#useful bonus: I'm about to do a handful of more finished pieces and this was a great warmup from the loose doodle rut I've been in c:

[kobbers]

Helping kick off the Horizon Creation Celebration (via @horizon-events) with this piece I've been excited to finally share!

I love these two, individually and as a pair. My sweet reliable boy. His clever, iron-willed lady. It's a good thing nothing bad happened to either of them!!!

#HCC 2023 #beyond the horizon #horizon forbidden west #hfw zo #hfw varl #kobb art #useful bonus: I'm about to do a handful of more finished pieces and this was a great warmup from the loose doodle rut I've been in c:

[gb-patch]

Hi! I saw your ask about skin tones and honestly, that is very much a barebones excuse to not include skintones in your game. You act as though adding skintones to a sprite would be a complete hand-drawn new asset when it would quite literally be filling in a pre drawn base for both Opal and the mc. Not only that but you potentially have thousands of mc outfits you promised for specific tier havers on the kickstarter. And then for 250,000 dollars, you're telling me we'll get more colors but not even 2 or 4 skintones when there are games with Less funding who have more skintones? Especially considering OL:B&A had the exact same amount of skintones and I could count all the afro centric hairstyles in that game on my two hands. I rather have more skintones than just pale, peach, olive, tan, brown and dark brown (most of which screams a 2000s foundation line of tones) than have more hair or clothing colors. I'm sorry, I love your games, I really do but that's an extremely lazy and abhorrent response from you and I am extremely disappointed.

"Hi. I just saw the post about you not adding in more skintones. I really hope this doesn't come across as rude or demanding but I find your reasoning for not being able to add them...lackluster at best. With all due respect, you set this goal for 250k, over three times the original goal you set for the kickstarter, the idea that somehow you can promise an additional set of darker colours for the clothes, accesories hair and eyes alongside the additional MC pieces people are going to request but not an additional skintone because of Opal seems a little ridiculous. I'm not an experienced artist but I do know how art files tend to work and I imagine adding additional colours to Opal's base design wouldn't be an extreme undertaking. In fact, by contrast, the work to add more colours to the clothes and hairs seems much more labourous considering the amount of them and the fact that some of the clothes have subcolours.

Again, I do hope I don't come accross as rude but I just feel like this announcement was highly dissapointing, especially considering the fact that the additional colours are currently the biggest goal for the kickstarter at the moment" There were two replies, so I put them together. I hope that's alright.

I understand. It would be bad and make no sense if that didn’t happen. I can say that this has nothing to do with funding. I'm not gonna attach more skin tones to a stretch goal, that’s not fair. It’ll be done whenever it can be regardless of what happens with the Kickstarter.

The other colors for hair and such is something I confirmed can be done by our programmer ahead of time using a color picker system in coding.

The situation as it stands today for Opal is that I personally don't have the skills to recolor her myself, the artist we have is in a situation where it would be unkind to increase how much work they have to do (it'd be easier if even less work could be on them), and while another artist could be hired- that hasn't happened at this point. So, saying it "could happen but maybe not" is cautious development process. It’s how it went with both the Cove Patreon Bonus Moments, where I pretended for months that it may or may not happen while working on it behind the scenes because I wasn’t sure how long I’d need to finish it and was worried it could be delayed for long stretches of time.

Being realistic, it is virtually a 100% certainly that before the game comes out, the skin tones will be expanded. There is no good reason why it wouldn’t. I was waiting until things got to a better point in production before coming out to officially say that it’s happening.

And I could’ve said it’s extremely likely but we’re not able to do it quite yet and avoided making anyone feel hurt. I wish my way of handling it hadn’t made the people who believed in our games sad. The reason why I didn’t is that I just can’t help but be averse to making promises I can’t do/the team can’t do and so have to rely on something else working out at some point in the future, even if it is entirely likely that it will.

That’s because I know that these things will make a lot of people happy. I want the excitement and any praise that might come to not happen until the goal has been achieved or is on the way to being achieved for sure. To a degree it’s helpful for players to have confidence in what the company is promoting, but it’s mainly to help with my own habit of catastrophizing. I tend to believe bad things could happen and I’ll let people down even when it’s so unlikely it’s not worth considering. I consider it anyway. And so, you get this kind of long-term hedging before the feature people hoped for suddenly appears. Even now my compulsion is to add a caveat that “there’s still a chance something (I don’t even know what) could happen and it won’t be added so don’t thank me yet” despite me already coming out with the truth that there’s every intention to have it added. I’m sorry to have disappointed you and made you feel disregarded by doing this. Hopefully when the skin options are expanded people will be able to enjoy the game a lot more than how it is with the current demo. And thanks for taking the time to let me know what you thought rather than giving up on the project entirely.

#our life #our life: now & forever #ask

[moonlight-prose]

HURT

➝ 05. MIDNIGHT DOVE

a/n: i never thought it would take a year to finally work up the courage to finish this. i swear it's been marinating in my mind for months. life got in the way as it always does, and well shit happens, but i am gradually attempting to return to this world. if you're new here, welcome. if you're someone who has been here since the beginning, then thank you for sticking my horrible productivity out. i swear i won't disappear again. hopefully.

dedicated to: @themarcusmoreno for being an absolute badass fighter as of late. i hope you know how proud i am of you babes and how much i adore you. a special thanks to @sunflowersteves who has been a MASSIVE supporter of this story. i love you babes! and to @soulores who has listened to me ramble about this fic for hours in the hopes inspo would strike again. te amo te amo te amo!!!

summary: joel never made opening himself up to the prospect of love easy, but when it came to you...it felt like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in years.

word count: 14k+ (i'm fucking insane)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, fluff, joel attempting to be romantic, ptsd, grief, deep talks (joel opens up), joel finally telling the truth, p in v sex, choking kind of, roughness, biting lots of biting (both kinds hahaha), tad bit of violence, the dangers of falling in love.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

It was easy to forget how damaged you were in the midst of his affection. An effortless act to allow yourself a chance to heal as you gave yourself over to him. For brief moments, you weren’t the person who had gone through years of pain, suffered through grief so potent you could taste it. You were the person who could sink into his hold, lose yourself in his touch, and simply exist.

With Joel there was no pain, no reminders of what you didn’t have—what you could never get back—because he took all that away. He gave you the one thing you didn’t know you were searching for. Yourself. In whispered words beneath the midnight sky, you found the reflection you’d been so afraid to look at. You saw the person who had been torn apart by the brutality of this world, by the prospect of death you could no longer run from.

He pieced you back together with his hands, attempting to rid you of all those cracks and crevices where pain seeped out from.

And in doing so, he saved you.

“You used to be a contractor right?” you asked, trying not to huff and puff as you trailed after him through the woods.

Briefly you thought you caught the sight of tall buildings in the distance, but played it off as the sun messing with your eyes again. A few days ago the truck broke down, ruining the quick pace of travel you had gotten used to. Which left you both with one option. Walking until your feet were numb and bloody. You hadn’t missed the energy this took, suddenly yearning for trains and planes—anyway to get to Boston as quickly as possible.

Except you didn’t hate it entirely. The bonus was being able to spend more time with him in secluded areas. You liked studying him by firelight, talking with him underneath the stars. Joel was the one who kept you going in spite of the agonizing effort this took. Thankfully the moments you did run into any infected were brief and quick—simply another crack in the bubble you’d built around yourselves.

Something had shifted between the two of you. Changed the tides of your futures and gave you insight into what might be possible once you got to Boston. You saw hints of a life that you might not have seen before. A future with him. You only hoped that he was seeing the same picture you were.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing to let you catch up, his hand reaching for yours.

“Impressive,” you said with a smile, pressing your chin on his shoulder as he leaned against a tree. Giving the both of you a small breather before you started up again.

“It paid the bills.”

“Well yeah. But it’s also a cool job. Getting to build things.”

He grinned, his eyes tracing the shapes and contours of your face. “I guess it was.”

“What made you want to be a contractor?” You caught the way he paused at your question, his eyes unable to meet yours for a brief moment. Joel thought he was able to hide his pain so well, behind an impenetrable mask he never removed. But you saw it.

You were the only one who split it down the middle; revealing the man beneath for your eyes to see.

“Uh,” he mumbled. “It was good work. Kept me stable.”

“Joel? Did I say something?”

He shook his head. “We should keep going,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your temple, his lips lingering a bit longer than usual.

Any other person would play that off as Joel being Joel. Yet you felt the tremor in his chest when he took in a breath. You saw the way he placed another brick in his never-ending wall. One that he didn’t want you to break. Frowning slightly, you walked beside him, glancing to see if he would finally revert back to the man from moments ago, but he was lost to the ravages of his mind.

You knew it would take awhile for him to come back to you. So, you waited. You lost yourself in your own thoughts, watching the birds fly through the trees, the sun peeking through the branches and bathing you in warmth. Thankfully the cold was starting to fade with each passing day. Giving way to the weather you liked most. You wanted to ask Joel where you were—which state you crossed into—but he was still gone.

Reliving the moment he hadn’t told you about yet.

You stopped when the forest gave way to a road and finally caught sight of what was in the distance. Only to realize…the sun hadn’t been playing tricks on you.

Skyscrapers stood tall against the sky, the cityscape so famous and iconic you could pick it out from memory. It was ruined from the past, some buildings had fallen from the decay, but you felt your heart flutter nonetheless. New York City. You’d been traveling through the state this whole time and never knew. Your younger self ached in the back of your mind; the one place you had been striving to get to, now arriving too late.

Yet still…you were there. Staring at what could have been your future once upon a time.

“We’re in New York,” you said, your voice tinged in disbelief. 

Joel seemed to have been brought back by your stunned reaction, his lips pulling up into a small smirk. “Thought you would have liked to take this way.”

You whirled around to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. “But what about infected? Won’t they be—”

“They bombed most of the city when the infection hit. Took out the worst parts first.” He pointed to the direction of where you assumed the Empire State building once stood. “No one has been here for nearly a decade. They tried to have a QZ on the outskirts at one point I think.”

“And how did that go?” Although you already knew the answer. Simply another repeat of every major city in this country.

He sighed. “They wound up bombing that too.”

“So we’re going around?” you asked, knowing that the only safe possibility was skirting the edges of the city. But a part of you hoped that for once you and Joel could pretend to be normal humans again.

People who at one point in their lives…might have taken a trip to New York City.

“Well…” His hesitation caught your attention. “We’re gonna go around as much as we can, but there’s somethin’ there that still survived all this. So if we’re careful. Then it should be alright.”

You felt the breath catch in your chest. A sliver of hope flickering warm and bright through your body. “And if it’s not…alright?”

“Then we handle it,” he replied, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, thumb running along your skin. “Like we always do.” Those words alone nearly made those three words slip free from your mouth. “What do you say Boston,” he murmured, his head dipping down—lips brushing along yours. “Wanna take a trip to New York with me?”

There were infected everywhere you went, never being able to escape them entirely. That alone weighed your answer towards it being positive. Still you were wary about what could happen. What could go wrong in the midst of your happiness? It seemed that life never changed when things were already awful. The worst only hit when you were finally at peace, content with what you had.

You should have said no, should have told him it wasn’t safe, but his brown eyes held a hopeful glint in them. A look that you recognized. For the first time, the both of you were finally starting to heal from the horrid effects of this life. It was a tragedy that would never be written down. A play not yet finished.

Which ultimately made the decision for you.

How did you want things to end? With a smile on your face, spending time with the man you loved? Or alone.

“Lead the way Texas,” you said softly, dropping your forehead to his chest, feeling him kiss your head softly before he pulled away.

The trip to get into the city would take a day or two, which meant that you had to set up camp for the night. At least until the sun rose enough to guide you. Venturing back into the forest with him, you felt the lightness in your heart spread down throughout your body. A sensation that you longed to hold onto.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this happy; the feeling almost effortless amidst the pain and destruction of your past. It nearly overflowed, spilling out into the area around you filled with never ending darkness. Joel’s footsteps were heavy against the fallen leaves. As if he was no longer afraid to make noise. Now that the path was clear, his head focused on one direction, you by his side.

Things had shifted drastically since that night. Since you watched a piece of his walls crash to the ground. Giving you a chance to finally see the man he had once been. The Joel you had only met in fragments—memories you weren’t a part of.

A past that you’d never fully know.

“This is as good a place as any,” he said, dropping the bag off his shoulders and onto the ground beside a tree.

“Should I gather wood?” you asked, following his movements—the routine burned into your mind.

He shook his head. “Not tonight. We’re too close to the city.”

“You don’t think people are insane enough to live there, do you?”

The silence he offered was enough of an answer. Even though you were both far enough away from any signs of life, it still wasn’t safe to assume you were entirely free. You could see Joel grappling with the decision to even go down there, but you knew which side would win the war in the end. One side told him to avoid the place altogether, to keep trekking on until you reached the QZ in Boston. But the other whispered something different.

It beckoned him closer, promising something sweet, a reprieve from the terrors of life that continued to plague both of you. Whatever still remained in that city was enough for him to choose the latter.

“I’ll keep first watch,” he murmured, settling with his back to a tree, rifle placed across his thighs.

“Joel.”

He shook his head. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you,” you replied, in the hopes that he’d relent to you as he had before.

The dark lines beneath his eyes grew with every passing day and you wondered what kept him from sleep. Was it nightmares? The prospect of death around every corner? They were things that were enough to send terror running sharply down your spine, but as long as you’d known Joel he seemed to simply take those things in stride. Refusing to give life the satisfaction of watching him crumble beneath the strain.

Yet now he looked half dead; tired of fighting an infinite battle of fear.

“Come here,” you said softly, hand gripping onto his.

“Darlin’—”

“If you don’t sleep then, so help me Joel I will stay up with you.”

The threat held enough truth in it to spur him into action. You would stay up with him until dawn crested over the city, until you could no longer keep your eyes open. Joel had stamina you didn’t possess. Not anymore. So, he allowed you to guide him forward, his head resting on his pack, rifle placed between your bodies. A safety measure in case the night turned for the worst.

“Shut your eyes,” you murmured, seeing the tension in his body melt away the second your hand pressed to his chest.

He huffed—ever the stubborn man who saved your life—but relented without a fight, his eyes fluttering shut quickly followed by a long exhale. The stars were brighter than you’d seen them; the light pollution of the city, no longer a problem the sky had to combat. So, you shifted, rested your head on his shoulder and watched the stars twinkle in a night sky free from the shackles of humanity.

“You’re supposed to sleep too,” he grumbled, his hand coming up to cover yours, thumb running along your wrist.

“I am.” You smiled at his audible snort.

Silence enveloped the two of you, but it never felt off putting in his presence. In fact you began to welcome it, because with Joel there was always more than just words. His thumb continued to go across your skin, creating a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a docile state. If you shut your eyes and focused on the beat of his heart—the rise and fall of his chest with each breath—you might be able to fall asleep. Except your mind still ran, still on high alert in case of something going wrong.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his head turning slightly until his nose brushed against yours.

“Hm?” You felt your heart skip at the sight of his eyes opening again, the deep brown hue pulling you in.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he whispered. Joel didn’t need to go into specifics to know what he meant by that. You seemed to pick it up just by the inflection of his words—the tone he used when he spoke. This was no different.

You sighed, wishing more than anything that you could strip your shoulders of the weight they carried. “Nothing. I’m just…it’s nothing.”

“It ain’t nothin’.”

“I’m just…scared,” you said, finally showing a sliver of the truth. He hummed, attempting to show that he understood where you were coming from. “What happens when we get to Boston?”

Because that’s where that gnawing feeling stemmed from. It wasn’t your fear of death, or the terror you felt whenever you thought of Joel dying. No, you were scared of what the future held—what came when this trip finally came to an end. You didn’t want to let him go after everything you’d endured together. For the first time you felt like you found the one thing anyone could hope for in life. A partnership.

He sighed. “We keep going.”

“Together?” There you were laying your hope in front of him, wanting him to give you the answer you longed for.

“Yes,” he replied, watching a smile cross your face—his heart beating a bit faster at the sight. It lit him up on the inside. As if someone injected him with a heaping dose of pure sunlight, claiming it would fix all his broken pieces. Save him from hell.

For a moment you simply watched him, seeing an array of emotions flicker through his eyes. You wanted the night to remain endless. For you and Joel to stay there until the stars burned out above—a safe place with no responsibilities. No fear of death. But you knew eventually you would have to get up and follow him into the city. Boston remained right at the very tips of your fingers, yet getting there felt like a million miles away.

“Joel?” you breathed, bringing him out of his mind and back to the present day.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me something.” You clutched his hand in yours, enjoying the warmth that emanated from his skin. “Anything.”

He turned away, looking up at the sky as he processed your words. And you waited patiently. You found that you’d wait for him no matter how long it took, because it was him and to you…he was everything. He was worth fighting for, worth staying put for. He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your palm until pain sparked in your wrist. You didn’t dare pull away though, too captured by the vulnerability that began to show on his face.

For the first time, he was the glass you couldn’t break.

“I had a daughter,” he said softly, still watching how the stars flickered above rather than the way your face went slack with shock. “Sarah.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes falling to the broken watch on his wrist as tears began to fall from your eyes. That night when you asked about it—watched him close up right before your very eyes—suddenly made sense. Why he never took it off, why it was the most precious thing to him.

It was from her.

“She was…well she is the best damn thing in my life.” He shut his eyes, his eyes stinging with the tears that couldn’t fall. You didn’t dare interrupt him. Joel was baring the part he’d hidden long ago—offering it to you in the hopes that you’d take care of it. “Had the prettiest smile and the best—” He took in a breath. “The best fuckin’ laugh you’d ever heard. Made everyone else laugh.”

You smiled, feeling your tears fall onto his shirt. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” he rasped, his hand pulling yours up higher on his chest until you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “On the night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out. But something…” His voice broke, eyes squeezing even tighter. “I couldn’t—and she—”

“Oh Joel,” you whispered, your eyes falling shut as his pain seeped into your heart. It made your whole body scream out and for a moment you wondered how his heart never stopped beating. How had he survived such anguish? How was he still here?

You bit back the sob that threatened to spill free and buried your face into his shoulder, clutching onto his hand to show that you were here. That he could give you this pain to hold and you’d bear it for him for however long he needed. His face turned, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he let the words hang in the air. What more needed to be said? When he had just ripped down the last of his walls.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were a breath on his cheek and you knew they wouldn’t take away any amount of grief. You knew they were simply a band-aid to the gaping wound that would never heal.

He didn’t reply; you didn’t expect him to. So you allowed the silence to fill the air between you, covering you like a comforting blanket. Hiding you from the world until the sun came up. Joel pulled you closer until you practically lay atop his chest, the steady thud of his broken heart echoing beneath your ear. The world had taken so much from him—turned him hopeless—you just never knew the extent of it.

Staring into the darkness of the trees you heard him begin to snore softly, his body now lax beneath you. Except you didn’t move. You remained in the same spot, watching as the world turned a bit darker. The hope seeped out of your body bit by bit now that you understood how much Joel carried—how much he endured.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss over his heart, finally shutting your eyes and giving into the soft embrace of sleep.

You woke up to find him gone, his jacket placed strategically over your body to keep you protected from the early morning cold. What you wouldn’t give for a fire to combat the chill that began to seep into your skin. Sitting up slowly, you attempted to catch sight of him through the trees—hoping that he had wandered a bit. But you were left alone with just your pack and his extra gun.

Scenarios began to run through your mind, panic settling in your veins, but you fought against it. You’d been here before. Alone while Joel went off to do who knows what. You knew he would come back—that was a given—but you couldn’t stop the worry from eating at you.

You watched your breath collect in the air as you moved, gathering pieces of wood and rocks to build a fire for a short amount of time. If you were moving today it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to warm up and gain some strength through food. If Joel wasn’t back within the hour you would go out hunting. He’d been generous enough to leave you with a few bullets still in the chamber of his gun.

Which meant he had full intentions of coming back.

The fire sparked quicker than you expected, catching on the brush you packed around the wood and sending heat up towards your face. You couldn’t burn it for long, in case people caught sight of the smoke. Which meant you had to relish in the heat for as long as possible—the stiffness in your body dissipating the longer you sat there.

You watched the orange glow flicker across the wood, consuming it entirely and found you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight was familiar—as if you could feel it against your skin with every passing day. Life burned through you with swift brutality and for that mere moment you wondered if it would hurt if you fully sunk into it. Allowed it to destroy you as the flame did the wood that now sat cracked into two pieces—the charred bark falling onto the ground.

A rustling echoed behind you, making you reach for the gun, but the sight of Joel’s graying hair peeking through the woods sent relief flooding through your body. He carried a rabbit in one hand, clutching onto the rifle with the other, and you felt yourself relax just a bit more. Body sinking back into the spot you’d made, legs crossed and hands hovering over the flames.

“Breakfast?” he asked, crouching beside you.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You grinned, pressing your chin against his shoulder briefly, soaking up the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the smile being pressed against your temple. His lips a soft brush across your skin. If time was kind, you’d be able to stay there. Sitting in the comfort of his presence—the worry that plagued you now pushed to the very back of your mind. It was rare to feel this okay in the comfort of someone else, but Joel made it easy. You wanted to thank him for simply being here, but the words were stuck in your head. Unable to be released.

“How long until we go?” you asked, watching as he cooked the animal over the flames, your stomach clenching painfully.

“Soon as we’re done here.”

The trip into the city wasn’t by any means safe. In fact you were certain it was the most dangerous thing you would attempt in your journey to the Boston QZ. For so long you’d played it safe, but Joel had plans and you would follow his lead wherever he went.

Perhaps it was ridiculous to say you loved him now. In a world where the small hints of anything good were smothered before they could bloom into something more. Except you couldn’t deny what your heart knew was true—what it had been holding onto for months. You loved him. Possibly more than you could ever love someone, and that’s what scared you. Sent a sick feeling into your stomach, your heart twisting violently in your chest at the thought.

Traveling through the city was lethal—a death sentence—but you soon realized it wasn’t the most dangerous thing you could do.

Falling in love in a world intent on destruction was the true risk. Because whether you liked it or not, your entire life could come crashing down in an instant if you lost the man beside you.

Joel was your oxygen. The sole reason you were still alive. You couldn’t lose him.

You both ate in silence, an act that had become sacred to you as time went on. Just a small piece of normalcy that remained—something to remember your old lives by. While you couldn’t necessarily sit at a table and savor the meal. Both of you were content with this. A small amount of peace before chaos ensued once more.

The city called to you—beckoned you closer—and you had to be careful not to give in. There was an unspoken rule in all the traveling you’d had with one another. Joel was the leader in this situation and you were to follow what he said; after all he was simply trying to keep the both of you alive. So you did just that. You waited for him to finish eating and explain exactly how this was going to go down.

“You know…” You picked at the grass beneath you. “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”

His eyes raised to meet your gaze—the once hardened stare now softened to something you now knew to be familiar. A look he only carried when he was around you. You felt something tug at your chest, warm and inviting.

“I want a home,” you said softly, twirling a dandelion between your fingers. “If that’s a possibility.”

The corners of his lips pulled upwards and you nearly missed the sight. But once you caught it…you couldn’t look away. Joel smiling was a rarity—this you knew to be a hard fact—but when he did the world lit up around him. His smile felt safe. As if he kept every ounce of love given to him in that single look.

“Could be a possibility,” he replied, shifting to where his arm was behind you—his weight leaning on it. “Got a place in mind?”

Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, small petals of the dandelion flying off. “Nothing too fancy. Big enough for us and…well…it has to be just right.”

Perhaps your mind was playing a trick on you, creating fantastical sights that felt too good to be true, but Joel's smile deepened. A soft light entered his eyes for a brief moment, effectively stealing the breath right from your lungs. He was so beautiful when he smiled. As if he was gifted with it from the gods themselves—his own secret power at the end of the day.

"A house huh."

You nodded, still stunned in place as his smile remained intact. "I miss having a home."

Five words. That's all it took for light to be extinguished like a flame being put out. Sorrow seeped back into his face, his smile faltered, and you felt the world shift beneath your feet. Whatever you said triggered something in his mind. It dragged the memory to the front and forced him to watch with no escape. You know...because you'd been in his place before; you had been a victim to the horror of your own life, privy to the movie that never had an end.

The difference was with Joel you could do nothing but watch.

There was no pulling him out of it, no distracting him, because the memory had already started. So you sat in silence, waiting for it to run its course. Until Joel returned back to you. His smile was gone, face grim once more, and grief stained his soul. But you'd take him any way he was. You'd take him damaged and ruined beyond repair, as he would with you.

"We should get moving soon," he said, voice lower than before, eyes glassy with tears that would never fall.

You let out a breath as your heart sank deeper in your chest. "I'll put out the fire."

He didn't question you or even try to stop you. He simply let you do what you thought was best. Gathering his jacket and gun, he helped you to your feet, the furrow between his brows now set back in place. For a moment...he looked younger than his actual age. A man from the past peeked out, but nothing stayed the same for long.

Nothing good ever stuck.

"Once we get to the edge of the city we'll be out in the open for anyone to see." He slung his pack over his shoulder, handing you a knife to stick in your pocket as an extra precaution for what was to come. "You know I only have one rule darlin'."

Now felt like the perfect time to make a joke—to bring back his smile—but the serious tone of his voice lingered in the air. A reminder that you may be able to take care of yourself on your own, but traveling with Joel now meant you had his life to worry about too.

That alone was something you couldn't risk.

"Follow your lead."

He nodded. "We should be alright, but just in case stick close."

"I will." The idea that you'd stray far from him was ridiculous and he knew it, but the words had to be said. For his own peace of mind.

Somewhere in the middle of the trees there remained an old hiking path. A memoriam of the years that came before, and yet you couldn't picture tourists taking this road. Not even their footprints would survive twenty years of nature. No, this small but distinct path was carved by people traveling towards Boston. You liked to imagine that they made it eventually; that their lives went on in the QZ without issue. But reality always held a harsher reflection than you expected.

Twigs snapped beneath your boots as you trailed beside Joel, eyes set on what remained of the city skyline. Proof that humanity once lived on this planet.

"They'll be deeper inside the city lines," Joel said, dragging your attention away from the ruin. "It's likely there ain't been people for years. But we can’t be sure."

"No reason for activity then?"

He sighed, squinting his eyes against the blaring sunlight. "I'm not sayin' there'll be less. But we might not encounter them much if we’re lucky."

A small amount of relief spread through your chest, pushing against the constant fear that ate at your heart. Devouring it as if you were the meal it had been waiting for. A delicacy of the human body.

"Better than nothing."

He made a noise of agreement, taking the lead and heading deeper into the woods. Eventually they would become sparse, giving the both of you less coverage, until they disappeared altogether. Two decades was plenty of time for nature to reclaim parts of the city, but the cement and stone still remained. A permanent fixture of what used to be in front of you.

The city that used to never sleep, now forced to rest forever.

In the distance you swore you could hear the now familiar screech that haunted your dreams. But it was too far out for you to make out. So you followed Joel, the sun beating down on both of you even through the trees. Sweat stuck to the back of your neck, your fingers slippery on the trigger of your gun. And you both walked in silence—focused on your surroundings. Too anxious to even allow yourselves to whisper.

Yet with Joel it never felt like you were losing time.

How could you? When he was giving back what you lost.

No one else would do this. No one would bother to make sure that you got a chance to visit the city you dreamed about, the place where your future was supposed to be. But he would.

Joel would have given you the sun if you asked him to—if only to see you smile.

Your words from last night continued to rise to the surface, placing themselves on the tip of your tongue, and begging you to open your mouth. Yet as much as you wanted to stand atop the tallest building in the city and shout it from the top of your lungs, you knew you couldn't.

Those words remained hidden in your chest like a wound that could never truly heal. A gaping hole that forced you to bleed out each time you acknowledged its presence.

The sad part was that Joel wasn't the one to rip it open. He was simply someone who managed to stir it awake. He brought it to life with just one look. You started bleeding years ago with loss after loss, until eventually...you stopped trying to close it up with cheap booze and an even cheaper version of what you ached for.

What you needed to sustain you.

"You never told me," Joel said abruptly, shutting down those thoughts within seconds. "About your life."

You smiled despite the effort and lack of breath. "There's not much to tell."

"I doubt that darlin'." He fell into step with you, his hand brushing across yours gently, but even you knew holding hands wasn't a luxury you could afford right now. Not when you'd have to run at a moment's notice. "What was college like?"

Scoffing, you adjusted the strap of your pack. "Parties, hangovers, and lots of coffee."

"Sounds 'bout right."

"Why Joel Miller. Don't tell me you went to college."

He leaned into you, his shoulder hitting yours with enough force to throw you slightly off course. "I didn't. My brother Tommy did. Well...he enrolled."

"Ah yes. The infamous Miller," you joked, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

He snorted, wrapping it around your waist instead. "I wouldn't call him that."

"Then tell me about him."

His eyes met yours, grief still pressing against the light that once was there, but you could see something else linger below. A sense of joy that only came when talking about his younger sibling. A relief that he had family still alive, still around for him to worry about. You knew the fear remained that one day...he might not have that person to worry about, that the world would remain just as cruel as before.

That thought hit you harder than you would have liked—the face of your own brother flashing in your mind. You couldn't save him. Shit, you barely even knew if he was still alive or dead. And that in itself was a different type of grief; a horror you wouldn't wish on anyone.

Least of all Joel.

"He was in the army."

A fallen tree came into view, blocking the path. Joel climbed over it first, grunting as he jumped down, his feet slamming hard when he landed. He took your hand as you went next, helping you go softer than him, checking with a glance to make sure you hadn't snagged yourself on the split wood.

You recall your own brother enlisting, although your mother used to claim you were too young to remember the day he left. But you could make out the hazy images of tear filled goodbyes and hugs that lasted longer than normal. He joined to find purpose. You understood that now.

"Nearly gave our parents a heart attack when he came home with the news." Joel huffed, his hand still clasped tightly around yours. "But Tommy was eighteen. And damn stubborn."

You tried to picture the other Miller as you did when Joel first mentioned him, yet still came up blank. They must look alike. Maybe the same nose, or jaw. No matter how hard you tried though, you could see nothing but a faceless man—a blank slate to the one Joel spoke of so fondly.

"He's younger than you?"

Joel nodded. "By a few years."

The thought of Joel trying to be a good role model for his brother made you smile. You wondered if they ever got into trouble together, if there were stories he might tell you one day when you finally found a safe place to live.

"So...he was the troublemaker of the family."

His gaze slid over to you, eyebrow arching slightly in faux surprise. "I wouldn't say that."

You grinned. “Let me guess…” Joel’s hand tightened around yours. “You were the responsible brother.”

“I had to be.”

“He sounds fun. Maybe I should have met him first.” Glancing to your side, you didn’t see as his face darkened. A look of something wild crossed his face, the painful grip on your hand bringing you back as he yanked you forward. “Joel—”

Unexpected. That is what you continued to feel each time Joel kissed you. Unexpected in his action, unexpected in the feelings he buried beneath the rubble of his heart. You felt yourself stumble into his chest, his lips sliding against your roughly, as he gave into that wild unknown sensation.

A hunger that consumed him quickly. Larger than anything he’d known before.

He exhaled, pulling away with reluctance, and you nearly moved forward to take back that fleeting euphoria. His thumb and forefinger pinching your chin lightly kept you in place. Until you opened your eyes—catching his gaze. Want burned in his iris—turning the deep brown a shade of black—but something darker peeked out, a possessive glint. A promise that you were his.

“Trust me darlin’,” he murmured, lips pulling up into a small grin. Your stomach fluttered rapidly at the sight of his eyes sliding down to your lips—his tongue running along his bottom lip. You wanted it in your mouth. “You’ve got the better brother.”

That remained clear the second you met him. But the tease still lingered in the air. A hint of irritation plucked at Joel’s heart as he thought about you and Tommy instead. If there’s one thing he knew it was this: Tommy would make you laugh as often as possible. He wouldn’t quit until he saw joy overtake the grief on your face. But something told him you needed more than humor.

Even as you looked at him like that—eyes soft and hazy with need—he still felt the innate need to prove himself. To show that he was it for you; that no matter what happened next, Joel was going to be yours.

His face darkened and you longed to peel away the layers of murkiness that hid his true feelings.

But that was the thing about Joel. He’d never show you outright what he kept beneath the surface—not unless he was telling you himself.

His hand took yours again, a small kiss pressed to your temple as he started walking. Towards a future so tangible you could almost feel it between your fingertips. How it ebbed and flowed despite the endless mountain ridges you were yet to traverse.

There was no telling where it dropped off. Where this future finally settled, but regardless of what happened, you’d remain. You would choose Joel over and over again, even if this path led to your death. As long as he was safe—as long as he survived. To you Joel was the only thing you could save—having given up on yourself years ago.

You were two broken souls, but given the chance, you’d piece him back together.

You could see that the path veered back towards the forest, probably to some old forgotten campgrounds. A part of you nearly asked him to head that way, but you stopped before you started. The realization dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. How many people never made it home? How many lost parts of humanity still remained in a place meant solely for joy?

A cold unsettling feeling burrowed its way into your stomach, nausea rising quickly to the surface. Everywhere you looked, death stared back with an empty gaze.

A promise already embedded too deep to remove.

This is how it was always meant to go. This is where it would always lead to.

Joel couldn’t see the terror stricken expression across your face. You were in too deep to ask him for a rescue anyways. So you simply remained. Entrenched in the thick darkness. Yet your feet still moved, your body still complied. He led you closer and closer to the outskirts of the city. And where you expected fear to arise, you found nothing but numbness.

An echo of pain that called out to you. How could you fear what you already knew? The infected were no longer the embodiment of your worst horror come to life.

No, that title now belonged to the man holding your hand so gently in his. Squeezing every few minutes in an act of unconscious reassurance. His fate, his life, it all twisted together until you could barely catch your breath.

He turned to glance at you over his shoulder, his lips curving into a soft smile, the lines around his eyes deeper than before. You nearly gasped as you were yanked out of the darkness, warm air brushing across your face. For those few seconds you felt the sunlight against your face. The worries melted away and this is what you were left with.

Pure broken love.

“Tired?” he asked, oblivious to the way you were drowning.

You grinned, moving closer. “Not really.”

“We got a few more hours.”

Perfect.

You didn’t say it aloud, but you could see the sentiment was reflected back in his eyes. He wanted this as much as you. Where the world only existed in time spent alone. Where nothing could harm you here in your infinite haven with him.

Returning his smile, you squeezed his hand softly, doing what you could to burn the feel of his calloused skin into your mind. Whether it took a few hours or a few days, you didn’t mind. As long as it was with him.

Silence.

That’s all you heard throughout a city once plagued by noise. Where thousands of people used to live—creating the hustle and bustle of the city that used to never rest, now an echoey hollowness remained. At last…the city was asleep. And you hated it.

Life should spill out of every crack and crevice of this place, but there was nothing. You felt as if you should grieve for what once was, but no emotions rose to the surface. Instead you were faced with a bottomless pit of something that once existed.

Joel’s hand was replaced with your weapons, his gun clutched tightly in his own grip. You remained on the outskirts, but that didn’t mean you were safe. If anything you were in more danger this out in the open. There should have been something by now. Yet it seemed that fate had a different idea altogether.

In a way, you were beyond thankful, but uncertainty still remained. A reminder that this would only last for so long. Fate offered what it could, and you took without a second thought. There would never be another chance like this—never another moment of peace.

Sweat stuck to the back of your neck as you walked, eyes scanning the area like clockwork. Joel was a few paces ahead, his body tense, finger on the trigger in case of the worst. You hoped it would never come. Neither of you spoke for fear that whatever remained in the abandoned buildings could hear you. The air was sticky with heat and you felt your body begin to dry out the longer the both of you traveled.

“We can rest up ahead,” he called over his shoulder as if your thoughts were projected to him.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

It’s not that you didn’t trust him—you did—but wandering in the city felt like a risk you shouldn’t be taking more than a trip of enjoyment.

“I’ve got an idea.”

You scoffed. “That’s helpful.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t trust me now Boston,” he drawled with a halfway grin across his face.

“It’s kind of late for that…Texas.”

“No shit.”

You did your best to hold back the laugh that bubbled to the surface, but there was no use. You couldn’t stop it now. Joel looked surprised for a split second, his lips parting into a wide smile, until he began to laugh with you. Deep and rough and perfectly Joel.

This. This is what you ached for most. Joy—no matter how small—in a time where the concept no longer existed. If you could bring that to each other even as you fought to survive then you’d be okay.

In the near distance you could see it, a small section of benches surrounded by nothing but overgrown bushes, flower patches, and trees that would have never been allowed to grow that tall. A sense of elation filled your chest at the sight of a park. So out in the open, so mundane in a city quickly being overtaken by nature. Ivy trailed up the buildings as if that alone kept the ruins together, but you’d never seen something so beautiful.

“I got some food left over,” he muttered, rummaging in his pack as you took a seat on a bench covered by vines. “Nothin’ much, but it’ll work till we dig up somethin’ else.”

You took it gratefully, taking in the area with wonder as you caught every small piece that might show a hint of the past. Shop signs were broken off, rubble scattered through the streets, and abandoned cars were lined up like barriers to the inside of buildings. Perhaps people had come through here before, trapping the infected inside as they made their way through the city quickly.

“Do you remember what it was like?”

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, catching sight of the coffee shop sign you were fixated on—half of it gone and broken on the asphalt. Everything here had been destroyed over the years. Taken, ripped a part, and left to rot. Yet the cracks in the streets where plants grew told Joel that life still found a way to flourish. Even as darkness and cruelty became the figurehead of humanity.

“Loud,” he said, biting into the dusty granola bar.

You smiled, shifting to make room for him as he joined you on the bench. “So I’ve heard. The city that never sleeps. I guess it was named that for a reason.”

“People were crammed into every corner.” He pointed up to a building in the distance. Surprisingly it hadn’t collapsed yet. “I stayed there. Fourth floor.”

“Hotel?”

He nodded. “Expensive as shit.”

“That tracks.”

“But I had fun.” He grinned, eyes distant as if replaying moments of his past, reliving what it was like to be in this city at the height of its prime. “Tommy wanted to move here. After the army.”

“Did you…want to go with him?”

Joel huffed, eyes falling to his hands as he broke apart the granola bar—anxiety bleeding off his body and seeping into yours. “No. That life was his. Not mine.”

Counting in your head, you tried to calculate at what age Joel might have been when Tommy came home. What might have happened in his life. Until the conversation from earlier came back to you like a fist to your face. Sarah. You tried to picture him as a young dad, raising a little girl, and suddenly the gap between your years and his felt like a chasm you shouldn’t cross.

A split in the ground so deep you could see right down to the center of the Earth.

“And to think,” you replied, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I could have met you here.”

His laugh was shadowed by pain—grief he’d never let you see in its entirety. “You wouldn’t have gone for me.”

“That’s not true.”

“What with you bein’ a fancy museum worker?” He turned, his nose brushing against yours. “Gettin’ you to look twice at me would have taken some effort.”

You smiled, stealing a kiss. “You’re wrong. I’d have asked you out in an instant if I saw you. Maybe…in a bar.” His laugh was soft, raspy as if he’d been shouting for hours. “Or a park.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to keep his smile. “How would it go?”

“Well…” Pulling back, you pressed a finger to your chin, eyebrows pulling together as you pretended to lose yourself in thought. “I’d begin the conversation, because you’re not much of a talker.” He pinched your side, drawing out a laugh.

“And you’d say?”

Forcing your face into a stoic expression, you grasped his shoulders. “Excuse me sir. Are you a fan of country music?”

He snorted, his body shaking as he broke between your palms. Laughing so hard he nearly dropped his granola bar on the floor. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine the sounds of the city in the background. The echo of what could have been reverberating to you through the years.

This would be it. The moment you knew you were head over heels for the man sitting beside you.

This is where you’d start to plan a future.

“And you’d say…of course, I’m from Texas darlin’.” You did your best to morph your voice into his, but couldn’t get through it without smiling.

Joel cupped your chin, tugging your lips close enough to feel them brush across his—your heart now beating an unsteady rhythm in your chest. “Of course.”

“And I’d say…that’s funny. I’m from Boston.” Sadness seeped into your heart when he looked at you like that—as if you were the only person to exist on this planet. His hope. His lifeline. “And the rest is history.”

He pressed his lips against yours, stealing a kiss soft enough to crack off another splinter of your heart. “I like that version of history.”

“Me too,” you breathed, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep the sting of tears at bay.

You could feel the pain in your feet begin to shoot through your lower back. Traveling steadily with each step. From what you could tell, the sun was dipping into mid afternoon, still early in the day, but late enough to cause worry. Staying in the city past nightfall didn’t bode well for either of you. Yet somehow…you were traveling deeper into the maze of fallen buildings and broken roads.

“Joel—”

He stopped in the middle of the road, his back straight and shoulders tense. You braced yourself for the worst, hands grabbing tightly onto the weapon clutched to your chest. A small chirp of birds sounded in the distance, animals echoing their sentiments back to the broken world around them. Yet nothing sounded dangerous enough to cause worry.

“What is it?”

Glancing back at you, he threw you a cautionary smile, head tilting as if to say join me. 

So you followed his instruction. Stepping around the cracks in the street to stand close, facing him as he looked at something behind you.

“We’re here.”

Confusion lined your face, worry filtering through your chest. “Where’s…here?”

“Turn around.”

His hands grasped your shoulders, shifting you until you were staring at the building he was. And for a moment you nearly laughed; claimed it was a good joke walking you nowhere. Only for your eyes to catch sight of the cracked and broken steps before you. Weeds grew between what still remained and the front was blown to shit, but you’d recognize this building even with your eyes closed.

The final destination in the path of your old future.

“The Met?” you whispered, eyes wide in awe at the sight of such a grand building torn to bits.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “Thought you might want to see it in person this time.”

Those three words you uttered last night, barely spoken at all, suddenly felt too small to describe the depth of what you felt. You didn’t just love Joel. You would die for him. You’d take any pain he harbored and carry it as your own. And you’d do all this…because he’d do the exact same for you. Love felt too little in the grand scheme of things.

How could you simply love someone who would bring you the future and lay it at your feet?

“Is it safe?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, tinged by awe.

“Probably not.”

“So we could die?”

“There’s a good chance.”

You smiled, tangling his hand in yours. “I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed your palm softly. “I do too.”

Carefully he led you up the steps. A walk that felt surreal after years of dreaming this exact moment. You knew one day you’d get here. Whether that was with a degree and a resume in your hand, or holding the hand of a man who saved you. You didn’t care, because finally…there you stood.

Ivy crawled up the sides of the building, the doors were no longer attached, and you felt as if you were walking into a different universe. The entrance that you’d seen in brochures and pictures somehow looked prettier this way; slowly being captured by the hands of nature. As she shifted the land of humans to her point of view.

The almost crystalline marble shone differently in the direct sunlight. Glancing up you caught sight of the hole in the ceiling. This building must have been affected by the bombing.

“I remember this part,” he said suddenly, an awestruck expression painted across his face. He looked like a young man again, taking his first visit to this grand old museum.

“This is called The Great Hall. And it was Richard Morris Hunt that was the architect on the project. One hundred years ago. Well give or take a few years.”

A stream of words left your mouth without a single thought. Explanations of the different parts that once existed, the historical references for how they were built. And for a moment you felt nineteen again. Fresh out of an art history class; the knowledge once again at the forefront of your mind.

All the while Joel watched with a glint in his eyes, silent to what you had to say, yet focused entirely on you. The museum wasn’t important to him. Hell he barely gave a shit about what used to be here. But something changed in your demeanor as you spoke about art and the history attached to it. You bloomed before his very eyes.

You came alive.

“I wonder if a few of the paintings are still around,” you murmured, eyes averting to one side of the room. “Could we…”

He nodded, readying his gun. “We can try.”

You expected this place to be crawling with infected. At least a few here and there, yet nothing but silence greeted you with each new room you entered. It became unnerving after a while. As if fate was waiting to drop the other shoe, tearing apart something already special.

Hesitation lingered in each step you took, fear crawling along your nerves like a spider, until you entered a room filled with paintings torn apart. Once upon a time it was a gallery, yet now the delicate pieces of history were nothing but a reminder of what happened.

Tucked away on a side wall, you found a painting still hanging. A small crack went through the top corner of the glass covering it, but as a whole the piece remained pristine enough to make out.

“You know that one?” he asked, following your quick pace through the room.

“Allegory of the Planets and Continents.”

“Allegory huh?”

You nodded. “Painted by Tiepolo in…1752.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

“He did a lot of allegorical pieces.” You tilted your head, eyes tracing the intricate details that were nearly lost to time. Joel did the same. “I remember seeing this in a class presentation.”

He hummed, his gaze finding its way back to you. “And what does it mean?”

“A number of things really.” You pointed to the center. “That’s Apollo. And those are the gods as a representation of the planets. Mars, Jupiter, Venus. You know.”

“And them?”

You sighed. “Humanity.” His hand found its way towards yours, fingers twining together as you stood there. Alone in a museum together. “They’re waiting for Apollo to take to the skies and bring about the sun.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a God.”

The smile that crossed your face made Joel’s chest tighten. “I guess it was. Although it’s strange. Back then people were waiting for the sun and now…well now we wait for death.”

Pain flared in his heart quickly and without warning. But he did his best to force it down, steadying himself in your hold. Oh how he wished he could tell you the truth. About the past he had yet to accept as his own. About the bullet that never met its mark—the hand that remained unsteady even now.

“We should go soon,” you said, pulling him out of his own mind, and he nearly thanked you. “The sun will be going down eventually.”

He nodded. “Go out the way we came.”

It hurt to say goodbye to a building you’d never been in before. But that’s not where the pain stemmed from. You’d said goodbye to the prospect of what if a long time ago. You had to. This was from losing such a precious moment with Joel—a memory you’d hold onto for as long as you could. For that time…you were simply two people wandering the halls of a museum together. Finally on a date after so long traveling.

Maybe if you had met years before in a bar or in a park. You wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

The sunlight felt different back on the steps, brighter, crueler. As if Apollo was mocking you for such a small hope, such a small dream come to life. Yet even now you couldn’t blame him.

You headed back the way you came through the city. But your feet were weary, your body drooped with each step, and eventually you’d collapse on the asphalt just as the buildings once did. Joel could tell with each look he threw your way, checking to make sure you were in fact following him. He wouldn’t have put it past you to remain in that building.

To make a home with history.

“We can’t sleep here,” he said, pausing to let you catch your breath.

“I know. My feet just…”

He nodded solemnly, squinting against the sunlight. “Wait here.”

“Joel?”

There was no time to question his actions, because you were out of breath as it was, and he was moving further away quicker than you expected. Standing there in the middle of the street wasting sunlight turned your insides with every second that passed. Your eyes caught sight of him turning a corner before he vanished entirely from your sight. And you held onto the thin shred of sanity you had left in your body.

You trusted Joel. A fact truer than anything you’d known in your life.

So you waited, watched your surrounding areas, and held your breath. 

If you weren’t so unnerved by the silence, you might have found it enjoyable. Some peace before the two of you went in search of a QZ that may no longer be there. That thought never occurred to you—traveling with Joel kept you distracted enough to where you didn’t focus on the important things. The question that now picked at your heart.

What were you supposed to do if the QZ wasn’t there? Where would you go?

Blind faith is all that kept you going, but that never seemed to be enough. In the end you were left with nothing but disappointment. You’d run all out of faith when it came to the fates. The still healing wound on your side was proof enough of that.

The echo of dried leaves cracking beneath feet signaled to you that Joel must have returned. Whatever he was looking for must have been a bust. The smile on your face and tease right on the tip of your tongue died in moments as you turned. A rock falling to your stomach, filling you with dread.

Dried blood caked down the side of their face. A deep red now a rust brown; a stark contrast to the green moss that covered their torn clothes.

Every time you saw one you felt the punch to your gut grow stronger. As if lead embedded itself in your flesh. Again. Your breath came in short, eyes stuck staring at what was once a person. They stumbled forward, body twitching with every stunted shift. And you wanted to scream. Shout for Joel, but your mouth sealed itself shut, your body rooted to the ground beneath you.

The whole time you were aching for life to return to this city, you forgot. Life already existed here. Mangled and rotting and steeped in death.

But life nonetheless.

They turned, eyes glassy and empty, but somewhere in the depth of them they recognized that you were alive. Your heart pounded against your chest, louder than their fucking screech. It pierced right through your skin, a slice to the already existing wound.

You clutched Joel’s gun, finger sliding along the trigger. It was easy enough to pull, to set the bullet flying towards its mark. And you should have pulled it, should have watched as they dropped, but like an idiot…you hesitated.

Why the fuck did you hesitate?

A pause of silence filled the space, echoing louder than any gun could have, before time slowed before your very eyes. How fucking stupid of you. To think you’d be safe. They clocked your shift back, head twitching, before that horrifying click you’d come to hate echoed in your ears. You were dead the second they started to run, limbs flying and body thrashing, as if the control stemmed to one part.

One sole purpose.

Infect.

“Fuck!” you shouted, ignoring the ache in your feet as you sprinted in the direction Joel disappeared to. If you were lucky he was still there.

Yet life had a way of proving to you that luck had nothing to do with why you remained alive.

“Joel!” You gasped for breath, doing what you could to ignore how they sped up behind you, their screech somehow louder as it echoed off the buildings around you. “Joel!”

If you could get the upper hand you could put a bullet in their skull, but your thought process happened too late. Glancing over your shoulder, you were blinded by their body launching at you. Toppling you to the ground as they scratched for your face, any part of you they could sink their teeth into. You don’t remember screaming, or even calling Joel’s name. You simply fought. You tugged on the loose thread of pure fucking rage that called your name—screamed for you to do survive.

“You piece of shit!” you yelled, managing to hold them off with your forearm, your fingers grappling for the knife attached to your side. “You fucking animal!”

“Boston!”

Yanking it out, you nearly cried in relief as you jammed it into their neck, shoving it in deep enough to hear a crunch as it met bone. Satisfaction pulled at your chest. You didn’t stop there. Dragging it out, you sliced through their shoulder, their throat, any part of them you could reach. Until you were no better than the monster that now lay above you. Lifeless.

Hands came out of nowhere, grasping onto their corpse and shoving it off you. You nearly took a swing at the person above you, the red fury blinding you to anything that could have existed nearby. The feral piece of your heart—the survivor—had been set in motion and they called for blood.

Joel’s hands yanked the knife out of your clutch, his voice calling your name, and for a moment you felt lost to the depths of your own fury. You would have killed him if he wasn’t fast enough to dodge that knife.

“Boston!” He pressed you to the ground, his body sitting on your waist, hands keeping your wrists together. “Baby it’s me.”

The breath in your lungs escaped in a sharp gasp, your body stilling within seconds. Only a few times in your life had you succumbed to that raw emotion that scratched and clawed at your chest. Some days you claimed it kept you alive. Others you ignored its existence in the hopes that it would disappear for good. It was the darkness you refused to see—the one thing you wouldn’t accept about yourself.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, releasing the hold he had on your hands in order to cup your face. “It’s dead. It’s gone. You killed it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Why…did you leave?”

Leaning forward he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath hot across your chin. “I’m sorry darlin’. I keep doin’ that.”

Inhaling his breath, you did what you could to regulate your heart. “And I keep nearly dying.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Nearly. Not if I got a say in the matter.”

Dirt covered your back as he helped you to your feet, and before you could shake it off, he brushed his hands along your body. Patting it off as best he could. The act shouldn’t have brought tears to your eyes, it shouldn’t have even been noteworthy. But the tenderness behind his touch reminded you what you could have lost.

“I want an explanation,” you said, your voice thick with tears. Thankfully he chose to ignore it.

“I found somethin’.” He pointed to a shop that held no sign, no indication that it was anything before this. “You might like it.”

You struggled to put the knife back in its place—still wary and on edge. “This better be good Texas. I didn’t almost die for nothing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but you caught the flash of something crossing his face. Dark enough to cause worry. And you wanted to ask, to prod and poke at what he was keeping to himself, but the way his fingers tightened on his gun told you enough. He didn’t like to think of you that way. Dead on the ground in a city that he brought you to. A trip that was meant to be filled with joy.

“Follow me,” he stated, pushing open that already broken door.

You half expected to see a shop, something frivolous from the past, but the sight of a garage nearly stopped you in your tracks. A dusty brown cover cloaked something in the middle, but the shape was familiar enough to light up your chest. A car. Joel tugged at the cover, kicking up dirt and whatever else lay atop, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s once beautiful dark red color looked aged with however long it had been here. Never one to know cars, you simply knew that it was expensive—a thing that would have cost the entirety of your tuition at one point.

“How…” you breathed.

“Saw the logo on the window,” he replied. “I figured it was a hardware store until I came in.”

“Does it work?”

He shrugged. “Probably not.”

You deflated slightly. “Can we…fix it?”

The sun was going down faster than you would have liked and Joel knew it. He could see how you were both losing time the longer you were there. But the prospect of having an escape kept him on the edge. His grim expression made the choice for you as you moved to pop the hood. Your bag, now discarded on the floor by his feet.

“I don’t know much about cars—”

“Lucky you got me.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re a contractor who knows cars?”

Joel huffed. “Someone had to help my brother fix up his shitty truck.”

The words were good enough for you as he moved you out of the way, ducking down to peer at the engine. His shirt tugged up his back as he leant forward, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat. If it were any other time and the prospect of this car working didn’t depend on life or death, you would have sat back and admired him.

But the edge from earlier still ran through your veins, adrenaline the only thing that kept you upright and stable. Joel worked silently, cursing under his breath every now and then. Only speaking to ask for certain tools. And you watched the sun begin to dip lower. Suddenly you found yourself regretting never taking auto shop in high school. Choosing wood shop over it in a heartbeat.

“Turn her over,” he said, wiping the sweat away from his neck. You felt warmth pool in your stomach at the sight.

Jamming the screwdriver into the ignition, you turned it slowly, hope cresting at the top of your chest. Only for the sputter of an engine to die out in seconds.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing back at the work he’d put in. “The battery ain’t dead yet and I fixed everythin’ else. Try again for me darlin’.”

You repeated the motion, pressing down on the gas pedal, clutching the wheel in your hand. Whether it was you attempting to force life into the car, or sheer fucking luck, you’d never know. But the echo of the engine roaring to life flooded you with enough relief you fell back into the seat with a smile.

“Joel?”

He looked up, a smile of pride across his lips. “Yeah baby?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of New York.”

Nodding, he tossed your bag into the backseat as you let him slide into the driver's seat. “I like the sound of that.”

The calm of the forest welcomed the both of you with open arms. As if promising the rest you ached for desperately. Miles and miles of trees—of different shades of green and brown—were softly illuminated by the sun steadily dipping in the sky. In an hour or less night would be upon the world and this day, no matter how special, would have to come to an end.

You tried not to think about it; the idea of having to say goodbye to something you’d cherish. What would keep you going if Joel and you were to ever part. What you wouldn’t do to keep the sun in the sky for a while longer. Give up a few years of your own life, of the future you planned with hope filled eyes and empty hearts.

If staying here—in this moment—was an option, you wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance.

Joel slammed the trunk of the car shut, a small box of cans he found buried in the back of the garage, clutched in his hands. Despite the prospect of all this eventually ending, you caught the hint of a smile on his lips. Barely there, yet bright enough to light up your heart like a match being struck.

You found yourself smiling back—heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“We’ve got…” He raised a can covered in dents and coated in a thick layer of dust. “‘M gonna assume it’s soup.”

“Lovely,” you laughed, your face twisting up in disgust as he tossed it to you.

The dust was sticky beneath your fingers, as if something had spilled across it years ago. You figured it was best not to question more than necessary. Settling on the ground, you plunged your knife into the cover, taking a hesitant whiff of something probably expired past saving. Much to your surprise though, a pungent scent of tomatoes greeted you.

“Raviolis,” you exclaimed, delight scrawled across your face.

You wished you could have seen Joel’s eyes go soft, seen the way he practically melted at the expression of joy you wore. Joel Miller remained hard as stone to the rest of the world, but in moments like this, when peace was prominent and life gave way to something other than pain. He allowed himself to feel. For a bit…he was the man he might have been a decade ago.

“Good enough for me.”

Prying the lid off, you watched as he set up stones for a small enough pit. You were far enough in the forest that it would take people several hours to get to you. Far enough away from civilization of any kind. What remained in the city, the bits and pieces left behind, would never be enough to build what used to exist. Like it or not…that part of the world had come to a close.

The chapter sealed and signed off with enough blood to keep it shut forever.

“Thank you,” you said softly as he struck a match from the small box you kept in your pack. “For today.”

He grinned, glancing down at his hands that fiddled with a stick. “Was nothin’ really. You wanted to see the city and we were heading this way—”

“Joel.” Cupping his face, you shifted his shining brown eyes until they were upon your face. Gazing at you with a look he’d never shown you before. “You gave me a day I’ll never forget.” He chuckled, grasping onto your waist gently. “Thank you.”

Those two words didn’t seem like enough to get your message across. You wanted to do the same for him. To give him something he’d remember, but nothing felt enough.

He pulled you closer. “Would have been better if you didn’t get attacked.”

“Well…” You looped your arm around his neck. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you.”

Something shifted in the air between you the second he led you up those cracked and broken museum steps. The front of the building had been blown clean off by bombs, but you’d recognize it anywhere. The place where your future once led to. A home in your heart for so long. A dream not yet come to life. Joel took care to lead, to put himself in harm's way to keep you safe. But it was more than that.

He gave you time to look.

To take back a part of your past you never got to have.

An act that he’d never be able to do. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t take anything from his past that hadn’t already been destroyed. The watch on his wrist was all he’d keep. But you…he could give this to you. He could heal something in your heart you didn’t even realize was broken.

“I’d do it again,” he murmured, lips sliding along the inside of your wrist, nose pressed to your palm.

Your heart ached for him; body burned for him. And in the lowlight of the sun, you found your hope in him. It glimmered softly, barely within reach, but Joel had kept it for you all this time. He made sure to protect what you couldn’t—what you had given up.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, catching his quickly darkening gaze. “Please.”

The crackle of the flames couldn’t hide his small groan of pleasure as his lips met yours. What he intended to be soft, reverent in a way he’d never been before, shifted rapidly. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapped gently around your throat to keep you in place. To help him devour you a bit deeper. That alone sent a flutter to rush through your entire body, your fingers digging into his wrist, silently begging for him to press down tighter.

To cut off the air he exhaled into your lungs.

“You got no idea—” He sucked in a breath when your lips met his throat, teeth nipping at the salty skin. Red bloomed beneath the surface as you went, small marks and bruises to prove that he wasn’t dreaming. That this trip was real—that you were real.

He growled, fingers tightening around your throat to pull your lips back to his, a rough breath exhaled into your open mouth. “No idea what you do to me darlin’.”

Sticky warm wet heat spilled into your stomach, flooding your already damp panties. The can was forgotten on the edge of the pit, his touch far more enticing than a few meager pieces of food. If you could survive on one thing alone, you’d want it to be him. You would train your body to sustain itself on his touch, his tongue sliding along yours, his fingers digging into your skin.

He’d become your oxygen, your reason for living.

“I-I do.” You gasped as his teeth dug into your throat, hands quickly stripping you of your flannel. Helping him, you yanked at your shirt, discarding it to the side. Nothing mattered but the feel of his tongue tracing along your skin—the hot mix of his touch and spit made you dizzy. “You do the same to me.”

A soft grunt was muffled into your chest, his hips rising up to grind against something. To gain what little friction he could.

In the midst of kissing him, he managed to drag you into his lap, your knees pressed to the forest floor on either side of his hips. Your body, as close as you could get with clothes in the way. You could feel the heavy press of him against your thigh and clenched around nothing. The needy emptiness that slammed into your body was nearly too much, but you held onto what little fragments of sanity still remained.

You clung to the bits of yourself he wished to consume, knowing the consequences of what might come afterwards.

But how could you give a fuck about consequences when his touch lit you up like the fire to your left? How could you care about anything else? When his lips wrapped around your peaked nipple and sucked at it as if you were his source of life.

His hands slid up your back, skin hot wherever he touched, as he pulled you down into his lap a bit more. Enough to feel the familiar press of his cock straining against his jeans. The sun was nearly gone now, light bleeding through the branches of the trees, and you let the warmth consume you. You relished in its burning caress as he worshiped your skin with his mouth, his hands that had spilled blood for you.

“Need to be—” He bit off with a sharp moan as you rolled your hips down, giving him the pressure he needed. “Fuck keep doin’ that.”

You were desperate for him and you weren’t afraid to admit it to yourself. The infatuation bordered on obsession, but if you were to say that about him he’d finally have to admit the same to you. He’d have to crack open his chest, bleed through your fingers like sand, and allow you to dig your way to his heart. As if you were conducting an autopsy on his body—picking a part each dark piece that he was ashamed to hold onto.

“Touch me,” you whined, digging your fingers into his hair as he dug his into your hips. A burning bruising touch that left you needy.

He grinned, pulling at the button of your pants. “I am touchin’ you darlin’.”

“You—fuck, fuck, fuck—” His fingers slid through your slick, finding their way to the parts of you he’d memorized in such a short time. Your clit practically throbbed beneath his touch, body shuddering as he circled it with enough pressure to electrify your nerves. “Yes.”

“That’s what you want?” The question was irrelevant. He knew this better than you, but that wasn’t what he was asking.

Is this enough? This quick fuck beside a fire as you both hid the real reason. Was his touch, his kiss, enough to show the truth?

Was he enough?

You choked out a soft yes, your lips finding his in a sloppy spit slicked kiss, and his fingers became insistent in their determination to watch you break. Joel had become addicted to the sight. His very own guilty pleasure—yet how could he feel guilty about something so angelic? How could he repent for a sin that he’d give up everything for? What was the point of worshiping at an altar when heaven existed between your thighs?

Eventually his fingers wouldn’t be enough. For either of you. But he was focused on one thing, feeling your pussy spill along his palm. He sunk two fingers into you knuckle deep and smiled as your head fell back, a throaty moan echoing off the trees. You grinded against his hand, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. And this was enough.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, hand still placed around your throat. His cock leaked as it constricted with your swallow and images of what he’d look like in your mouth flashed in his mind.

“M-More—” You gasped, your clit dragging along the heel of his calloused palm.

But you had begged for something else and Joel was never one to deny you. He ripped at your pants as you did the same with his, your lips messy and rough against his. You swallowed his moan the second your cold hand wrapped around his throbbing cock—precum sliding down your palm as he did his best not to finish there and then. He was so fucking wound up that this would be over before it began.

Neither of you cared.

“You’ve gotta know,” he rasped, gripping onto your bare hip as you hovered directly over his cock. Your pussy practically dripped onto him.

“Know what?” you sighed, sliding him through your slick.

He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of you. The shine of firelight and sunlight played against your skin and Joel felt his body tighten painfully. The view alone nearly made you double over in pleasure, your breaths coming in short gasps as he fought to finish on the front of your pussy.

“That I—” He gasped as you began to sink down onto him, encasing him that sticky heat he’d begun to think was the cause of his demise. He’d never be able to live without this. Without getting to carve his way into your body. “Fuck darlin’.”

You grinned, cupping his chin and pulling his attention back. “I’ll go slow.”

“You don’t have to take it easy on me.”

“Seems like I might.”

A rumble started in the base of his chest, lips curving up as he caught your mouth in a searing kiss you felt down to your toes. The grip on your throat tightened as you began to move slowly, letting him pull out of you slow enough to cause madness to rise in your chest. Like a burn you refused to let go of. Joel had other ideas. He yanked you down with enough force to drag out a high pitched cry from your chest, your mouth falling open in a silent scream when he set his own pace.

Quick and fast and filthy enough to sign your name on hell’s roster. He wanted to fuck himself into your body so deep he was buried there. Wanted to paint your insides until you were leaking him all morning. He wanted to etch himself into your soul.

Permanent and without shame.

“C’mon darlin’.” His teeth dug into your jaw, pain slicing through the pleasure deliciously. “Let me hear ya.”

You curled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounded up into you. “‘S good,” you gasped, coherency going right out the window.

He grinned, tugging at your throat. “You can do better than that.”

Words faintly entered your mind before disappearing seconds later as he tilted your hips slightly. You scratched at his chest when his cock struck right where you needed him. Right where your mouth began to form words you fought so hard to keep at bay. Words that revealed too much, gave a window into your heart, and if you had the capability you’d shut your fucking mouth. But it was far too late for that.

“You like that?” he groaned, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip as he kept the angle. The veins on his neck were strained, begging for you lick at them, and you dipped down to distract yourself from the words.

The one thing that seemed to catch his attention.

“What was that?”

You whined, wrapped an arm around his neck as you dragged your hips along the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Nothing,” you mumbled, sucking at his neck.

Only for him to pull you off by your throat, his lips hovering over yours. “What’d you say?”

“I—” You clung to him, begging for the truth to sink back into your chest. But he was staring at you with dark eyes and a parted mouth begging for you to kiss it. He looked at you as if you were ethereal and for that small moment, you believed it. “I love you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering in their movement. You watched his eyes go wide, understanding finally dawning across his features, and you prepared yourself for the worst. You waited for him to reject you. The words never came. He pulled you into a kiss, tongue sliding along yours, as he sped up his thrusts. Grunting into your mouth with each one—his body taut and begging for release.

“Yeah?” he panted into your mouth. You nodded, feeling the burn of pleasure begin to flash white behind your shut eyes.

“So much,” you sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks. Something pulled tight in your stomach, building with each stunted move of his body against yours. You needed it, would beg on your knees for it, and Joel was right there with you.

His dark gaze met yours as he finally released your throat in favor of finding your clit. “Say it again.”

Heat rocketed up your spine as you locked down around his cock, his fingers insistent and rough. “I love you!” you cried, trembling in his hold. Those three words you’d been so afraid to say out loud finally spilled free over and over and over again. Until you couldn’t hear them anymore over the loud rush in your ears.

He slammed his hips up one last time, lips finding yours in a bruising kiss, and found his own peak. Spilling into you with a moan, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you pressed up close. You wondered if he feared you’d vanish before his very eyes.

“I love you,” he sighed, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut to your own wide gaze.

The words didn’t register at first, simply flying directly over your head. Yet as silence wrapped around your entwined bodies, sunlight disappearing over the last of the trees, you finally understood. No orgasm could match the absolute bliss that filled your body at the echo of his voice forming those words. Of their soft cadence. He was hesitant to look at you, to face what could finally break him, but your hands cupping his face drew him out of his own mind.

“Say it again,” you whispered, smiling so bright your cheeks ached. “Please.”

Before you could bask in their beauty, he was pulling away. Digging into his pack that lay behind him. You wanted to stop him, bring him back to this current moment, but the glint of something gold caused you to freeze. The breath once again caught in your chest.

For the first time you saw Joel grow nervous. Almost bashful as he lifted his hand and allowed a small green jewel on a gold chain to dangle between the both of you. The last of the sunlight glinted off the emerald and for some reason it reminded you of him. How it shone in those rare moments when light caught it just right. Yet held a darkness to it, a hidden truth yet to be revealed.

“I love you,” he said, pressing the necklace into your palms. “I always will darlin’.”

Tears dripped onto his hands as you clutched the dainty piece of jewelry to your chest. “Oh Joel.”

“It’s not a ring—”

You silenced him with a tear filled kiss, salt spilling across his tongue. He did what he could to wipe them away, but like it or not there seemed to be no end in sight. Not when your heart finally latched onto all those broken pieces you thought were lost. Joel did the one thing you never thought possible. He healed you.

“It’s enough.” You smiled into his kiss, the necklace digging into your palm—carving its shape into your skin. “You’re enough.”

You could see it now. The path your future led to. Not a building, or a job, or even a home. The end of your path—your grand plan—would always and forever lead to him.

#this is so long i don't even know what to say #um...i'm sorry for what's about to happen next???? #ANYWAYS I'M JUST GONNA *dips for fear of this flopping* #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us fic #my writing

[radiant-reid]

my sweet darling, how are you?? i hope you’re having a nice weekend so far! can i pls request a spencer piece where maybe they haven’t been intimate for a while (because they’re busy & life be life-ing, ORRR bonus: underlying angsty reasons👀) & one night they come home late after a case & spence needs to remind her of how good he can make her feel;))) & make is smutty pls & thank you if ya don’t mind, i woke up horny today ahahah

take care hun🫶🏻

thank you for this request !

Working at the BAU takes everything out of you. You wouldn't have it any other way, but it's difficult some days. Finishing a case is usually alleviating, knowing you've brought families closure and stopped a killer from killing. This time, it doesn't feel like that.

It might be that getting home doesn't feel warm like usual. It's cold, and you're sure the weird distance between you and Spencer is why. You've been out of sync with him before, but never as bad as lately. There's no anger or arguments, you just feel far away from him.

"I'm going to shower." You tell him, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor.

"Want something to eat?" He asks, tapping his fingers on the bench.

You shake your head, still not looking up at him. "No." You answer. "Thank you."

You turn back to look at him, watching as he takes books out of his satchel and puts them back on the bookshelf for a moment. You should just walk over there and kiss him, end whatever's going on. What you don't see are the gears turning in his head as he thinks about what to say.

You turn the water on, stripping as you wait for it to warm up. The warm water cascading over you is heavenly, soothing your tired muscles. You're so relaxed you don't notice Spencer opening the bathroom door and undressing.

When he steps into the shower, you gasp in surprise. "What are you-"

He places his hand over your mouth, stopping you from talking. "I love you. You need to know that." The passion pours off him, and his sudden declaration is full of his usual affection.

It makes your heart flutter in your chest. "I do know that." You say when he takes his hand away. "And I love you."

He kisses you as passionately as he spoke, cupping your cheeks and smashing his lips onto yours. It's everything you've been craving after two weeks of pecks.

You press your palms against his chest, fingers gliding over his skin. He backs you up against the steamed glass, and his lips break from yours to kiss down your neck.

Your head falls back, giving him more access to your soft skin as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Fuck, Spence." You moan.

His hand moves to your waist, keeping your hips tight against his where you can feel how hard he is. "Wanna do this here?" He offers, breath hot against your neck.

You nod quickly. "Need you right now." You confirm.

He groans at your answer, quickly picking you up and holding you against the glass. You squirm in his grip, trying to get yourself lined up with his cock.

The synced moans as you slide onto his cock confirm you're both experiencing the same divine feeling. "How'd you feel more amazing each time?" He chokes out.

"It always feels-fuck- amazing when it's us." You remind him, biting down on his shoulder. It drives him crazy, and it's enough to have him moving you to an angle where he can thrust into you, his hips grinding against yours.

His thrusts are sloppy, and the position is awkward as he tries to not slip over but you don't care. Not when it feels so good and you feel close to him again. His hands touch your skin just about everywhere, needing to feel you, and you keep your arms wrapped around his shoulder to stabilize yourself while your fingers tug on his curls and leave scratch marks on his back.

It doesn't take long, it's been so much longer than usual and you're both so desperate that you cum around him seconds before he cums in you, both repeating your love for each other again and again.

He holds you there for another moment while you both come down from your highs before delicately letting you down. "Hi." He says, pushing your wet hair away from your face and brushing his nose against yours.

"Hey." You say, smiling softly at him.

"To bed?" He offers.

You nod sleepily. "I want all-night cuddles as well."

Spencer chuckles softly, kissing your forehead. "What you want, you shall have."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut

[sdr2lovemail]

Rating KNY characters on how well they can play rhythm games!: Upper Moon Edition!

This came to me in a vision and I must share!

Kokushibo 0/10

Kokushibo can kill. He can slay hordes of demon hunters without breaking a sweat. Put a tablet in front of him? He's done.

In battle, he's quick on his feet and a fast thinker. But something about the bright shapes flying across the screen got him pressing them three years after they pass, even with six eyes.

It's a challenge to get him to even play. Saying that human games are trivial to him and does not wish to partake. Will probably get a few seconds into the song before quitting.

"This is pointless. Goodbye."

Douma 9/10

Scarily good. After the initial "shock" of seeing a tablet, Douma is clearing songs with ease.

He's got a good sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes. He prefers games with female casts as well. They're just nicer to look at in his words.

Scratches the screen of your tablet with those nails of his. Be cautious when using it after he's done with it, you might cut yourself on the glass.

That is if you can get it out of Douma's grasp. This screen is so interesting, you can't just take it away!

"Hey, I'm still using it... Come on, just one more song!"

Akaza 2/10

He can keep up well enough, but his sense of rhythm outside of fighting is awful. He's too focused on trying to hit the buttons that he can't keep up with the beat.

Akaza will get frustrated very quickly. He'll keep trying as he keeps getting mad. Saying he'll beat the next one. He's not stopping until he beats a song, or until your tablet is in pieces. Whichever comes first.

You can offer to put the game on an easier setting, but he wants to play on an even harder setting, just to prove he's better than a scrap of metal. It's a never ending cycle of frustration.

"No! I don't need it to be easier! You know what? Make it harder. I'll show you!"

Hantengu 0/10

(Might include clones in a different post)

Bad all around. No sense of rhythm and can't keep up with the notes. Hantengu gets angry to the point of tears, which makes it even harder for him to play. Didn't even want to try at first.

While he's quick in battle, he's still an old man from the Taisho Era. The bright, flashing graphics of the game overwhelm him and he just can't focus on one thing.

Another one to scratch the screen with his nails. He'd press down hard too, leaving pretty deep scratches.

Gets too frustrated and rage quits, not even finishing a song.

"I-I don't want to do this anymore!"

Nakime 9/10

Amazing sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes like a seasoned player. Not a fan of most of the song choices. She's a fan of traditional sounds. Modern day pop, electronic, etc. is not for her.

It's a challenge to get her to play as well. She doesn't acknowledge your asking for a while. You really gotta pester her if you want her to play.

Nakime is skilled with her biwa even with her nails. She gets a bonus point for not scratching the life out of your tablet.

"Fine...I will try your music game."

Gyokko 5/10

Thinks he's above anything you'd have to offer, even if it was from modern times. You'll have to really butter him up for him to even think about playing.

With multiple hands comes quick reflexes and the abilities to do multiple things at once. He's able to keep up with the rhythm and notes with ease.

Gyokko is docked points because he'd just be bitching the whole time. Saying how ugly the art and graphics are or how he finds the music/vocals grating against his ears. Overall allergic to fun.

"How childish! Makes sense that someone like you could be so distracted with flashing colors."

Daki 3/10

She would actually be good at the game if she didn't throw a tantrum every time she lost her combo. She has a good eye and sense of rhythm, but gets too in her head about playing. Takes forever to pick a song.

Daki would throw your tablet across the room or slam it into the floor in a fit of rage, don't expect to get it back in one piece.

There's two reactions depending on how well you play. If she doesn't like you all that much, she blow up on you in an act of jealousy. If she does like you, she begging you to tell her how to get better.

"Wah! This is stupid! I clicked that note! I hate this!"

Gyutaro 0/10

Gyutaro doesn't even want to entertain the thought of him playing such a stupid game. He says that he has much better things to do. In the small chance you do get him to play, he sucks.

His lack of skills brings an onslaught of self deprecation. Groaning about he can't even play some dumb human game.

Doesn't scratch the screen too bad but he does scratch himself, leaving bloody stains all over the tablet.

"Nehhh, I can't even keep up. How pitiful..."

Kaigaku 2/10

Proudly boasts about how well he could play and how he could beat any score you could manage to get. Is promptly humbled the second the song starts.

Kaigaku would want to play on the hardest difficulty, but gets mad when he misses a note.

His stubbornness doesn't allow him to quit. He's going to keep playing until he can get a full combo. Don't tell him that all perfect combos exist, you'll never see him again.

"Stop trying to take it from me! I'm not done yet!"

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #upper moons #kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo #douma #akaza #hantengu #nakime #gyokko #daki #gyutaro #kaigaku #headcanons

[cerise-on-top]

EEEE BACK AGAIN CUZ YOUR WRITING IS YUMMYYY

Valeria, Graves, König, and Soap (separately) who has a s/o who's into poetry?

like maybe they're a poet or a librarian or something.

bonus points for a silly little cozy aesthetic dressed s/o :33

MANY HUGSSSS

-☁️

(CLOUD ANON)

Hello again! Welcome back! I'm glad my silly writings are enjoyable to people! I wrote it so Reader is a librarian and writes poetry both, in most of these! I think I forgot for Soap! I hope these are good enough! Thank you very much for the request! ^^

Soap, Valeria, Graves, König with an S/O who likes Poetry

Soap: While he may have read some poetry throughout his life, but only because he was forced to at school, he doesn’t care for literature like that in the slightest. Sure, he can understand some metaphors and some messages a piece of writing might try to convey, but he won’t go out of his way to buy himself an anthology of William Blake. He doesn’t have the time to read, and he doesn’t really want to either, he’d much rather go outside and take a hike. However, once you come up to him with one of your poems in hand, he’s more than happy to sit down and read through it. The way the language flows, the way the words intertwine with each other and form something unmistakably beautiful, it has him in a chokehold after a while. He’ll always cheer you on, quietly, while writing and read everything that you put on paper. While he might not be the best at giving criticism, he can use his words to reassure you that your writing is, indeed, the bomb. If you ever release your works then you can be certain he’ll be the first to buy a copy of the book, maybe even several because he loves and supports you that much. He loves the cozy aesthetic you have. Beige cardigans with either matching trousers or skirts. If you’re roughly the same size then let him borrow one of your cardigans, he wants to feel for himself how warm and cozy they are. It’s not usually his style, but trying them on won’t kill him. He actually also kind of likes it when you send him pictures of you drinking tea or coffee with a book on the table. It’s, as mentioned, very cozy, very comforting. You’re living your best life, you’re happy and thriving, and that’s all that matters to him.

Valeria: Unlike Soap, she has picked up books after school. The only poem she has read after school was the Divine Comedy by Alighieri since it sounded interesting to her at the time. She never finished it, though, having become far too busy with the military and, afterwards, the cartel. She doesn’t particularly miss reading either, though. Maybe sometimes, when she just wants to have a nice and quiet day, she might pick up a book she found just lying around, but that book could contain just about anything. While she might not always have the time to read your poetry, it will likely be sitting on her desk for a few days before she can read it, she will visit you at your library. It’s calm there, it’s quiet, and likely not a place anyone would suspect someone of her caliber to be. While she might not particularly be there for the books, you could read her some poetry every once in a while. Doesn’t have to be at the library either, you could just check out a book and read to her at home. She can appreciate something like that, you spending time with her, reading your favorite poem in a soft, almost mellow, voice. She gets to see you happy, after all, and that’s what she’s usually striving for. Even if that library isn’t doing too well, she’ll always make sure that it’s up and running because you love your job as much as you do. She, too, likes your aesthetic. It’s fairly neutral, it doesn’t stand out too much. While it might be a bit boring to her occasionally, since you likely would look just as lovely in something a bit more flashy, she won’t tell you to dress you any differently. In fact, she might instigate you a bit and egg you on by buying you expensive coffee beans or expensive hand made tea. The most aesthetically pleasing tea pots and cups will be yours, in this case you won’t even need to ask her.

Graves: Graves has not picked up many books after school either. The occasional book on business and history, yes, but nothing that was written lyrically. It never interested him, he had to analyze poems at school and that was the start of his disdain for poetry. He never did well with writing down what a specific metaphor might mean, so he never got any good grades on that. At first, he won’t be very happy to see you’ve brought him a poem, even if it was written by you, but he won’t complain, he’ll read it and give you honest criticism. He’s better with constructive criticism than Soap because he can still see the poem’s flaws while being nice and uplifting about it so you can do better next time. It likely won’t ignite a spark for poetry in him, but he has a soft spot for you, so he’ll read anything you want him to see. On the off-chance he has time to visit you, he will. While he might not be as quiet as Valeria, he tries, but he just really wants to converse with you. He doesn’t get to see you often, so it wouldn’t be too unlikely for him to waltz up to your library in his gear either. He tries not to scare the people, but it doesn’t always work. Tries to convince you to go home early with him so you can pay attention to him instead of burying your nose in some books. It doesn’t work, but hey, an attempt has been made. He really digs that entire cozy aesthetic. You look warm, you look soft, you look like you want and need a good hug from him. He’s a very touchy person in general, but that goes up by 100% since he likes the feeling of your cardigan, it’s made of wonderful fabric. If you’re more of a coffee drinker, like he is, then you can drink some coffee at a lovely cafe together, he knows plenty of nice and calm places. Tea, too, but you’ll be alone in that endeavor since he’s a coffee drinker first and a human second. Send him some cute pics of you, though, he’ll appreciate them after a mission and tell you how good you look.

König: He sort of likes poetry, actually. While he hasn’t read enough to actually have a favorite, he likes the way it sounds when read, either out loud or in your head. While he, by no means, could ever write a poem himself, English or German, he does like to read some every once in a while. He has an anthology at home he never got around to finishing. It’s a calming hobby. However, he finds himself with a favorite poet once you show him your writing. He’s very supportive of you, asking you fairly often about your progress and how you’re doing, answering any and all questions you might have that might bring you some inspiration. Whenever he writes it’s somewhat dry, mostly because he’s used to writing reports these days and nothing else, so seeing your flowery, beautiful language makes him smile a bit. It makes him imagine the scenery very vividly, even if you don’t specify too much of your setting. He, too, will come visit you at work when he can, but he won’t make a ruckus. If he can talk to you, that’s fine, if he can help you sort some books, he’d love to, but if you just want to do your work in quiet, then he’ll grab himself a nice book and sit down quietly until you have time for him again. Might ask you some questions regarding some books, might ask you for some recommendations as well, but he respects your want for quiet. He also really likes your aesthetic, it’s such a contrast to what he’s used to. You don’t look like you’re fighting wars, you look as though you sit down at a park bench during late spring or early autumn to read some books, and he thinks that’s very nice. If you want to, then the two of you can sit together in silence while you’re reading some poetry and he’s reading the Schachnovelle. He’s more than happy to tell you about what he read or listen to you reading some of the poetry out loud as well. It’s nice, it’s calming. It’s so far away from what he normally does at his job, he could fall asleep to the comfort of it all. If you’re reading at home, he might put his head in your lap and just take a nap.

#cod #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I used to write poetry back in high school and I always loved reading it #I remember going for a cozy aesthetic like that when I was hospitalized as well haha #drinking some tea while reading one of my Arsene Lupin books was actually just the best thing ever #I should really start reading some of my books again I have so many classics I never really touched which is a bit sad #I remember getting into poetry because of dmcv due to the character v #I never regretted it and I still think about that one poem from time to time #“I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe” “that made my love so high and me so low” #I have read that entire poem but it's been years since then #I was really into DMC V when it came out like four or five years ago or so haha

[fixing-bad-comic-art]

how do you edit comics so good? how did you practice/any tips or advice? i want to edit comic art but i have no clue how to start

I'm between calls so this going to be rushed Whoops.

- start on pieces that have a similar style to your own. this just makes getting your brush settings right easier.

- fuck with your brush settings. Jpeg artifacting and the way older comics were scanned and printed adds a lot of Texture Jank that you need to match to make the edit seamless.

- touch as little of the piece as physically possible. Your hands and the ogs have different muscle memory and will make different decisions on how a line should lay. so, make as few changes as you can and feather the edited areas out (this also helps with hiding the texture jank not lining up perfectly)

and this one's important:

- Focus On Pieces That Fuck Up The Way You Tend To. Yes pointing and laughing is fun, being a pedant is one of life's joys. But critique of other art is fundamentally about self improvement. You don't critique a finished piece to improve It you critique to teach your brain how to not make those same mistakes and to see them in your own work. if other people benefit from seeing your process then that's just a bonus.

I started almost exclusively working on pretty ladies bc I'm a gay man and like drawing big hairy men and so had an Extreme Lack of ability when it came to drawing women pretty. (I can draw women pretty now)

- Once you're comfortable move on to other styles, trace the images, make your brushes match the lines in front of you line for line, use fewer layers. and just Learn how to match another person's hand. This plasticity is extremely useful bc it can make you more comfortable exploring new styles and the transitions between them in your own work fun and seamless.

#not a fix #i think thats everything #Like. study up and practice your stylization with reference materials bla bla bla but thats less editing specific

[cupcakestreets]

Fren wants more ask game emojis??? Okay.

☕️ and 🎼 plus 📚

Yeah, dynamism is a bitch, so I don't blame you at all for getting nervous about it. Of course, the biggest change you can make is foreshortening and perspective, but that takes finding a source that can teach you in a way you understand, a lot of studying, and then trial and error. Which is worth doing, we (I'm saying this to myself too) really should study that. And it's a nightmare because first, you gotta find a source that explains the material in a way that makes sense to you, then you have to find a way to make the studying more fun and worst of all, you have to actually commit and do it. With foreshortening and dynamic posing in particular, the study can take a long while to complete because it does demand an understanding of anatomy, breaking the body down into simple volumes, applying perspective to each piece then knowing how to shade each volume correctly. So, depending on where you are with all those components, you may have to backtrack further.

So, what little changes can be made to increase dynamism in the interim? A pretty easy one is Rim Lighting, pure white is common, and so is really dropping the color values paired with a vibrant colored rim light (red, cyan, magenta are popular). Pushing the shading a bit more will help accentuate bent limbs, rotated torso's, overlapping body parts without having to go ham on foreshortening. Exaggeration of shapes like how Sonic uses big ass hands and big ass feet. Or the Big Pant Big Jackt meme and its variants from Twitter/X. You can try making frames and having feet, limbs, weapons or the top of the character's head extending past the border (typically the more, the better because if it's too little, it reads as a mistake than a choice). Line weight variation is pretty easy (thicker lines towards the shadows, thinner towards light source). Or extending certain lines past the outline and into the shape to create a more 3D look. While the whole trend of "fixing" other artist's art is controversial, one good thing I've learned from watching a few vids is the idea of using the Liquify tool on a finished piece to exaggerate the line of action on something a bit too static.

I hope you don't mind the ramble. If you're interested, I can send you a link to some vids or my playlist of tutorials I've saved.

Spice.

☕ Do you do warmup sketches before drawing? (Bonus: do you have any to share?)

No I do not do warm up sketches i just get straight into it usually. So no bonus sketches but he's a doodle page of my robot oc L-11AC

🎼 Your favorite music to draw to right now?

Future Funk music! It keeps me awake and i can groove~

📚 How many layers do you typically use?

Max i use is 50 layers, but i think i use 20-30 layers daily

Also thank you for comments too! These are literally all the things i think about. Still i do try to teach myself new stuff when i can

#artist ask meme

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵Disco Elysium, Pt 1

Yellow moss on these stones... they're probably stolen from someone's garden.

ACELE - "Hello again." The girl looks up at you for a moment before turning back to her work.

4. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

...

2. (Give her your hat.) "Here. You need this more than I do."

ACELE - "Thanks." She puts it on. It's a bit large for her.

Item lost: Amphibian Sports Visor

+5 XP

That had little benefit except giving us a bonus on a check we've already passed, but it made me feel better. And since we bought that hat from Siileng, we could always just go get another one.

🎵 Protorave

EGG HEAD - The large-headed youth has closed his eyes, lost in the music. Sensing you, he opens them...

"Good morning, comrade! Yeaaaaaah!"

"I found this reel of tape, maybe you can use it to hard-up Eyck's jam." (Give him the fixed hawthrone tree tape.)

EGG HEAD - "Yeagh, re-mix time!" His voice booms through the church as he takes the tape and attaches it to the empty reel slot. "Tape goes here -- into deck B." He clicks a switch, the tape starts spinning...

A hand on his ear, he listens to the audio through his headphones, and shouts…

"Wow..." His face lights up with delight. "Did you get this from Arno himself?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - A great excitement is bubbling to the surface within him. This is *big*.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, no, actually I found it tangled up in a hawthorn tree..."

EGG HEAD - "Listen, I'm just going to show it to you... Ready?"

"Ready."

EGG HEAD - "Whooh, hear that?!" He wipes his brow. "The sines match perfectly!"

"Now if only we had the beat for the *full assault*. It would be unbelievably hyper!"

ANDRE - "Intriguing. The way I see it... van Eyck based his remix on some famous original piece. Like, a folk song? Something local. Seems you found an initial part with the main melody."

NOID - "I think it's just happenstance. Chaos in action. Contingencies of our limited existence. That and Egg Head's fantastic talent." He nods to his friend behind the turntables.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - Noid's right, Egg Head's technical talent is the key.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - No, this is definitely part of the same song. Something cut from it. It fits too well.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Something *mysterious* is going on here...

"Maybe Arno van Eyck lives around here and just threw a part of his song away, because he thought it was shit?"

"Andre's got it. Sounds like a local song re-mixed."

"I agree with Noid, it's just luck -- *and* Egg Head's incredible mixing skills."

EGG HEAD - "Be how it may -- if it fits, it fits!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Bring up the volume!"

Thought gained: Arno van Eyck

ANDRE - "What about the bass? Do you have any ideas for that?" Andre looks back at you.

NOID - "Yeah, I remember -- you said it needs more bass!"

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] - You can't just leave it without a bass track!

"Honestly, nothing springs to my mind right now. But I'll see if I can come up with a solution down the lane." (Proceed with task.)

"I think it's good enough the way it is. Adding that melody has already been a *massive* improvement. It's pretty hard core now." (Finish task.)

EGG HEAD - "You're *THE WARRIOR*! THE WARRIOR OF DANCE MUSIC!"

ANDRE - "Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't figure it out. I think the jam's already pretty ultra."

EGG HEAD - "But it could be hyper, HYPER HARD CORE!"

5. "Alright. Goodbye, Egg Head." [Leave.]

ARNO VAN EYCK

Temporary research bonus: +1 Interfacing Research time: 0h 50m

The question won’t leave you – why did the melody line from a broken and discarded tape fit perfectly into a song played by some speedfreaks in a frozen tent? Can it be a coincidence? Maybe it’s the hand of the Man-Machine himself, in his attempt to craft a perfect song. Maybe Egg Head is actually Arno van Eyck in disguise!? Eyck? Egg? Hmm...

CHURCH DOORS - Heavy wooden doors more than twice your height stand shut in front of you. The rectangular, sea-worn ornamentation appears in stark contrast to the padlock carelessly drilled into the wood.

Open the padlock with the key.

CHURCH DOORS - The lock turns easily. You hear a click as the shackle pops open.

SHIVERS [Challenging: Success] - Feels like electricity and a very small piece of nothingness.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let's go." The lieutenant nods at you.

+1 Reputation

Pull on the doors...

CHURCH DOORS - A great whoosh of air rushes into the dark innards of the church, as though rushing to fill a great vacuum...

... in the heart of the city.

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois #acele #noid #andre #egg head

[biwritesfics]

Broken Halos

An 18+ Tattoo Artist Steve story

Steve Rogers x Fem!reader 1k words

No use of y/n, the reader’s nickname is Angel.

This bit is pretty PG just a bit of language

*******************✩*******************

I fidget with my bike lock staring apprehensively at the tattoo and Piercing shop. Shield’s Tattoos and piercings was the store I had walked into on my eighteenth birthday clutching my ID and a 50 dollar bill. That’s when I met Nat. She pierced my ears and chatted with me over sodas. I came to her for the next five, filling my ears top to bottom on both sides. She had been begging me to get a tattoo but Nat wasn’t an artist and she was the only person I let stick needles in my body, well until now.

I had a meeting with Nat’s friend Steve to talk about a tattoo. He was fresh off army service give or take about a month he spent soul searching on an oil rig in the artic. Girls have gap years in Europe. I guess burly men have that. Nat had sung his praises and reassured me a million times that he was great but here I was standing outside the shop quaking like a leaf. They could probably see me so my fear of looking like an idiot outweighed my fear of strange men and prolonged exposure to needles.

The bell above the door rings as I enter. The shop smells like incense and cleaning solution, an aggressive combination that I had somehow grown to love. Nat turns the corner and hurries to wrap me in a warm hug. “God I can't believe you actually came! Your latest has healed nicely!” She refers to the small stud on my nose. I squeezed her tightly. “Yeah, the swelling went down in no time.”

“You must be Angel.” The deep voice is attached to a gorgeous statue of a man. He has baby blues that would make just about any woman North of the Mississippi weak in the knees. I blush before speaking. “It’s not my name but it's what everyone calls me. You must be Steve?” He nods and grins. That'd be me, sweetheart, wanna come back and take a look at some sketches I did?”

He escorts me to the back with a big hand resting between my shoulder blades, gently guiding me. “So I talked to Nat a bit and read the notes you sent so I did a few sketches. Some are more simple than others, just look and see what you like and I can make tweaks.” He slides a sketchbook across the table as I sit down. I flip through it gently admiring the sketches. There were flowers, books, even a bicycle but none of those caught my eye. It was the very last sketch that I knew was it.

“It’s a-“ “Seraphim” I finished, interrupting him in my excitement. “Sorry,” I apologize, embarrassed that I just blurted it out. “No no it’s okay I'm just happy you recognized what it was,” Steve reassures me. “It’s gorgeous, what placement do you think would be best?” I trace my fingers over the lines utterly in love with the image. “It’d make a pretty awesome back piece. I could really let it take up the room it deserves but it would take more than one appointment.” He says this hesitantly as if not wanting to force me into a commitment.

“I don't mind if you don't?” I tell him, seeing his face would be a bonus to go along with the tattoo. It was like a free art viewing just being in his presence. “Sounds like we've got a deal Angel.” His hand is warm when I shake it. “Clint will talk about billing later but I'm not worried about it. We can start today if you'd like? I just have to get a stencil going.” I nod happily. “That sounds good, thank you Steve.” “Anytime sweetheart”

I end up sitting/laying on the tattoo chair, my unclasped bra being the only thing reserving my dignity. Steve gently applies the stencil to my back. “Alright Angel this isn't gonna be horrible but it ain't gonna be pleasant either so let me know if you need a break. I'm sure you'll do good.” His Brooklynn accent comes out a bit thicker than usual. “Alright” I prepare myself for the buzzing and the pain but once the needle touches my skin it’s actually not the worst.

“So you from around here Sweetheart?” I laugh but try and keep it restrained because of the needle on my back. “No, I'm from a tiny town in Vermont up near Canada. I ran to New York the moment I turned 18. How about you? Brooklyn right? “Born and bred a couple blocks from here. Vermont has the leaves thing right?” I chuckle. “Yeah, leaf peeping when all the tourists come in. My Dad always hated it, he said if they were coming to see God’s handiwork they could bother to come into God’s house. He's a priest so..”

Steve sucks air in through his teeth. “I understand must've been tough with a priest as your old man.” “You could definitely say that. He was more into God’s wrath than his love and forgiveness,” My voice comes out smaller and sadder than I mean it to. Steve’s voice darkens. “I’d like to show him some of my wrath” It was aggressive but it warmed my heart. “I think I'd like to see that,” I laugh. “Just say the word doll, can’t waste all this military training just cause I'm discharged.

“Special Forces right?” I can't see but I think he nods. “105th infantry then special forces. We were up in all the Europe Russia shit before it exploded up there.” “Thank you, really” “Eh just doin my part to fix the shitty system Doll. I think we're at a good stopping point. I'll get you all cleaned up here.” He sanitizers the area again and leaves me to get dressed. I throw my top back on but before I look at the progress on my back. It's gorgeous.

When I walk out Steve is at the front desk with Clint. “Hey Angel, I see Nat finally convinced you to get tatted.” I smile. “Yep she wore me down, how are Laura and the kids?” “Good, the boys are growing like weeds. Lila's getting college mail. She’s sixteen I feel like I’ll blink and she’ll be 21” I smile sympathetically. “Well the only one that’s turning 21 is Angellll!” Kate Clint’s niece singsongs walking out from the back carrying a box of cleaning supplies.

I groan. “You guys promised not to make a big deal of it.” Steve raises an eyebrow. Nat who was sitting silently in the corner grins. “Angel likes to think that her birthday doesn’t deserve a big fuss but if it’s up to anyone at this shop it’s gonna be a big deal and it’s gonna be on Saturday.” I glare at Nat. “You said just drinks.” She walks over, putting her arm around me. “I said there’d be drinks not that’d it be just drinks” I sigh and turn to Steve. “Well then if you’d like to join the madness you’re invited” “It’s a date” he replies.

#steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #marvel #fanfic #dark!drabble #tattoo au #tattoo artist #fem!reader

[novelcain]

I have a small head cannon now with my version of reader that I wanted to share with you:

She has a lotus pin in her hair due to her association with Quanyin and it has the added bonus of extra protection (like a protection seal)

Just wanted to share, now I’m going back into my hole to finally finish a fic that’s been giving me writers block for two months now.

*gets slapped with writers block in the face*

Gosh darn it….

(By the way any tips on how to overcome writers block?)

That's a pretty interesting idea. Like a lil fashionable talisman~

And good luck with your writing hope you can get through the writers block

As far as tips go, I unfortunately can't help much in the writer's/artist's block since I don't really get it.😬 If anything I just get bursts of laziness where I don't wanna pick up my laptop cause that's too much effort and so end up curled up in my nest scrolling through tiktok all day. But to remedy that, I just force myself to pick up my laptop or @lovesick-ritz will kindly hand it to me so I can get things done.

So here's the tips that I could think of:

Set a designated area or method for writing (ex. I only write on my laptop bc I've assigned it mentally as my preferred place to write)

Make it as easy as possible for you to write (ie. leave the writing tabs open. I personally never have word closed there's always at least my notes tab open but I usually have at least 3 word tabs don't ask me why I'm addicted to keeping tabs open)

Try to get rid of as many distractions as you can like unneeded social media (having a tumblr tab open is always my down fall cause I get distracted by asks)

Since I have adhd and autism complete silence honestly distracts me more than anything so I like to play this 10 hour thunder storm video on YouTube (this also helps with my tinnitus in case anyone else got that)

Another thing I've been told that help is just start writing little notes or just anything at all and maybe that'll spur you into what you want to be writing

Also some random tips if found useful when it comes to writing/drawing:

If you hyperfixate on writing and drawing for long periods of time like I do (like I'm talking about 8 hour sit down don't move sessions) get water and a couple snacks before you start and be sure to stretch at least once an hour

Remember to specifically do full hand stretches to avoid carpal tunnel and writer's/artist's arthritis

Try to get up and walk around as much as possible (if you can as someone with walking issues I know that isn't always easy or even possible)

One thing I like to do to rest my eyes and brain is after a few hours I'll go to Spotify and play a few songs (or in my case one song on repeat I've been particularly obsessed with the Epic sagas since they've come out and have been constant listening to Survive in the Cyclops saga) with your eyes closed. Staring at a screen all day can be harmful to your eyes and brain.

And for drawing with adhd, if you're working on a long piece it can get frustrating to work on one part for long periods of time so keep in mind that if you're start to feel bored or tired with the part that you're working on it's ok to move to a different part. (ie. you've been working on the hair for a while and start to feel understimulated to move to the face or even a completely different area so get that stimulation) It's not like a story where you gotta remember plot points and continuity the whole thing is right there so just work on whatever part catches your fancy. Or hell if you get bored just draw lil scribbles for a second in a corner somewhere until you feel up to going back to the piece.

Please keep in mind while reading these that I by no means have healthy habits. As I stated I hyperfixate on projects and will often neglect my human needs for extremely long periods on accident; however, I am lucky enough to have a very attentive partner that reminds me and encourages me to take care of myself and helps me when I can't. (Love you Ritz. Literally couldn't live without you~ mwah💜)

HOWEVER! Because of this I am extremely used to living with unhealthy habits and have an OBSENE amount of tips for dealing/living with them so if anyone wants some autism/adhd/depression/anxiety (all of which I have kinda extreme forms of) life tips lemme know and I'll write a whole essay for you. Tho again I will say these tips are not cures. These conditions are permanent so these tips would just be ways to make living with them a little easier. (Honestly I might just make that post even if no one asks for it on the off chance that helps even one person)

#skittle answers #isekai'd to the west #isekai'd to the west headcanons #tips for writers #tips for artists #advice #writer's block

[snek-panini]

So a while back I took up bookbinding so I could have print copies of my favorite fics. I don't usually post about that on here, but one of the authors whose fic I bound reached out to me asking to see photos of the finished work, so here they are. I'm not a photographer, these were taken on my phone, and I'm still fairly new to bookbinding so please excuse some of the messiness. The fic is The God Below by @kreauxlighe and it's in the Good Omens fandom. Give it a read if that's your thing, it's awesome!

The front cover. I don't know how to do fancy titles yet so I wrote it in by hand with embossing powder. It's inset into the cover--title is on paper, main cover is book cloth. This was my first time using book cloth and all the tutorials were correct, it's so much easier than the scrapbook paper things I was using before that. Edges of the cutout are more rounded than I wanted, but for a first time it's not bad, I think. Before this I just left the covers blank.

Edge view. Embossing powder doesn't work that well on book cloth (it sticks but the metallic shine doesn't show up) so the spine is blank. I might try to get fancy on it in future if I figure out how, but I might leave it. It's a first try and I like to see the progress. It is very square and I am SO proud of that because previous books I'd made came out wonky. It was the longest thing I'd bound at the time, with the thickest spine.

Top view. Again, very square, very proud. It has a ribbon bookmark and glued-in end bands. I thought ribbon bookmarks were Fancy Luxury Features that would be very hard to do, but it turns out they're easy, you just glue a piece of ribbon to the outer part of the book block before you put the end bands and cover on. Everything I make is going to have them now.

Page edges. Less proud here, they are very ragged. I was trying to trim the edges to make them even and the internet said I could do it with a craft knife. The internet was lying. It was hard to get them looking even this good. After this I sprang for a small book plow, which is what professionals use to get those nice flat even edges, and it was expensive but so very worth it.

Interior view, with bonus second shot of the bookmark! I typeset everything in MS Word, which I'm told is not very good for this but has the advantage of I don't have to pay for it because I already own it. Fancy capital letters are courtesy of the author, I pulled them from Ao3 when I copy/pasted the fic. Typesetting is hard, guys. Most resources online about how to make books don't bother to cover it, and searching for how to typeset a book usually results in lots of pages saying "don't do that, pay a professional to do it." Which is what you should do for self-publishing, absolutely, but I wanted to make one copy, for me, of a transformative work that I didn't write, so it was not useful advice in this case. This is something else I'm still learning, cobbling together the info by trial and error, but I'm still proud of what I accomplished with this one.

So that's it! I hope you like it, Jace! (I saw that on your blog, I hope it's ok to call you that? If not let me know and I'll edit it out.) I'll get started on your author copy once I finish the project I have ongoing, which is another fan binding but it's almost done.

#personal #bookbinding #should i tag the fandom? #it's got a fic rec so i will #good omens #long post #snek makes books

[dragonsoftheeast]

For the directors cut ask: do you remember writing not born, but raised? You captured Guzman‘s feelings after Marina‘s death so vividly. Chapter 8 was heartbreaking to me and I’d love to hear anything you have to say about it. Bonus: how you would have written Guzman‘s thoughts/feelings towards Lu at the beginning of season two (you know me 😅)

Man, I'm so glad you asked me about this- it was so fun to write that! If anyone wants to check it out, you can find it here: not born but raised. And if anyone else wants some behind the scenes looks at my fics, just send me the ask!

Apologies for the essay response, but if there's anyone I can respond with loads of words about Elite to, it's you.

I've always used novelizations as a writing practice (it really helps me with body language since I can't visualize), but this was the first time I ever showed anyone. Getting into Guzman's head was everything for me, and I knew if there's anything this boy does, it's deny, deny, deny. And Miguel did such a perfect denial in his first reaction to Marina's death, that I just had to extend it. Listening to the cast reading of the finale was also incredible help, the actors were so attached to their characters! Maria's reaction to Guzman's line of "Because you know if something happens to them, maybe they had it coming.” made me know that had to be such an important line for him. It had to haunt him.

The trickiest thing to me was actually piecing together those interrogation scenes into something reasonable, like an actual flow of conversation. Cause I had transcribed that the whole season long and I rearranged that conversation so many ways to try and make it make sense.

And I do know you! And just to answer your question, I'll give you the opening lines I wrote for the season 2 novelization.

In the rules of geometry, the strongest structures have three sides. In the realm of grief, however, it seems that these rules don’t apply. His parents find support in each other, if not comfort. None of them will ever find comfort again. But the balance of their family, two parents, two children, is disrupted, and they don’t know how to support him.  Lu tries. They have sex that’s supposed to remind him that he’s alive, or at the very least wants to be. She holds him when he ultimately breaks down in his sleep, the thought of Marina’s misshapen head too much for him to bear. For most of the summer, he drinks, though Lu pulls the bottle away from him whenever she can. For that, he loves and hates her hands in equal measure.

So there you have it! Lu and Guzman's relationship is really messy in that I think they are very complacent when they are with each other. Lu is very complicated and smart (I know you know that), but when it comes to trying to get someone to not do something, she tends to stick to her one strategy, verbally lashing out. And while I love the zingers, it's not the best way to get into Guzman's head (since that is also his strategy). So to me, he's grateful to her, he owes his life to her, but I think he ends up resenting her on two opposing fronts- on the one hand, keeping him from the self-destruction he desires, on the other, not being effective enough to actually keep him from that self-destruction.

I actually have episodes/chapters 1 and 2 written out, but I wasn't sure whether I should post it when I'm not sure I can finish the season and the fandom seems pretty dead (let me know if you're still interested lol). But if you wanna see more of Guzman grieving Marina, I have some tearjerkers in there, if I do say so myself.

#guzman nunier #guznadia #guzman x nadia #elite #elite netflix #not born but raised #ask #lucrecia montesinos

[skelingtonsderek]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @willowmckinley for tagging me!

How many works do you have on ao3? 67.- 29 are Teen Wolf and the next runner up is Justified at 24

What's your total ao3 word count? 565,534 total… Rinse Cycle (Teen Wolf) is my biggest single story at 145,979 not counting the bonus coda. The biggest series I have for the current fandom I’m focused on is Bad Habits at 92,533

What fandoms do you write for? Justified, Teen Wolf… I would love to do more Grimm and I’ve wanted to write for Buffy the Vampire Slayer for so long but I always end up backing away slowly holding my hands up in defeat.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What Did You Expect With A Mouth Like That? - For Teen Wolf at 1,902

When You Are No Longer Useful - For Teen Wolf at 763

The Hard Part- Teen Wolf at 619

We Have Worn Out The Meaning Of Our Clothes (part of the Apparel Series) - Teen Wolf at 582

Every Nickname Has A Reason (part of the Apparel Series)- Teen Wolf at 470 And a sixth because 4 and 5 are the same series:

The Killing Type- Teen Wolf at 456

The benefits of being unpopular means I get pretty easily dodged. The next closest I have that's the current fandom I've been writing for is Remembrance. at 170

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. Every single one of them every time. I’m trying not to compulsively respond to every response forever though so I’m practicing only responding a few times. Not sure I enjoy it though. It being making myself stop replying once we're two or three replies deep.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I know this might sound strange to anyone who has started but been incapable of finishing the stories I write but I’m not very good at ending unhappily. I’d say the angstiest would be It’s About Boyd (Justified) or maybe Scenes From The Battle of Us (Justified) is a good angster.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? . Uhhhhh….. Rinse Cycle or maybe Remembrance.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I think the closest I get are Sterek shippers who read some of my fic and then get a bit pupset that Sterek isn’t end game even though I always warn that it isn’t at the start if it isn’t.

9. Do you write smut? I’m not sure I remember how to write things that don’t have at least 7 sex scenes in them.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I’m not personally a fan of crossovers so much. I might read them if the premise is good enough but it’s not common for me. I find that they tend to get kind of muddled and it’s at times difficult to fuse the two worlds together in a way that makes the various themes of each cohesive. That being said, I don’t mind them. Just find that the combined elements tend to distract instead of add. It's a task to crossover universes and I don't think it's one that I'm up to.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I had a problem a very long time ago with some one reposting mine without permission or attribution on an unaffiliated third party e-publisher but that was super long ago. I have done the opposite though. I used to make it a very small hobby of mine to write short stories or poems or whatnot and leave them anonymously in people’s inboxes with a note that it was theirs to do with whatever they wished. I’d on occasion also write serial stories and pop them in to ask boxes on tumblr with permission one part at a time for a person's favorite pairing or universe.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I’ve had people ask if they can but I’ve not seen that it has happened.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not fic, no. But I’ve worked on popcorn stories and collaborative pieces elsewheres. They were all original pieces so they wouldn't be available on AO3.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I don’t think I have one.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? In fic? I only have two that would be considered WIPs. One of them (The House Carpenter) has an ending already and is complete but there is an un-published sequel I took down because I didn’t like where it was going but I plan to work on that one in the winter. The other one is an active prompt fill style fic whose ending will be when I run out of prompts. (Bad Habits) I think the closest I got is that there’s a fill I did forever ago that was supposed to have two endings and I only wrote one and never did the second. I’m not sure I ever will. I want to but I haven’t. ([Fill] My Mouth With Ecstasy)

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think my strength is in the grounding. I like to track and block a character’s movements and make sure there are as little unaccounted for motions as possible. Outside of that… Maybe my flagrant disregard for grammar conventions?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? My flagrant disregard for grammar conventions. Also sometimes I get hung up on granular details that make it difficult for a scene to play out appropriately. Also also I’m very loosy goosy and don’t exercise enough precision or control over what I write. Also also also I like using repetitive descriptions too much.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? This can be useful and I have written dialogue at times in another language but I try to limit it as much as possible because I don’t speak any other languages well. I think it can be done very well but just not by me despite my attempting to repeatedly.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Probably Sherlock (BBC).

20. Favorite fic you've written? All of them. But Rinse Cycle and Remembrance. are close seconds.

I'm pretty sure Willow tagged literally everyone I've ever known so if you see this and you wish to do it then please claim that I tagged you to do it.

Would you like to do this @acorrespondence @im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons @apolardream @tallsinspace @gaylanrivens ?

#unhinged monster journals publicly #justie2justie communication #teen wolf #justified fx #justified #grimm

[spaceyflowerswriting]

Heyyy can you write danny and reader kissing ? Thx bye bye

lots of love (daniel park x reader)

details: fluffy drabble, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and daniel are dating

summary: daniel gets rewarded by his partner for the many nice things he's done for them.

a/n: thanks for the cute request :] <3

×

Daniel wasn't sure what was up with him today, but he wasn't going to question it when every single one of his acts of services expressed to you was met with your sweet smile. Honestly he was starting to convince himself that he'd just be like this for the rest of his life if it meant he could see you smile like that.

"Devoted to them for the rest of my life..." Like a doting husband.

He blushed at the thought. What was he thinking? You two were still highschoolers with uncertain futures in the making. He shouldn't be committing to such a heavy decision at his age. Still, the thought was nice.

A happy sigh passed his lips and you were quick to notice.

"Are you daydreaming again?"

"Sorry," he replied with a laugh, going back to sweeping the floor.

You smiled and went back to your own chore of tidying the classroom by sorting out some books. "You don't have to be sorry, I was just pointing it out. What were you daydreaming about, by the way?"

"Um..." He quietly cleared his throat, unable to stop the pink that was beginning to color in his cheeks. "Nothing much." In an attempt to avoid further questioning, he asked, "Do you want to take a break? We should go get a drink of water or something after our hard work."

The playful look you gave him made his heart race but he calmed when you went along with his suggestion.

He set his broom down and made a beeline for the door of the classroom. "Okay! I'll run and go get some water bottles for us--"

"Nuh-uh. You've done more than enough for me, today." You stepped towards the door, clearly intending to block it.

Daniel kept walking over anyway. "But--"

"Nope." Once you stood in front of the door, he stopped moving to pout. "Stay right where you are. I'm going to get the water bottles."

There was a momentary lighthearted staredown, although Daniel was only using his puppy eyes. That, combined with his pout, made for his ultimate charming tactic. Or at least that's what he hoped. Thankfully, it worked either way and he brightened up as soon as you huffed.

"Okay, fine, you can come along."

"Thank you!" He hurried to follow you out when you left the classroom.

"Seriously, though, you've done way too much for me today."

Daniel cheekily remarked with, "There's no limit, is there?"

You lightly elbowed him. "Yes, but I'm starting to feel guilty. I mean, you even gave me a shoulder massage earlier."

Maybe that was a little over the top, but oh well. He continued to tease, "Well, that's just because I'd do anything for you."

"Daniel, you are too much sometimes, you know that?"

"In a bad way or--" Before he could finish, you grabbed his collar and slightly pulled him down to your height to kiss him. He quickly melted into the kiss and his hands found themselves resting on your hips.

Usually he was unsure of where to place his hands whenever the two of you kissed, but at the moment it came naturally to him. Seemed like something really was up with him today. He could only hope it'd last so long it became a part of him.

After you pulled away, you leaned in to his ear and quietly said, "I'll give you more kisses later~"

His cheeks colored in pink the same way as before and a big grin formed on his face while you properly pulled away this time and continued to walk off. He trailed after you like the lovesick puppy he was.

×

bonus extra writing below that i thought was funny but scrapped lol (original plan for this drabble/oneshot was daniel being awkward about a first kiss)

"Be gentle... and fast. Be manly... but kind. Got it?"

"Zack, that sounds awfully familiar to something you've told Vasco before."

"Hey, if a piece of advice works, there's nothing wrong with repeating it. And it's not like you have any advice, Jace."

Jace's smile cracked. "Yeah... but still. Daniel asked how you kiss someone."

"And? My advice still applies?"

Daniel rubbed at his nape, glancing between his friends. "Uh, but Zack, how exactly do you kiss someone in a manly way?" He was only met with silence and Jace awkwardly looking away.

Eventually, Zack managed to mutter, "Well... you just..."

Jace sighed and lightly slapped Zack's arm, making the latter glare at him. "Stop making shit up, you're just going to confuse poor Daniel."

"I'm--!"

"Daniel, just talk to your partner about it. Learn together or something. That's the best advice I can offer."

"Ah, okay! Thanks, Jace." Daniel politely bowed his head at Jace and then nodded at his other friend. "You, too, Zack."

"Anytime, Daniel," replied Jace as Zack gave him a thumbs up and a, "Come back anytime for dating advice!"

#lookism x reader #daniel park x reader #daniel park #requests

[thefearandnow]

Audio Drama Sunday: 12/18/22

The Sheridan Tapes

Alright so I’ve officially finished season one of the Sheridan Tapes and I think overall it was a great run. I’d say the first half of it was a little bit frustrating for me but that the last 6 episodes or so really started to feel much more consistent and focused. I get why the first 14 episodes are the way they are but for me it just felt like so much build up that never fully satisfied me. It’s probably my editor brain kicking into gear but there was a lot of early episodes that I think could’ve been simplified.

That said, I think there is an art to writing a podcast that can anticipate fandom and can play off its audience and I think The Sheridan Tapes is an incredible example of that. It’s not really my style of audio drama but the fact that it’s been able to sustain a fan base and grow a community around the story and characters is really inspiring. It’s that fandom that makes other people want to listen and it’s always amazing to watch that magic play out via different corners of the internet. And quite honestly I’m sure the things that I was frustrated by in terms of plot and pacing are what avid listeners love about it. Even if I had some issues with it, I’m glad I finished the first season and gave it a shot! The people who make it are lovely and I’ll probably at least start the final season (which got fully crowdfunded!!)

Shipworm

Two-Up Productions has produced some of my favorite fiction podcasts (36 Questions, season 1 of Limetown) and though I'm not sure this is really the "first" feature length audio drama piece, it might be the most memorable. Something that I think Two-Up does really well with their audio projects is that they treat the listener's position with a lot of care. In the case of Shipworm, the space for the listener is claustrophobically intimate and yet alienating, cleverly using spatial audio to put the listener in a liminal space between technology and consciousness. This relationship between the listener, Wallace (the main character) and the voice that may or may not be real is the main crux of this piece, holding all the character development, causing story twists and fueling a tone of paranoia throughout. The music and scoring is cinematic and impressive, the acting is masterful and even though details of the story could get confusing, there was never a point where I stopped trusting the writing to fill in the blanks and hold my hand. I recommend finding time to listen to it in all one go, I think there are some natural pause points where you'd expect an episode to end or an ad break to break up the flow but it was an incredible experience to absorb the whole story in a 116 min sprint. I can imagine relistening to this a couple times just to experience it all again, the immediacy and style was such an entertaining listen.

Joy to the World

This holiday limited series from audio drama vets like @starplanes and @innbetween is so cute and wholesome, a perfect feel good listen written for all ages. It’s a sweet little collection of audio Christmas cards in the form of holiday conversations shared over the radio waves, hosted by a lonely astronaut, Joy. It’s got some Charlie Brown Christmas references mixed with Delilah-esque intimacy and some nuanced discussions about family, vulnerability and queerness. Each episode is a snack sized scene that melted my heart, there’s 7 episodes out that I listened to all today. Really looking forward to the rest leading up to Christmas Eve! My favorite one so far is “Dorothy, Out at Sea”

Also for me, Christmas and radio is such a classic combo and it’s so cool to have holiday audio drama like this to listen to. I’m curious if there are other holiday-themed fiction podcasts out there?

Edit: didn’t realize they have a tumblr! @jttwpod

Burning Gotham

This week I listened to episodes 6-7 as well as a behind the scenes bonus episode and it unfortunately is just not doing it for me. In addition to all the other critiques I've had of the show over the last few weeks, what I realized this week is that the thing preventing me from liking this show is my editor brain flagging missed opportunities. Of course, this is kind of useless and selfish feedback because the underlying mentality is "this is what I would've done." But I think for my own ears there are a lot of choices in terms of pacing, structure and aesthetic that feel more distracting for me as a listener than engaging. And it just takes me out of the experience. Like why was there sound effects and 1835 scene audio all the way through the bonus episode? I understand the cutting into the scenes for reference but why is it present throughout people's interviews if this is the non-fiction part of the show? I can hear and see the shape of influences like 1865 or even something like NPR's Throughline which is why I was excited to listen but there isn't any particularly strong commitment to a recognizable style to get me excited to keep listening. I think there's only one episode left so I'm probably going to listen to that last one but I probably won't write about it.

Honorable Mention:

This is just sorta becoming my non-fiction podcast corner but I listened through all of the second season of Cover Story and I’m still just floored. NY Mag’s investigative series was one of my favorite podcasts last year and this season is similarly jaw dropping. In the first thirty seconds they say that most of the people they interviewed lied to them and then from there it’s an absolutely bat shit story that I won’t spoil. So many cringey texts and emails, amazing storytelling and brilliant scoring. It’s only 6 episodes and each one is just as addictive as the next!

#audio drama sunday #fiction podcasts #audio drama #the sheridan tapes #season 1 #shipworm #shipworm podcast #two-up productions #joy to the world #burning gotham #cover story #season 2 seed money #new york magazine #my writing #dunno if I'll do another audio drama sunday this year #this has been a ton of fun writing though #getting some practice #and it's gotten me inspired to do bigger projects in 2023