you both like and he’ll make the coffee.

But mostly Neteyam likes to have his coffee after his morning run with you and drinks outta that one cup you brought from a souvenir shop a decade ago

He has grown weirdly attached to the cup too. Like he wouldn’t drink any coffee if it wasn’t out of that cup and would spend an ungodly amount of time looking for it

It’s weird but you find it cute how childish he could be

Especially when he’s so mature about everything else in his life

Once in a while, he’ll drink hot chocolate with whip cream and a dash of cinnamon to top it off

If it’s a chilly day outside and you guys were inside, just enjoying the other’s company. The relaxed atmosphere added with the warm sugary drink made everything just feel right

It’s one of Neteyam’s favorite days, where he could just be, just exist

Whenever he drinks hot chocolate, he’ll get a whipped cream mustache that you’ll tease him about even after he licks it off his mouth

Lo’ak

Hot chocolate lover all the way

He’s only drinking tea if he’s sick, and coffee if he’s exhausted

And you know it’s bad if he’s drinking coffee because of how much he hates the taste against his tongue

No matter how much creamer, milk, or sugar he puts into the drink, it retains its bitter taste. He has no idea how his parents or Neteyam can drink it with no problem. Every time he wonders about their sanity

On your 2nd date, you and him stumbled into this Mom and Pop store that sells unique flavors of hot chocolate

You were hesitant to try it just like you were hesitant to go on a date just aimlessly walking until something “feels right”

Lo’ak, however, went right up to the counter with no hesitation with a smile on his face and ordered based on what “sounded good”

He ordered Fluffernutter hot chocolate with peanut butter and marshmallow inside while he got you a Red Velvet hot chocolate. It was the only “tame” options on the chalk board menus that decorated the walls of the homey shop

He was impulsive like that. Something you love and hate about him because how many situations he gets in

Surprisingly the drinks were really good. While the thought is definitely something people would protest, somehow it tastes heavenly

The red velvet and the hot chocolate flavors mix deliciously in your mouth together

The shop easily became a go-to for the both of you

Sometimes Lo’ak goes alone to get some peace and quiet or just needs a pick me up in the form of warm mug filled with sweetness

Ao’nung

You would be surprised but he loves himself some tea

Blame his mother for the addiction

Whenever his family was sick with something his mother would go into the kitchen and make some tea for them to drink

It worked like magic everytime

Though eventually, Ao’nung found himself drinking tea even if he wasn’t sick. His favorite is green tea because of how calming it is and the health benefits too

When he drinks the warm beverage, the warmth travels down his throat and soothes him to his very soul

Takes him back to a simpler time when he could be himself unapologetically, and all of these expectations weren’t suffocating him

He will die before he lets anyone knows because he knows it’s not what people think of him

And he cares what people think about him but when you found out

People make assumptions about him and when they think of him, college basketball player, it’s not a tea drinker. Maybe a energy drink after a long game to regain energy but not green tea to calm his nerves

You were in this little shop that sells teas, loose and bagged ones one day. Then you saw him carrying a shopping basket with tea boxes filled to the brim walking into the aisle you were randomly wandering in

He tried to avoided you but you quickly caught up to him. You were friends with his sister Tsireya and became sorta-friends with Rotxo, so you guys were used to being in the same room.

When he told you why he was in the shop, you didn’t judge him nor laugh at him like Ao’nung expected you to. You were surprised he loved tea because he didn’t seem like the type to

You two have been a lot closer through your shared love for tea. Trading secrets, giving recommendations, trying out new tea shops or restaurants together, sometimes with friends and sometimes just you two

Because of this new found connection, you guys got a lot closer in terms of friendship. Ao’nung let you in on why he felt the need to shut this part of himself out, to not let anyone but family and close friends know

It was hard work and there were many setbacks but eventually, you helped Ao'nung get to a place where he didn't care about what others thought of him. Not caring if they thought that his interest or hobbies fitted the cookie-cutter mold they put him in.

Eventually, those outings grew from friendly hangouts to romantic dates

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Like, comment, reblog, see ya in the next one 👋🏿

[gayerfurtherfaster]

Excuse me but I just had a vision of an M9 early 00s College!AU where they all work at a pizza delivery place called Za-Dash!, heavy on the Beauyasha.

Molly is the manager who’s a little too freewheeling with his responsibilities but is also a master at talking people into add-ons and impulse buys.

Caleb is supposed to work the front counter but is constantly using the office computer, monopolizing the DSL internet to update his Livejournal and fresh his Friend’s List, like, all the time. But he’s also really good at finding weird memes that entertain everyone.

Jester works the front counter, prank calling customers who don’t tip between taking actual delivery orders. She’s also notorious for writing things on the customer labels like “old man with weird face” and “stinky lady” on the carryout orders.

Fjord is the pizza cook with a pizza cutter that looks mysteriously similar to a falchion and loves to shout Eldritch Blast! whenever he pulls something out of the wood-fired oven.

Nott is the assistant manager with a soda cup that’s always half-loaded with some mixture of soda and Wild Turkey. No one minds because she’s also successfully prevented hold-ups on three separate occasions: once by wielding a kitchen knife in a menacing manner, once by throwing herself over the counter and convincing the would-be perpetrator that she had rabies, and once by clocking the robber in the head with a napkin dispenser just before they reached the door.

Beau is a delivery driver in her trusty mid-90s midnight blue Ford Ranger pick-up truck. The back window is plastered with stickers for Riot Grrl bands like Bikini Kill, Sleater-Kinney, L7 and Jack off Jill.

Yasha’s the other delivery driver, her arrival always punctuated by the rumble of the engine on her classic 1970 Mustang, black with a white racing stripe right down the middle, a silver lightning bolt dangling from the rearview mirror.

(Lately, when they both go out on deliveries at the same time, it takes a little longer than usual. Nott recently noticed Beau’s shirt was on inside-out when she finally came back and Jester straight up called out a stretch of newly formed hickeys Yasha seemed to be hiding behind her hair.)

[direwombat]

like clockwork, another wip wednesday rolls around

tagged by @euryalex @gaeadene, @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @adelaidedrubman, @ivymarquis, and @g0dspeeed (tysm lovelies~ i will rb your wips momentarily <3)

Tagging: @strangefable , @jillvalentinesday , @voidika , @aceghosts , @purplehairsecretlair , @henbased, @poetikat, @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @cassietrn , @confidentandgood , @wrathfulrook , @josephslittledeputy , @madparadoxum , @clonesupport, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @strafethesesinners, @deputyash, @schoute, @harmonyowl, and anyone else with a wip they want to share (also to be officially added to/removed from the taglist please like/reply to this post!)

i'm feeling generous so here are two wips: one for the werewolf au and one for katc because i've been doing my best to work on both at the same time :) everything is subject to change since these are still early drafts but they're mostly coherent

here's something from the horror and the wild, where syb is skedaddling from the veterans center :)c

Her scowl returns and she flips him off before tossing the map on top of her dashboard and rolling up her window. She throws her truck back into gear, and clumsily swings a three point turn to set her back down the road she drove in on. Jacob, at the very least, has the courtesy to step out of her way before she has the opportunity to spitefully run his foot over. 

She grits her teeth, her hands alternating between clenching and releasing the steering wheel while she creeps back down the road. Her left knee bounces while she keeps her foot lightly pressed against the accelerator, resisting the urge to speed away. 

Maybe kick up some dirt in his face for good measure. 

But when she glances up into her rear-view mirror, her heart stutters in her chest and her limbs lock in place. Framed by the sinister gates and standing directly beneath the arching letters, Jacob Seed watches her retreat with his arms crossed over his broad chest. She’s too far away to make out any facial expression, but she’s almost positive he’s smirking. 

She takes her eyes off him in favor of following the slight curve of the dirt road, but as she does — as the angle of her rear lights changes, she swears she catches something flashing in her rear-view mirror. It’s so fast, so sudden, but if she didn’t know any better, she would have said Jacob’s eyes were reflecting like an animal’s.

But when her eyes dart back up to catch his shrinking reflection, there’s nothing strange to be seen. 

Just a man, watching her take her leave from his property. 

The road continues to curve, and it isn’t long  before he eventually disappears behind the trees. 

She breathes out a sigh of relief, and continues along until she reaches an intersection with one of the main, paved roads. Pulling over, she takes a moment to press her forehead to the top of the steering wheel, allowing the tension to melt away. 

Christ, that was fuckin’ creepy.

Lifting her head and raking her fingers through her hair, she puffs out her cheeks and heaves another sigh. “Alright, c’mon, get yourself together,” she mutters to herself. She punches her overhead light back on and drags the map — right side up — back onto her lap. The thick, plastic-y paper crinkles loudly as she searches for the old Veterans center. Once she finds it, she taps her finger against it to hold its place and looks for Forest Road 135. 

Jesus, she really missed the mark, and she grimaces when she notices the clock on her dash reads just past 9:30 pm. 

Fuck, Eli must be worried. 

Part of her considers driving back to his place; they can check in on Chad in the morning. But she told him she would, and she’s a woman of her word. 

Gingerly, she traces her finger along the roads leading from the Veterans Center. It crawls down the map — take a left onto the main road, hook right, then left, and then Chad’s place should be on a small dirt road somewhere on her right. She goes over the path a few times, committing it to memory before turning off her interior light and folding up the map. 

Just as she makes that first turn onto the main road, the clear, distinct sound of a wolf’s howl rings out into the night, followed by an echoing chorus. It isn’t an uncommon sound up here in the mountains — there have been many nights with Eli where she’s woken up in the middle of the night and stayed up listening to them sing. 

Normally, she finds the sound to be beautiful. But tonight, she just finds it haunting. 

Her eyes dart to the treeline, keeping an eye out for any animals that may come bounding across her path just as much as she pays attention to the road itself. Dark shapes move in the shadows, entirely hidden from her despite the brightness of her high-beams. The hair prickles at the back of her neck and her breathing suddenly goes ragged. 

Her gut, animal instinct is screaming at her to move faster. She’s being followed. Stalked.

Hunted.

and here's some some of syb getting rescued by jerome from katc :)

Somewhere in the Holland Valley. 10:34 pm.

While not entirely accurate, to say that Sybille feels like she’s been hit by a bus is by no means an understatement. 

She lies on the ground -- the ceiling? -- of the van. Blood oozes from the same gash near her hairline that she had stitched up in Dutch’s bunker earlier that morning. The lights illuminating the van flicker unsteadily. Dark shadows strobe violently, causing her eyes to throb in their sockets while the ringing in her ears drowns out all sound. 

A wheeze of a groan forces itself from her lungs, and she lifts her head only to have her surroundings swim around her. Every muscle throbs with the dispersed aches of full body blunt force trauma. The taste of blood sits on her tongue and as she coughs to clear her throat of the thick substance blocking it, a splash of red spatters messily onto the ground beneath her. 

“Oh, God,” she moans to herself. She forces herself up onto her elbows, her arms trembling as they struggle to carry her weight, and crawls towards the back doors, over the broken glass left behind by shattered windows . There’s no thought to the pain exploding around her left shoulder or how off-kilter she feels every time she heaves herself forward. Her shoulder is definitely dislocated but she can’t worry about that right now. Whatever injuries she’s sustained, she can take stock of them later. 

She needs to get out of here. 

She needs to find Joey. 

She needs to find Augustine. 

With a clumsy heave, she throws herself against the van’s back doors, trying to force them open. They move, pushing outwards, but she meets some kind of resistance. There must be something blocking the way, or the metal frame must have buckled when the truck rolled over. She tries again, grunting in pain as it flashes white-hot through her injured shoulder, but to no avail. 

The door is stuck. 

Another curse slips through her teeth, but her attention is quickly focused on the pained groans and rustling sounding behind her. Her mouth opens to call to one of the other passengers to help her, but when she looks over her shoulder, her eyes go wide. The two civilians she was with lay in broken, bloody heaps, their limbs hanging at limp, awkward angles. 

Dead. Killed during the crash. 

The Peggie, however, much like her, somehow managed to miraculously survive. He groans as he weakly lifts his head. Blood pours down his face, further matting his already unkempt hair and beard. A wet cough rattles from his lungs, and when he sucks in a breath, it comes out heavy and rasping. He’s obviously struggling to breathe. 

Punctured lung, she thinks with a grimace. She’d know the sound anywhere. After spending what felt like hours baking in the Afghanistan sun waiting for someone to find her and pinned down by the weight of the villager she’d failed to save, the sound of her own labored breathing has been burned into her memory. 

She’s suddenly thankful that her wounds mostly seem to be superficial. 

As far as she can tell, anyways. 

His eyes go wide when he sees her trying to break free, and he reaches towards her. A hand, slick with blood, grips her by the ankle. There’s more force to his tug than she’d anticipated. Her shirt rides up her stomach, and she lets out a scream as the soft flesh of her belly is mercilessly raked across the bits of broken glass. 

Frantically, she twists around, desperately attempting to kick at his face. He manages to evade her strikes and, much to her dismay, reaches for his gun, which had been flung about the van during the crash. 

And then his brains are suddenly blown out of the back of his skull. Skull fragments and bits of gray matter go splattering against the other two dead bodies and the cultist falls limp. 

Her head whips around, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she finds the van doors wide open and Pastor Jerome standing over her, smoke still rising from the barrel of his pistol. If she believed in such things, she might have considered him her guardian angel. He smiles warmly at her as he stows his gun into the hollow of his Bible. Crouching down, he pulls out a small knife and reaches toward her bound hands. 

“Stay with me,” he says. It’s muffled, overpowered by the ringing in her ears, but she can hear him. The plastic snaps, freeing her hands, and he helps her up. She grunts as she rises. Her sore muscles scream at her, telling her to lay back down, to rest, but she pushes past it. He places his hands on her good shoulder, steadying her on her feet. “Didn’t go through all this trouble just to lose you now.” 

“I’m gettin' goddamn sick of bein’ tossed around like Raggedy Ann doll," she tells him.

[hall0wedwyrm]

Okay, so this was just supposed to be part of a different AU (which i still might include something like this in there??? but idk) and then it was supposed to be just a one off... but guys i think this could literally be an au. I think it would be called the Reunion AU? not sure but yeah

AU Summary (so far): Shadow reunites with some faces that cause an unpleasant surprise. As people start to learn about the return, Shadow assures them that they have this undercontrol, but will they do the right thing?

Consider this... Chapter 1?? I suppose?? Enjoy!!

(also side note Shadow is he/they here just incase theres any confusion lol)

Word Count: 1,481

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

There was never really a reason to worry about Shadow. They were naturally unpredictable, but they had their morals in check and that's really what mattered. Rouge knew it wasn’t a huge issue... but she was growing more worried. 

Lately, Shadow had been acting out of character. They seemed generally more anxious, and alert of everything happening around them. They would jump out of their skin at the slightest abrupt movement, even scaring Rouge at some points. 

Rouge was waiting for him to show up and was fully prepared to scold him for disappearing for seemingly no reason. It had been at least since the early hours, and it was now going into the afternoon. The only reason Rouge knew this was through Sonic telling her. When he woke up that morning, Shadow was nowhere to be found, and he assumed that they were with her… and Rouge thought that they were with him. This prompted immediate fear and panic, worrying if something had happened to them. Rouge’s thoughts went straight to G.U.N finding a reason to put them away again, and Sonic thought of them potentially being part of Eggman’s newest plan. They both promised to stay in contact with each other and dashed their separate ways. 

Rouge hoped he would have appeared by now, for many reasons. The main one being her genuine concern, but also that there was an imminent meeting with the Commander, who she guaranteed had picked up on his weird behaviour and probably wouldn’t hesitate to confront him. And if he did... she wouldn't know what to even say to defend them.

She sat in her quiet office space at the G.U.N headquarters. Impatiently waiting for anything about Shadow to appear in front of her. She hoped he would just appear in her office, apologising for vanishing and she could cancel this dumb meeting and go comfort them in any way she could. Even if it was just a glass of water and making sure he was safely at her apartment. 

As she stood up to leave for the meeting, her phone unexpectedly buzzed in her pocket. She swiftly pulled it out and held it firmly. 

It was Shadow. 

‘Meet outside. In the alley. Be quick.’ 

Short, sweet and to the point, but she didn’t care at all. Her next move was to begin swiftly leaving the building and pull up Sonic’s messages. She had to alert him; it was the least she could do right now. 

‘Shadow’s just messaged me. I’m going to figure out what’s going on with them. Update soon, hon x’ 

Rouge rushed down the building, sped through the reception and darted into the alleyway. She stood for a moment, before seeing a vague silhouette at the end. Their quills gave them away, and the slight bit of light glimmered on their inhibitor rings. 

“Oh my stars,” Rouge sighed, approaching them slowly, “Where the hell have you been!? We were so worried about you…” 

She tried hard to not raise her voice, she didn’t want to sound mad at them at all, but she was slightly frustrated at the no contact situation. She saw Shadow open their mouth to speak, before hesitating a little bit. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare any of you.” He kept his voice low, nearly a whisper, “But it was urgent.” 

“What?” She raised her eyebrow, “What was so urgent that didn’t give you time to leave a note? or a message?” 

Shadow looked away, closing their eyes. They clenched their fists tightly and squeezed their eyes shut. 

“I…” He tried to start, but his voice got caught in his throat, “I can’t.”  

There was a deafening silence. The air thickened quickly as the tension swelled with it. 

“What…. what do you mean?” She was astounded, and that was easily conveyed by the way she barely had to try and speak. 

“Because of-” Shadow paused and opened their eyes wide. 

Rouge, realising she potentially caught him, jumped in quickly, “because of what? What’s so bad that you can’t tell me? if you’re worried, I’m going to say anything to anyone, you know I would never.” 

He didn’t even turn to look at her,  

In a swift and unconscious move, she swiftly gripped Shadow’s arm. He turned around in response, looking at her with large eyes. It’s like even he couldn’t believe what she just did. She pulled him so that he would look at her. 

“Tell me. Please.” She begged, staring into their eyes. 

A flash of fear was on their face for a moment, and they tried to say something again, before the pit in Rouge’s stomach forced her to speak first 

“What...” She took a breath, “What did you do?”  

Shadow looked stunned. He fumbled to grab her shoulders, holding her closer to him. He was right in her face. 

“I didn’t do anything. I swear to you, Rouge.” He took a deep breath, “If I do tell you... please just... keep it to yourself for a while. I don’t know what to do about it.” 

Rouge blinked in bewilderment. She was kind of afraid to even ask what he meant by that, but she was in this deep she had to know.  

“About...” She paused, feeling the pit in her stomach deepen, “About what...?”  

The words out of Shadow’s mouth were the last things she wanted to ever hear him say. 

Releasing their grip on her, they kept their voice to a bit louder than a whisper, paranoid about even muttering it themself. 

“Black Doom... he’s alive.”  

“Pardon!?” She couldn’t help but yell out at him. 

“Keep your voice down.” They hissed through their teeth, looking behind her to see if anyone had heard them. He took a harsh breath through his nose, before speaking. 

“He’s been speaking to me. Trying to get me to go and see him. He was watching me this whole time, waiting for his moment to strike.” He tried to look at her, but he could barely make eye contact before looking away, “I gave in today, and went to go and hunt for him. He somehow knew I was coming for him and told me exactly where to go. He told me that he had been on this planet since I had destroyed the original Black Comet, and that he was silently brewing his revenge.”  

Rouge stared at him, mouth agape, for at least a minute. She was trying to process that this was even real. That this was all happening again.  

“We... we have to do something.” She stammered, “We can’t let him do what he did last time.” 

“Stop.” Shadow said harshly, “He’s not doing anything right now.” 

Rouge scoffed, “And you believe that? Really?”  

Shadow nodded a little bit, turning his head to look back up at her. “He’s essentially powerless here. He doesn’t have the power of the Black Arms army behind him.”  

“Are you actually being serious right now?” She snapped, “After everything he put you through- After everything he did to you? You’re... giving him a second chance?”  

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even move.  

“Seriously? Are you hearing yourself right now?! You swore that if any Black Arms ever even came close to this planet's atmosphere, you’d destroy them immediately. Why is this any different?” 

“...Eclipse was there.” 

“You’re kidding me.” Rouge squeezed the arch of her nose. She couldn’t believe a word she was hearing. 

“Please. Hear me out,” Shadow pleaded, and Rouge reluctantly looked at him. 

“They were genuinely happy to see me. The way they talked to me about what they and Black Doom had been up to in the time since I saw them last... they were delighted. Eclipse said Black Doom had found them shortly after their ship crashed, and they had been planning together ever since. Eclipse was so excited to show me what they had been working on.” 

Rouge’s only response was to sigh. Heavily. 

“I didn’t intend to stay long, I swear. I just wanted to hear what they had to say... to see what they were doing.”  

“I just... can’t believe all of this is happening again.” Rouge folded her arms tightly, “Are you really sure you have this all under control...?” 

“Yes.” Shadow said confidently, “I’m going to follow along with Black Doom, try and keep them both out of trouble for a while until I can figure out what to do.”  

Rouge had a bad feeling about... all of this. If Shadow began to trust them, who knows what would happen? 

“Fine. I trust your judgement.” Rouge reluctantly said, “But if you go running off again without telling me, I will hunt you down, got it?” 

Shadow let out a small chuckle, “I’ll make sure, I swear.” 

Rouge finally felt some kind of relief. While she didn’t completely see how this would be a good situation, but if Shadow had it under control... 

She didn’t have any other reason not to trust them. 

[creature-featurez]

omg can i know ab betty and simon bc i also have one with like multiple parties at once im curious...

hello!!! sorry this took forever to answer (and for the... absolute novel that is the answer) this is surprisingly a very loaded question LMAOOO also sorry if i misinterpreted the question... i realized halfway through that you may have been asking something completely different...

putting under a [read more] to avoid being a terribly long post on the dash

First, I know you don't have a lot of knowledge on Adventure Time lore (at least I think..) so I'll probably be going on several smaller tangents and explanations of things so that the rest of what I explain makes sense. :3 If I get off topic, that's proooobably why. Second, the first "arc" of Reader's (my oc for anyone new here) story is heavily inspired by this fic, though I am currently rewriting it to be a bit more separate, and all of the later arcs are completely original. I like giving credit where credit is due, however.

OKAY! So now back to the actual question LMAO

In Adventure Time, there is a great war among humans somewhere in the 90's-2000's. It's a nuclear war that wipes out most of humanity and leaves a lot of radioactivity around, essentially creating an apocalypse for any surviving humans. In my au, this war takes place sometime in the late 90's. The seeds for Reader and Simon being in a relationship exist as early as the early 90's, though circumstances regarding the both of them being unable to further their education together prevent it from ever really going anywhere. Reader (who is still female presenting) struggles to keep up in the very male dominated field of anthropology and archaeology in the 90's while Simon easily finds his footing in doctorate programs. (He's cis in this au sorry Simon.. it just makes the most narrative sense.) Reader eventually loses contact with Simon as they drift away from each other and this is around the time that Reader goes missing, finding an ancient shrine and making a deal with a deity to survive the upcoming war. This is about 3 years before the nuclear fallout from the war. Meanwhile, Simon and Betty have met and the canon events of Fionna & Cake / Adventure Time are playing out for them! They find the Enchiridion (a magic book Simon was looking for to prove his studies on magical relics isn't bullshit), fall in love, get engaged, and this is around the time Simon loses contact with Reader. And then Reader's family reaches out to Simon. Reader has been missing and no one can find them. Betty comforts Simon during this time, but there isn't really much anyone can do. Eventually Simon finds the crown and becomes cursed, and Betty time travels 1000 years into the future to help save him like in the show. And we're back with Reader! Who accidentally overslept surviving the war by 800 years. They wake up and realize very quickly that they are (1) no longer human and (2) definitely not in the 20th century anymore... After a while they also learn they are immortal. About 200 years later, Reader is a successful healer, using 20th century medical practices and whatever they can find in centuries old texts. They've gotten quite the reputation as many families have been using their practice for generations, and rumors have spread that they can cure even curses (much to Reader's chagrin). This is when Betty, who is now going insane desperately trying to save Simon, visits their shop. Of course, when Betty learns that Reader can't, in fact, cure curses, she's pissed. They get into a big fight and Betty is banned from Reader's shop. The two don't interact again by the time Betty actually does save Simon from being cursed as the Ice King, and Reader never puts 2-and-2 together. To make a very long explanation a very short one, Betty saves Simon by fusing with a chaos deity named Golb, becoming Golbetty. She then returns to this void between universes, leaving Simon once again mortal but now all alone. 12 years later, Simon and Reader reconnect! They slowburn fall in love, but Simon isn't really over Betty, esp when it comes to wanting to save her. Simon is trying to reach Golbetty through an ancient shrine, but Reader is completely unaware of this. Reader is left in the dark when it comes to a lot about Betty, actually, but respects Simon's privacy. The two of them settle into life together after reconnecting after 1000 years, both having long accepted the other died in the 90's, and things seem okay for the most part...

WE'VE HIT ARC 2 WHO CHEERED

Okay so things aren't all that okay. Turns out becoming a weird pseudohuman fucks with your self-image and connection to humanity, who would have thunk! This isn't anything new for Reader, who already associated their being nonbinary/transmasc with being turned into a creature shortly upon settling in the Land of Ooo (tho: author's note, they were always nonbinary, it's just hard to accept that when you're already struggling to make a life for yourself in a male dominated career in the 90's. Reader is mega-coping.) But reconnecting with Simon kind of made it... worse. Sure, Simon was cursed for a while but he got out of it mostly human, where Reader is very much not human. They find themself comparing how they once were to how they are now and feeling inadequate for Simon. Simon tries his best to help, but there's only really so much he can do. Things only get worse when a witch comes along who claims to know exactly what kind of creature Reader is. Reader is a golb-beast, a rare (often only thought to be mythical) creature created by being cursed, or in some interpretations blessed, by Golb. Reader is the only one of their kind known in existence, and this witch worships Golb. Knowing magic, she is able to manipulate Reader's curse so that they attack Simon, almost killing him, and in the chaos of everything she kidnaps Reader. The captor (I need to name her..) has a mansion that is decorated with statues and artwork of Golb, think Catholic cathedrals, and she initially locks Reader in the basement where she has a dungeon of sorts. She's kind of really fucked up and treats Reader like an exotic pet she tamed rather than a sentient human and even goes as far as to only let them eat raw meat it's crazy. Reader keeps up hope that Simon will come for them but the captor tells them (a lie) that Simon ran away from them when they attacked him. He's scared of Reader being a beast and won't be coming back for them. While Reader doesn't believe this at first... the longer they're trapped the more doubt starts to set in. Meanwhile Simon is actually losing his mind trying to find Reader after healing from his wounds, but to little avail. It takes months before he even gets a real lead. Eventually he is able to rescue Reader but in the chaos a fire starts. A statue of Golb falls and crushes the captor, killing her instantly while Reader watches. It should feel good but... Reader is emotionally crushed. It takes them a long time to get used to being back in the normal world again. There's a lot more I didn't cover here bc it isn't too important to Reader and Simon specifically, but there's a lot Reader has to overcome. This entire situation really sets them back on feeling human and accepting themself as they are. This time, Simon can't even seem to really help them when they're at their worst.

(continued in a reblog bc apparently i flew too close to the sun with this post...)

[skelekins]

Sndndjdf sorry I’m just all over ur dash recently

But some Kelek stuff below cut

I mentioned in the tags of another post that I was considering making Kelek’s creature version more of a surface monster which works perfectly tbh.

I envision the surface monsters of his au as monsters that for whatever reason didn’t get to the mountain. Their cultures and stuff changed as a response to the war and fear.

Since humans fought and sealed monsters out of fear for their Souls (simplified) - the surface monsters stopped communicating through encounters and direct interaction with the soul. After a few centuries the surface monsters don’t really know what an encounter is or how to pull their souls out. Their understanding of the soul is very rudimentary. (Like being able to feel their own, knowing that’s where their magic comes from, and that it affects reproduction)

Initially for safety, quite a few surface monsters developed magic for disguises which they then taught to others and developed into magic items to help. These are still mostly used for safety but sometimes mischief makers are about.

Comfys in particular almost never unmask after puberty. (They usually grow up rural since they’re quadrupedal until early puberty and so masking doesn’t work). This is due to their innate fear of humans seeing their true forms (and the spiraling possible consequences).

Since this sort of culture has developed for centuries it’s hard for some of the surface monsters to drop their masks and contact the underground monsters once freed. It doesn’t help that in Kelek’s au the post-pacifist surface has tense relations.

—

Kelek actually likes his human mask and finds some things easier in it (like maintaining his hairstyle lmao). He does like his natural form as well. He probably hasn’t considered the idea of being able to be in his natural form most of the time as opposed to the inverse.

—

Which of course a lot of this makes me think of him and Snaps lmao. Part of this is considering why he wouldn’t unmask for Snaps at first (take him a while to feel comfortable and safe to do it and then he just feels torn for keeping a secret).

And I think it’s cute to imagine Snaps slowly taking Kelek out places with him in his natural form. (It would have to be away from where Kelek lives though since he doesn’t want to be found out (it’s for his safety along with others in his local surface mon community).

Djddjrjr. I’ll stopnow

[kkoraki]

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

for theeeeeee ask meme! thank you for asking!

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

probably Warrior Cats - I got on the ~official forums~ when I was 11 or 12 and got into RP, fanfic, fanart, and watching/making animations by the time I was 13. I RPed for a few years, wrote fic for a few years, and kept doing fanart and animation off and on through college.

when I was 17 or 18 there was a situation where Al Kat, the person who pretty much built the entire Warriors animation fanbase and multi animator projects from the ground up, was essentially run out of fandom by people harassing them for being "too old" for a fandom with "minors" (they got into the fandom as a teen and were like in their... early 20s when this happened). my disgust with this is what started me drifting away from the fandom and I just kept on drifting, especially after my disillusionment with the animation industry + wanting to get better at drawing people + not caring to keep up with the books anymore.

that being said I still feel pretty passionate about my old faves (especially Ivypool and Russetfur), I still keep up with new multi animator projects/AMVs, and I have a long playlist of my favorite animated fanworks that I like to watch all the time! if that counts as being in the fandom that would be around 15 years

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

for tlt, and they're all art related,

more art of characters that aren't the big 6 (6th, 9th, tridentarii) - everyone and everything in this series is described as looking so INTERESTING and unique, by design, and I would like to see so much more of that

character designs that don't take tmuir's personal appearance/ethnicity headcanons as gospel (there are so many interesting visual possibilities based on the descriptions we have to work with in canon! she herself is out there telling people to draw babs as a lizard! is this just about me wanting to see desi 5th house (how I've always imagined them)? maybe!!!)

more environment art, set design, and full illustrations - again - this is such a fascinating series visually not just in terms of the characters but with the settings as well and it's always so fun when people explore that. I know this is tough in fanart because character focused stuff is easier and usually gets more notes but I love it whenever I see environment art or illustrations for TLT specifically.

oh and not art related but needs moar noncon

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

AUs if that's not too broad - whether that's setting AUs or plot AUs or the hard to define ones like rule 63 or daemon AUs. love that stuff!

usually for more specific tropes/kinks, it's not a one size fits all since my faves and OTPs can vary a lot between fandoms, but I usually like pretty much any tropes/kinks related to consent issues

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

I broadly agree with people who say the plot/pacing of Dungeon Meshi has issues, especially the first 20ish chapters of the manga, but I don't really care because I didn't get into it for the plot - I got into it because I kept seeing the most gorgeous concept art and character designs crossing my dash. As a vehicle for delivering Ryoko Kui's world and character concepts I think it's phenomenal and I love all the bonus content. Usually you have to find good, in character, prolific fanartists to get that kind and volume of content and it's absolutely magical to have so much of it coming from the creator herself. Also GOD I forgot how strongly I prefer canons that have no romance or sex at all between anyone. It's so easy to fumble, I usually don't really care about canon ships, just let fandom handle all of that... thank you Ryoko Kui...