#it’s the fact that I would live for this drawing
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The Princess and The Pogue | J. M.
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: Your daughter comes home from school telling you about a local OBX fairytale. It turns out it’s about you and your husband.
Listen to But Daddy I Love Him for full experience
Requested by @idontevenknowbsblog
A/N: This turned out way longer and more angsty than I had anticipated but I’m a sucker for the angst. I just can’t help it. I’m sorry this took me a million years to finish!
As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.
Warnings: allusions to domestic abuse, controlling parents, forced engagement, so much fucking angst, only kinda proofread
Word Count: 3.5k
~
Your daughter’s tiny feet press against the back of your seat as you head home after picking her up from school.
“Mia, stop kicking,” You laugh, “Mommy’s trying to drive.”
“Sorry, Mommy.” Your daughter giggles. “I’m just so happy today!”
“I’m so glad you're happy, Baby.” You smile at the five year old in the rearview mirror. “What did you do at school today?”
“We got to draw all our shapes today and we sang the alphabet song a bunch of times!”
“Ooh sounds like a fun day.”
She claps excitedly. “Oh and Kylie’s older sister told us a fairytale at recess!”
“A fairytale? Very cool. What was it about?”
“Did you know a princess used to live here? A long time ago. She ran away with a pogue because her evil king father wouldn’t let them be together.”
Your eyes widen at her words, a small smile forming on your face as she tells the story that takes you back to what seems like a lifetime ago.
-
“Mom, I’m headed out,” you yelled through the foyer.
“Ok, hun.” Your mom poked her head over the stairwell. “Just don’t stay out too late. We have that business lunch with the Cameron’s tomorrow and it’s very important that you be there.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you promise, “besides I’m just going to hang out with Sarah.”
“We just love that you and Ward Cameron’s daughter are friends. It looks so good for your father’s business for the families to be close. Especially with you set to inherit the company someday.”
With Ward Cameron being the biggest real estate developer in the Outer Banks and your dad owning the biggest construction company, the two men worked closely on most of their deals. They were also the closest thing to friends that either of the men had. The two richest men in the island made for a powerful team.
“Glad I can help you keep up appearances,” you muttered under your breath.
“What was that, hun?”
“Always happy to help the family.” You gave your mother a forced smile and made your escape, slipping outside and into Sarah’s waiting car.
“Ready to go see your man?” She grins at you and you return the gesture.
“God, yes.“
-
You hadn’t expected to fall in love with JJ Maybank. Considering the very different lives the two of you led it was surprising the two of you ever even crossed paths, but that was one of the perks of being Sarah’s friend. When she fell in love with John B and got involved with the pogues she dragged you along with her.
It wasn’t like you had anything against the pogues. In fact, you had admired them from afar your whole life. Their freedom and adventures were something you envied, forever stuck in your kook bubble. You didn’t have a choice but to follow the plan your parents had created for you.
JJ, on the other hand, hated kooks with a passion. He had a hard enough time with Sarah joining the group and when she brought you in, arguably the even bigger kook princess with the even bigger kook king of a father, he vowed to himself he would never accept you. After all, you represented everything he hated, the life he always dreamed of but would never attain.
He would sneer and call you “princess”, his voice dripping with disdain, doing everything in his power to piss you off, but you didn’t mind. You loved his passion and the way he would do anything to protect the people he cared about. You ignored his insults, treating him just as well as you would anyone else.
Before he knew it, your soft words and beaming smile had softened JJ. He began to actually look forward to your presence in the group, feeling sad when you couldn’t get away from your parents to spend time with them. Then, one day the two of you were the only ones to show up to a pogue hang out. You ended up spending hours just talking and getting to know each other. The rest was history and you had been together from that day forward.
Unfortunately, you knew that your parents would never let you spend time around a pogue, let alone be in a relationship with one. So, like Sarah and John B, you and JJ had to keep your relationship hidden. Thanks to the help of the pogues, the two of you had been successfully seeing each other behind your parents’ backs for over a year.
-
“I’ll be back to pick you up at 8:00,” Sarah reminds you. She pulls up to the little cove where you and JJ liked to meet. “We only have a couple of hours tonight because of that lunch tomorrow. Don’t want our families to get suspicious.”
You nod. “Got it. I’ll see you then.” You slip out of her car. “Tell John B I said hi.”
“Will do.”
She pulls away as you make your way around the rocks hiding the entrance to your spot.
“Hi, princess.” Your boyfriend grins at you in the orange light of the sunset, pulling you into a hug.
“JJ,” You breathe him in, soaking up the comfort he gives you. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby. Four days without you is four days too much.” JJ leads you over to the blanket on the sand, sitting back so you can settle between his legs.
“I know. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get away much this week. My parents are going crazy about this lunch tomorrow.”
“Aren’t they always crazy?” JJ jokes, poking your side. You squirm a little bit, trying to escape his prodding.
“I mean, yeah. They’re just extra crazy this week.” You settle further into his chest, JJ giving up his attack in exchange for wrapping his arms securely around you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck. “But, it’s okay because at least we have right now.”
“How long do we have until Sarah comes back to pick you up?”
You let out a sigh. “Two hours.”
“That’s it? Damn.”
“I’m sorry, J.” You look back apologetically, but he just shakes his head.
“Hey, don’t apologize. We just have to make the most of the time we have, like usual. It won’t be like this forever.”
“Right.” You give him a small smile, turning back to face the sunset before he can see the doubt in your eyes. You hoped JJ was right, but you had no idea how things would ever change.
As expected, your time together flew by too quickly and before you knew it Sarah was back to take you home.
JJ was reluctant to let you out of his embrace. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right? After you finish up with all your kook business?”
“Of course, baby. I wouldn’t miss it.” You give him one last goodbye kiss, distracting him long enough to slip out from his arms. He pouts, but lets you go, knowing if it was your choice you would never leave.
-
You stare numbly at the wall, unable to will yourself to move from your position balled up on the bed. You aren’t sure how long you've been laying there looking at nothing. You didn’t feel anything, having cried out all your tears hours ago. A buzzing sounds from the other side of the room, your phone going off once again, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably Sarah calling again to see if you’re okay after what happened at lunch. You’re not.
Having sat in silence for so long, you jump when you hear a rattling at your window. It takes you a minute to clamber over to the window with the lights out in your room. You hadn’t realized how dark it had become outside.
You peek out warily, trying to determine the source of the noise. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath as you realize JJ is perched in the tree closest to your room.
You unlatch the door so he can climb inside, turning away from him quickly. You’re thankful for the darkness in that moment as you scramble to make yourself look presentable, flattening your hair and wiping at your face. You pull down the sleeves of the massive sweatshirt you’re wearing, one you stole from JJ months ago, making sure you are completely covered.
“JJ, what are you doing here,” you whisper, “What if someone sees you?”
“I was worried about you. You were supposed to meet me hours ago, remember?” He sounds frustrated.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You run your hand down your face stressed. “I didn’t mean to stand you up.”
“You forgot? Y/N, I’ve been calling and texting for hours.” JJ moves closer, but you step back. “I thought something bad had happened.”
He takes another step back. Again you back away, trying to keep him from seeing your face. Brows furrowed, JJ moves towards you again. This time you can’t move away fast enough, bumping your dresser as you try to get away.
“Woah, wait.” JJ takes your face in gentle hands. “Have you been crying?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you off that easily.
“Baby, what’s going on? Is it something I did?” The worry in his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You shake your head, willing them not to fall.
“No, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Something with Sarah?” You shake your head again.
“Your parents?” That stills you. “It is your parents. What is it? Did something happen at lunch?”
You don’t answer.
“Talk to me, baby. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” JJ’s voice is so sincere and his touch so soft. He really thinks he’ll be able to fix whatever the problem is.
You gather your strength and gently pull away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes when you tell him.
“My father and Ward Cameron have decided that it is in the best interest of their respective businesses for our families to be officially joined.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
You feel like you're going to be sick, but you force the words out anyway. “I am set to be married to Rafe Cameron.” You keep your eyes on the floor, waiting for JJ’s response. He stays silent.
“I had no idea they had this planned until my parent’s announced it at lunch.”
“What do you mean you’re marrying Rafe Cameron?” He tries to keep his voice calm. But you can hear the venom behind his words anyway. “You can’t just marry Rafe.”
“I don’t have a choice, JJ. They practically signed my ownership papers over to Rafe right there.”
JJ is pacing your room now, hands constantly running through his hair. “He can’t just do that. You’re an adult, Y/N. Tell him no.”
“I can’t tell him no JJ.” He stops in front of you, the look on his face half shock half anger.
“What are you talking about? You can’t just tell me that your father is marrying you off to Rafe and not even try to fight him on it.” You turn from his intense gaze, unable to handle it any longer.
‘Y/N-” JJ reaches for your arm to turn you around and you flinch back hissing in pain. Your sleeve rides up, revealing a number of dark bruises.
“I tried talking him out of it, JJ. He made it clear saying no wasn’t an option.”
JJ seethes, body tense with anger. “He hurt you.” It’s not a question which is just as well because you have no response.
“I’m gonna kill him.” He growls.
You lay your palms flat against his chest. “No, you’re not. We can’t make this situation any worse than it already is.”
“He can’t just get away with this!” JJ’s voice rises with his anger and you shush him quickly, looking back at your door.
“Please, Y/N.” His voice cracks on your name. “Things can’t just end like this.”
The pain in his words breaks your heart. You let the tears fall freely, unable to hold back the emotion any longer.
“I’m so sorry, JJ.” He cradles your face in his hands like he did at the beginning of the night. “There’s nothing either of us can do to change this.” JJ brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, brushing at the tears. “You should go.”
“No, Y/N.” He has tears running down his face too. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“Please, JJ. You have to go before something wakes him up. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds you here.”
JJ’s eyes flit down to your wrists, taking in the bruises once more before he nods slowly. He won’t be the reason your father hurts you again. You lips press against his slowly, both of you pouring all the love you have for each other into the kiss.
“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.
“I love you, too. Always.”
With those last words, he slips back out your window, closing it quietly behind him. You watch as he climbs back down the tree and crosses the property. As he finally fades out of blue, you sink down to your floor, your knees unable to hold the weight of your body as it’s wracked with sobs.
-
You don’t leave your room for days. All you can do is lay in your bed and cry, mourning the loss of the man you love and the life you had planned.
If it was up to you, you would never leave that room. Unfortunately, your parents have other plans. They parade you and Rafe all over town, making sure everyone on the island knows the two of you are “madly in love” and engaged to be married in the spring. The whole pageantry of it makes you sick.
The cherry on top of the whole ordeal is the engagement party that you parents planned for the weekend. They rented out the whole club and invited every kook on the island. You’re pretty sure it’s your own personal hell.
Sarah pins one last curl to your head. “Done. You look beautiful.”
You give her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sarah.” You were dressed in a white sundress that your mother had bought for the party and Sarah had done your hair and makeup to perfection. The whole look was stunning, but you just feel like a trophy being shown off.
Sarah gives you a sympathetic look. “You ready for this?”
“No. But I have to be.”
It takes everything in you to keep a smile pasted on your face as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out to the throng of people. Everyone smiles and hugs you, offering their congratulations. You do your best to seem gracious and excited, but all you feel is emptiness and the faces move before you in a blur.
You make it two hours into the party before you can’t take it any longer. The panic that has been creeping up your throat all night takes hold and you have to break away. You excuse yourself from Rafe, claiming a need to run to the bathroom. He gives you a harsh look and makes you promise to hurry back, but ultimately lets you go.
You hurry away from prying eyes, not letting yourself break until you get inside. Chest heaving, you gulp down air like you’ve just run a marathon. One of your hands is pressed against your chest, the other braced against the walls to hold you up as you stumble towards the bathroom.
Before you can make it more than a few feet an arm catches you around the waist, pulling you into an alcove you had never noticed. You stumble back, trying to pull yourself together, not wanting whoever grabbed you to see your harried state.
“Hey, hey. It’s just me.”
Familiar hands rub up and down your arms, grounding you. You look up to see the blue eyes that you love so much.
“JJ,” you whisper, breaths still coming fast and hard.
“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”
JJ holds you close as you will your body to calm, feeling safe for the first time all night.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you, talk to you.”
You sigh, looking at him with sad eyes. “As happy as I am that you’re here, you have to go. If anyone sees you. My father, or Rafe-”
“What if you didn’t have to worry about them anymore?”
“JJ, we’ve been over this. I can’t break this engageme-”
“What if we just left? You and me. Right now.” His eyes bore into yours, willing you to see the possibility.
You can’t act like you haven’t had the same thought yourself, but you just didn’t see how it would be possible. “How would that work, JJ? My father controls my whole life. My money, my future, everything.”
“You don’t need anything he has to give you, Y/N.” His voice is pleading.
“JJ…”
“We can figure it out. You have a degree, I have experience. We’ll get jobs. We’ll make it work.” He reaches a hand into his pocket. “I know I can’t give you a life like this-”
“I don’t want a life like this.”
“-but I will do everything in my power to give you a good life, to make you happy.” He holds up a simple, beautiful band of silver. “Will you marry me?”
You stare up at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Say you’ll marry me. We can leave right now. I have a plan to get us off the island. Your parents won’t know until it’s too late. Just say yes, please.”
“Yes, yes.” You nod vigorously. “I’ll marry you.”
You rip off the gaudy ring currently on your hand and JJ replaces it with the silver band. He kisses you so deeply you think you see stars.
“I love you, JJ Maybank,” you whisper when you part.
“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N, so much.”
You could stay in that moment forever, but you both know you don’t have time to waste. JJ begins to pull you to a side exit, but you stop him. There’s one last thing you have to do before you leave.
You find a piece of paper, scribbling out a few quick words and titling to your father.
Have fun explaining to the Cameron’s that your daughter ran off with a pogue
Y/N Y/L/N
You set the folded paper on the center table, placing Rafe’s ring next to it.
“Ready to get off this island?”
You grab JJ’s hand. “God, yes.”
-
JJ was right, the two of you figured it out. You both found jobs on the mainland and created a happy life for yourselves. You and JJ got married a few months after you ran off and Mia came along a few years later.
You had kept in touch with the pogues of course and they let you know when your father and Ward Cameron’s businesses had come crashing down, forcing the two men off the island. They had no power anymore, so eight years later you decided to move back to your home. People had gossiped at first, but they moved on to the next big thing when they realized that neither you nor JJ cared what they had to say. You wanted to be in the place where you grew up and fell in love, and you wanted Mia to be surrounded by the friends that you called your family.
Mia was just about bouncing in her seat by the time you got home. You hurried to get her out of her carseat so she could rush inside and see her dad. Friday’s were always her favorite because JJ got off work early and was already home by the time you brought her back from school.
She pulled you along by the hand as she continued on about her fairytale. “The evil king disappeared and they lived happily ever after.”
JJ scooped Mia up as the two of you entered the house, making the little girl squeal in delight.
“Daddy!”
“Who lived happily ever after, Mia-mine?” She giggled as he burrowed his face in her little belly.
“The princess and the pogue!”
JJ’s eyes met yours over Mia, giving you an intrigued look.
“Kylie’s older sister told her a fairytale at lunch about a couple that used to live on the island.” You tell him with a knowing grin.
“A fairytale? That’s awesome, baby.” JJ lowers Mia back down to her feet. “Hey, why don’t you go wash up and Mommy and I will make you a snack.”
“Okay, Daddy!” The little girl runs off happily.
You make your way to the kitchen, JJ coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “So the princess and the pogue, huh?” He smirks as you turn to face him.
“Who knew we’d become an OBX fairytale?” You reply.
“It makes sense. It doesn’t get much more ‘happily ever after’ than this. Right, princess?”
You give him a gentle kiss. “Right, pogue.”
~
Writing Masterlist
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank x y/n#obx x reader#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx#outer banks#outer banks x reader#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fic#stars writes#starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies
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Touch | Part Five
You struggle to re-establish a purpose in Jackson. But the Miller brothers will always keep you on your toes.
Words: 5.2k
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral (m receiving), kind of subby Joel maybe?, like shades of subby, whimpers and groans, carpentry
Minors DNI
You envied people who didn’t remember their dreams. Yours lingered with you, so much accumulated horror for your brain to draw upon. The crunching of dried-out fungus under boot. The squelch of blood running over clenched fist. The screams of your sister, reverberating with the screams of your dad, of your mum, of yourself. Formless and vacant of hope, a belligerent and unrelenting slideshow.
You woke with a start in your own bed, alone and trying to piece together how you got there. After Joel had taken care of you on the coffee table you had slumped towards him, head on his shoulder, and took in all the air your lungs could get. The exhaustion was overwhelming and you had felt yourself go limp in his arms, dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you up the stairs. You’d had enough presence of mind to worry he was going to hurt his shoulder before he had you wrapped up in your blanket. You didn’t hear him leave.
You supposed you should be happy, but you had long started to suspect that it wasn’t really an emotion you were capable of. Even before outbreak day you’d had too much to worry about. You had already come to terms with the fact that happiness just wasn’t something your mind could do. Terror, though. That was your speciality.
At the bottom of the stairs, you peered through the front window at the rest of Jackson going about their day. Ordinarily, you would have been setting up for your first client, but you’d already cancelled them. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into the treatment room, hadn’t been in there since your table collapsed. The excitement of Maria delivering, the thrill of being somewhat useful, had allowed you to forget for a second that your vocation, the one thing that had got you into Jackson and probably saved your life in the process, was over. Without the table you were limited to straddling grumpy men in your kitchen, and that was a whole different job.
You glanced in at the living room, eyeing the coffee table suspiciously. You were running out of safe rooms in your house.
—
You kept your eyes down at the mess hall, only glancing up once or twice to ensure that the coast was clear. You weren’t surprised to see that Ray wasn’t there, assuming that he was manning the radio with Simon trying to scout any danger for Marla and the crew. The expedition was expected to take several days, longer if the weather turned. There was no cause for alarm, no reason to assume anything was amiss. But you knew Ray, and that that wouldn’t stop him.
Halfway through your porridge a tray dropped onto the table in front of you, and you startled, snapping your head up. You felt your stomach flip, the rolled oats no longer sitting comfortably beside the acid and bile in your stomach.
‘Mind if I sit?’ Ellie asked, already settling into the chair. You shook your head, swallowing heavily.
‘No, course,’ you said.
‘You looked lonely, you always look lonely.’
‘You’re very observant,’ you said, not sure if this was truly a compliment.
‘We just got back to Jackson,’ Ellie said, undeterred.
‘So I hear.’
‘I think we’re staying for a while,’ she went on largely without you. Her eyes had drifted to the middle distance, and you could see that she was thinking.
‘And how do you feel about that?’ you prompted. Her gaze shifted back to you, and she shook her head as if the thoughts were clinging to her clothes.
‘I’ve seen you around,’ she said, and you got the feeling she was starting the conversation over again, to see if she could improve it a second time. You let her.
‘Yup,’ you said.
‘You touch people,’ she said simply, and you blinked, had no idea what to make of it.
‘Umm…’ you started, and she interrupted you.
‘Dina says it helps people feel good,’ Ellie continued, as did your concerns.
‘What exactly did she day I do?’ you desperately tried to clarify.
‘You rub people and they feel good.’
Nope. Not better.
‘Massage,’ you spat out abruptly, ‘it’s a kind of therapy, physical therapy…but not like, it’s not…it’s good for your muscles, for your spine.’
‘Right,’ Ellie said, as if this was obvious, and you were very relieved to have got that sorted out at least.
‘You massaged Joel,’ she went on, and you wondered how hard it would be to jam your butter knife into your eye socket and remove yourself from the conversation, if not the planet, completely. ‘He told me it helped. Well he didn’t tell me, but he was all angry and sore…more than normal…then Tommy made him see you and he was better after that. He was his normal grumpy self, not his sore grumpy self.’
‘I’m happy to have helped,’ you said. You had given up trying to predict where the conversation was going, and now you were just tagging along behind her.
‘You did help,’ she said, leaning forward on her chair, up on her elbows on the table. ‘I want to help, too.’
‘You…do?’
‘Yeah I thought I could…I thought I was going to but, it didn’t…’ She looked around the room, flustered, and dipped her head lower to murmur underneath the sounds of the other tables. ‘I thought that I could help people one way, but it didn’t work out, and I just want to see if there’s another…fuck it actually, this is stupid.’
‘No, it’s not stupid,’ you said, and you reached out to put your hand on her arm, but she pulled it back like you had burned her.
‘You probably think I’m too young,’ she said, rolling her eyes but also really seeming to mean it.
‘I was your age who I started learning,’ you said, and watched as her eyes lit up, finally rising back to meet yours.
‘You were?’ she asked, and you nodded, grinning at her.
‘I think so, yeah. I mean, how old are you, Ellie?’
Like a shot her smile dropped, and she slunk backwards and away from you, receding into the chair and appearing to you to deflate to half her size. ‘What, what did I…’ and then you realised, cursed yourself and your remaining three brain cells. She hadn’t told you her name.
‘Who’s been talking about me?’ she asked, so quietly you only just heard. You swallowed. You remembered what it was like to be a teenager, to be relentlessly comparing yourself to your peers, to the women in magazines and on tv, to be relentlessly self-conscious, to be convinced everyone is talking about you and also worse, that no one is.
‘I asked Maria who you both were who you arrived,’ you said, deciding it was safer to talk about Maria then it was to talk about Joel. ‘I saw how Tommy reacted to Joel, and to you, and I didn’t understand what was happening so I asked.’
Ellie nodded, considering this, and you could see she had already worked out that it wasn’t the whole truth, but you hoped it was enough truth that she didn’t disappear on you.
‘What did she say?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast to think of a good answer. You would have preferred a minefield.
‘Just that you were Joel’s kind of adopted daughter and that you’d been out of town for a while…and that she was super happy to have you back.’ You prayed the last part would ring true in some way, that it would be enough to reassure her. ‘Maria cares about you a lot.’
‘Maria doesn’t know me,’ Ellie replied. I don’t trust that he’s not keeping her in the dark.
‘She doesn’t need to, she just cares anyway,’ you said, and you meant it.
A loud group of teenagers, slightly older than Ellie if you had to guess, pushed into the mess hall and you watched as she pulled away from you even further, taking up residence about three centimetres back from her own skin. Her eyes were hard, vacant. You had seen the same look on Joel, and you knew then that she was a quick learner.
‘Ellie-‘ you started, but she was pushing her chair back.
‘Never mind,’ she said over her shoulder as she hurried away.
—
The mood in the town shifted over the next few days. Neither Marla nor any of the other crew had radioed in since reaching the third checkpoint, and there had been heavy, low-hanging clouds threatening the mountains. You had wondered about going in to see Ray, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would be any consolation. You worried, perhaps unfairly but also perhaps not, that you would say the wrong thing, that in your haphazard if well-intentioned way you would lose him, too. Instead, you stayed away.
You also avoided Joel. You felt the urge to keep a respectful distance, to try and pretend like it had never happened, like you hadn’t grasped his shoulders and come harder than you had in literal decades. You weren’t sure if you remembered ever having felt the way he had made you feel in an embarrassingly short period of time, but also you weren’t sure what it meant, if anything. If this was just something that Joel did, how he kept himself busy at the end of the world. You didn’t want to be his distraction, and you didn’t want him to distract you, especially when you had so much to pointlessly worry about.
You’d had boyfriends, one before outbreak day and two and a half in the years after. A lot of the time it was convenience, sometimes protection, but never passion. You’d read that during times of national crisis birth rates skyrocket and you’d never been able to understand why. Nothing about a brain-obliterating fungus was all that attractive to you. You wondered if what had happened with Joel was just about you finally feeling safe. If it was less Joel and more Jackson. You felt better about things, if that were true. You hoped it was.
You took the short walk to Maria’s, a tray of lasagne in your hands that you’d begged and borrowed at the mess to be able to make. There wasn’t any oregano or basil, so you just got generous with the salt and hoped for the best. You thought about your mum’s cooking, which wasn’t really all that great either. Her method was throwing Italian herb mix in to any pasta sauce in the hope that it would make it taste better than the sum of its parts. It rarely worked, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.
You stood on Maria’s porch, not sure if you should knock. You were worried about waking the baby, or waking Maria, or that the wrong Miller brother would be home. You worried that you wouldn’t be welcome, that you’d done too much at the birth, that you had overstepped in some way that you weren’t aware of but that would make it impossible for Maria to now be your friend.
Just as you were about to leave the lasagne on the front porch and make a break for it, the door swung open, and you were met with Tommy’s surprised face.
‘Umm, hi,’ you said, taking a step away from the doorstep without even noting. Tommy looked down at your hands, took the lasagne from you and put it gently on the console inside the door, then wrapped his arms tight around you and pushed all the air out of your lungs. You couldn’t even gasp in surprise.
‘You…’ he said, and he trailed off, and you felt the warmth and the comfort of his arms, and you suddenly thought you might cry. You pulled away, fast.
‘How are they?’ you asked, and Tommy beamed. Looking at him now, you realised he was absolutely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.
‘Come see,’ he said, pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. You could hear humming, contented gurgling, and followed it into the lounge room. Maria was sitting up on the couch, son at her breast. She smiled when she saw you, and you looked down at the baby in her arms, and felt love physically enter your body.
‘Oh Maria,’ you whispered, and she grinned back at you.
‘I am so fucking tired,’ she stage-whispered, and you had to try hard not to laugh too loud. His little fist was balled up and resting on her chest, and you could see the tiny thumbnail, purple and deep red, and it was too small and too precious for the world around it.
‘I have to go…run an errand,’ Tommy said quietly from the doorway. ‘Will you two be OK?’
Maria waved him off.
‘I ran off the other night before I asked you his name,’ you said, coming to sit beside Maria so that she didn’t have to turn her head to talk to you. She leant into your shoulder, and it was peaceful and warm and the kind of thing you do with a good friend, and you wondered if she’d object to adopting you.
‘We were going to go with Joel Junior,’ she said, and you wrinkled your nose.
‘Too alliterative,’ you said, and she nodded.
‘Also still not convinced about him,’ she said, and you felt something shift in your belly.
‘He was good the other night, with Tommy.’
‘He saw a lot of me I never intended him to,’ Maria said, and your heart sank. Should you have got rid of him? He was there for Tommy, you realised, not Maria. Should you have objected, said something? Had Maria been trying to telepathically tell you to do something, and you missed it? ‘It’s OK,’ Maria said, sensing the way your body had tensed. ‘I wasn’t really paying much attention to him, in fairness.’
‘You were kind of busy,’ you agreed. You listened to the baby suckling quietly, little contented grunts coming from his throat. ‘So, it’s not Joel Junior,’ you prompted.
‘Robin,’ Maria said. ‘There are so many here in Spring, and I love their little songs.’
You reached a hand out to cup his head in your palm. ‘That’s perfect,’ you said. For a long moment you just watched him, the peace of him, so wrapped up and warm and safe in the arms of his mother. You ached for your own for a second, before you pushed the thought away, told yourself this wasn’t the time.
‘It feels different out there,’ Maria said. ‘I can even tell, and I haven’t left the house in days.’
‘Vibes aren’t great,’ you agreed.
‘Tommy’s worried, but he won’t tell me.’
‘The expedition is just taking longer than it should,’ you said. ‘If there was anything to tell I’m sure he would.’
Maria regarded you for a long moment, and you realised she wanted more answers, but you had none to give her.
‘He’s like Joel, like his big brother,’ Maria said eventually, and you felt heat up the back of your spine. ‘Protective,’ she added. ‘To the point of locking you out in the cold to save you from the monster under the bed.’
—
You kind of wished Maria would stop dropping truth bombs on you, then leave you to work through the rubble on your own. You walked the long way back to your place, down behind the hall and past the lake, just to see if you could push her words out of your body through your feet.
It meant that you arrived back on your front step just as the sun was setting, and you were surprised to see the lights in your house on. You were sure you wouldn’t have left them on in the daylight. You pushed the door open, trying to remember if you’d locked it. No one did in Jackson, but you liked to when you were going to bed, partly to believe that you could do anything that might prevent some kind of harm.
‘Hello?’ you called down your hallway, thereby alerting any potential attackers to your exact whereabouts. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Jackson had definitely made you soft.
There were no weapons in your entry way. You considered whether taking your boots off and throwing them would cause enough of a head injury to get away, but it would be harder in your socks. In Chicago you’d kept a baseball bat beside the door, and used it only once.
‘That you?’ you heard a voice call, and you paused. Were you ‘you’?
‘Maybe?’ you called back, and you heard two sets of laughs. One deep and huffy. You’d recognise it anywhere. Your feet moved all by themselves.
Joel and Tommy were standing in your treatment room. The broken table was gone, and in its place a brand new, clearly custom made, massage table stood. Thin enough so that you didn’t need to climb on top of it to rearrange the towels, and just the right shape to give a body a warm and safe place to rest.
Your hand flew to your mouth, and you felt tears pushing hot onto your cheeks. Tommy grinned at you while Joel watched, careful and reserved. You didn’t have words, could barely wrap your head around what you were seeing.
‘You helped so well with Maria, kept her going when anyone else would have quit,’ Tommy said, while you were trying hard to breathe. ‘You did so good, so we wanted to say thank you.’
You let out a gasping, gulping, tearful laugh, nodding your head at him. ‘That’s OK, you’re welcome,’ you said, but you were laughing and crying simultaneously, so it was hard to know if you’d made any sense.
‘It was Joel’s idea,’ Tommy said, smiling at his older brother, who promptly blushed and looked ready to murder him. ‘Come look,’ Tommy said, extending a hand towards you and pulling you by the arm further into the room.
The massage table had built-in padding under a leather cover, that was attached to the wood with studs along the edges. The leather had clearly been something else in a past life, the stitching haphazard and criss-crossing over the base, but you would cover it with towels anyway. You pushed a hand out and pressed down on it, finding it delightfully spongey, and soft. You wanted to lean down and put your nose to it, inhale the leather, the warm sunshine on swatches of yellow and green fields. Inhale a different life, an older one long passed.
‘And here, this is the headrest,’ Tommy said, continuing his tour. ‘It sits in its own little track carved in here, see? So you can remove it or slot it back into place. Maria said that’s what the proper tables used to have, so you could lie face down.’
You nodded, confirming that this was indeed true. You reached out and put your hands on it, let your fingers reach underneath to feel the joins in the wood. They were smooth, carefully crafted. You knew they were Joel’s, carried his strong but gentle touch, his precision, his care.
You gazed at him, completely blindsided by the craftmanship and the generosity. The moment hung in the air, the two of you watching each other. You wanted to tuck your head under his chin and cry into his chest, wanted to rip his shirt off him and shred it with your teeth so he could never wear anything ever again, wanted to hold his face in your hands and keep it, not let the moment pass, let your hands on his skin secure the warmth there, hold the look on his face, for eternity.
‘I should head back,’ Tommy said, and you pivoted immediately towards him and threw your arms around his neck. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘Now we’re square,’ he said, and you gurgled your acceptance.
After he left, you worried Joel would go, too. Worried that all of this had been obligation, had been at Tommy’s insistence, had been a way of winning Maria over. Worried at how badly you wanted him to stay, worried that it wasn’t just Jackson but that it was him, that it was always going to be him, and that right now every nerve ending was on fucking fire just because he was looking at you. You waited for him to grunt or nod at you and turn his back, but he stayed standing, his brows knitted together, one hand on his hip.
‘It’s beautiful,’ you said, because the tension was starting to mount now that Tommy had gone, and if he kept looking at you like that you were going to combust. Your voice wobbled, and you swallowed glue and razor blades to try and steady it. ‘Where did you get the leather?’
‘Found an old couch lying around, no bother,’ he said. His voice was low, like he thought you were going to run from the room, but in that moment you didn’t trust your legs. You nodded your head because words were failing you, but then suddenly you had too many of them, and they were all going to come out right now, all at once.
‘Its just that the massage table, I know it’s silly…but it was what I used to do before outbreak day, and it was kind of who I am or maybe I just think of it as that, but I just worry that if I don’t have anything to offer no one will keep me.’
Jackson. You’d meant to say you were worried they wouldn’t let you stay in Jackson. But that wasn’t at all what you’d said.
Joel took two steps forward, grabbing your face and rubbing at the tracks of tears on your cheek with one hand, the other snaking behind you to hold your back. You gasped, staring up into his brown eyes, the salt and pepper of his beard, the lower lip you wanted to nip with your teeth. You waited for him to say something, anything, but holding you was also enough. Under his patient gaze your breath slowed, you stopped feeling your heart thundering in your chest, felt your shoulders drop.
‘Joel…’ you whispered, and he was on you then, head dipping down to bite at the skin behind your ear, hand roaming over your hips to cup your bottom, grind you into him, where you felt him hard and heavy against your core.
‘Let me-‘ he started, but you stopped him, gripping him by the shoulder and pulling away.
‘No, let me,’ you said, suddenly bold under his wanting touch. ‘Table’s fixed now, so there’s no excuses.’
He cocked and eyebrow, blinking at you. ‘You want me on that?’
‘What’s the matter, don’t trust your craftmanship?’
‘Baby, a massage isn’t exactly what I-‘
‘Down to your boxers and face in the hole,’ you said, grabbing a towel from a nearby stack and putting it down on the leather.
‘You could at least help,’ he said, grumpy again, and you grinned happily at him.
‘I’ll step out and let you get ready,’ you said, in full-blown professional mode, just to fuck with him. He sighed, but he did as he was told, and you really fucking liked it, actually.
Once he was on the table you draped him, making sure he was comfortable. You rubbed your hands together to make them warm, then poured some cooking oil – the best substitute you’d found so far even if it did make the residents of Jackson smell like fried chicken – into your hands.
‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you warned, and Joel grunted. You were glad he was face down so you didn’t have to see the expression on his face.
You started with his left leg, draping the towel over his hip and tucking it between his thighs. Straight away you could feel the tension there, the tightness of the calf, the hamstring ready to snap. You ran your hands in a vee-shape, thumbs tucked one over the other, up the back of his leg, stopping just below his glute, which you briefly considered leaning over and sinking your teeth into.
Joel’s skin was soft, and unbelievably hot to the touch, and you had to try hard to focus on what your hands were doing so that you could ignore the little whimpers, the little gasps, as you found and massaged away a knot. You ran your hands up the outside of his thighs, felt the muscles jump and tremor under you, dug your fingers into his hip flexors and heard him exhale, an almost sigh, as they released.
You got into trouble when you got to his back. You were aware of the fact that you were soaking your panties, worried that he would smell your arousal, worried that if he kept making noises like that you were going to drown yourself. You worked hard to keep your breath steady, remembered your lessons and imagined dousing yourself in freezing cold water, jumping from your back porch into the frozen lake below Jackson, hoping that might give you some relief.
The wide planes of his skin were marred by scars, by shadows of pain and hurt and memory. He carried a scar, an old one, on his right side, a graze that looked like a bullet, that you decided to ignore. As you pushed hard along his spine he grunted, the muscle seizing under your touch, and you worked against it, kneading at them like dough, lifting the fascia and breaking it down, working the adhesions, until it was buttery and smooth. You focused on Joel’s breath, saw the way his chest expanded as he inhaled, felt the enormous man, so scary and so gruff, so mean and so soft on the inside, gradually give in to you. You felt him relax, the tension leaving his shoulders as you worked them, careful to release the deltoid, to ease off the trapezius now that you could finally get at it properly.
You were tempted to leave him there, relaxed for maybe the first time in years, but you roused him, rolled him onto his back, put a folded-up towel under his head and another over his eyes to protect them from the light. With his face covered you could take your inventory of him. The scar on his right side, jagged and angry and new, the reason he’d been favouring it finally clear to you. The soft smattering of chest hair leading down to a light trail on his pelvis. The towel covering him, but not enough to hide the fact that he was hard, that he had tried to tuck his cock into the waistband of his underwear but that it was too thick, too long to stay fully hidden.
You moved up to his head, to his salt and pepper hair, and carded your hands through it, lifting his head and holding it in your fingertips. You watched as his eyebrows knitted together again, unsure, but then releasing, his mouth dropping open, as you heard his breath, ragged, escaping through his teeth.
‘Let me take care of you, baby,’ you whispered to him, right above his ear, mimicking what he had said to you on the coffee table, what had made you instantly wet and aching. You gazed down his body at the way his cock jumped. ‘Let me take care of this body.’
You let your fingers dig in a little to his scalp, a quiet little moan escaping him, the covering over his eyes giving him a sense of privacy as you unravelled him. You wanted to lean down and suck his bottom lip into yours, wanted to climb on top of him and sink your pussy onto his Roman nose. Wanted to come on his face and his fingers, wanted him to splash his come onto your chest.
‘This body that protects us,’ you whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead, on his cheek beneath the towel. Putting his head back down and moving to massage his left arm, lifting it by the wrist and rubbing your hands over his bicep and onto his chest. He glistened, the oil mixing with his sweat under the overhead light, and you couldn’t stop yourself, then, couldn’t help but to bend and place a kiss on his clavicle, licking up to nip at his neck. You felt him shiver, a soft whimper escaping with his breath. You moved your hand from his wrist to his palm, held his hand with yours.
‘This body that serves us all so well,’ you said. ‘Let me take care of this body.’
He gasped when you kissed his belly button, licking and nipping down his happy trail to where his cock was now straining hard against the towel. You pushed it away, taking his cock out of his underwear and pulling them down on his hips, so that you got your first proper look at him.
As you expected he was thick, the veins on the underside pulsing, straining against his want for you. The head was so red it was almost purple, and you wondered how long it had been since a woman touched him like this, since he’d been touched at all. His hand grasped yours, the other fisting the towel underneath him.
When you slipped him into your mouth, inviting him into you, he groaned, grunted obscenities flowing from him. His cock was hot on your tongue, salty as he dripped pre-come into your throat. You kept your eyes on his face, his still covered, as his stomach rippled and his body tremored underneath you. With your other hand you steadied him, reaching up and holding the shaft while you bobbed, sucking hard on the head. You took a second to breathe, leaving little kitten licks on his frenulum, feeling his free hand let go of the towel and grip you by the hair.
‘Fuck, baby’ he grunted, his hips thrusting, pumping up into the air.
‘So strong, Joel,’ you said, before reattaching your mouth to him. He threw his head back, and you considered the irony of him breaking the brand-new table he’d built just for you by coming so hard he splintered the wood beneath him. His body was quaking, his hips bucking up into your wet, warm mouth and it was everything you had dared imagine it would be, right down to his gasping encouragement, down to his needy little whimpers that turned into moans of outright pleasure, of the feeling hot and electric right down to his toes.
‘Jesus, you’re gonna make me…’ he gasped, and you looked up at him, the towel having fallen from his eyes and him staring down at you between his legs, his hand on the back of your neck gentle and guiding, supporting the muscles as you worked him. You kept your eyes on his and your mouth on his cock as he shook, hips rolling, rutting against your pumping hand.
You slipped him from your mouth. ‘Just let go, baby. I got you,’ you said, covering him again as he did just that, shooting ropes of hot salt and desire across your tongue, holding your hand, groaning at the relief of it, at the release, and in that moment you had him, in that moment he was yours, gasping for breath and so soft and languid, looking down his body at you in awe and in wanting, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat.
Taglist:
@orcasoul
@archofimagine
@hiroikegawa
@littlemisspascal
@ilovejoel-andjavi
@giggly-otter
@harrysrosetatto
@Hjzghi-blog
@daddy-dins-girl
#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#joel miller
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Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes
DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33
George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.
He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.
After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.
Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.
He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.
George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.
The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.
The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.
“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.
“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”
He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”
“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”
George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms.
“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”
“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”
He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”
George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….
“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”
With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”
“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”
Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high.
“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.
“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”
“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.
“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”
George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.
“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”
George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”
As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.
“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”
“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”
“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”
“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated.
He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.
“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”
George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.
“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”
“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”
George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-
“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after.
Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”
George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”
“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”
“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”
They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.
“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.
“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”
George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”
“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”
“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”
“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”
“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”
“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”
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rainwing headcanons!! + history rewrite and canon tweaks
physical headcanons!!
they’re kind of small i think, mid sized. very long certainly, i imagine them lounging around in trees like jaguars
maybe THIS is my most canon compliant design actually
manes of long hair aren’t uncommon, but not every dragon has them and very VERY rarely a rainwing will have hair trailing down their spine and ending in a fluffy little tail,, rare but possible
speaking of their tail, it doesn’t really get “thinner” or taper off at the end simply because that’s reallyyy not how prehensile tails work, so while rainwings don’t have thick tails per se, their tails do have a semi consistent thickness
their horns are long and slender, they’re considered very elegant and they usually stay close to the head/neck of the rainwing to not get caught while tree gliding
their frills are HUUUUUGE i'm always disappointed when i remember how small they are in the canon drawings
like NO their frill obscures their neck most of the time, also covers their ears, and it is very prone to being very expressive
the membranes connecting the spines of the frills also come in different shapes!
their frills also sometimes have butterfly like tails where part of the frill near the face hangs really long and thin? if that makes sense. like a swallowtails tail, but on their frills
i also shrunk their wings a little,, still long for gliding purposes but not necessarily wide/tall since those would just get unnecessarily tangled in trees
their little fangs stick out of their mouth,, oh so little
social/family structure,,,
more communal living!! we love it
rainwings are very communal and lack the family structure of sibs, so they’re comparatively more communal than mudwings
monogamy is slightlyyyy more common, but it’s still not necessarily the norm. rainwings and their polycules,,,
i think they keep track of who their kids are!! sorry but that’s just my belief. i think parents (even if they’re not committed or mates or whatever) will somewhat co parent their kids
they’re incubated all together, but parents keep track of where there egg is and how far along it is and when it will hatch etc, and then they will be there when the egg hatches to make sure nothing goes wrong
even if the parents aren’t there, it is someone’s job to be there and make sure the dragonets hatch successfully, and then they are safely transported to the dragon equivalent of daycare
childcare is such a big job market in the rainwing queendom,,,,
i think depending on the parents, they will raise their dragonets in their home, but these dragonets still spend a LOOOOT of time in the daycare. i think dragonets are just very widely cared for by basically everyone, some pairs of parents just spend a bit of extra time with their dragonets, but they’re never raised 100% secluded from the town
grown dragons will divide the dragonets into age groups and teach them stuff
tree gliding, fruit finding and identification, flower identification, flower drying, leaf weaving/thatching, etc
also oral storytime! very important
grown dragons stay very communal, they don’t really couple off and move into their own “houses”
they have couples and polycules and just kind of go into the next generation, raising the new dragonets in the same communal way
and a history rewrite,,,,
basically i wanted to give them a reason they were so exclusionary in the original five books and this is what came from that
i didn’t like the rainwing racism was like,,, right? obviously some rainwings can be “lazy” or whatever, but the fact that all of them were + not the smartest + not really empathetic was just like,,, not the move imo
maybe about a century before the sandwing war of succession, the rainwings experienced their OWN war of succession, except they didn’t drag other tribes into it and it was kept within the queendom
a queen died and had many daughters who could take the throne, and then the daughters started fighting over this
(this is where it’s somewhat necessary for me to input just a general dragon headcanon,, i think they live for sooo fucking long. like 150 years easy. they don’t mature at 6 they mature at like 25-30. so these wars of succession last for SO LONG because the daughters won’t fuckin die (from old age)!)
so the rainwings fought with each other for ages, and during this war (with a deadly biochemical weapon like their venom) a lot of things like literacy, written history, math, etc, don’t seem as important, so they’re somewhat forgotten because parents are more focused on keeping their dragonets alive and safe
also a lot of scrolls and stuff are literally destroyed
and then this is also the reason for really low literacy rates
post their war of succession, they establish the “court of queens” which is kind of like a voting ruling body, but they don’t always like each other a whole lot and are prone to argue more. also being queen actually DOES mean something (a bit more than a tie breaker)
i’ll align with the book here again that i do think anyone can be on this council, but then queen is chosen from the council members and by the council
and each newly coming in council member does have to prove themselves in their rainwing skills
again, following this war, there was a lot of focus on internal repair rather than fixing relationships with other tribes, so they became very exclusionist as the other tribes saw them
so the stereotype of the rainwing ranges a bit more,, paranoid, exclusionist, lazy, etc
somewhat soon after their own war of succession, the sandwing war of succession breaks out, and they go FUCK NO and hide in their rainforest just trying to recuperate
this is why they’re so self contained when the DoD encounter them
they’re aware of the disappearances, and they’re worried, and they’re putting in measures to try and prevent them,,, but also they do NOT want to fuck with another tribe. please. just let them rest
and they were aware that glory’s egg went missing, but they were like “FUCK one of those snakes got in here” and changed the designs of the hatcheries or something
fitting this into canon
i think it fits pretty neatly?
the general vibe of the rainwings is that they’re all a whole lot more scared/paranoid, but we still see a lot of the chilled out moments where they’re at peace
the council (again) isn’t lazy (at least not all of them)
they kind of exist along a spectrum where different members kind of have different vibes
it’s the same queens from the book, now just on a council
some of them care a lot about the disappearances, but they’re still scared/too cautious to get involved
some of them don’t reallyyy care, and they would rather just focus on the rainwings that are still here, tighten up the border to reduce disappearances and just hunker down
also they don’t have an army, and they consider themselves pacifists and really don’t want to fight anyone or organize an army considering their history
glory becomes apart of the council rather than directly becoming the queen, and grandeur is the official queen
a turnover of the council happens because glory is PISSED and grandeur just lets it happen lol
this is where the group competition fits in like it fits in in the book
so basically glory + the rainwing gang is challenging the council members because she thinks they’re so incompetent
not saying that kinkajou (a child) or tamarin (a child) STAYS on the council, but it’s just the start of the turnover for the council to get more proactive rainwings involved
grandeur takes a shining to glory and lets her lead the invasion as it happens in the book
fashion and jewelry!
although in modern days, rainwings incorporate some very gauzy, light, see through fabrics into their fashion as shawls and such, this wasn’t always the case
for a long looong while, the main components of rainwing fashion was stringing plants across and around horns, wings, tails, necks, etc
the main fashion was the changing scale color and pattern, which still holds up, but now with a little extra flair
jobs
rainwings grow exotic flowers and trade these with other tribes! with tribes that are farther away, trading dried or otherwise preserved flowers is more common since the flowers are indeed prone to dying
rainwings also make perfumes from flowers,,,, like that one fuckass queen she was onto something
their expanse of flowers and fruits also give them access to the most dyes! so any other tribe that produces a fiber frequently works with rainwings to get them dyed pretty colors
also also, rainwings make paints and trade these to other tribes
rainwings are pretty advanced healers, despite seeming a bit uh,, confused in the books. they just didn’t know how to treat a sandwing stab bc they haven’t dealt with sandwings in ages! but when it comes to other aches and pains and illnesses they have a wide amount of remedies
they also focus a lot on the mind especially after the rainwings are gotten back from the nightwing island
they study the effects of the no sunlight vs sunlight,, they see a lot of mental effects,,, basically they become wellness influencers.. KIDDING but they do start a “mental health matters” type thing lol
along with the healing, lots of potions and elixirs are created for healing purposes, and rainwing small magics (related to my animus magic rewrite, dw abt it, but basically a lot of dragons have the ability to do “small magic”) relates to potions and elixirs and such
rainwings are incredibly good mimics! so after they come out of their shells, they learn other tribe’s languages super easily and therefore are great verbal translators!
it’s very common for rainwings to work with other tribes on a queen’s counsel as a translator for foreign and inter tribal affairs
history researchers? like of their own internal history trying to recover stuff from pre their war,,
there’s also a lot of biologists/naturalists/dragons who are studying the animals and plants of the forest just for the sake of science
“royalty” and commoners
so, this “council of queens” is established after this war of the queen’s remaining daughters
i truly think this war was devastating, so they start on rebuilding their queendom right away
internal focus, accidentally icing out other tribes
they want to avoid the war happening again, so they stop passing down the throne through daughters, rather any female dragon can petition to join the council
and any GROUP of dragons can petition to remove a queen from the council
it’s a very,,, democratic? system
but it boils down to their being only a little bit of separation between royalty and commoners,, and it kind of doesn’t exist tbh
this along with the really intense communal feelings and being raised communally and raising dragonets with one another,, very close knit tribe
not a whole lot of class strife like icewings or seawings or something
superstitions
there’s a lot of beliefs surrounding different flowers, kind of similar to victorian messaging around flowers
i’m not really sure how superstitious/religious they are tbh,, again maybe a lot of this fell away during the war as more cautionary tales were told rather than superstitious fables or anything
but there is definitely a system of flower messaging
i think they hold all animals in high regard, and think they all have high intelligence (they just favor sloths)
some animals do have certain beliefs surrounding them
seeing an increase of frogs means the rainy season is coming soon, when they start decreasing the rainy season is ending
sightings of pods of dolphins around the coasts means generally good tidings and a positive short term future
i think they do have a lot of pet superstitions?
sloths are pretty common, so nothing super crazy there
but if a dragon has a big, jungle cat, other dragons will view them as very charming/caring, as it takes a lot of work to get a big cat to trust you
small amphibians or reptiles means that a dragon is detail oriented
snails and insects and mollusks are considered like an “old dragon’s” pets
so yeah! rainwings. this still feels weirdly,, incomplete? maybe it’s just because of how much i like them i just want to make them fully fleshed out which they aren’t really here. but i think they’re really cool, i just don’t love their canon all the time. yeah! idk. complex feelings. as always, hit me UP with your ideas anywhere you please i love hearing feedback :)
#wof#wof worldbuilding#wof art#wof redesign#wings of fire#wof rainwing#wings of fire rainwing#wings of fire art
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For a while—after being exposed to the antiship movement, because goodness knows I didn't care about this when I was younger—I wondered *why* fiction and reality were so different in my head. Why I could happily see things depicted in fiction that would make me sick to my stomach or upset me to tears just from thinking of it happening in real life. I couldn't come up with a reason for this for a while, which caused me distressed and made me worried that I might secretly be a terrible person after all.
But I've done some thinking and I've figured it out. Or, rather, I've returned to the mindset that came so easy to me in the past and probably did to a lot of people before the well was poisoned.
When I see a fictional character, I don't see a person. I don't see a person like *me*, anyway. I see a person within that piece of fiction's universe; a plane of existence that is wholly different from my own. Lines and colour, words on a page, virtual drawings being played sequentially at a speed that simulates movement. Sure, the written passage, 'He had eyes, ears and a mouth' is a representation of what *I* am, and what other people around me are, but it is fundamentally a plane of existence that is *alien* to me.
An alien is something that is decidedly not human. I feel empathy for other humans because I can relate to them. I have no desire to hurt them because I either know what it is like to be hurt in that way, or I can imagine what it would be like. I know the harm it would do to them, which illicits a reaction of disgust and apprehension in me. 'That's terrible,' I think, which simply kills any desire to cause any harm to a real person or do any disgusting actions.
This is why predators are such terrible people. They are fully aware of the harm their actions will cause and then go ahead with them anyway.
But with a fictional character, it's different in these ways:
1. First of all, we have to remember that they AREN'T human and so whatever I feel towards them cannot accurately mirror whatever I feel towards real flesh and blood individuals. They're projections of humanity from OTHER people in whatever medium they choose, but fictional characters are—and I cannot stress this enough—NOT HUMAN. If I pull off the head of a Barbie doll, does that mean I have the desire to behead someone in real life? Does it mean that I MUST have the urge to behead someone in real life, because a barbie doll is a 'representation' of a person? Your answer, I'm hoping, is no. Because Barbie is not human.
2. And because fictional characters are not human, I don't have empathy for them. Not REAL empathy, anyway, the type that stops the desire to cause harm. When I 'violate' a fictional character, it illicits at most only superficial disgust because I know that character will not live with the lasting consequences of my actions. They're a projection, a facsimile.
So that might bring you to another question, 'Even if they're not real, why would you WANT to do that to them, anyway?'
That I can't answer. The human brain is weird. Sometimes, people have dark urges. If a kid tosses their Barbie onto the ground and seems to take pleasure in it falling, can that accurately say they want to push a real person onto the ground? If someone seems to enjoy a violent video game like GTA where they can run people over and shoot them to their heart's content, is that a surefire way to know that they want to do those things to real people? I wouldn't say it is. Would you?
The final thing to remember is that it's not completely black and white. A serial killer might have been 'inspired' by a violent horror story, whereas the actual author of that story is a nice, well-adjusted individual. People with the desire to hurt actual humans might make do with projections, but it does not change the fact that they actually want to HARM people. The fiction didn't make them want to do that. They already did, and probably would have even if they didn't discover said fiction. And horrible people CAN make their own 'projections'.
Generally though I believe it is obvious when someone is just playing with dolls, and when someone is exhibiting an actual desire to hurt somebody.
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So... it seems I accidentally deleted an ask rather than answering it. To whoever asked "is it okay to visit SeaWorld? Does the money go to giving the orcas good care?"... here is your answer!
The SeaWorld parks, as well as Busch Gardens, Discovery Cove, and a few others, are operated by the recently renamed United Parks and Entertainment, a for-profit theme park company. Like any other corporation, their first goal is to remain profitable. Obviously, a large portion of that goes to corporate leadership and shareholders. But that's far from unique to United, or theme parks in general. It's a byproduct of the greedy world we live in. If you're willing to buy a ticket to Disney or Six Flags, then buying a ticket to a SeaWorld or Busch Gardens is no more immoral.
According to the AZA, approximately 77% of their members are for-profit. And while AZA zoos certainly vary in quality (anywhere from "acceptable" to "exceptional" in my opinion), for-profit status does not cheapen or detract from the work they do. In fact, for-profit institutions often have more financial freedom for animal care and conservation efforts than their non-profit counterparts. Non-profit zoos and aquariums are wonderful places, but believe me when I say there's a startling amount of politics in every aspect of their management. Non-profit status does not automatically make a zoo better, and for-profit status does not automatically make a zoo worse.
Now... do SeaWorld ticket sales go toward giving their orcas (and other animals) good care? Yes.
While it's certainly simplistic for parks to claim, as they do, "just by buying a ticket today you're helping save animals in the wild!"... it's not exactly a lie. Being for-profit, SeaWorld doesn't ask for donations to fund park operations or outreach endeavours. That revenue is generated by selling tickets, merchandise, food, etc. The same goes for their wildlife rescue and rehab program, Rising Tide conservation program, Coral Rescue Center, and the SeaWorld-Busch Gardens Conservation Fund, as well as partner organizations like OCEARCH and the Hubbs-SeaWorld Research Institute.
Take ticket sales away, and they can't care for their animals, or continue to fund conservation projects. While I don't know the whole story of what exactly is going on with Marineland Antibes, it appears that the park is in a dire financial situation due to plummeting attendance, to the point that they can no longer maintain their killer whale habitat and are trying to offload their animals onto an Asian aquarium or, potentially, an as-of-yet non-existent third party sea pen. While certainly well-meaning, years of boycotts against Marineland ultimately put their animals in a position where they are not being properly cared for. And it would be horrifying if the same thing happened to SeaWorld. I don't think many people, in their fervor to punish the parks for their perceived misdeeds and save the animals, thought about what the reality of driving a zoological facility into financial ruin would look like.
Don't get me wrong, SeaWorld's shift toward promoting itself as a thrill park that also does conservation rather than a marine facility that happens to have roller coasters annoys me. I would have rather they built a separate, neighboring park for the rides, or at least integrated them into the existing park less obtrusively (Disney's Animal Kingdom, for example, seemlessly integrates the theme park and zoo elements, although they have the benefit of the incredibly talented Imagineering team behind them). But as tiresome as the constant roller coaster announcements are, they are what kept the company afloat financially in the years immediately following Blackfish, drawing in a crowd that previously had no interest in the parks, and for that I'm grateful. Thankfully, SeaWorld is in a better spot nowadays. But the only way to convince them that their animals, not their roller coasters, are what people want to see... is to visit and see the animals.
In short, yes, part of your SeaWorld ticket funds care for their orcas and their many admirable projects. Now if only more of it went to giving their staff better salaries.
#their staff make less money than a lot of other major theme parks#the animals have great care... the people uh...#not as much#seaworld#zoos#aquariums#conservation#answered asks#anonymous
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taking a bath with jack marston.
౨ৎ SUMMARY... your favorite gunslinger seems to have trouble keeping himself together during the rough patch he is currently experiencing, so you decide to step in and tend to his needs.
౨ৎ RATING...fluff ! but, mentions of depression, implied grief, dirt, bacteria, nude body, alcoholism, scars, cuts, and bruises, implied financial situation, loneliness, implied to be shorter than him, GN READER. no 'y/n', just 'you.' Loosely proofread. established relationship.
౨ৎ CREDITS... thank you sooo much, @slversprngs for allowing me to use your jack drawings <3. you should definitely check them out because they make amazing art.
You were familiar with the young man and his family who lived couple blocks down from your ranch and your father would trade different products each month with the Marston's. This soon became a way to know the teenage boy as his mother, Abigail started to invite your family to dinner every other weekend, an attempt to make her loner son have some friends since all he did was read books and help out his father whenever they did ranch work.
Abigail thought you were a good influence, you liked reading books and engaged in conversations whenever her or her beloved husband would ask about your hobbies or they observed how you would treat their son. The Marston's loved having your family around and soon enough you became a family friend, and a best friend to Jack.
All those memories and dinners with the Marston family soon came an end three years ago, when Jack's father, John passed away and soon after that his mother passed as well.
It changed the young man - crushed him to pieces that it altered his personality. The old sarcastic boy you knew was far from that now, he was quiet and only kept to himself with that stoic mask he displays to everyone.
It seems you were an expectation because he wasn't entirely closed off, he still spoke to you occasionally about the things he's doing in his life - aiming to kill Edgar Ross, a man who murdered his father apparently.
You didn't know what to say to that, two wrongs don't make a right. But, you couldn't stop the young man as he let his anger out about the whole situation as he spoke about it whenever he would lean against the railings of his porch and you would quietly listen to his rambling.
...
Opening the crunched up newspaper that was left in your mailbox messily caught you off guard. The retired federal agent, Edgar Ross was reported as dead - something you didn't want to take literally due to how sweet the young man used to be in the past, nor wanted to believe his words of murder true. You felt terrible because you knew that the true fate of the man before it took place and deep down you knew you could've reported it to the law.
That's what you repeated to yourself numerous times - never to ever interact with an outlaw, a gunslinger, a murderer, someone like him, but you found yourself stripping naked to wash the young man as you slowly got into the bathtub.
"You don't have to do this," The gunslinger repeated as he took a heavy inhale, trying to respect you in the best way possible without making this awkward, "You know you can leave, right?" He continued but any conviction seemed to land on deaf ears.
"Mhm, I know." You muttered, reaching over to grab the shampoo and rubbing it on your hands before massage it into his scalp. The built up grease from days or even weeks was noticable but you decided not to speak about it.
Jack feels guilty - not for the killing a man but how he's making you, a childhood friend of his clean him up like he's a baby. The alcohol in his system doesn't make the anxiousness fade away as he is afraid you'll judge him - you'll will leave him.
He doesn't know how long it's been that he genuinely felt so clean but he won't ever even admit a side of vulnerability despite the fact he allowed you to take care of him.
After shampooing his hair, you gently wash off the shampoo and rubbed conditioner on your hand before going in and applying it to the outlaw's dark hair, causing him to hum. "What else are you goin' to do?" He questions as his gaze slowly meets yours, hoping you won't be grossed out.
"Do you want me to wash your shoulders? You...uh, can do the rest.." You mutter as your cheeks grew into a rosy red. Damn. He swears that look you give him anytime you get embarrassed will be the death of him.
Jack doesn't comment on it though, he silently reaches down and takes hold of your waist and pulls you closer. "Don't stress it," The gunslinger mutters, slowly dipping his face in the curve of your neck. "Darlin'..? Love you."
Jack Marston was not a vulnerable man, but in this moment, he felt safe and secure in your arms.
Thank you soo much for reading ! reblogs and likes are very much appreciated... please do not repost my work on any other platform. Masterlist
#john marston#rdr1#red dead fandom#red dead redemption community#adult jack marston#rdr2 john#rdr1 jack#jack marston x reader#jack marston nation#rai's rambles.#jack marston
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So I need to know what animal they think is the batfamilies special interest.
Like we all know they are on the spectrum like look at Bruce. He's a 30 year old man that dresses as a bat and don't get me wrong there are several reasons he dresses as one but it always has something to do with the animal itself and I always think that's funny how it's even used as a joke in several comics, and animated movies/ shows.
So Bruce knows everything about bat's, shape color, species, what food they eat and how they live and even the different culture views on bat's. He could talk all day about it if asked and he always does it with the utmost care. Like he was giving a speech at a gala or speaking to the league.
I think we all know Dicks is obviously Robin's. Cause why else would he choose to be a brightly colored vigilante that's after a bird from the north? I feel like after moving in with Bruce he took a quiz on what bird he would be cause he was studying birds in school and got a Robin and took that to heart as a passion and not only learned everything about a Robin's but that had just become his identity for awhile and he loved it. Bruce when he heard it at first had thought it wouldn't work but after making him his own costume and even watching several videos on the birds he thought it fit his son nicely.
Jason didn't break away from the Robin role and embraces it actually. But he was always way more shy when it came to discussing his favorite. I think he would have a fascination with bugs and snakes and would absolutely be the kid with a spider or a beardy. He once convinced Bruce to get him a baby beardy and then it became an obsession. He had a sweatshirt that even had a cartoonish looking beardy printed on it and he proudly talks about it to any one who asked. Bruce would silently close his eyes and soak in all the information about them he could.
I totally think Tim loves frogs and even sea creatures. He has a tank with shrimp in it and his boyfriend makes fun of him and calls him a shrimp farmer but he also has a tank that has glass frogs in it. It's a huge tank that takes up over half his room and he loves just watching them sleep and even makes cute little tiktoks with them. He always is getting cute things for the habitat and going shopping. He also takes Damian on these trips. Because they both enjoy walking around and even stopping to pet or talk to the people who bring in their dogs. Bruce also enjoys walking into Tim's room and seeing the frogs and shrimp and even says hello to them before leaving again.
Damian is no stranger to having a soft spot for animals but I know he loves cats and dogs. He is definitely a cat person. Alfred the cat is his prized possession and he will proudly take pictures and then draw them. He loves using his animals as drawing references and has multiple books filled to the brim of just them. Sometimes if they are really good he goes to Bruce and asks them to be laminated so he can hang them up in his room because they deserve to be celebrated and respected. He also tells Bruce odd facts about his animals. How Alfred (the cat) specifically likes to sleep on his left side and enjoys being scratched behind his ears the most.
Bruce loves his weird sons because he is weird and for Christmas he always gets them something related to their animals because it's like a bonding experience for them. Some days they don't even talk about anything but their animals but I can imagine them all settling on a couch and out of pure bordem putting on documentaries and spending time just listening and learning. Of course this could also lead into some heated debates about who's animals is the best.
Jason: no you don't understand
Damian: *scoffs* actually Todd you never understood anything
Dick: ok well I set the whole thing for Robin soooo
Tim: oh please you were eight!!
Bruce: I think we are forgetting how bats-
Kids: *groan because they have been hearing about bat's for over half their lives and are tired*
Alfred just walks in and smiles as he sets a pitcher down.
Alfred: actually you are forgetting how important bee's are to the environment. Which is why I plant only the best pollinator friendly flowers
Cue to everyone rioting cause after all this time Alfred has never talked about the fact he is in fact a bee guy. Ever since he started working for the Wayne's they let him have full control of the gardens and he always loved that in the bleak of Gotham he had his own personal eden with the flowers. Bruce's parents also appreciated him for this and would let Alfred do as he pleased when he would passionately talk to them about the bees. Even when they passed away Bruce had always assumed Alfred just did it because he didn't trust anyone else.
Which was part way true but he loves watching them bumble around and bump into each other as he works.
If anyone knows what Duke, steph, and Cass would like please comment or feel free to debate!! Just please remember to be nice and save the bees 🐝
#batman#they are so silly#batfam#dc comics#damain wayne#jason todd#tim x conner#tim drake#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#dick grayson#i live for this#i love them#headcanon#animals#debatable#go ahead and try man#your honor they are autism and adhd coded#special interest#no objecting in the court of krypton#teach me how to dougie#once again the chat is tweakin#dc incorrect quotes#dc universe#incorrect dc quotes#dcu#justice league#dinosaurs#i love dinos at least#this is what i get for being a hippie
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10 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🌞
AHEHEHE KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING LIKE A DORK AT THIS 😭😭💞🥺💖💖 THANK YOU SO MCUH!! I DO MY BEST TO MAKE THE EXPRESSIONS KF THE CHARACTERS READABLE AND DRIPPING WITJ EMOTION SO IM GLAD ITS WORKING!! :DD ✨💞✨💖✨
@gummysusie
Oh there's lots I'd be willing to eat if I had to! XDD
My memory ain't the best but off the top of my head-- I'm sure eating miltank meat wouldn't disturb me so much! :0
I like fish so there's a lot of those I'd be willing to try! Magikarp, uhhh those two grumpy fish that are either green/red or green/blue! I forgot the name..
Of course all of the food themed ones would be relatively no problem. Fidough, Milcery.. There's some bird ones that wouldn't be too upsetting too! XDD
As long as my brain relates them to earthly animals, I'm not too disturbed by the thought of eating them XD Im sure they have to eat pokemon in the actual pokemon universe! Where else do their meat based dishes come from? How else do they feed their carnivorous pokemon??
@girlsackthing
Not recently :(( but I'd like to pick it up again someday once I'm feeling better! :}}
@illogically-austere
Hey thanks for checking in, that means a lot 🥹
I'm hanging in there as best I can. I haven't eaten much but am getting plenty of water and rest! I'm hoping this horrible health trial thingy I've been going through is over soon <:}}
@sussyhahag
y a l i k e j a z z ?
@littlelightfish
Hey pal, I hope You're doing alright! Hang in there.. <:}}
I haven't worked much on Tuna's backstory recently.. but I imagined that his blood family was gone.. he lived on a ship with a real rotten crew that was horrible to him.
As for how he joined Seafoam's crew, I imagined that the crew rescued him somehow. Maybe Tuna's old crew attacked Seafoam's crew but he kicked their butts. Perhaps in all the chaos Tuna was left behind by "mistake", only for Foam to welcome him aboard?
Maybe his old crew got too intense and he ran, somehow running into Seafoam and he offered shelter? Or maybe his old ship sank and he was found by Seafoam..? Something along those lines-- XD
Anywho- thank you! Things are starting to look up for me, I'm hoping this journey is almost over! <:}}
@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42
"Seafoam's heart 🥰..... Metaphorically I mean-"
I would assume so! :0 Maybe a cookie like that already exists in the games!
Well that's hard to say.. I usually draw comics all in one pass. I sketch out the entire comic, and then I go back and draw all the line art, and then I go back and color it all in..
So in that sense 1 drawing for a comic could take days to complete. But if I were to focus on just one panel/drawing? I would guesstimate about 10-15 minutes :0
Now my name! My memory is a little foggy.. but one of my favorite things to do in drawing is to apply logic, reason and explanations for things.
For example, Captain Barnacles! He's a polar bear wearing a full suit and lives out in the Pacific Ocean. Obviously there's a lot that doesn't make sense about that- but mainly the fact that Barnacles would be way too hot!
So I remedy this by making my version of Barnacles have very short fur, a special diet that thins out his blubber, and a special suit that helps keep him cool! It's not perfect obviously but it helps make him living out in the Pacific seem more reasonable. Which is what I love to do, and how I thought of my name! Applying fact to fantasy, Factual Fantasy!
Hm, Bibi's worst fear.. that would have to be something bad happening to me or any of the fam I'd assume <XD
Nothing bad actually happened to Red, that nightmare just manifested because she loves/worries about him so much 🥺💞 Like a mother having dreams about their children getting hurt. Nothing exactly happened to cause it, but they just worry about their babies so much that those dreams happen sometimes..
And lastly, thank you! It's looking good that I might finally get out of this pit. So my spirits are high! :}}
@beryl-shade (sorry for the late response! <:D)
He typically will not allow it 😅 I originally had a drawing idea for this ask but I dont have the strength to get to my PC so I can just explain it!-
I imagined Octo and some of the crew all tied to chairs with some other pirates taunting them. Octo looks very bored and very unintimidated.
Well one of the pirates makes the mistake of grabbing one of Octos tentacles and twirling it around. Octo immediately reacts and uses the other tentacles on his head to restrain his hand and start choking the guy-
The rest of the crew is just laughing and calling that pirate an idiot while he continues to struggle to get away from the angry Octo 🤣
Now on the other hand, if he gets a joking pat on the head from Seafoam? Or if Red is up on his shoulders and he pulls on Octo's hair by mistake? Eh, whatever he doesn't mind much. : '
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Love
a/n: this is part 1 of a 2 part fic with Nanami <3 part 2 will be nsfw
tags: reader worrying about Nanami, fluff
・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜
He had promised he’d be home sooner than this, two hours ago in fact. You knew he was just stuck at work, your lover is not one to be disloyal. This fact makes you worry more, given his line of work, anything could have happened to him. You paced your living room, having discarded your phone long ago, anxiously calling and texting him to no avail until your eventual surrender to this tactic.
You keep a careful eye on the clock, watching as the hand moves further around, pulling more at your confidence of Nanami’s return.
At some point you tire, sitting on the couch helplessly and leaning your head against the back, screwing your eyes shut, praying to whatever divine powers out there that your partner returns to you. Before you know it, you doze off, succumbing to your exhaustion directly derived by your intense worrying.
With no knowledge of how much later youre awoken by a soft noise, you notice you’d been moved from the couch to your bed. Half sitting up with your eyes still focusing, you notice a tall figure obscuring some of the light coming in from your joined bathroom.
Nanami.
The blonde man is drying off his face, the shirt he wore to work today discarded on the floor, drenched in blood. You scrunch up your nose at the thought of having to hand wash the dried blood out and before you can actually say anything, your lovers tired, but affectionate voice speaks your thoughts
“I’ll wash it out, you don’t need to worry about it, Dove.” You look up at his face, shifting to your side and smiling slightly at him, watching him intently as he finally casts a glance at you, his eyes shining.
“Mm you’d better.” You reply, your voice slightly hoarse having not used it for a few hours in your sleep. “You worried me, Nanami.”
He places the towel down, looking down at it for a few seconds before moving out of the bathroom and towards you on the bed. He kneels in front of your side and grabs one of your hands gently.
“I know, y/n. i’m sorry.” he presses a kiss to your palm, sparking a small smile on your face. “I couldn’t let Itadori handle it by himself, though. He would have died.” his voice grows lower before he looks at you again, his blonde locks sitting wet on his forehead drawing you into admiring him as you often did.
“I know.” is all you say, you’re not a sorcerer, nor does nanami ever want you involved in sorcery if you can help it. you have a very weak ability to sense curses but that stems only from your mother being a sorcerer, dulled by your father having no abilities at all. you place your other hand over his, brushing your thumb over his skin.
“I just wish it wasn’t so dangerous.” you pull him up, him following your guide as you shift back over to his side, dragging him onto the bed. his arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you in closer than should be possible. you melt into him, face buried in his shoulder. you feel him nod, thumbs feathering over your skin in a soothing touch, something he often did when he could tell you were anxious.
“I do too, Dove. if I could spend every waking moment just caring for you and no one else, then my life would be the complete image of perfection.” he whispers to you, and you feel butterflies in your stomach as he says it, though you’d been together for years, Nanami never failed to make you blush.
“Sleep, Dove. I have the day off tomorrow, we can talk more then.” His voice is hushed and warm, and with not a second thought you begin to doze off, feeling safe in your lovers arms.
Tomorrow is a new day, one hopefully absent of the stress you experienced today.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jjk#jjk x reader#fic
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I love your platonic yandere vampire story!! One of the best that I have ever read ❤
So I'm just wondering what time period did the reader turn? If not modernt times, how would they react with the modern world (like in the 2000's)? Would the keep up with new technology, would they just not care, or would they be against it? And if they care, what would be their favorite thing about the modern world?
Once again, amazing work and i enjoy all of your stories <3
𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 (Ask)
When Night Comes asks
Platonic Yandere Vampire
Story Chapter list
Hi, thx for the ask and sorry if it took some time! Btw, (Y/n) was turned during the Victorian Era. :)
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"You want what?" Her father's disbelief dripped slowly from his lips, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to comprehend his daughter's request.
Undeterred by his reaction, the girl nodded excitedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she pointed at her phone, a strange and amusing contraption she had only received a year ago after years of pestering her parents.
"A tablet and a digital pencil," she explained, her voice filled with excitement as she gestured towards the screen of her phone.
"Is that another of those things you saw on that clock application of yours?" He guessed with a roll of his eyes. She huffed in response, feeling insulted by his dismissive attitude.
"TikTok," she corrected him, her voice laced with exasperation. "And I don't see why that would matter."
He raised an eyebrow and answered, "Oh it does not."
She calmed down slightly at his words, relieved, but then she watched as his eyes landed once again on the book he was reading before she entered the living room. She awaited his decision with bated breath until she grew impatient. With each passing minute of silence punctuated only by the sound of pages turning, her anticipation grew.
"Well?" she finally interjected, unable to contain her impatience any longer.
He lifted his head once again, feigning innocence. "Well, what?"
Her glare intensified, and she snapped, "What do you say? Can I have it?"
His eyebrows rose, then he laughed; "Oh, of course not.”
"Why?" she demanded, her voice sharp with indignation, visibly bristled by his categorical answer. The dismissal of her desires stung.
"Why would you want such a thing?" He asked a question of his own, his tone laced with condescension, while pointedly ignoring hers. "I taught you how to draw and paint," he continued, his emphasis on the word 'taught' dripping with arrogance. "These silly things are nothing compared to good, traditional academic art," he declared.
His words carried the weight of superiority, as if her aspirations were frivolous and unworthy of consideration and she clenched her fists at that.
She now understood his reticence to it; her father prided himself as a connoisseur in fine arts. It was true that he had an appreciation for the arts, but only when they adhered to the strict confines of academic, structured, and figurative compositions. She still vividly remembered the first time he had encountered abstract art; the fury and disgust that flickered in his eyes had been unmistakable.
Her father's disdain for anything outside the realm of traditional art became painfully apparent when he abruptly ceased sponsoring any museum or gallery that dared to exhibit the works of artists like Wassily Kandinsky and those who followed in his footsteps. The ripple effect was significant; it sent shockwaves through the art community and made headlines across the globe. For generations, his ancestors, from Dorian I to Dorian IV — who were, in fact, all him — had been the most influential patrons of the finest museums, but his sudden withdrawal of support was unprecedented.
The abrupt departure from his ‘familial legacy’ left many puzzled and others outraged, but her father remained resolute in his disdain for what he deemed as 'frivolous experimentation' in the art world.
(Y/n), on the other hand, did not hate abstract art; she just didn’t really understand the meaning of it most of the time. It mostly looked like a mess of forms to her. She didn’t even particularly want to depict abstract things; she just wished to do art using a new medium, but she couldn't help but feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down upon her.
"It doesn’t have to be abstract. Digital art can be as good as anything we have in this house," she insisted, her voice laced with determination. But at his dubious look, she sputtered, the words tumbling out in a rush, "And I'll prove it to you!”
He chuckled dismissively, waving a hand in her direction before turning back to his book once again. “Of course, you shall do that," he agreed, his tone dripping with condescension, a clear dismissal of her ambitions.
She felt a surge of frustration bubble up within her, puffing her cheeks in defiance as she stormed off. She was not one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it came to proving her father wrong.
#platonic yandere#yandere platonic#yandere vampire#yandere father#yandere#vampire#platonic#x reader#reader insert#child reader#yandere x reader#fanfic#stockholm syndrome#(y/n)#female reader
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....I just wanted to draw gators :T at this point these 2 are more 'a representation of my last 2 brain cells' then they are actual characters 😅
#im living vicariously through the cartoon guys#because i want to A. pick up gator (strong man style)#and B. ..pick up gator (hug)#ok but so i recently found out an area where i take stupid little walks for my stupid little mental health#has! GATORS!! (potentially. theres signs.)#and this is great cause seeing gators would def heal me as a person#but ok so when i look for hiking places i always look north cause the terrains more hilly#but now im lookin south more cause turns out i AM in fact far enough south to see gators!!#and yeah looks like theres a handful of nature reserves w hiking trails the same distance away as the little mountain trails i go to#its flatter and the trails are less extensive so ill hafta see if i think its worth it#but then too theres a really big black water swamp that.. further away then i wanna drive..#but also i drove 5 hrs once just to go to mammoth cave as a day trip so.. we'll see..#my friend says he wont go w me tho :T he'll just report me missing#this has been a tag ramble about my sudden outset intrest in seeing a gator#my bullshit#lol barely but still#also- i told myself not to over do it drawin the scales or coloring it#and as you can see i dont listen to myself ever#lol they look outta place but idc i got to draw 2 of my favorite characters and also ALLIGATORS :U#living the dream rn
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The fiancees ♡
#♡#Artist on tumblr#Fanart#Genshin impact#原神#Sucrose#Rosaria#Rosacrose#Or how i would call this ship#Rosarose#BUT Y'ALL DIDN'T PICKED THAT#Anyway i just feel they have a lot of potential#Look like can kill you & can kill you with looks like a sunshine but can actually kill you#Sucrose is fucked up & i love that for her#Also i love drawing rosaria but MY GIRL YOUR FUCKING DESIGN IS A PAIN TO DRAW#Anyway in my own genshin world they are fiances. You're welcome#They live together & all that. Everyone in mondstadt knows but it is a fact that many forget#because they aren't seen together much. But those who know them. Know they love each other very much
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I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!
#live from tidmouth#creative on the mainline#ttte#thomas and friends#thomas & friends#thomas the tank engine#tamtr#thomas and the magic railroad#ttte lady#lady the golden engine#cp huntington locomotive#fun fact. the little engine that could's design was inspired by cp huntington#So! CP Huntington Lady! I thought that considering that she's from the States#an American basis would suit Lady a little bit more...#Is this the American version of the folkloric figure#or the real Lady?#up to you but i think i like this design too much to NOT draw it again
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soooo,, i may have failed to mention a certain something regarding the pmd AU I made :]
Meet Noel's true/demon form!!! Little Guy
#witchs heart#whnoc#witch's heart#noel levine#pokemon#pmd#mimikyu#alolan ninetales#my art#fun fact i drew these back in june but i wanted to share them once i finished drawing the demons as pokemon#and then uh.. procreate gave up on me for some months#got it back now tho 👍 just need to get around to drawing zizel#but yea i just decided to post these noel's by themselves bc lmao its been 5 months#cw eye imagery#ask to tag#anyways i find the ninetales-mimikyu thing rrrlly silly#since mimikyu is cursed with anyone who sees its true form dying#and touching a ninetales tail may curse you#and ninetales can live for 1000 years :)#i dont think the specific mimikyu death curse would follow through in this au#buttt. it would have some pretty interesting implications for that scene at the end of noel's scenario huh? :)
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Hello! I was wondering if you’d be willing to take commissions someday 👀. No pressure tho! I just love your art so much
The short answer: "not at the moment, but it is very possible in the future'!
The slightly longer answer: I would have to figure out a good pricing and payment system! PD-MDZS is also where most of my free time goes, so until my life settles down a bit, I would be on the slow side to complete them.
#Ask#Even longer answer: I technically do - but it's been people I know irl asking and handing me physical money/bank transfers.#I'm working on one right now but the tricky part with pricing is that they want the physical copy of it - which is different to online comm#Fun fact: I have gotten a fair amount of commissions from a local hobbiest quilting club.#They show me their pintrest inspiration board and tell me size specifications and I draw out patterns on parchment paper.#I am probably being undervalued by a group of 50-60 year old women but they call me handsome and say I'm doing a good job so...#There was also someone a while back who asked about a tattoo design and I was *so* enthusiastic but I just got too busy to commit.#I truly do appreciate people asking - It is *extremely* flattering that you like my art enough to want to commission something!#I will re-examine my situation in a few months! Someday really is the keyword here; I think I'd have a lot of fun with it!#(All the money would go back into buying more artbooks and supplies too! What a dream!)#Through this blog I've gotten to know a few people who do commissions for a living who I will probably pester for pricing advice#Time really is the only barrier for me right now B*(
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