#when close reading is the ONLY tool that can end up with some fucked up readings but. it's still gotta be there.
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Close reading is such an underrated skill.
I know it hasn't been really taught as a general skill in primary or secondary schools in many decades, and of course it shouldn't be the only tool in your toolbox. But the closest most kids (here, at least) ever come to close reading in high school is still a few weeks of looking at newspaper clippings for persuasive techniques and desultory attempts to ape them in essays.
But in real life I am frequently presented with art or media without much further context. It's on a book shelf. It's an ad. It's streaming on a service. It's in my YouTube recommendations. I don't know when I see these things who the creator is personally, or about the context in which they produced this thing. No idea!
So I see a lot of people saying online now, "How was I supposed to know [this creator] was a Bad Person when nobody told me?"
And my answer is: you do not have to know anything about a creator to engage with their work and recognise whether or not you think their ideas are quality ones. You can learn skills and put them in your critical thinking toolbox to do this for you. And close reading skills are one way to meaningfully engage with texts on that basis.
Unfortunately, you can get about a year into an actual literature degree before a gobsmacked professor will sit a whole class down, lean wearily on his desk and say, "Does any one of you know how to do a close reading? Do they not teach that in primary?"
No. No they don't! And unless they've started doing it again pretty recently, they haven't for decades.
#they're too busy filling english classes up with shit that should have been in social sciences and civics.#and acting shocked about national reading comprehension failures#unsolicited opinions#close reading#just a personal complaint i guess#old man yells at cloud#when close reading is the ONLY tool that can end up with some fucked up readings but. it's still gotta be there.#if you only have a hammer you also fuck things up but most people would still want one in a tool kit#lit tag
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why exactly do you dislike generative art so much? i know its been misused by some folks, but like, why blame a tool because it gets used by shitty people? Why not just... blame the people who are shitty? I mean this in genuinely good faith, you seem like a pretty nice guy normally, but i guess it just makes me confused how... severe? your reactions are sometimes to it. There's a lot of nuance to conversation about it, and by folks a lot smarter than I (I suggest checking out the Are We Art Yet or "AWAY" group! They've got a lot on their page about the ethical use of Image generation software by individuals, and it really helped explain some things I was confused about). I know on my end, it made me think about why I personally was so reactive about Who was allowed to make art and How/Why. Again, all this in good faith, and I'm not asking you to like, Explain yourself or anything- If you just read this and decide to delete it instead of answering, all good! I just hope maybe you'll look into *why* some people advocate for generative software as strongly as they do, and listen to what they have to say about things -🦜
if Ai genuinely generated its own content I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it, however what Ai currently does is scrape other people's art, collect it, and then build something based off of others stolen works without crediting them. It's like. stealing other peoples art, mashing it together, then saying "this is mine i can not only profit of it but i can use it to cut costs in other industries.
this is more evident by people not "making" art but instead using prompts. Its like going to McDonalds and saying "Burger. Big, Juicy, etc, etc" then instead of a worker making the burger it uses an algorithm to build a burger based off of several restaurant's recepies.
example
the left is AI art, the right is one of the artists (Lindong) who it pulled the art style from. it's literally mass producing someone's artstyle by taking their art then using an algorithm to rebuild it in any context. this is even more apparent when you see ai art also tries to recreate artists watermarks and generally blends them together making it unintelligible.
Aside from that theres a lot of other ethical problems with it including generating pretty awful content, including but not limited to cp. It also uses a lot of processing power and apparently water? I haven't caught up on the newer developements i've been depressed about it tbh
Then aside from those, studios are leaning towards Ai generation to replace having to pay people. I've seen professional voice actors complain on twitter that they haven't gotten as much work since ai voice generation started, artists are being cut down and replaced by ai art then having the remaining artists fix any errors in the ai art.
Even beyond those things are the potential for misinformation. Here's an experiment: Which of these two are ai generated?
ready?
These two are both entirely ai generated. I have no idea if they're real people, but in a few months you could ai generate a Biden sex scandal, you could generate politics in whatever situation you want, you can generate popular streamers nude, whatever. and worse yet is ai generated video is already being developed and it doesn't look bad.
I posted on this already but as of right now it only needs one clear frame of a body and it can generate motion. yeah there are issues but it's been like two years since ai development started being taken seriously and we've gotten to this point already. within another two years it'll be close to perfected. There was even tests done with tiktokers and it works. it just fucking works.
There is genuinely not one upside to ai art. at all. it's theft, it's harming peoples lives, its harming the environment, its cutting jobs back and hurting the economy, it's invading peoples privacy, its making pedophilia accessible, and more. it's a plague and there's no vaccine for it. And all because people don't want to take a year to learn anatomy.
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oral fixation (w.afton/fem!reader)
pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader
content tags: oral fixation, oral sex, body worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, praise kink, william can not keep his mouth off you.
summary: William has an obsessive habit of chewing and biting things, especially when he's stressed. You interrupt his work at just the right time.
word count: 2,898
read on AO3
18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.
note: I am so glad I received this because I love oral fixation fics.
In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.
No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.
In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.
He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.
William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door.
“My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.”
“All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”
It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.
You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.
“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.
William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.
You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.
“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.
A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.
“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.
He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.
William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.
“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.
“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”
“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.
He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…
He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.
You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.
William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.
William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.
Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.
Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.
William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.
Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.
William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.
A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.
Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.
William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.
William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.
“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.
He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.
He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.
Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.
“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.
William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.
William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.
A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.
He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.
The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.
“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.
William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.
“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.
Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.
William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.
“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”
You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.
William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.
You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.
“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”
You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.
William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.
“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.
“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”
He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”
“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.
“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.
“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”
He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”
“Good.”
William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.
“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”
William gathers your discarded clothes from the floor and offers you an arm to hold, leading you out of the garage and back into the warmth of the house where luckily, there was no smoke billowing out of the kitchen.
#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf smut#william afton#william afton x reader#william afton smut#five nights at freddy's#steve raglan#my works
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I got sad because I realized that the only good relationship that Dark Urge and Gortash had was with each other.
Gortash got sold by his parents, was abused in hell, barely escaped, and then spent the rest of his life plotting and scheming and refusing to get close to anyone, ultimately even selling another child he took in to the same nightmarish life he'd once escaped from.
Dark Urge was forced to kill their foster family by Bhaal, and then went to a Bhaal temple, where they might've been worshipped, but I highly doubt that the murder cult weirdos really thought of them as a person, and not just an object of worship. It is awful lonely up on that bloody pedestal. Plus the way they beg Bhaal for forgiveness for liking Gortash makes me suspect that it's never happened before.
And then I hold my little heart in my hands and weep for the two of them.
Because I know gortash is a piece of shit who refuses to break the cycle of abuse. And I know the dark urge has murdered a shit ton of people and enjoyed it too.
But...but...your honor ...I still feel sympathy.
I still felt sadness in the house of hope, when that asshole admitted he used to beat Gortash black and blue for fun.
I still felt grief when I read dark urge's letter to their god for ADMIRING someone.
For caring about a person.
And then I found out that dark urge had been living a normal life until they killed their foster parents.
You can say that dark urge enjoyed it, but I just don't think that's the case.
Baldur's Gate 3 has some laughably evil villains but there is nuance. There is humanity in most of the characters, good, evil, and morally gray. Even big baddies. Ketheric Thorm notably has a rather sad backstory full of grief, loneliness, and love turned to madness, Gortash was broken as a child by parents who shattered his ability to care for anyone but himself, and even Orin, if you confront her about Sarevok's relationship to her mother, can even be seen as a tragic figure. Like what the fuck, her own mom tried to kill her as an offering to bhaal.
Maybe all bhaalspawn are laughably one dimensional villains with absolutely no human traits to them, but that's just fucked.
One of my favorite themes is how everyone is a slave to the gods, their playthings, their disposal tools.
Poor Ketheric Thorm said it best when he said that we're just copper pieces to be traded, that we might have beaten him, but the gods beat him first.
He's so right, man. Most if not all the companions are slaves to Gods and devils.
Dark Urge was a slave to Bhaal, just a means to an end, a sharpened blade pressed against the world's throat, and Gortash was the plaything of devils, traded away by parents who didn't care about him, a powerless little boy who'd grow up to be a tyrannical power hungry despot.
I choose to believe they recognized each other. They worked together initially because they had their own agendas, and were doing their usual song and dance of manipulating others, but the more time they spent together, the more they actually liked each other.
They were genuinely friends, or lovers, and it's sickening and it's driving me mad, and it's all so sad.
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OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.
Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.
We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.
If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!).
You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country
here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.)
PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.
3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!
[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:
"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous.
Call both:
404-639-7000 (press 8)
800-232-4636"
end text.]
4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.
It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)
It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard
It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization
You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!
(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)
5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.
Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!
#covid 19#covid safe#covid advocacy#covid is not over#mask up#danger days: truffula flu simulator#truffula flu survival guide
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Gatita🕷️
you get recruited and slowly convince miguel you're on his side
w/c: 12K
pairing: miguel o’hara x blackcat!reader
tags: 18+ smut. mention of guns, blood, murder, death, grief. teasing, seducing, goes both ways, tension, slight choking, groping, kissing, interrupted, more tension, caves in, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), size difference, more choking
notes: my longest fic up to date which is a bit sad bc I think she flopped bc the hornies hate reading more than 1K sometimes 💀
The notorious Black Cat of New York but also happened to be the city's very own Spider Woman. An incredibly unexpected combination but what can one do when kidnapped by Kingpin and are forcibly meant to be his Guinea pig?
Then almost right after escaping getting bit by a radioactive spider....
On the bright side who else was able to rob banks and also be able to stop other criminals from doing so, before she gets to hit them herself? None other than yourself, of course.
You kept your two different lives separate, to the best of your ability anyway. Obviously no one was able to stop the infamous Black Cat or retrieve all the things she'd steal. Spider Woman on the other hand, stopping every other criminal or asshole on the streets, besides your alter ego.
You were going to hit up a jewelry store, to steal a few brand new diamonds for yourself. In your oh so casual Black Cat attire that consisted of a black spandex suit with the matching mask covering your eyes, along with the realistic long silver wig.
You were somewhat unrecognizable, but it wasn't like anyone from your personal life was gonna be robbing banks or jewelry stores. Or be anywhere near when you would be robbing one. There'd be no reason for anyone in your life to see you when you were doing Black Cat activities.
Or so you thought, before your whole world came crashing down.
I quickly turned off the security system in the jewelry store from the alley right next to it, I grabbed my bag of goodies and I hid my special tablet behind some trash before quickly going inside by the side door. It was vacant, as expected.
I went to the back of the store and look at the cases with the newest necklaces and rings embedded with shiny diamonds. I trail a finger along the glass and look down at the casing filled with only diamond rings.
I walked along the back of the store, looking at everything, the shiniest of rings and earrings until I spotted the most gorgeous necklace.
Filled with diamonds shaped like flower petals all along the neckline with a leaf shape hanging down with more diamonds embedded on its shape, with a red ruby sitting perfectly right in the middle of it. My eyes flicker with admiration and want, I needed it. I take my bag off from my shoulder and place it on the floor quickly opening it to grab something to open the case. Then I stop and stand up walking to the back of the case and scoff. The key.
What kind of dumbasses leave the fucking key out?
I shrug and roll my eyes unlocking the little door and take the necklace out carefully. No alarm.
I close the case and walk back to my bag and stuff it in one of its pockets then zip it up. I pick it up putting the strap back on my shoulder and walk around the store, stopping when something caught my eye.
I walk over to it and chuckle. How ironic... a gold necklace with a spider hanging out and yet another red ruby being held by it's arms and legs.
How could I not?
I grab a small tool with a pointy end and walk to the back of the counter. I kneel down and quickly unlock the little door and in just a few seconds it clicks open. I slide the door open and grab the necklace admiring the pretty ruby.
I stand up and grab a few other pieces then walk around the counter and back to my bag. I put them all in another pocket carefully then close it shut. I wrap my bag around my shoulders and head towards the side door, not really wanting anything else. I open the door and close it quietly before making my way to pick up my tablet from where I left it.
Sure enough it was there and I quickly turned the security system back on before using a web to swing up onto the roof of a building.
I always tried to be careful when using my webs but considering it was past 1am and it was empty out, i didn't have a care.
I walk along the edge of the roof looking at the view, admiring all the buildings and the glowing moon right above them. I jump onto the next roof and continue walking, keeping an eye out just in case. I jumped off roof to roof for about an hour, patrolling around, nothing out of the ordinary happening so i decide to make my way home.
I was a bit far from my apartment so I started swinging in the direction, feeling the cold breeze and going through the dimly light streets when my spidey senses go off when I'm one block away from my place. I swing on top of a roof and look down at an alleyway and widen my eyes to see my best friend, Ben getting mugged.
I curse under my breath and feel my heart start to race. I put my bag on a corner of the roof and look down before carefully climbing down a set of pipes, unbeknownst to the muggers.
I was right above them now and I take a deep breath then jump on top of one, knocking him off Ben and giving him space to catch a breather. I punch his jaw once I tackled him down to the floor then continuously punch him in the face against the hard floor.
I stand up and turn to look at the other guy and he gripped his gun. Ben had taken a few steps back making me feel a tad bit more calm. I sprint towards the bad guy somehow catching him off guard and kick him in the balls instantly making him groan and drop down to his knees.
I punch him on the stomach multiple times as hard I can, not able to control myself, almost like I needed to make sure he wouldn't be able to hurt Ben. Then I hear his voice and I feel his hands on my shoulders. "Hey- hey hey it's fine- I'm good now- it's fine." He says with widened eyes as we both look down to see the man with blood coming out of his mouth, his breathing slow.
I step away from the man and try to control my rapid breathing, before turning to Ben and asking in a softer voice, "are you okay?"
"Yeah- me? Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm good- I- uh-thanks..." He trails on and I take a deep breath.
"Black Cat." I say and look down at my masked hands covered with blood.
"Right! Thanks a lot- I uh just didn't expect 'em-" he savs and I cut him off.
"Of course." I say in my normal voice and I mentally curse myself, he can't know.
Suddenly my spidey senses go off and I turn around withdrawing my talons and claw at the guy behind me but not before hearing a gunshot. I feel my heart drop and I widen my eyes looking down at the gun.
I pull it out of the man, his body instantly dropping and turn around to see Ben covering his stomach then slowly starting to fall. I quickly run to him and was able to catch him, as we dropped to the floor, and my hands immediately going to put pressure on his wound but he was losing blood fast. "Hey look at me- B-Ben- keep your eyes on me- please-" I cry out, already feeling the hot tears streaming down my mask.
"'Wha-" he tries to say but I shake my head and bring a hand up to cover his mouth.
I bite my lip and then take my other hand off his stomach. I carefully take off his jacket and make him press it against his stomach. "I-I"
I bring my hands up to take off my mask and I look down at him with a sad smile. His eyes immediately grew wide and he tried to speak again but I shake my head. "You're gonna be okay- I promise-" I whisper and then move my hands back onto his stomach, the jacket already being soaked by his blood.
I swallow back a sob and wipe my tears, trying so hard to remain optimistic, "Don't waste your energy okay? I promise you'll be okay." I say breathless and he just shakes his head.
I feel my heart break into pieces and more hot tears stream down my face. "It's okay." He whispers and holds onto my hands, slightly gripping them.
"N-no- no B-Ben p-please-" I cry out and he lets out a small smile.
"It's... okay..." He says slowly and I see how slow he's breathing now.
I look down at his eyes, and he lightly squeezed my hands and nods. I curse under my breath and shake my head, "I'm so sorry-"
He coughs, some blood coming out, then shakes his head, "it's.. not your... fault..." he whispers making me want to cry even harder.
"I love you." I whisper and hold his hand softly.
"I love you." He murmurs and then his eyes close. His grip on my hands loosened completely and his breathing stopped.
I'd never felt such heartbreak in my life, I've never dealt with instant grief like this, or anger at myself. I cradled him in my arms, now silently crying unable to move and slowly not able to breathe. I started sobbing uncontrollably after looking down at his face, what was always so happy and lively was now never going to look at me, scold me or roll his eyes at me.
I stayed like that for who knows how long until I heard a noise behind me. I turn and look at the man who murdered my best friend, slowly crawling away, letting out groans for every little inch he moved. I move Ben's body to lay down flat on the floor before standing up and taking a few steps towards the fucker who just took my other half from me. I grab him and turn him around, slamming him against the concrete and make him look at me. With pure anger and malice I withdraw my claws and in an instant slash at his face then withdraw a talon again, lifting it up and stabbing him in the heart repeatedly.
I stopped after my arm started to hurt and I looked down at the mess. My body started shaking and I look down at my talon, hands, legs. All covered in blood. I shake my head and walk back to Ben, moving the hair out of his face and making sure his eyes were closed.
I let the tears fall down as I looked at his face, how much I'd miss his contagious laugh, his smile, the way he'd ramble on about his current interest. God I'm gonna miss him.
I was front row at his funeral, holding hands with his mom and sister, I made sure to tell them that the person who took him away from us was dead. They didn't even ask, not wanting to know the details, but were happy that Ben got his justice. But at what cost?
Nothing broke my heart more than hearing his sister tell me that he was on the way to see me, to have a surprise movie night because he missed us just randomly hanging out.
I let more tears fall, as I saw his casket going down, I'd never have my best friend back. What will I do without him?
I let them go as they went to stand by to watch. I let more tears fall as I grip the matching bracelet we had bought years ago when we were in high school. Mine was purple with a charm of some milk, his was blue with a charm of cookies. What was once such a silly little buy between two friends was now another reminder of all our memories together.
I stand up and drop to my knees in front of the designated spot for his grave and look down. Saying my final goodbyes in my head and look up at the sky knowing he'll always be watching over me.
"Jess you said you found a possible new recruit?" Miguel asked looking down at Jess as his platform was going down.
"Yep. You might want to consider her..." she says and walks onto his platform after it fully stopped, handing him the file.
He quickly skims through it then scoffs, "Jess this is a Black Cat variant-"
"Keep reading!" She exclaims and takes a seat on his chair, leaning back against it.
He rolls his eyes but does so anyway considering he trusts Jess' judgement. He keeps reading and suddenly his eyes widen making Jess laugh. "Considering it huh?"
He doesn't say a word, raises an eyebrow, and looks up at her, "when was the last time she did Black Cat activities?"
"Four years ago, exactly today." She responds and he cocks an eyebrow.
"Just keep reading Miguel." She says letting out a sigh.
He groans but looks back down at the paper, now carefully reading through everything. His eyes soften for a singular second before he has a serious look on his face again.
"Go get her." He says as Jess carefully stands up.
"You got it." She says as she takes a step down his platform.
"Just be careful-"
"Yeah yeah-" she says waving him off making him groan.
"I'm serious Jess- Black Cats are unpredictable-"
"Which would make her a great fit here." She retorts and walks out of his office.
It was four years since Ben was shot, you had struggled a lot especially in the beginning. But with all the support of his family, your family, close friends, and tons of therapy, you were able to grieve, and move on with your life but never forgetting your childhood best friend.
I was sitting down next to Ben's grave eating his favorite food, mac and cheese, along with some chocolate nesquik. God he really had the appetite and taste of a five year old.
I shake my head and smile at his grave, "Ben Parker, beloved son, brother, and friend"
"I sure do miss you." I mumble and look up at the sky.
I sigh and scoop up the last of the mac and cheese putting it into my mouth before taking a long sip of the nesquik. I pull the bottle away from my mouth before spilling the rest of it on the grass in front of the grave. "This one's for you." I say and chuckle.
I sigh and lean my back against his grave, looking at all the new dandelions that grew all around. I thought of it as he was giving us something to show he was with us. I let one hand gently caress one and smile.
Suddenly I feel something coming, I quickly stand up and look around. Nothing. I squint my eyes but there was no one around, no car or anything. Then just as I was about to sit back down some weird portal appeared out of thin air.
I straighten up and widen my eyes. I take a step back unsure of how it got here or who was about to come out. I look down at Ben's grave and sigh, quickly do a cross across my forehead and chest. I get in a fighting position when a woman steps out, a pregnant woman at that. I furrow my brows and watch as she steps in front of me cautiously. "Who are you?"
"Call me Jess..." she says and I put my hands down slowly.
"You're a spi-"
"Yep- sorry to be the one to burst your bubble but you aren't-" she starts to say and I gasp.
"The only one." I finish and widen my eyes.
"Wow...." I murmur taking a close look at her suit, it didn't even look like a suit more like a cool outfit.
"And you're pregnant?" I say and look down at her belly.
She nods and smiles, bringing a hand down to gently rub her stomach, "four months." She says softly and I give her a small smile.
"So not to be rude but why are you here? And how?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.
"Think of this as... recruitment." She says and eyes me up and down.
"Recruitment?" I mumble and shake my head, "for what exactly?" I ask raising an eyebrow.
"You'll find out soon enough." she raises an eyebrow at me, "you have a suit?"
I chuckle and shrug, "haven't really used it in a while...." I say and she smiles.
"Well you're gonna use it now." She says and opens a new portal and motions for me to follow her.
"This might feel a bit weird." She says as she walks in and I slowly follow.
We walk for a bit until another portal opens and it's in... my living room. "Go on, I'll wait." She says and I scoff.
"How the-"
"You don't mind if I get some water do you?" She asks as she walks over to the kitchen.
"Make yourself at home....." I mumble as I walk over to my room then look back to notice the portal was gone. What the fuck.
"Y'know when you said you had a suit, I thought you meant-" Jess starts to say and I cut her off. "My spider woman one?" I say and chuckle, as I turn to look at her and she nods.
We walk out of the portal and are in some kind of lobby, my eyes widen and I gasp. I look around and there's hundreds, maybe thousands of spider people. And animals? "Was that a dinosaur?"
"There's all kinds of spider beings here." She says and I nod.
"Clearly- holy shit-" I say and admire all the different suits, designs and colors people had.
"So why did you decide on wearing this suit?" She asks as she leads the way walking past working spiders.
"Uh well let's just say my other one got fucked in my last fight and I was getting too lazy to fix it." I say and laugh.
"Plus this one was the next best thing.... And gives me more strength." I add and shrug. "And I wanted to see if it still fit..." I mutter and smirk.
"At least you didn't put the wig on...." She says playfully rolling her eyes making me laugh.
"Well you didn't give me much time to." I joke and bring a hand up to my ear to fix my earring.
"So, everyone's boss, Miguel O'Hara, is something special.... Long as you don't flip on us then you'll be fine and he might be alright with you sticking around." She says and I raise an eyebrow.
"So this is gonna be like an interview?" I ask and groan.
"Unfortunately."
I roll my eyes and curse under my breath, "mi suerte." (just my luck)
"Oh and he's Mexican so might have to be careful if you curse at him in Spanish." She says and i scoff.
"You're joking-"
"Nope, so watch that mouth." She warns and making me smirk.
"Then this just might be more fun than I thought." I say keeping the smirk on my face as she just shakes her head.
"Be chill." Jess said as we walked the long hallway to Miguel's office.
"I'll try...." I say and shrug.
"No doors?" I mutter and see all the machinery all over the place as we make a turn and yet another long hallway but with a lot of space at the end of it.
She ignores me as we keep walking and I trail a finger along all the tech things. I walk behind her admiring everything, then see a tool I knew all too well and chuckle. I shrug and grab it, unzipping the front of my suit, hiding it on the underside of my bra before quickly catching up to Jess while I zip my suit back up. You never know when you'll need it.
We walk into a room with a high ceiling and we both stopped and looked up as a platform was coming down, with who I assumed was Miguel. Wow he was huge-
I shake my thoughts away and bite my lip, crossing my arms across my chest and watch as it goes down. So slowly.
I blink and turn to Jess, she just sighs and shrugs, "just be patient."
"That isn't really in my blood...." I whisper and she chuckles.
"Well with him it'll have to be." She says making me roll my eyes.
It eventually came down, his back was facing us which I found to be very distracting... he was very wide, broad, and definitely not like the other Mexican men back in my New York. I bite my tongue and push back my thoughts... for now...
"Why are you wearing that?" He suddenly asks now turning around to face us and I raise an eyebrow. Why?
"Just felt like it." I say sarcastically making him narrow his eyes at me.
He turns to look at Jess and gives her a look, I roll my eyes pretending I didn't see it and take it upon myself to walk around as he steps off to talk to her.
I look up at the orange screens on top of the platform. It was showing tons of video clips, of different spiders but also of people out of their suits? Was this dude stalking people? This looked fucking insane.
I look at a specific screen seeing two teenagers talking, both their eyes filled with admiration and love. Cute.
"Oye gatita-" The voice and snap of Miguel fills my ears and I turn my head to look at him, "no es bueno fisgar." (Hey kitty, it's not good to snoop around)
I smirk and shrug, "just curious."
"Don't care that it killed the cat?" He responds quickly and I laugh.
"Did you already have these ready?" I tease and he rolls his eyes letting out a scoff. This was gonna be fun.
I walk back to him and Jess, looking at them, waiting expectantly. He lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair and looks at me, "so the last time you've robbed anything was four years ago?"
I nod, not exactly shocked he already knew. He did have screens that were practically cameras.
He narrows his eyes at me and I tilt my head to the side keeping my eyes on his. We stayed like that, few feet away from each other just holding each other's gaze.
I was captivated, I couldn't look away because I simply didn't want to. And to not lose this silent staring competition. His eyes were a gorgeous color of red, and like all men, had pretty long lashes.
It had me thinking of how he was really handsome, the kind you'd find on a night out but not get the chance to ask for his number and you slump all sad for the rest of the night. Or the kind you and all your girlfriends would be fighting over wanting to go talk to him. The kind you'd grow the balls to ask to dance with you or maybe not even ask and just grind up against him-
Suddenly there's a loud clap making us both blink and groan at the same time. "Sorry just wanted to say I'm leaving." Jess says as I turn my head to look at her with a semi-surprised look on her face.
"But I want the credit for bringing her in considering it seems you already don't mind her presence." She adds and I laugh.
I look at Miguel as he scoffs and shakes his head, interesting reaction. "Who said-"
"Alright I'll leave you to it." She cuts him off and turns to me.
I look at her as she puts her hands on my shoulders and leans into my ear, "maybe use your magic on him, to make him less grumpy." She whispers very quietly making me smirk. Ah so he needs a distraction....
I bite my lip to hold back my laughter and just nod as she pulls away, "don't gotta tell me twice." I whisper back and she grins.
"She's a keeper." Jess says turning back to Miguel and he sighs.
"We'll see about that." He mutters and I grin.
Jess gives me a wave as she walks off and I look at Miguel again, "You definitely blinked first."
He shoots me a glare making me snicker, "you're very easy to tick off huh?"
"Shut up." He snarls making me grin.
"I can tell this is the start of a very beautiful relationship." I say and give him a wink.
He rolls his eyes then throws something at me, I catch it with ease and look down at it, a watch. "Welcome to the spider society." He says and goes back up to his platform without another word.
I admire it for a few seconds before quickly slipping it on and smile, wow.
Jess was kind enough to show me the ropes of how to use the watch, more specifically how to make portals to go to my earth and back here. Then she made another spider give me a tour and the overall breakdown, she was very sweet.
"So, Gwen, is it usually busy here?" I ask and turn to the blonde haired girl as she shrugs.
"Depends on the day, sometimes it's chaotic..." she says as we turn to see some spiders in the middle of an argument and she gives me a smile, "but sometimes it's chill."
I laugh and nod, "sure seems like it'd be a good mix of both."
She nods and smiles, "you'll fit right in! And don't mind the stares, there's already not too many women here so they're just-"
"Yeah... y'know what it's fine, could be way worse..." I say and chuckle, already have felt the stares since I got here.
"Trust me I get it, a lot, it'll calm down after a bit." She ensures making me laugh.
"We'll have to see about that, guess I'm not your ordinary spider woman." I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.
Have these men never seen a woman before?
"It's whatever, but I really didn't expect this many people-" I say and look all around us casually looking at the amount of suits there were.
So many colors.
"Yeah we're a big bunch..." she jokes as we walk around the halls of HQ.
"And Miguel recruited everyone?" I ask turning to look at her.
"Pretty much." She responds letting out a chuckle.
"What a job huh?" She adds and I nod.
"It's a job of it's own." I mutter under my breath just shocked how one man can find and say yes to a shit ton of people.
"His main focus is his work so it shouldn't be too shocking y'know?" She responds and it had me thinking.
Main focus huh? Very, very interesting.
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
It was your second day and after getting a full tour you had gotten your first mission. You caught the anomaly easily and thinking you'd get another one, you went to Miguel's office but he said that was it.
"What do you mean?!?" I ask confused.
"You're still new alright gatita? I'm not going to immediately give you a handful of anomaly's to catch, I'm going to ease you into it." He explains making me groan and roll my eyes to which he sighs.
"If you keep up the momentum of your first mission then maybe I'll give you two per day." He says slowly and I smile.
"So kind of you Miguel." I say and wink at him.
He rolls his eyes making me grin, oooh I love a challenge...
"Entonces Miguel estas soltero o que...." I ask looking up at him, lightly fluttering my lashes at him. (So Miguel are you single or what)
"Get out-"
"Alright alright cálmate- it was just a simple question." I say in an innocent tone biting my lip to not smirk or laugh. (calm down)
He gives me a look and I just ignore it, keeping my eyes on to his pretty crimson ones awaiting an answer. "Why don't you look over some reports for me?" He says and I finally let out a laugh.
"Sure." I respond then chuckle, shaking my head. This might be harder than I thought...
He goes up to his desk and grabs a handful of files, before explaining what I had to keep an eye for and correct or whatever, I wasn't sure, just looking at how huge he was while he rambled and looked at his screens.
I wanted to take another good and close look at him while his back was facing me. I've never seen any of those gym guys back home look like this- I mean he was on a whole other level of jacked and fine...
The muscles on his back extended and became more prominent with every movement and swipe he did on his screens only making me eyes widen and more thoughts coming in to mind.
He would look so fucking good hovering over me- towering over my body looking down at me with those eyes- god those eyes had something in them because I felt like every time I looked I was hooked and couldn't bare looking away for a single second.
The way his biceps were so toned and looked absolutely perfect because of his suit that laid on every curve flawlessly. Every inch of him was just incredible to look at and I might've been drooling a bit from how much I was gawking.
"Gatita pon atención." His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I slightly jump before quickly gain my composure. Oops. (Pay attention)
"I am-" i retort and he scoffs. I bite my lip looking at the back of his head as he shakes it.
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
"So why can't I go on the mission anymore?" I groan looking up at Miguel while he's typing away on a tablet with Lyla by his shoulder.
"I already told you." He mutters and I scoff.
"You didn't! You just told me I wasn't needed-"
"And I think that's good enough-"
"Well it isn't!" I exclaim and cross my arms against my chest, annoyed and confused.
He ignores me and doesn't even look at me, "Lyla tell Peter B to fill in-"
"Are you fucking kidding me?!?" I scream and roll my eyes.
The fucking audacity of this man-
They keep talking to each other and I just close my eyes and take a deep breath in, because I unlike others know how to control my anger and annoyance. I hear Lyla's chirpy voice disappear and I open my eyes to immediately glare at him. He shakes his head, sighs then turns to me, "no hagas tus berrinches-" (don't throw your tantrums)
"Como no lo voy hacer si no me dejas ir a ayudar!! Estoy aquí para trabajar o no?!?" I retort and groan. (How am I not going to do it if you don't let me go and help!! Am I here to work or no?!?)
“You are-"
"Then???" I question and groan.
It's been a week since I got here and everyone's been cool and helpful. Except for him.
It was like he was my number one hater and couldn't fathom the fact that I was actually serious about wanting to help people. If he had his doubts why did he even bother let me join the society?
"You still don't trust me? Is that it?" I say and he stays quiet.
I roll my eyes and sigh, "I haven't even given you a reason not to." I mutter and walk out of his office.
"Then prove me wrong." I hear him mutter and just continue walking.
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
I was sat on Miguel's desk waiting for him to get back from his mission to hand deliver him my first set of reports. I went over each other making sure everything was correct, slowly growing bored as he was dragging ass.
"Waiting for Miguel hun?" Lyla appears in front of me and I nod.
"He'll be a while more." She says and leans in looking at me intently.
"Jess said they were finishing up so i thought I'd wait." I say looking at her tiny body and she raises an eyebrow.
"You literally see the papers on me right now-" I say and she sticks a finger up shutting me up.
"I didn't accuse you of anything..." she responds making me scoff.
"But all of you are so paranoid for no reason anyway! I stopped my bullshit years ago." I mutter and cross my leg over the other.
"Then what about the flirting?" She asks widening her eyes and moves her face closer.
"That's just in my blood." I retort and shrug trying not to sound smug about it. I mean how could I resist?
She hums and closes an eye, widening the other just staring me down. I roll my eyes and play with a piece of my hair twirling it between my fingers while she's trying to read me, figure me out. I sigh and look at her, "well can you really blame me?"
Suddenly she snickers and shakes her head as I smirk and shrug again, no way she could deny it either....
"Hmm I guess." She says nonchalantly then we both turn to the entrance of Miguel's office to hear his footsteps.
She turns to me and puts her fingers to her lips and pretends to seal them then gives me a wink before turning to look at Miguel again, "kitty is here to see you."
I chuckle and hop off the desk as Miguel walks up to his platform and looks at me expectantly, I hold the reports up to him and he takes them from me quickly reading through them.
"Lyla mute all notifications for the next hour unless it's an absolute emergency." He tells her then looks back at me.
"Sure thing boss." She chirps, giving me a quick wink then disappears.
"You've been doing fairly decent..." he says almost hesitantly.
"Don't be so shocked Miguel, I'm obviously here to get work done." I say and shrug, straightening up.
"I see you are." He mutters and walks towards me then puts my stack of reports on the desk behind me.
I try my hardest to ignore our close proximity, knowing if I pay attention to it I will start having immediate thoughts I shouldn't be having.
"You've surprised me." He says looking down at me as we're merrily a few feet away from each other.
"How so?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.
He shrugs and takes another step closer, I bite the inside of my cheek lightly and hold my breath looking up at him curiously. "Just thought you'd be a bigger problem for me."
That sounded like a double entendres.... interesting..
"I can behave when I want to." I say taking a step forward, getting closer to him and feeling my heart race.
"I find that hard to believe." He mutters making me smirk.
He didn't have to say another word. He wants a problem, he can get it.
I take the final step forward, our bodies so close to touching, I slowly bring a hand up to his neck then lightly trail along his collarbone. His breath hitches but he quickly regains composure, not moving nor pushing me away. I bring my other hand up and trail along his shoulders slowly.
Our eyes were locked the entire time but his eyes were softly fluttering and his chest was heaving the slightest bit. I smile sweetly at him and then bring my hands up to wrap them around his neck, removing the tiniest bit of space between us. I lean up a bit, lightly breathing against his lips, then lean in as if I was going to kiss him and only pulling away after our lips were millimeters apart. "Maybe I don't want to." I whisper and let our lips touch very lightly for a split second then pull away.
"Or maybe I do." I whisper then let go of him completely and take a step back looking at his very shocked expression.
"Cat got your tongue?" I tease making him groan.
He takes a step forward and wrapping his arm around my waist then turns me around. I gasp in shock then he quickly brings a hand up to my throat, making the back of my head hit his chest. His other arm was wrapped around my stomach as I felt his breath on my nose and a shiver travels down my body when his hand that was on my throat was off for a second to move my hair back. He leans down and leaves a soft kiss on my neck. Oh fuck.
He placed his hand back on my throat, barely squeezing making me wish he'd just apply a bit more pressure. Sadly he doesn't read my mind but does leave more soft kisses up and down my neck making my heart beat out of my chest.
"Think you're hot shit teasing me like this gatita?" He growls in my ear making me bite my lip.
I squeeze my thighs together subconsciously rubbing my ass against his crotch. He groans and moves his hips, grinding himself against me. I let out a shaky breath and feel my eyes fluttering, he moves his hand from my stomach down to my thigh. He lightly squeezed the right one then moved to squeeze the left. "Tan bonita." He whispers in my ear making me moan. (so pretty)
Suddenly he lets go of me completely and I can no longer feel him on me, at all. I turn around seeing him with the cockiest smirk I've ever had the displeasure of having to look at and groan then roll my eyes. "Two can play at that game gatita." He teases as I clear my throat and give him a sweet smile.
"Then just make sure it's one you know you'll win." I say then walk out of his office feeling so empty and needy...
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
Anytime you had the opportunity to be alone with Miguel you took it, made sure to keep teasing him like he'd tease you.
At first it was innocent "accidental" touches like hands brushing against each other or even catching each others gaze.
Then it swiftly changed from that to you purposefully bending over to get something. As well as grinding yourself on him in crowded rooms to get past him.
He'd repay it back by snaking his arm around your waist then let his hands wander for a few seconds before letting go. At some point he couldn't handle all the teasing and would smack your ass whenever you both were alone.
You were going back and forth for days on end and it really shocked you considering he almost didn't even want you there, based on how Jess told you her conversation with him went.
But you were glad you were able to prove him wrong, and somehow were able to get him to flirt with you back, felt like a miracle considering what the other spiders were telling you about him. But you weren't going to complain.
Definitely won't complain.
I was coming back from my earth after finally deciding on giving my wig a go again, mostly because I loved the feeling of the long ponytail swinging back and forth when fighting. And for everyone's immersion since people were still staring.
Maybe I should fix up my other suit... though it's more fun to be in this one...
I shrugged my thoughts away and walk around, heading towards the training room simply minding my business when I walk past one of the many gyms and take a quick peek because my spidey senses went off.
I peep through the window and smirk, Miguel was in there. Perfect.
Impeccable timing.
I open the door and walk in, walking towards him then lean on the pull up machine Miguel was using and watch as he lifts himself up and down. The sweat glistening off his biceps and shoulders, absolutely perfection for my hungry eyes.
He continues his reps not paying attention to me at all which I didn't really mind, considering he was the perfect eye candy. I take a step back and walk behind him almost moaning at the sight, his back muscles and the way they were stretching and tightening with every movement.
It wasn't the first time I saw him shirtless but something about seeing his bare skin just had my mind and body going wild every time. He was different than any of the men I've ever seen or seduced back home which had me feeling excited because this was like brand new ground, or more so fresh meat. I couldn't help but want him.
I bite my lip and just stand there watching in awe and unable to peel my eyes from him. I take a step to the other end of the machine and lean against it, him still not stopping and letting out occasional grunts.
God he sounded as good as he looks...
He side eyes me and looked away before doing a double take and stopping, hanging off the machine for a second before letting go and standing in front of me with an eyebrow raised, letting out a chuckle then a smirk forming on his lips. "Silver looks good on you, gatita."
"Crees que si Miggy?" I ask and do an exaggerated little twirl then flip my hair back. (Think so?)
"Absolutamente." He breathes out making me smirk. (Absolutely)
"Thought everyone would like it." I say and give him an innocent smile.
I bat my lashes up at him as he grabs a towel from the bench behind us and wipes down the sweat from his forehead. He looks so fucking good.
I kept my eyes on his, fighting my dirty thoughts like wanting to trail down his body but somehow remaining focused on his eyes. "Nomas te encanta la atención huh?" He teased and I chuckle. (You just love the attention huh?)
I shrug them nod, "Tal ves... pero no creo que me puedes culpar..." I say and take a step closer to him, reaching a hand up to trail along his bicep. (Maybe... but I don't think you can blame me...)
"Menos porque agarre tu atención." I whisper and smile. (Especially because I got your attention)
"Siempre tienes mi atención gatita." He murmurs as he snakes his hands around my waist pulling me closer to him. (You always have my attention)
I felt my heart race as well as a familiar heat arose in my core, I needed him. Badly.
I wrap my arms behind his neck and look deeply into his eyes, he wants this just as much as I do. I can feel it.
I feel myself leaning in and watch as he does the same, our lips now millimeters apart from each other, craving for just a small taste. My stomach was fluttering as I felt him softly breathing on my nose, my face getting warm and I didn't even mind.
We both lean in at the same time, our lips finally meeting in a slow dance together. I couldn't help the small smile that popped up when he kissed me back softly, it felt so right.
Suddenly my spidey senses went off and I pulled away, taking my hands off him. I turn to look at the entrance of the gym and sure enough was Peter B Parker walking in mumbling to himself with Mayday chilling on his shoulder. I let out a disappointed sigh, shaking my head as I hear Miguel groan and see him gritting his teeth out of the corner of my eye.
I clear my throat and turn to him, "I guess I'll catch you soon."
I walk past Peter and lightly ruffing Mayday's hair then turn my head to look at Miguel giving him a wink before turning back and walk out.
So close.
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
You were assigned on a mission to capture a Kingpin who wasn't where he was meant to be, along with Peter B Parker who had accompanied you because he didn't have Mayday with him that day and apparently wanted some thrill on the random Wednesday night.
You were prepared and ready to do whatever it took to get him, and already mentally prepared to possibly use some charm if needed...
And you'd already escaped him once so surely you could capture just as easily as he did you.
"Peter what kind of surprise attack is that?!?" I yell and groan, swinging away from the hidden position I was in at the bank Kingpin was at. Peter just had to announce we were here...
"I couldn't help myself! The big guy was rambling on and on to himself-" Peter starts to defend himself but gets cut off by said big guy going in for a punch to his face but he quickly backs up and gasps.
"That was not cool-" Peter tells Kingpin, pointing a finger in his face then shoots balls of webs at his face making him growl.
"Y'know he's not the only one who rambles to himself..." i mutter and snort thinking of the events from yesterday.
"Oh yeah! Y'know I wanted to ask you about that, what's going on between you and Miguel?" He asks looking up to face me as I look down with an unamused look on my face.
Normally I would've told him, but after yesterday no fucking way!! How could a man be a cockblock like that and expect to still get gossip??
"Nothing..." I say casually and jump down from the railing and onto Kingpin's back.
He starts moving back and I climb up his long back and shoot out ropes of webs and wrap them around his throat. "Then why do his eyes light up every time you enter a room?" He says and folds his arms against his chest in front of us.
My eyes widen and I almost stop webbing when I snap myself out of it and shake my head, "do they now?"
"Maybe... maybe not but now curiosity's gonna kill the cat huh?" He teases and I roll my eyes. Devious little fucker.
"Well...." I start but Peter immediately opens his mouth. "Ha! I knew you wanted to spill-"
"Who the fuck is Miguel-" Kingpin breaths out and tries to pull on the webs which just makes me tug on them harder.
"Shut up!"
"Cállate pendejo!!" (Shut up asshole)
Peter then webs his entire body, swinging around all the empty space of the bank and making sure it was extra tight so he couldn't get away. I jumped off and stood in front of Kingpin who looked only slightly different than the one from my earth. Still had a huge ass body and annoying but he looked much younger.
"Easy!" Peter exclaims and pretends to wipe off dirt from his suit.
"So...." Hs says and wiggle his eyebrows at me.
I burst out laughing, shaking my head in disbelief that he wanted to know so badly. I mean surely he talked to Miguel after I left?
"So what Peter?" I ask and look down at my watch, pressing a few buttons and watch a portal spawn in front of us.
He grabs the ends of the rope and begins tugging Kingpin towards the portal. "Well obviously there's tension... there's something there." He says and I merrily smile.
"It's complicated but it makes perfect sense for us i guess." I respond and shrug walking into the portal with Peter following right behind me.
A portal opens at HQ, luckily right where we drop the anomalies to the go home machine. Some spiders jog over to us and put Kingpin in a force field cage before taking him away.
I sigh and turn around only to have Peter looking at me with narrowed eyes and his hands on his hips. "Peter-"
"I wanna know how bad I should feel for interrupting the moment yesterday." He says making me shake my head laughing.
"Peter it's fine-"
"Tell me."
I sigh and shrug, "I don't even know myself. I mean I guess we're both flirty?"
"So it's mutual?" He asks and I shrug again.
"Very interesting..." he says and brings a hand up to exaggeratedly pretend to rub his invisible beard.
"Yeah people keep saying that...." I say raising an eyebrow at him and he finally looks at me normally.
"Well I'd say give it a shot, grumpy men need some lovin' too y'know?" He replies with the most serious tone ever.
I chuckle and nod, "yeah I guess we'll see..."
"Just have patience with him." He says and I sigh.
"I will."
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ
You had a mission then another straight after, the first being a breeze but the second being much harder than expected.
A Doc Ock, much stronger than you had anticipated, and you thought you had it under control. You had to think fast to save yourself.
I widened my eyes when I felt a tentacle quickly grab me from behind, thinking I had maneuvered fast enough him to not catch me. I was wrong.
I groan as it slams me against a wall then makes another go to my throat and repeatedly punches me with a third. The tentacle around my body had a very tight grip on me, and i didn't have any choice but just to take it.
With every punch from the metal tentacle I felt more and more pain on my cheek and jaw, my skin felt hot, it was starting to sting and I could taste the blood in my mouth.
Thinking quickly and before losing consciousness, I have in mind of giving good ole Doc some bad luck. It usually took a while but right now I didn't have time so I just closed my eyes and thought of all the possible bad luck that could happen to this man right now.
My spider senses go off making my eyes shoot open as I look up to see a billboard above us falling down towards us. He raised an eyebrow at me and look up as well, his grip loosened for a singular second which was enough for me to slip out of his grasp before harshly pushing him out of the way.
We both fell a couple feet away as the billboard fell where we just were within seconds. I let out a deep breath before standing up and quickly use my webs to tie him up. I walk behind him as he groans and press a little button behind his neck and see as the tentacles detach from him.
I sigh and gather them before webbing them up together then press the buttons on my watch to spawn the portal. I grab him by his collar and make him stand up as I drag the tentacles by the end of my web.
I walk us through the portal and it opens up to where we put anomalies after capturing. A few spiders come up to me and quickly take him and putting him and his tentacles in a force field like cage.
I sigh and wipe my forehead, suddenly feeling the pain on my face. Shit.
I bring a hand up to my cheek and am instantly met with blood, i sniffle, slowly feeling some blood drip down onto my lip. I groan and quickly swing away heading to the medical center to put on some bandaids.
I drop down and walk in, looking for an available room to go in quick then leave. I make a turn and accidentally bump into someone. "My bad." I mumble not looking up and went around whoever I bumped into until I'm yanked back.
I yelp then look up to see Miguel and sigh, "Oh sorry Miguel-"
He looks at me for a millisecond before interrupting, "Come with me." He grabs my hand leading me towards a room.
I groan but follow anyway, not really having a choice since he was practically dragging me with him. He peeps through a door then walks in with me right behind him. He lets go of my hand and motions for me to sit down, which I oblige not really in a mood to argue or protest.
He quickly collects stuff from a cabinet then walks back to me. He puts the alcohol, bandages and gauze down next to me before bringing a hand up to my face slowly. His fingers grab my mask gently, and he peels it off making me groan as I bring a hand to the bridge of my nose. I feel his hand gently on my chin, moving it up, "it's not that bad..." I mutter, mostly trying to convince myself that the pain could be worse.
I lightly bite my lip, tasting the blood as I look up at his eyes, trying so hard to not look worried. He looks away and grabs the bottle of rubbing alcohol and putting some on a gauze pad. I sigh and place my hands on my lap as he brings the pad up to my forehead hesitantly. "I can handle it Miguel." I say looking into his eyes again.
He nods and places it on the wide wound I had along my forehead, remembering how many other bruises and slashes I had was the only thing distracting me from the stinging of the alcohol. Soon enough the pad was off and he had opened a bandage and placed it over the wound before gently placing a hand along my jaw and looking at my cheek.
He pulls away and gets another pad, adding alcohol to it then looks into my eyes. I nod slowly and he puts the pad against my cheek, it instantly burning making me fight back tears and a groan. He bit his lip fully concentrated as he wiped along the wound carefully and I couldn't help but think of how gorgeous he was. At a time like this?
Well to be honest I couldn't think of a better scenario for us.
He places the bloody pad down and opens another bandage, it being slightly bigger this time and gently placed it on my cheek. He sighs and rubs his finger against the bandage softly, making me melt into his touch. "The rest are just little scratches, but take a rest day tomorrow, I'm not giving you any missions and it's not up for debate." He says sternly and I just sigh.
"I guess..." I mumble and he pulls his hand away making me frown.
It felt nice.
A silence filled the room as we looked at each other, my mind going straight to our short lived kiss from the other day. His lips were so soft and warm, I had still felt their touch lingering after I pulled away and there's nothing I've wanted more than to feel them again. It's all I've been thinking about even on missions, it's always in the back part of my mind.
I couldn't help it, out of all the men I've flirted with in the past he was just different than all of them combined. He was attentive, and stern but sweet when he wanted to be. I've grown closer to him in the past few weeks and even if it's unexpected for everyone, for me it feels great. It feels right and I couldn't get him out of my head if i wanted to.
With the way he was looking at me I felt like he was thinking about it as well. Lips parted staring down at my own while I looked at his eyes then down at his lips. I lightly bit mine and feel a sense of nervousness in my stomach. This effect he has on me was intense. Now more than ever.
He cleared his throat making me look back up to his eyes, his pretty crimson eyes that I could stare into forever if I could. "How are you feeling?"
I shrug and clear my throat as well trying to hide my thoughts, "I'm fine, just hurts a little." I say making him nod.
Another silence.
He coughed and took a step back, his eyes seemed almost worried which had me a tad bit confused, my wounds weren't too bad and I know he has had worse. Unless.... he was starting to care?
"I'm serious about no missions tomorrow-"
"I know."
He sighs and folds his arms across his chest, this almost feels like it's going to turn into a lecture. Or something along those lines...
"What's bothering you Miguel?" I ask and he shakes his head.
Right as he opens his mouth I interrupt him knowing he'll try to lie, "No digas que nada porque ya te conozco mejor." I say and point a finger at him. (Don't say nothing because now I know you better)
He shakes his head again and sighs, I raise an eyebrow and feel my heart beat faster as he takes a step closer to me. "I just-"
He sighs and faces me, looking me directly in the eye, "I can't get you out of my mind and I hate it."
I bite my lip and nod, "I haven't stopped thinking of that kiss," I say and reach out to grab his arm, pulling him towards me, "but I don't hate it." I whisper and spread my legs so he can stand right between.
"Gatita..." he murmurs and I just hum, innocently wrapping my legs around his waist and pull him in as closely as I could.
"We shouldn't...." He whispers looking away, but I took notice of the redness in his cheeks and the way he wasn't shoving me away as a good sign.
"But you want to.." I whisper back and he sighs.
I bring my hands up and wrap them behind his neck, making him visibly breathe harder, "estas bien Miguel... just let me..." I whisper inches away from his lips. (You're okay)
I then lean in and peck his lips, testing the waters out, when I felt him kiss back I started kissing him with no worries. I felt his hands go down to my thighs, lightly squeezing as I brought mine up to his chest.
He squeezed my inner thigh and with the other hand brought it up to cup my cheek, kissing me so gently. I trace around his chest and trail up to his collarbone when he pulls away making me pout but he moved my head back and to the side. His lips then latched on to my neck making me gasp at the quickness he was moving but it was perfect.
He leaves kisses all over my skin while one hand continued squeezing my thigh and the other was now by my lower back, sneaking it's way down to my ass. I let out a sigh and bring my hands up to grip his curls as he chooses a spot for him to mark.
"Am I a problem for you now?" I ask out of breath and bite my lip to fight off the laughter.
He groans and pulls away to look at me, i fight back the urge to laugh as he rolls his eyes then sheepishly smiles. I grin and pull him in for another kiss which he doesn't complain about.
Until he pulls away and grabs me carefully, making me step off the bed, bringing me down to my knees. I fight back a moan and look up at him, batting my lashes at him.
Suddenly the lower half of his suit disappears and with that revealing his cock. Long and thick, already dripping precum as it sprung up and hit his stomach. My eyes were wide and I may as well have been drooling. Wow.
I quickly get to work, grabbing the base of it and licking off the precum that was falling off to the side and down a vein. I lick it off slowly while looking him directly in the eyes, making him moan and tilt his head back.
I smile, going back up to the tip I give it a few kisses before sticking my tongue out and lightly slap it on my tongue. "No juegues conmigo gatita-" he says and I pout. (Don't play with me)
"De verdad ya estas tan desesperado?" I tease and he groans. (Are you really already so desperate?)
"Me vas a matar-" he mutters but I cut him off by taking him on my mouth, slowly taking him in. (You're gonna kill me)
He moans and shakes his head then groans, "Tómalo- tómalo todo gatita-" (Take it, take it all)
I take more of him, feeling my mouth already be filled and I was barely getting halfway. I controlled my breathing as best as I could and took another inch, now feeling his tip nearing my throat.
I move my head back and forth, trying to keep up a decent pace but considering how thick he was, I was struggling. But he didn't seem to mind.
Suddenly he thrusts his hips making me gag on it and I quickly pull back then move my head forward taking as much of him as I could take down my throat. He moans and I feel his hands on my head, making me stay in place.
He groans then lets me go as I pull it out of my mouth and showcase all the drool that was dribbling down my mouth and on to my suit. I slap it on my tongue again then give him a wide smile as I wipe the drool from my chin.
Then back to business I take his cock in my mouth and start deep throating him again, feeling more comfortable now. I look up at him and see him with his mouth open, letting out groans then biting his lip. He is fucking incredible.
"God I can't believe this is finally happening- you have no idea how many times I've thought about this- just s-stroking myself thinking of y-you on your k-knees like this." He confesses and grabs my hair, pushing me deeper. "Just for me." He breathes out and groans.
I moan against him and squeeze my thighs feeling the arousal between my legs swirl around in my panties. He's stroked himself thinking of me on my knees? I couldn't believe what he just said, am I dreaming? How is this real? How'd I get so lucky?
I move my head faster and kept my hands to my sides as i made sure to take every inch of him. How could I disappoint him after he's had wet dreams about me? I couldn't do that...
I close my eyes, feeling them brink with tears as he now started to fuck my throat slowly. The little hairs at the end of his happy trail tickling my nose every time he thrusted all the way and stayed there a few seconds.
He groaned and continued thrusting into my mouth still holding onto my hair like it were helping him. I just let him and felt myself growing more and more wet as this continued on.
I open my eyes and feel a few tears slip but then notice Miguel's legs were shaking and he was slowing down. I felt giddy that was I able to take him and make him cum when he suddenly pulls away, slipping himself out of my mouth making me whine. "Miguel you were about to-"
"I don't care-" he growls and reaches down, grabbing my arms pulling me up with him.
He then turns me around and bends me over the bed making me yelp. He moves my hair to the side and starts undoing my suit. He zips it down as fast but carefully as he could and when it got down to the bottom which was by my lower back, his hands quickly came up to start taking it off.
His hands went straight to my shoulders peeling the spandex off as i was taking it off my fingers, god this suit was so frustrating.
He groans as I fumble with the spandex on my right hand and I bite my lip, "How mad would you be if I ripped your suit?" He asks and I scoff.
"You mean my only suit?" I say and finally manage to slip it off every finger.
He groans again and takes the sleeves off my arms then brings it down my body slowly as I lift myself up a bit. He's taking it off my stomach, then down to my hips when I head him take a deep breath when he finally brings it up and over my ass revealing my red thong.
I then feel a hard smack against it making me jump and moan, fuck.
"Te gusta eh?" He teases and I feel myself melt into the bed, speechless and in awe. (You like that)
He's so perfect-
"Contéstame." He demands then gives me another smack, this one stinging more than the first, leaving my legs shaking a bit. (Answer me)
"Si- si me gusta..." I whine and lay my face into the bed. (Yes- yes I like it...)
"No fallas de sorprenderme gatita." He murmurs and gently rubs my ass. (You don't fail to surprise me)
I move my head to the side and chuckle, "Es bueno verdad?" I ask quietly and he hums. (That's good right?)
"Ni te imaginas..." he responds and blows a bit of air against my aching cunt. (you can't even imagine...)
I take a deep breath in, not at all prepared for whatever he has in mind. I didn't think we'd ever actually get anywhere near this...
But I couldn't deny how happy I felt that it was happening...
Definitely worth the wait.
"Estas tan hermosa gatita." He whispers and I felt a kiss against the back of my thigh. (You're so gorgeous)
My cheeks immediately grow warm and I just sigh, feeling his fingers slip onto my folds. I feel my eyes flutter as he continues his slow movements, tormenting me. "Miguel por favor." I whine and move my hips up, needing more. (please)
"Paciencia nena." He coos softly and teases my entrance with the tip of his finger. (Patience baby girl)
"Please-" I whine, earning myself a hard smack against my ass.
A whimper escapes my lips when he suddenly slips a finger inside, excruciatingly slow. But how the hell could a singular finger feel so fulfilling? Even if he wasn't moving it yet...
I close my eyes and bring my ass up, making sure to arch my back with my head still against the bed. "Good girl." He whispers softly and adds a second finger.
I couldn't help the moans that came out as he slowly starts to finger fuck me, my arousal enveloping his fingers as he starts to pump them faster. I didn't think his fingers would feel this fucking good otherwise I would've tried harder to get him to fuck me. I feel myself clench against his fingers with my thighs shaking to top it off.
"Miguel~"
He hums and pushes them deeper then curling them up to hit that spot that has me practically seeing stars. I let out some whimpers and let myself be fully indulged in the moment.
I lazily lay down, ass still somewhat in the air with him still fucking me but now my stomach was now directly on the bed. His fingers continued going deep but he was going faster now and it was getting hard to control the noises that left my mouth.
Deep down I didn't care if we were caught, i don't think either of us would want to stop, but still I knew I should keep my volume somewhat quiet. Especially considering we were in the medical area where there's likely to be tons of spiders getting fixed up.
And the fact that we definitely shouldn't be doing this here specifically...
My thoughts are cut short when I don't feel his fingers inside me anymore, giving Miguel my full undivided attention I turn my head around to look at him, "What the fuck-"
My breath hitches in my throat when I feel the tip of his cock rubbing against my wet folds. I feel my pussy clench onto absolutely nothing as he continues swirling his tip with my arousal. "Miguel-" I breathe out, letting out a shaky moan.
"So fucking soaked." He mutters under his throat and moves his tip down to my aching clit.
He rubs circles against it instantly earning himself whimpers slip out from me. I move my head back facing forward again, covering my mouth and biting my lip as an extra precaution but it was so hard being quiet when he was teasing me like that. "Fuck-" he moans as he positions himself, now feeling his tip by my entrance.
He pushed into me slowly making me bite my hand, really trying my hardest to stay quiet. After the past weeks we've been tormenting each other and all the possible sexual tension that's been building, he was finally fucking me. I finally had him where I wanted him all along and it was so fucking good. Perfect even.
I was able to feel myself stretch around him and he just felt better than I'd have ever imagined. He stretched me out but fit oh so perfectly and it was as if he was a missing puzzle I so desperately needed.
He grunted as he buttomed out and brought his hands down to my hips, helping me bounce against him. I lifted my lower half up, now no longer lazily laying down. He digs his fingers into my skin as he pulls back then slams right back into me.
I let out a whimper as he moaned and finally started moving, at first slowly fucking into me before he suddenly started pounding into me. I cried against my hand and bit my lip again, it's like he wanted me to make noise, or to let us get caught.
Not this time.
He let out strings of groans and moans as he continued his fast pace, not having a care in the world if we're heard. "Me estás tomando tan bien gatita." He moaned out and left a hard smack against my ass. (You're taking me so well)
I whimpered and felt myself clench against him, making the both of us moan at the same time. I was already noticing my vision get blurry and my legs feeling like jelly all while he thrusted his hips into me not ever stopping or slowing down but instead going harder.
"Shit! Miguel- se siente tan rico-" I whine and press my cheek against my hands now freely letting out moans. Fuck it. (feels so good)
"Ya se mami, ya se." He groans and I feel one of his hands grasp onto my ponytail. (I know, I know)
He pulls my hair tugging it a bit so I move my head back making him moan and completely stop, but buried deep inside me. I whimper at the loss of his pounding but then gasp as he brings me up carefully with his other hand and letting go of my hair.
I was now sitting up right on my knees with him still inside me, I felt a shiver run through my body as he brought his arms up and wrapped them around my waist. "You're so beautiful." He whispers in my ear, leaving a small kiss against my neck.
He brings a hand down to my stomach, right where the bulge of him was. He presses lightly making me sigh and lay my head against his hard chest. "You feel so perfect baby." He murmurs and I bite my lip then bring my hands to wrap them around his arms for stability.
"Y te ves tan perfecta." He purrs making me melt into him. (And you look so perfect)
"Miguel-"
"Shh..." he hushes and moved the hand from my stomach and brings it up, grazing my skin softly.
His hands lands on to my left breast, he squeezed it gently then moved his hips back. I sigh and grip onto his arms as he slams back into me making me moan in surprise. "Mi-"
Finally deciding where to leave his hands over my body he starts moving again, thrusting his hips into me as he holds a steady grip on my body. My tits bounced in the same rhythm he was fucking me and it already felt so overstimulating. He pinched my left nipple and moaned out sweet little nothings into my ear as he kept his pace and making sure I wouldn't just drop onto the bed.
His body towered over me even though I was on top of the bed, taking notice of his size compared to mine was starting to make my head spin. He was just so tall and wide, buff even, I was much smaller compared to him and it made me shake in pure excitement. I've never had a man of his stature just ravage me like he was doing right now and that thought alone was pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
"Just like that Miguel-" I breathe out but then feel a hand against my throat cutting me off.
"Fuck baby you're taking me so well." He groans and lightly squeezes my throat.
What sounded like a muffled whimper slipped from my lips making his hand around my waist grip me tighter. He rammed into me as if there was no tomorrow and I gladly let him. In what world would I tell him to stop?
"This is what you wanted isn't it gatita? Hmm?" He grunts and I nod.
"Just needed me to manhandle you and take you how I want." He mutters and another combination of a cry and moan leaves my lips. Holy fuck-
The mixed sounds of our joint moans of pleasure and him senselessly pounding into me filled my ears and I couldn't think of better things I could possibly listen to.
His hold on me made it seem as if he thinks I'd disappear out of thin air if he let me go, it wasn't a complaint more of an observation that had me squeezing his arms, needing him as close to me as possible.
He finally let go of my throat which made me breathe in then pant followed by whines as he snaked that hand down to my clit, rubbing slow circles against it. My back arches against him and I subconsciously tilt my head to the side which he quickly took advantage of and latched his lips onto my neck.
He sucked feverishly and I felt my eyes flutter at the overstimulation. He moans against my skin before licking the new branded mark. I bring a hand up to his face and look up at him, as if reading my mind he smashed his lips onto mine in a needing passionate kiss.
I kissed back as best as I could, feeling my legs slowly give up on me but his grip on me never loosened and his pace now slowing down. I felt him twitch inside me and i quickly felt my orgasm approaching, that all too familiar feeling in my tummy that has made my legs become a shaking mess and my sex leaving a creamy ring against Miguel's base with every thrust.
He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I tried to match his energy but that knot in my stomach was ready to explode. And it did.
My walls pulsating against him as my orgasm washed over my entire body, leaving me a shaking mess on him. I let out cries in his mouth as he gently held on to me and moaned into my mouth as well, feeling him shoot ropes of his warm cum deep inside me. He pulled away and gently pecked my lips which i happily reciprocated.
We pulled away, he leaned his forehead against my head as we both caught our breath. I felt my heartbeat calm down as he held me now gently. I didn't even notice when his hand moved from my clit to properly hold me but I just ignored it and melted into his arms.
He then slips out of me making me whimper at the empty feeling but look down to see his cum oozing out of me and onto the poor medical bed. I stifle a laugh and look into Miguel's eyes, he was already looking at me. I feel my cheeks burn up and I can't help but sheepishly grin, him returning it back.
He lets me go and sets me down on the edge of the bed then sits down next to me. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and I instantly snuggle up to his chest making him move his arms to wrap them around my body.
"You did so good gatita." He whispers and I nod, my breathing now completely normal but now feeling butterflies all over my skin.
"It was about time, don't ya think?" I joke quietly and he laughs.
I sigh and just listen to the thumps of his heartbeat as he caresses my hair gently and leaves kisses on the top of my head. He really was perfect.
#miguel ohara#miguel ohara smut#miguel x you#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#miguel 2099#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel o hara#miguel o’hara smut
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Fic idea idk how to explain
Barty and Evan, no matter what universe they're in, what time they're in, their souls are tied together.
It's early 1200 BC Barty (then called Achilles) sets off to Troy with his close companion Patroclus (Evan). Barty wants glory, to have his name be known for the ages. He wants to be like the greats- Hercules, Jason, Theseus, he wants to be a hero.
Evan follows, because that's all he has known- Barty. Just Achilles. That's all he's known his whole life. He goes where Achilles does. That's the way they work. He just wants his lover. He doesn't care much for the glory aspect.
It's the 5th century AD, Evan (then known as the king Arthur) has a kingdom to lead. He has to be a great ruler, to do his best, to do his duty. Granted, he's a bit of a prat, but can you blame him? He grew up knowing he would inherit his father's kingdom.
His father, who banned the use of magic forever in their kingdom. Evan doesn't really care for magic but he's grown up fearing it because of his father's words.
Evan is used to be attended to, by servants and maids, what he's not used to is being insulted time and time again by his new servant, a scrawny man his age, with a mop of dark hair and a permanent scowl. His name is Merlin and though Arthur doesn't know that, he's known Merlin's soul in a previous lifetime.
Merlin, or Barty, take your pick, takes pride in trying to bring Arthur down a notch or two. He had grown up with no one but his mother looking after him. And here's Evan with the whole kingdom at his feet.
They end up alone more often than not. The more time they spend together, the less Merlin hates him. The more he starts to care and the more he starts to save his life with his magic.
Arthur's reading him poetry when they kiss for the first time. Slow and unsure at first. Full of fear. Evan runs away, only to kiss Barty harder the next time they meet.
One thing leads to another.
They're happy. Until Arthur dies. There's nothing Merlin can do, and believe him, he tries.
It's the 15th Century when their souls meet again. Barty's a sculptor, he carves marble like it's clay, he pours his heart into his art. He doesn't care much for the women of the city.
He grows up hearing about gods- Zeus, the king of gods, the one who controls the skies, Poseidon, the god of the sea and earthquakes, stormbringer, Hades, the god of the underworld, his domain is death itself. He sees paintings about them, the greatest artists of his age starting the renaissance. He doesn't know he'll be a part of history.
Barty hears about heroes as well, mighty Heracles, Theseus and the Minotaur, Jason and the Argonauts. He hears and reads about the Trojan war, about Achilles and Patroclus- a great warrior duo. But above all... lovers.
Inspiration strikes, Barty carves night and day. He doesn't have a model, he carves from memory. His memory now? Or his memory of a past life?
Patroclus, slowly but steadily comes to life under his tools. First his figure, then limbs, then face. Barty feels like he should know him.
He presses a kiss to the marble statue's cold cheek.
The next morning, he's alive. A bit confused, but surely enough, alive. Barty had prayed to the gods and some must have heard.
The thing about the statue is... it wasn't perfect. There were parts Barty glossed over, parts he procrastinated, parts he forgot. So the person who pops out oft he Patroclus statue isn't perfect either.
Except he is... at least for Barty.
And so it goes, again and again and again.
They're writers in one lifetime, forced to hide their love for fear of society. They write about one another. Only a hundred years from then would people discover it.
They're soldiers in one. Both in a war they try to hopelessly outrun. They drink with one another and fight and fuck and kiss and it's messy, everything is messy.
They're wizards in one. They attend a school of witchcraft. War is brewing there too. A blood purist, a supremist. Evan's parents are supporters. He wants to get out desperately. He doesn't have much of a choice. They've seen how this war tears and takes and kills.
Barty's father is no supporter of the Dark Lord, quite the opposite, actually. Barty joins anyway. Not because he thinks he's better than ones without magic parents, not because he agrees with what the Dark Lord says. But because Evan is there. And Evan needs him.
They've already lost Regulus. They only have each other.
Evan's an actor in one lifetime. Pretty face, sharp, striking features. He's quick thinking, charming, teasing and far too good looking for his own good.
Barty's a singer. Men, women, everyone practically throws themselves at him. His voice is like a siren's... pulling and pulling and pulling. He bares his teeth in every smile.
They meet at an award show of all places. They've both vaguely heard of one another.
Don't ask why their ties were switched, their hair disshelved, their suits rumpled when they walk out of the bathroom one after the other.
#barty#marauders#regulus black#marauders era#dead gay wizards#hogwarts#the marauders#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#rosekiller#achilles#patrochilles#pygmalion#greek mythology#trojan war#lgbtq#gayyyy#au#lifetime#fic ideas
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Neural Nets, Walled Gardens, and Positive Vibes Only
the crystal spire at the center of the techno-utopian walled garden
Anyone who knows or even just follows me knows that as much as I love neural nets, I'm far from being a fan of AI as a corporate fad. Despite this, I am willing to use big-name fad-chasing tools...sometimes, particularly on a free basis. My reasons for this are twofold:
Many people don't realize this, but these tools are more expensive for the companies to operate than they earn from increased interest in the technology. Using many of these free tools can, in fact, be the opposite of "support" at this time. Corporate AI is dying, use it to kill it faster!
You can't give a full, educated critique of something's flaws and failings without engaging with it yourself, and I fully intend to rip Dall-E 3, or more accurately the companies behind it, a whole new asshole - so I want it to be a fair, nuanced, and most importantly personally informed new asshole.
Now, much has already been said about the biases inherent to current AI models. This isn't a problem exclusive to closed-source corporate models; any model is only as good as its dataset, and it turns out that people across the whole wide internet are...pretty biased. Most major models right now, trained primarily on the English-language internet, present a very western point of view - treating young conventionally attractive white people as a default at best, and presenting blatantly misinformative stereotypes at worst. While awareness of the issue can turn it into a valuable tool to study those biases and how they intertwine, the marketing and hype around AI combined with the popular idea that computers can't possibly be biased tends to make it so they're likely to perpetuate them instead.
This problem only gets magnified when introduced to my mortal enemy-
If I never see this FUCKING dog again it will be too soon-
Content filters.
Theoretically, content filters exist to prevent some of the worst-faith uses of AI - deepfakes, true plagiarism and forgery, sexual exploitation, and more. In practice, many of them block anything that can be remotely construed as potentially sexual, violent, or even negative in any way. Frequently banned subjects include artistic nudity or even partial nudity, fight scenes, anything even remotely adjacent to horror, and still more.
The problems with this expand fractally.
While the belief that AI is capable of supplanting all other art forms, let alone should do so, is...far less widespread among its users than the more reactionary subset of its critics seem to believe (and in fact arguably less common among AI users than non-users in the first place; see again: you cannot give a full, educated critique of something's failings without engaging with it yourself), it's not nonexistent - and the business majors who have rarely if ever engaged with other forms of art, who make up a good percentage of the executives of these companies, often do fall on that side, or at least claim to in order to make more sales (but let's keep the lid on that can of worms for now).
When this ties to existing online censorship issues, such as a billionaire manchild taking over Twitter to "help humanity" (read: boost US far-right voices and promote and/or redefine hate speech), or arcane algorithms on TikTok determining what to boost and deboost leading to proliferation of neologisms to soften and obfuscate "sensitive" subjects (of which "unalive" is frequently considered emblematic), including such horrible, traumatizing things as...the existence of fat people, disabled people, and queer people (where the censorship is claimed to be for their benefit, no less!), the potential impact is apparent: while the end goal is impossible, in part because AI is not, in fact, capable of supplanting all other forms of art, what we're seeing is yet another part of a continuing, ever more aggressive push for sanitizing what kinds of ideas people can express at all, with the law looking to only make it worse rather than better through bills such as KOSA (which you can sign a petition against here).
And just like the other forms of censorship before and alongside it, AI content filtering targets the most vulnerable in society far more readily than it targets those looking to harm them. The filters have no idea what makes something an expression of a marginalized identity vs. what makes it a derogatory statement against that group, or an attempt at creating superficially safe-for-work fetish art - so, they frequently err on the side of removing anything uncertain. Boys in skirts and dresses are frequently blocked, presumably because they're taken for fetish art. Results of prompts about sadness or loneliness are frequently blocked, presumably because they may promote self harm, somehow. In my (admittedly limited) experiment, attempts at generating dark-skinned characters were blocked more frequently than attempts at generating light-skinned ones, presumably because the filter decided that it was racist to [checks notes] ...acknowledge that a character has a different skin tone than the default white characters it wanted to give me. Facial and limb differences are often either erased from results, or blocked presumably on suspicion of "violent content".
But note that I say "presumably" - the error message doesn't say on what grounds the detected images are "unsafe". Users are left only to speculate on what grounds we're being warned.
But what makes censorship of AI generated work even more alarming, in the context of the executive belief that it can render all other art forms obsolete, is that other forms of censorship only target where a person can say such earth-shaking, controversial things as "I am disabled and I like existing" or "I am happy being queer" or "mental health is important" or "I survived a violent crime" - you can be prevented from posting it on TikTok, but not from saying it to a friend next to you, let alone your therapist. AI content filtering, on the other hand, aims to prevent you from expressing it at all.
This becomes particularly alarming when you recall one of the most valuable use cases for AI generation: enabling disabled people to express themselves more clearly, or in new forms. Most people can find other workarounds in the form of more conventional, manual modes of expression, sure, but no amount of desperation can reverse hand paralysis that prevents a person from holding a pen, nor a traumatic brain injury or mental disability that blocks them from speaking or writing in a way that's easy to understand. And who is one of the most frequently censored groups? Disabled people.
So, my question to Bing and OpenAI is this: in what FUCKING universe is banning me from expressing my very existence "protecting" me?
Bad dog! Stop breaking my shit and get the FUCK out of my way!
Generated as a gift for a friend who was even more frustrated with that FUCKING dog than I was
All images - except the FUCKING dog - generated with Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?
#ai art#generated art#i want to make a stress toy out of that dog#i want to make a squishy stretchy plush toy#with weighted beans so it makes a satisfying THUNK when you throw it at the fucking wall#you did it you bastards you made a dog problematic
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Transplant
Chapters: 2/3 up
Also on ao3 (part 2 now up on ao3!)
Rating: Explicit MINORS DNI- Clicking "read more" implies your consent!
Warnings: canon-typical gore, canon-typical violence, smut, p in v (unprotected, wrap your tool) no creampies, oral, hand jobs, money shots (we don't want apocalypse babies) mention of abortion (in passing- reader is a doctor), tremendous fluff ahead, some angst (re: Joel's insecurities), Ezra is his own warning, Joel is not bi in this but Ezra is (not rly acted upon but mentioned), poly dynamics and conversations, Ellie moving out, Cee and Ellie will be together by the end. Did I mention smut; literally the opening scene is smut.
Summary: You are a resident and the only trained doctor in Jackson. You're bubbly and sweet, outgoing and friendly--- and also in an unlabeled "situationship" with the town scrooge, Joel Miller. He won't say you're together, but he'll scare anyone else off.
When Tommy drags back a half- dead man and girl from a patrol, you dutifully patch them up and help them settle into their new slotted house- across Rancher Street from yours and Joel's houses. Ellie and Cee get in like a bonfire, and when Joel sees how often you talk to your newest patient, his insecurities make him draw up and away from you.
As you slowly give up on him and start something with Ezra, Joel's pining turns to frustration. Tommy convinces him to see if you'd be interested in being a throuple. Surprisingly, you and Ezra are both open to the idea.
But can Joel's insecurities and possessiveness withstand such an arrangement? Or will the blow of another loss be what finally breaks him?
Word count: about 10k (for part one of 3)
Author notes: Eyooooo I'm back on my bullshit with a new addition. This has been on ao3 for about a week. Please like and reblog to spread the wealth! Unlike ao3 this is not an archive and views depend on your interaction! (So does my continued writing!)
Part One:
Joel has got you absolutely wrung dry.
You’re bent over your kitchen island, toes barely brushing the floor and thighs shaking from the aftershocks of your third ( fourth ?) orgasm since he’d shouldered his way through your door nearly an hour ago. Every time you gasp, he snaps his hips harder up into you.
Never fully satisfied with a fuck-and-duck, Joel had strode in, picked you up, kissed you senseless while he shoved your jeans down, smeared you face down across the countertop, and ate you from behind so thoroughly you weren't sure you could even take his cock from how tight he had your pussy clenched around his tongue and fingers.
But he had slipped into you easily, your drooling slick helping his fat girth stretch you wide despite the contractions of your most recent orgasm. He pounds into you now, with you pinioned efficiently under his breadth with a hand fisted in your hair at your nape and him holding your wrist in place behind your back to your opposite hip with the other. His soft grunts and murmured praise make your spine arch. Your hips are already bruising from the counter edge, and you bite your lip at the mental image of seeing that erotic evidence later.
You push your free hand beyond the ledge of the worktop and swirl your fingers over your engorged, oversensitive clit, propelling you quickly into another orgasm- though this one is not as strong. Your body is absolutely exhausted from his diligent overworking.
“ Almost - honey , just –” he grunts rhythmically with the slap of his hips, and pulls out to spill across your ass just as abruptly as he’d dove in. He drapes down over your back, catching his breath with his mouth fastened on your shoulder. You reach up and wind your fingers in his hair, keeping him bowed over you, warm and close, catching your breath. Barely a minute passes before he pulls back and is moving slowly away to the bathroom under the stairs to fetch a damp cloth.
He wipes at the mess between your legs and on your lower back, and you think of him planting a firm hand there earlier to guide you out of the Tipsy Bison after catching a guy just winding down from that day’s supply scouting trip having the audacity to flirt (poorly) with you.
Joel won't say he's yours , or you’re his , but he’ll sure as hell scare off any competition. You’d bring it up if it was bothersome; in reality you sort of like the unleashed, broad, imposing dominance of him, paired with the open availability for sex that he’s left largely up to you. Like an ongoing, wildly overprotective booty call.
The thought makes you huff a quiet laugh into your forearm.
Most of Jackson is still wide-eyed and wary of him. Rumors of how he and Ellie made it back to Jackson are rife with hyperbole- making the nearing-sixty older man out to be some sort of superhuman mass murderer.
You’re just sure that even if he is, he did what he had to to protect his little girl.
Even more rumors abound about how the town’s resident scrooge managed to stake a(n unsubstantiated) claim on the town’s most level- headed and sun-shiney bachelorette- the commune’s only actual doctor.
Joel is tossing the soiled rag in the sink and helping you back to your feet on wobbly legs when there's a pounding at your door.
“Come on, Sunny! We got an injured guy back from patrol!” you hear Brendan, the head of the wall patrol yelling from the porch.
“ Shit ,” you yank your clothes back up in a hurry. You blink up at Joel, pulled too fast from bliss into action. “Sounds like I'll be at the clinic late.”
Joel nods and shoves his boots on, intending to take the back door and cut through the back yard to his house next door. “See ya tomorrow, then, hon,” he murmurs. He drops a kiss to your cheek and shuts the door behind him, locking the knob.
You grab your heavy coat and shrug it on to beat the swirls of snow outside before rushing out and meeting Brendan on the street.
“What happened?”
“Patrol brought in a girl and her dad, he’s unconscious, feverish, and bleeding real bad. Both are hypothermic. Tested negative of course, both of ‘em, but I'm not real sure the guy’s gonna make it.” You are both hurrying across town back to your clinic as fast as the frigid air icing down your throat will let you.
“Animal, infected, or raiders?”
“I think they broke off a slaver ring,” Brendan says quietly, leaning in as you rush up the porch. “That, or some raiders had them for a while . He’s -- I don't know what to make of the arm injury, it’s fucked . But he’s been stabbed in the chest, and Sam said she thinks he’s got frostbite.”
“ Fuck ,” you growl, and wrench open the door to your clinic and rush to the back. Immediately, five heads turn to you and sigh in relief. Sam, your nurse, has an unconscious man hooked up to IV and is covering his freezing body with the weighted damp- heat warming pads from the steamer. You can tell from the port in his throat that she couldn't find a vein in his arms, he’s that cold and dehydrated.
“Everyone out but the girl and whoever found them,” you quip to the group, and three people file out. The girl is on a chair, shivering violently but already has a cup of something steaming cupped in both hands and is still in somewhat damp, bloody clothes, though her wet shoes and socks are on the floor by the space heater. Her face and hands are smeared with dried blood, but from a glance you can tell it’s probably her dad’s. Tommy is standing by her, still and waiting on your opinion. He drapes a blanket across her shoulders and looks to you.
You pull gloves on and check the man’s pulse- it’s weak but there. He’s absolutely frigid to the touch. The fingers on his right hand are completely purplish- black, but the whole arm is a loss anyway. Sam has already pulled off his soaking wet clothes; jeans, socks, and boots, and a damp contrast coat lays crumpled on the pile, arms still laced through with a flannel in the same condition. A wet trail of blood is leaking from the pile and you squint at it; it’s red- fresh . The man himself is in naught but his rank briefs and is positively covered in heating packs and blankets to get his temp back up.
You look directly at Tommy and shake your head once. He clenches his jaw and nods, turning to the girl. “We need details , hon. Anything you can give us that will help. Was this people, or a group of infected? Raiders? Or slavers? A trap? A- a bear ?” He asks, kneeling on one knee by her and speaking softly. The girl is practically catatonic, a feral glint the only light in her eyes. Her clothes and hair are matted down with blood as well, but doesn't appear injured, nothing more than superficially anyway. After a minute, she speaks:
“We were at a- a slave camp. Some raiders had taken over our QZ and turned it into a slave camp, a year or two ago after the bombings,” she says woodenly, staring at the man- who Brendan had told you was her father.
You see no resemblance, but then Joel has none to Ellie. That doesn't mean there's no bond. These days, bonds are often thicker than blood.
“We made a plan, snuck out with a guy who told us he was a coyote- like a smuggler, but for people? - but he just led us to a cabin outside the walls where they take people trying to escape. It was a trap.” Her eyes flick up to Tommy and then back to you.
“They were going to hurt me, and he said to take it out on him instead. So they did that,” she nods to the man’s mangled arm. “And I shot both of them when they were distracted. The second guy, I missed the first shot and he stabbed–” she breaks off, biting her lip, staring at the chest wound. “But I got him , and then we ran.”
“ Jesus ,” Tommy breathes. You grimace and plunge a dose of morphine into the guy’s shoulder. He doesn't even stir. You watch his face, swollen and mottled and bloodied up as it is. He’s got a laceration up into his hairline as well, both eyes blackened and you suspect a broken nose, a split lip and old, dried blood coming out of one ear. You grit your teeth and turn back to the girl.
“How long has it been?” You ask, peeling the flannel he’s wearing off his mutilated arm. The wound is the entire circumference of his arm, like they were literally trying to hack it off slowly, with small tools. They stopped at bone, but you can see scrapings on the white. It wasn't for lack of trying.
“We’ve been running from the cabin for three days. I dont- I don't know how long we were there. At first we had a horse but it spooked and ran off when we came across some wolves, and they chased it instead of us. Crossed the Wyoming border, I think, yesterday. He didn't make it very far. I made a - a draggy– thing . Sled? Dragged him for a little bit. But we haven't had food, or anything, since the horse bolted with our packs. So I couldn't go any longer, and put us down in an old shed that was falling down, but it had a roof. And then he found us,” she glances up at Tommy again, curling into herself a bit.
You nod and turn to Sam. “Get him to the OR and prep for an amputation, and push antibiotics. I'll be right there.” Sam nods and pushes the gurney down the hall, disappearing behind the double doors. You turn back to Tommy and speak quietly.
“How many resources am I using on this guy? I’m gonna have to anesthetize to amputate, use blood packs, antibiotics, and pain meds, that's just to hopefully stabilize him.”
Tommy nods. “Do it. We need more hands. Even with one, he’ll be helpful. And we can train her up in somethin’. Cookin’ or sewing. Hell, she shot two guys, she might be good on patrols or runs, eventually.”
You nod and glance at the girl. “Can you find her a place for the night? Feed her something easy- broth, toast, a warm bath, not hot; she might develop some frostbite. Drink at least two cups of water, and sleep .” He nods and steps back, gesturing for the girl to get up. You call out before they leave:
“Last thing hon- what’s your dad’s name?”
She turns back, looking haunted, and swallows hard, staring at the swinging doors where he was taken. She doesn't correct you. “Ezra.”
________________
“Ezra? Eeeezra , wake up sugar. Come on! That’s it, almost. Little more. Come to me, you’re safe. No- no , don’t. Stay down. Eyes open, sweetheart, come on.”
A soft, soothing voice is luring him toward the light, but an oppressive force keeps Ezra from actually cracking his eyes open. When he tries, light blinds his swollen lids and makes them ache. He groans and waves at whoever is talking, trying to get them to leave him be.
“Sam, dim the lights a bit,” he hears the voice call out, and finally blinks an eye open. His entire body is sore but also feels weighed down and stuffed with cotton. Morphine , some lizard part of his brain supplies.
What the fuck? Where am I?
He tries to lift his right arm and nothing happens. A sharp pain lances through him and then is softened by whatever’s in his bloodstream, funneling into the itchy, ice- cold spot on the side of his neck. He struggles to sit again and feels hands pushing him back.
“Ezra, Ezra ! Stay down, you're safe. We got your girl, she’s okay. You're both safe. You’re hurt, though. Real bad. I need you to stay still. Can you lay back for me and let me see your eyes?” The sweet voice is back, and feels like silk dragging against his jagged senses. Ezra swallows against a bone-dry throat and makes a gritty sound- not words. “Here’s some water- a straw-” you prod the seam of his mouth with something squishy- rubber , he thinks, and frowns.
It is indeed water, a rubbery medical tube cut down into a straw poking out of it, and he struggles not to suck it all down before you’re already drawing away and telling him your name. “Not too fast, you’ll vomit it up. I’m the doctor here in Jackson. Your girl was found dragging you on a sled by our patrolmen, you tested negative for cordyceps so they brought you in. You’re hypothermic, and have a lot of injuries.”
“Cee?” He asks, raspy and uncoordinated. He finally fixes an eye on you, unable to open the other one, and you give him a small smile. “ Soleil ,” he says, and you huff a gentle laugh.
“Is Cee the girl? Your daughter?”
“Where she?” He asks, frowning. The action hurts his whole face, so he stops.
“She’s getting a hot meal and a shower, and hopefully some sleep. She’s okay, she’s not hurt. Just hungry and exhausted and scared. Can I prop you up just a little? Let me know if you get nauseous.” You lift the gurney on one side and prop him up maybe forty degrees when he nods. Ezra blinks around the room, watching it swirl in slow motion. There’s a bag of blood and a bag of IV fluid hanging off a rack above him, and you beside him, and another woman at the corner of the room. The aforementioned Sam , he guesses.
“I need to check your pupils. Gonna flash a light, can you follow my finger?” You cautiously rule out a concussion, though given the state of him, that’s a small comfort. “Ezra- can you remember what happened?”
He blinks at you and glances at the cup of water on the side table. You let him have another drink and take it away again. He feels nauseous. He swallows down the flood of saliva in his mouth and threads his brow together. “Slavers… took over our QZ in Bozeman ‘bout two years ago. I took Cee in when her father was killed. We worked together in the mines, he pissed off the pay clerk one day too many. She and I were running, trying to escape, and they trapped us. Those miscreants were gonna- gonna use her. Rape her. Talked about pullin’ her guts out so she couldn't get pregnant and putting her in the free use ring til she dropped. For the audacity of just tryna escape their manufactured hell. And I couldn't have that, so I told them to do what they would to me. And she- got ‘em. Somehow. Dragged me out half dead. Told her to leave me an’ run, but she wouldn't. Been… a few days, I think?”
“She said three days since you left the cabin. I've given you an antibiotic, painkillers. You just got out of surgery. Do you remember what they did to your arm?”
Ezra slits his one open eye at you and shifts, finally looking down at it. The still shock of his reaction worries you almost as much as the rest of his injuries did.
“I have to admit, I expected that.” he swallows against another roll of bile and drops his head back. “I am feeling nauseous now, soleil .”
You nod and drop him back, bringing a sick tray over in case he vomits. “I’m gonna give you another dose of pain meds and I need you to sleep , Ezra. I’ll stay here,” you tell Sam, nodding to the repurposed sofa along the wall while you push another dose into his IV port. “I’ll send one of the patrol guys over if I need a hand. Go get some sleep,” you tell her. “We can shift off tomorrow?”
“I’ll send Joel over for the night,” she says, and disappears before you can tell her no . You growl under your breath and turn back to your man on the gurney.
“You… don' like this Joel character?” Ezra says, his voice getting low and gritty again as the drugs start to pull him under. You give him a wry smile and scoff.
“It’s not that- he’s a worrier . He’ll sit out there on the porch all night with his rifle and freeze his ass off, and then I'll have two six foot tall, two hundred- fifty pound hypothermic, handome idiots to care for,” you tease, dragging a chuckle and a stilted, pained grin out of your patient.
Ezra huffs in mock offense at you. “I’d need a week of good meals to tip the scales like that anymore, chérie. Especially with the loss of– oh? Maybe eight, ten pounds’ worth of utility?” He glances back down at the tightly wrapped bundle of his amputation and sighs. “Any jobs in this town for a one- armed fella?”
“That is not what you need to be focused on right now,” you chastise. “Give yourself a few weeks. I sure we can find you something to do. We have a couple disabled folks here, you know. They pull their weight, too. It’ll be okay,” you tell him, covering him with two blankets and checking the heater in the room.
You give him your name again when he keeps calling you soleil and chérie , but it doesn't take. He must be delirious considering everything wrong with him right now. You settle back on the bench to wait for Joel to show. “If you wake up, yell at me. Do not try and get up by yourself,” you say, and Ezra nods, already mostly asleep. He finally drifts off a couple seconds later, and you tuck the blankets up closer around his neck, blocking the winter chill and still working to reheat his body. Less than five minutes later, you hear the thunk of the door shutting and move out of the recovery room into the hall.
Only one person in Jackson holds the bell when he walks in. A leftover habit of sneaking places, you assume.
“ Sunny ?” He calls, just before you push open the swinging door to the back.
“Hey,” you say, feeling awkward. “I told Sam not to get you.”
“Why?” Joel asks, frowning. You see that he feels abruptly wrong-footed and keep talking.
“I don't need a guard? I told Sam to go home, I'd call her if I need her. Guy has to sleep it off, he’s quite literally half dead.” You shake your head with a shudder. “Tommy took off with the girl; I don’t know where he put her for the night. She was ok though. Only about Ellie’s age. They broke from a slaver hold .”
Joel’s eyes drop wide and flick back toward the room you'd just come out of. “ Shit .”
“Yeah,” you scoff. “Anyway- go home. Get some sleep. Aren't you on night rounds starting this week?”
“Yeah,” he parrots back, scuffing his boot on the tile. “Don’t mind stayin’ though.”
“You can , of course. But I don't see why you’d sit here all night while I sleep when you can sleep in your own bed, not worry Ellie when she wakes up and you're gone. I’ll be back there if you decide to stay and need something.” You jerk your head back toward the hall and go back, hearing the front door shut behind you.
_______________
You wake up to someone calling your name urgently but not very loudly, and blink your eyes open. You’re confused at first as to why you're on the couch in the clinic until you remember.
Ezra is panting on the gurney, teeth gritted and trying to swallow his pained groans.
“ Shit ,” you jump up and hurry over. His entire body is tense and you can see that he’s making a concerted effort to not hold onto his surgical wound.
“ Please ,” he wheezes, and you realize the time- the morphine you have him would have worn off within the past hour.
“Shit, I'm sorry. Should’a yelled , I told you to. Hang on,” you prep a syringe and feed it into his IV port. Over the next minute, you watch as he slowly unclenches and relaxes a bit, still breathing hard, which you're sure is putting strain on his chest wound.
“Ezra, breathe with me. You gotta slow down- you're hurting the injury to your diaphragm.” His face looks worse today, you note, but the swelling is going down even if the bruising and scabbing is setting in worse. At least it looks like a face today instead of a pile of minced meat. One dark eye focuses on you and he tries to match your breathing; taking deeper, slower breaths that eventually even out. “There we go. Want a drink?”
“Yes, please,” he says, and you refill the bedside cup with cold water and plop the straw in it. He drinks half and pulls a face, dropping back to the mattress. “This nausea. Sucks almost as much– as the injuries,” he grits out, and you smile empathetically.
“You allergic to anything?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head, watching you rifle through a drawer and come back with a nausea tablet in a single-serve sachet.
“Put this under your tongue. I’ll go make some broth. You need something on your stomach,” you explain and drop the tablet under his tongue. He makes a face as the acrid “berry” taste, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I hate them, too. I’ll be right back,” you dip out and pad across the hall to the little kitchen. You drop a bouillon cube into a cup and fill it with hot water from the kettle and bring it back, stirring until the cube is dissolved.
“Almost daylight. I expect your girl’s gonna come tearing through here soon, demanding to see you. Anything specific I should say, if you're asleep?” You tip the broth into him slowly and he swallows it with a grateful hum.
“Prepare her for the amputation, I suppose. Not much else to say, is there? I suppose we’ll be directed to living quarters once I'm released from your care, chérie?”
You nod. “Yeah, I'm sure Maria and Tommy are already prepping a place for you two. Depends on where they put her last night.”
“ Cee ,” Ezra says, drinking the last of the soup. “Her name is Cee.”
“ Cee , then. I’ll keep an eye out for her. You go back to sleep.”
Ezra blinks his one working eye at you and lays his head back again, sighing deep. “Thank you, soleil ,” he says, quietly, and you nod.
“No problem. I mean it,” you say when he scowls. “You had a hard time up til now, sounds like. But Jackson is safe. Actually safe. You’ll see,” you smile at him, and he nods off with that final image behind his eyes.
Expecting the girl to show now that it’s daylight, you silently open the door and think about sitting in the waiting room out front. When you step thru the swinging door that divides the comfortable waiting space and the sterility of the clinic rooms, Joel startles awake from his slump along a row of chairs and reaches for the butt of a rifle that isn't there. You stop and blink at him, genuinely surprised.
“Thought you went home?”
He clears his throat and stands up, knees and back cracking as he stretches and straightens. “ Nnngmph . I started to. Then I decided not to.”
“Alright. You ok? Need some ice, old man?” You tease, noticing his wince when he stretches. He scowls at you but there's a smile tugging at his mouth.
“ No . You worry ‘bout your – patient. I’m fine.”
“Technically anyone in Jackson is my patient, as the only doctor,” you say slyly. “Can't get past my perfect bedside manner that easily, Miller.”
“Hmmmph,” Joel comments, wrapping you in a warm hug as he yawns hugely. “I think I experience your bedside manner often enough, sweetheart. But I can’t complain,” he taunts, and you pinch his side, making him chuckle.
The sound of shoes pounding up the porch outside makes you straighten away from Joel’s embrace to glance out the window behind his breadth. “Ah, she’s here.”
Cee bursts through the door with Marnie, the older kids’ teacher, on her heels, calling her back.
“Where is he?” Cee pants, wrenching away from Marnie’s hand when the older woman reaches for her arm.
“Good morning, Cee. Marnie, it’s okay. I expected her this morning.” You turn to Cee, but she’s frowning mightily at Joel, looking him up and down suspiciously. He lifts a brow at her through that permanent frown that everyone except Ellie sees, no longer intimidated by teen girls since re-obtaining one of his own. He scowls back at her, unimpressed, and she flicks her eyes to you.
“Did he make it?” The steadiness in her voice is only betrayed by her lower lip trembling. You nod and lead her back. Marnie throws her hands up with a huff and leaves, stomping off down the snowy porch.
“They plant you with her last night?” You ask, leading Cee through the back. She rolls her eyes and nods.
“Kind of a bitch, isn't she?” You snort and nod at her remark.
“She’s certainly a character. She handles the teens for a reason, though. Strict as hell, doesn't take their shit.” You open the last door and notice that Joel is hovering at the entrance to the hall.
“Gonna go check on Ellie,” he says, eyes tripping over Cee when you both look back at him.
You speak up; “Okay. Tell her I said hi. And tell your brother he's a twat for sending a new kid to stay with Marnie of all people! She’d have gotten a better welcome staying with you and Ellie. Get some actual sleep before your patrol!” He nods, waving a disparaging hand over his shoulder as he walks out. You turn back to Cee.
“I had to remove his injured arm, so expect that. He’s stable, I have him on antibiotics and a blood pack to fight the infection that started up from his wounds. He’s knocked out on pain meds right now. Okay? Any questions?”
Cee shakes her head and tips her brow at the door. “Let's go.”
You open the door and lead her in, watching as she stands at the foot of the gurney and stares at Ezra. She roves over his pulpy face, the missing arm and bandages, the line of red that has managed to seep through the dressing on his chest. You move to replace it, letting her take him in. Eventually she sits, and does end up asking you a few questions. She pets the tuft of blonde at his temple and watches you move around the space. You let them be quiet and alone for a while, listening to Ezra’s wheezing breaths as he sleeps off the meds and you clear up some old-school paperwork files of your various patients at the front desk.
As the day waxes and wanes, you get a man from patrol in for a sprained ankle from landing wrong off his horse onto an icy patch, and one woman in for a pregnancy checkup. The midwife Janet and her trainee Silvia are assisting with a birth on the other side of town, so you check the woman’s vitals and, when everything clears, tell her to come back in a couple days to see Janet properly.
Cee calls you from the hall, urgently, a few times. Once, Ezra is pale and shaking, trying to struggle to a sit and he’s burning up. You cover him in cool wraps and lay an ice pack on his forehead and stomach, bringing his temp down fast. You up the dose of antibiotics and hope for the best, without much to tell you what exactly is ailing him from the inside. Blood samples only go so far with just a microscope to test on.
The second time, he complains about the catheter and asks to get up and use the toilet. You send Cee out to the waiting room and remove it, assisting him in getting up and aiming at the bowl with his off hand, which he blushes at but forces himself to remember you are a medical professional . He needs to get up and walk anyway, and you're glad he feels up to it. You let her back in when he’s back in bed and tell her to call you if he asks to get up again.
Tommy shows up in the late afternoon, telling you and Cee that they’ve set up one of the houses on your street, which makes sense- yours is the one filling with new folks now. It's one of the last empty stretches. “House 407,” he hands Cee the keys and glances at Ezra in the bed. Sam chimes in the door, ready to take over for the night, and you’re grateful.
“I’ll show you the house, if you want?” You offer, expecting the girl to turn it down. She stares at Ezra for a long moment and nods.
“Can I come back, after checking it out?”
You nod, smiling. “Let me tell Sam what’s up and we can go.”
“How long have you been here?” Cee asks, plodding through the snow with you.
“Ah, about two years? Not long. Before me they had an old nurse, and she passed about eight months ago now. I was a medic for FEDRA; defected when they started bombing the rebelling QZs about eight years ago. I hopped around for a while, stayed in the wild with a small group for a year. They got killed when we ran afoul of a gas station filled with clickers. Came here in the winter, like you two. Sucks ,” you chuckle, stuffing your hands in your pockets.
“Who’s in charge? Like, is there a caste system?” She asks, looking around at the houses. They're all leftover suburban developments, what would have been solidly middle class Before; nothing terribly classist, but some are decidedly larger or fancier than others on some streets. They all have water and electricity and keep the infected out, and that’s what matters anymore. You say as much, and Cee nods.
“Maria and her husband, Tommy - the guy who found you- they sort of run everything. But it’s a commune - the point is we all have a say, we all share food, essentials, and medicine, and barter goods or skills. We all pull weight, rotate patrols and jobs. Some of us are more specialized, like me, being the doc. But I still have patrol duty, same as anyone.”
“What do you do when you're not saving people or setting twisted ankles or on patrol?”
You pause briefly, thinking of Joel. You huff and shrug. “I like to read.”
“Do you have books here!?”
You chuckle, getting the feel of the young teen quickly. She’s hardy, but still a kid . She reminds you a bit of Ellie, though maybe not as feral. “We have a library, yes. And you’ll go to school when you're both well enough. I expect Ezra can go home in a few days, if he's got someone there to help him take care of some things.”
“Like getting around and cleaning it and stuff?”
“Yeah, and getting used to losing his dominant hand. He might struggle to do a lot of things at first. He’ll feel like his arm is there, sometimes, and reach for things, so he might drop stuff or get frustrated easily. Don't take it personally,” you lean in and stage-whisper, and she nods sagely.
You direct her to turn left on Rancher Street and up a pathway toward number 407.
Your own house is across the street and down two, beside the fenced-off graveyard, which you point out to her.
“My neighbor, Joel, that big grumpy guy who was at the clinic earlier? He's got a girl about your age. Ellie. She’s– well maybe about seventeen now? Ish? How old are you?”
“I’ll be seventeen next month,” she says, glancing across at the houses where you pointed.
You nod and squint at her as she keys into the house and peers around in the dark. “We got electricity, hon,” you remind her gently and snap the lights on and her mouth drops open.
“All this is just ours? We don't have to share?”
“Not a bit. It’s yours. If it's like the rest of the houses in this neighborhood, it's got three rooms and two bathrooms- one in the hall upstairs, between the two smaller rooms, and one in the big bedroom. Tommy and Maria will have fitted you out with clothes, beds and blankets, TP, probably tampons or a cup, soap... Check the rooms and see, I'll wait.”
Cee stops with a foot above a tread and glances back at you. She looks hesitantly up at the yawning darkness at the top of the stairs. “I can come up, if you don't want to go alone?” When she nods, you follow.
She ducks into both of the smaller rooms and investigates the bathroom, which indeed has a stack of toilet paper and a diva cup and instructions on the counter with a bar of soap and a little pot of natural deodorant. “Aw, you got green !” You say, and grin when she frowns at you.
“We make the soap here, in one of the shops. The green one smells best,” you hand it to her and she sniffs it, smiling.
“I don't remember the last time we had soap. Or a hot bath. Ezra’s gonna flip .” She sets the bar down and goes into the larger of the two small bedrooms, sitting on the bed to bounce it. You smile at her exploring the room all over from the hall.
“Wanna see if they put clothes in here for your dad?”
“It’s just Ezra. He and my father dug in the mines but they hated one another. He took me in a couple years ago when the clerk and his goons killed my dad at the mine’s pay table. He had tried to barter his ration chit for more. Ezra knew if he didn't squirrel me away they’d put me in the free use ring with the other orphan girls. I’m sure he thought I'd be useful to him, at least at first.”
You blink at her deadpan and incredibly dark explanation and clear your throat. “ Ezra , then. They probably left a change of clothes for him. Can’t send him home in the snow in his civvies.”
“Do you care to check? I’d actually really like a shower and to change,” she grimaces down at her bloody clothes that Marnie appears to have simply dried and given back to her. Never one for going the extra mile, dear Marnie.
“Sure thing,” you say, and go out across the hall to check.
Sure enough, whoever had stocked the house had left a stack of three flannels, three tee shirts, a canvas and wool-lined contrast coat, a neat pyramid of socks and boxers, two pair of jeans, sleep clothes, and a set of re-soled boots on the bed. The bathroom in the big bedroom has another stack of matching toiletries. You pile up enough to make an outfit and take it downstairs, and wait on the little sofa.
Cee stirs you awake as she plummets down the stairs, eyes wide. You startle, unaware that you had nodded off. “Oh. I thought you’d left,” she says, and visibly steels herself. “Thank you for staying,” she says almost shyly.
“It's okay kid. I know you're not settled. It’s still overwhelming. It’ll take some adjusting. Where are you sleeping tonight?”
She pauses, glancing back up the darkened stairs and then out the window. “Can I stay at the clinic?”
You shrug. “Just tell Sam to let you have the sofa, she can use another bed. Yell at her if Ezra needs something.”
“Okay!” She agrees and shoves her boots back on. You hand her the bag of Ezra’s clothes and tell her the way back.
“Just follow the road to the end and turn left at the street sign. Clinic’s on the right, three doors from the end. Tell Sam I said you could stay til Ezra is released.” You nod at her and she bites her lip.
“Thank you.”
You nod again. “You're welcome , Cee. Go on, I'll see you tomorrow.”
You watch Cee lock up and plod across the road and down til she is out of sight, and go across to your own house. As you stomp the snow off your boots on the porch, Joel opens his door and leans on the frame.
“Jeez, girl. You just gettin’ home?”
“Yeah, just showed the girl their house and sent her back off to stay with her dad. I need to sleep for like, a week ,” you scoff, kicking your boots off into the tray by the door. “You ain't gone on patrol yet?”
Joel hums and looks you up and down, assessing. His deep seated need to care for and simultaneous desire to not care at all is a trait you find both adorable and grating. “Traded this week off; that Tyler kid wants to be home with his wife during the day. She had their kid this mornin’.”
“Ah, right. You wanting to sleep over?” You ask, and he gives you a half smile.
“You just said you needed sleep,” he teases, shooting you that tilted smirk. “Go on,” he waves at you batting your lashes playfully in answer, and you go inside giggling, leaving the door unlocked.
A moment later, probably after leaving Ellie a note on his whereabouts, Joel stomps through the door and leaves his snow-packed boots in the tray with yours after you give him an unimpressed brow at the puddles forming on your floor.
“We just sleepin’ or am I putting you to sleep?” he asks, shucking his coat.
“I’m taking a shower and going to sleep. If you facilitate either of those ends, that’s fine,” you shrug, smiling, already moving to the bathroom under the stairs.
Joel ends up eating your pussy in the shower til you shake apart, then ruts between your soapy thighs until he splashes come on the wall. After rinsing you down, he washes your hair and puts you to bed, spooning up tight behind you to keep the warmth in while you sleep.
The last thought you have before drifting off is that the soft swell of his belly, padded out over the last year or so with a more comfortable life and actual meals in Jackson, is perfectly fitted to the small of your back, and the feeling might just be your favorite part about relaxing anywhere with him.
_______________
You wake up before dawn sprawled across his wide chest, listening to his heavy, even breaths. It would be nice to wake up every day, just like this. But you know if you suggest it, he’ll put you back at arm’s length. So you take what you can get.
You fall back asleep quickly, and wake a few hours later to Joel sitting on the edge of the bed, putting his socks on. The room is much brighter; definitely proper morning now. You stretch and yawn, brushing your fingertips along his hip, and he turns.
“Mornin’, sunshine. You headed back to the clinic?”
“Hmm,” you sigh, stretching. “Soon, yeah. Eat somethin’ and head over, let Sam go home.”
Joel nods and leans down, kisses you on your forehead, then your mouth. “I’ll see you later, then.”
You nod, and he goes. You listen for the door to close downstairs and sigh, stretching a kink out of your shoulder. You wonder idly after Cee, if Ezra made it another night, and decide to eat your toast with sunbutter on your walk across town.
When you get in, you're surprised and pleased to see Cee walking around the waiting area with a dressed and mussed Ezra, his arm slung across her shoulders for support.
“There’s my favorite patient,” you grin, praising his progress. You send Sam home and settle in to wait for anyone to come by. When you finally drop into the rolling chair behind the counter, Cee has sat him down in a wheelchair and parked him nearby. “How you feeling today?”
“I am upright and alive, soleil , neither of which is what I expected to be two days ago. I have already thanked Cee for her part in that, now I must thank you .” he squints one pretty dark eye, the other still puffy and swollen nearly shut, in an approximation of a smile and you can’t help smiling back.
“I told you no problem . You’re welcome . Leave it be,” you sigh, dragging out his chart. Sam had left notes for the overnight, and you verify them with him, mostly to test his memory. He is able to corroborate most of them, though he peers over at Cee twice when he can’t recall a detail.
After making sure he was settled again, Cee had gone back to their home and managed a nap, but a couple hours later he’s up and moving around again, under your watchful eye, and she's coming back up the walkway now. You wonder if she’ll go to the mess hall and bring back lunch. Biting your lip, you decide to try.
“Up for something more than broth today?” You ask Ezra, and he perks up.
“If my doctor says I am able , then I am eager for any rations, soleil .”
You give him a wide grin and a wink. “I can do better than rations , pretty boy. One sec.” he laughs as you hear Cee jingle into the waiting area and you call out to catch her before she takes her coat off.
“Cee! Would you mind getting us all some lunch, hon? Mess hall is across the road, there. Big building.”
She goes, somewhat shy but determined, and brings back wrapped sandwiches and containers of a thick, creamy soup, and herbal tea. Ezra’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the spread.
“My word. You are certain I didn't die?”
You snort, your teeth buried in your sandwich, and shake your head. “Nope. I know the food’s overwhelming at first. ‘specially coming from the road or the QZs.”
You advise him to eat slowly to make sure he can keep it down, and he struggles not to swallow it all whole, working to savor every bite. Having to scoop with his left hand slows him down a good bit. You match his pace, which he notices only after several minutes of waffling with the spoon.
“What are you reading there, soleil ?” He asks later, sleepy and full and on a fresh round of painkillers (though you're already weaning him off, he seems to have a low pain threshold).
You hum and turn your three- inch- thick paperback to face him. “Just a historical fiction I picked up. We have a little library, but if you don't give everything a chance, you’ll read through everything too fast,” you scoff. “I prefer the ribald romances and fantasy books, personally, but these are sometimes real gems.”
Ezra snorts and squints at the book. “ Parade’s End, ” he murmurs and frowns. “What’s it about?”
“One’s duty to society and family versus personal preference, really. It’s set during the first world war. The main character is an aristo in a loveless marriage because he and his wife constantly miscommunicate in an attempt to one-up the other. He falls in love with a young suffragette but won't let himself be with her. His wife has a few affairs and his name is sullied in high society by her jilted lover bouncing his check at the bank, so he goes to war to avoid her and the situation. When he comes home he realizes that he is trying to remain old fashioned in a world that is already changed, and living like that only serves to make him unhappy, so he decides to separate from his wife, but he won’t divorce her because of their son. He sends her to live at his family estate in wealth, but makes sure she is unhappy with it. And he lives happily in sin with his suffragette.”
Ezra grins at your summary and lolls his head back on the pillows. “Read some to me? I will probably fall asleep. But I'd appreciate it, chérie . I haven't been able to indulge in a tale in a very long time.”
You scoot the chair closer and prop your feet on the support racking under his gurney, and read in a measured, soothing voice, glancing up every so often to see your patient getting more and more sleepy. Finally, he nods off, and you watch him for a few moments. Cee is snoozing hard on the little couch, and otherwise the room is quiet aside from the susurrus of the space heater whirring, keeping out the freezing temps outside. You go back to your book, one ear trained for the door to jingle.
Three days later, at dusk, Joel appears on your porch to walk you to the clinic and Ellie to her friend Dina’s before he goes on patrol for the night shift. Ellie is by his side, rattling excitedly about a comic one of her school mates had let her read during free time that day. “And she has the last one too ! I’ll get the whole arc and don’t have to make it up myself!”
You catch him through your door’s glass pane as you put your coat on, watching her with that soft half smile on his face, and it makes your own appear.
Early the next morning, Ezra is ready to be sent home; he’s finally weaned fully off the morphine and onto regular pain management for the healing wound on his arm. His diaphragm sounds good, and you had removed the drainage ports in his stump overnight so he could sleep it off and you could monitor it closely until morning. You are putting on your coat, trading off shifts with Sam who just arrived, and giving Cee detailed instructions on how to care for him and the surgery site, what to do if common issues arise, and strict orders for no weight lifting and lots of water and rest.
Ellie’s on your clinic porch when you open the door and usher Ezra and Cee out into the cold. She stuffs her notebook back in her bag, jumps up, and waits by the stairs while you close up and finish talking to them.
“Hey Ellie,” you greet with a grin. Her and Cee eye one another speculatively and she comes to your other side, ready to walk you home. “This is Cee, and Ezra. They came in last week,” you introduce them. “Ellie is Joel’s kid,” you tell them, leaving it at that. You know Ezra and Cee are in a similar situation.
Ellie takes your elbow and you keep pace with Cee and Ezra, walking across as a clump to get dinner at the mess hall before taking them to their house. Cee and Ellie trade small, stilted words across the table, mostly opening up after they find out one another's explosive imagination and love for reading sci-fi.
You grin conspiratorially at Ezra over bowls of soup and he watches them with a fond smile, happy to see Cee coming out of her shell with another kid.
When you leave the mess hall, Ellie and Cee are still animatedly chatting, discovering a mutual love for a space series they had both read bits and pieces of. If one has a knowledge gap, the other can usually fill it, and together they piecemeal the series.
Ezra walks close to you, minding his footing with his precarious balance in the packed and somewhat slippery snow. “I am glad there are kids her age here. In the– hmm. Where we came from, most of her peers were sold off to the mines, or the girls were being abused. About the only useful thing her asshole daddy did was keep her from that. She hasn't had much peer interaction in a few years.”
You hum and nod. “Ellie’s warmed up a good bit. She’s probably a good one for Cee to latch onto, honestly. Her and her old man were just about feral when they got here.”
“ Feral ?” Ezra chuffs, carefully skirting a sheet of ice. You take his elbow and lead on.
“Hmm. Like a couple of cats being brought inside and shown love for the first time,” you grin. “They’d been on the road a long time, coming from Boston mostly on foot. Lots of trouble, being exposed like that. They didn't take kindly to a lot of intervention at first, but I think they came around well enough in the end. Joel’s doing well, Ellie's making friends. Giving folks safety and time makes them come around, usually.”
“Joel. He's come by, yes? The name is familiar, though I admit I haven't been terribly lucid in the last week.”
“Yeah, he was there the first night. I’m their neighbor; you’re actually across the street from us. You’ll see soon, we’re almost there.” (You don't say the rest- that you and Joel have been fucking and sleeping over and kissing and having weekly dinners with Ellie for nearly a year, but if anyone lays ownership he backs away, closes off, and it takes weeks for him to lower his hackles and come back around).
“He’s real handy, used to be a contractor, Before. If you need something done on the house, I suggest coming across and asking there first,” you add, nodding at your house and Joel's. You point them out, the brown of his and your own, next door. “Or his brother, Tommy. That's the guy that found you and Cee on patrol.”
Ezra makes an affirmative grunt and squints at the houses. “We are being watched , soleil ,” he chuckles, and you glance over to see a figure in the early morning fog, thrown into shadow by the light coming through the window behind him. Joel is back from his shift and is standing on his porch, watching you and Ellie walk the newcomers to their house.
“He’s a little overprotective,” you roll your eyes and nod.
“You and Cee are there,” you point across and angle the both of you toward the deep green two-story where the girls are leading.
Ezra’s mouth hangs open while he takes it in, just as baffled and overwhelmed as Cee was a few days ago. “This is all ours? Or do we share with another family?”
You smile, remembering Cee’s similar words a few days ago. “No, it’s yours and hers. We haven't had to start sharing homes yet; and we still have a whole road of empties, and most of Rancher Street is still empty, save for our occupied lots and the graves, so hopefully it will be a while . And hopefully if we’re that big, by then we can build more.”
Cee unlocks the door and you all file in. The girls keep talking and you watch Ezra poke around the space while you wait on Ellie. Eventually, you cock an eyebrow at her and she drops her chin.
“Uh, anyway. I’m across in the brown house if you want to read any of what I have. Just tell Joel you’re looking for me- he looks way meaner than he is. Promise,” she laughs, winking at you. You nod at Cee in agreement and she breaks into a smile. “I’m turning the garage into my room, so hopefully by the time the weather’s warm you can just come back there.”
“Okay.”
“And come get me next door to them if you need help with anything or are having complications. Otherwise I'm mostly at the clinic. If I don't see you in two days for a checkup, I'll come find you,” you level a finger at Ezra and he chuckles weakly.
“I am not in the habit of spurning women, soleil . I’ll see you then.”
You and Ellie leave, shutting the door firmly behind you, and she knocks her shoulder into yours.
“They’re both fuckin’ cute ,” she says slyly, and breaks into giggles when you roll your eyes at her.
“Don't you like Dina ?” you fake a retch and she bends to throw a handful of snow at your head.
“Fuck you dude! She’s banging that stupid boy anyway. Gonna end up in your clinic soon, I'm sure. Idiots. I backed off.”
“ Eew . Was he there last night?” You ask, side-eyeing her slumped shoulders.
“Ugh. Yeah.”
Ah , you think. Bingo . “ That's why you were there so early, making out like Joel sent you to walk me home. You were escaping ,” you poke her in the ribs and she breaks into a grin again, laughing.
“Yeah, I was. Sucks being the third wheel.”
“I agree,” you sigh, stopping at the gate to Joel’s yard. He is still on the porch and watches Ellie walk up. He asks her something quietly, then snaps his gaze back to you. He nods at her and she disappears into the house with a little wave. He comes down the stairs to the gate and frowns at the green house across the way.
“Got your patient settled in?”
You hum, not glancing back. He’s thrumming with some sort of energy- jealousy or territorial puffing- up, your gut says, and you make a concerted effort not to ask or frown back. “Yep, I think he’s made it past the worst of it. Ellie liked Cee a lot, seems like she might have a new friend. That’s always good. The new ones tend to struggle- you two know that as well as anyone else here.”
“She said you had to cut that guy’s arm off?”
You squint up at him and scowl. “I'm not discussing a patient with the likes of you, Miller. But you’ll see soon enough he is indeed missing an arm, and he wasn't when Tommy dragged him in.”
Joel blinks down at you, his frown deepening, before he realizes you're teasing him and it softens again.
“Jesus, girl.” He wraps a wide hand around the back of your neck and guides you to your door, boots scuffing in the crunchy snow.
“Somethin’ happen today?” You ask, unlocking your door. You kick your boots off but he stands on the welcome mat, dripping. Not staying, then. Maybe .
“Nah, just. One of the assholes on patrol said he looked like me.”
You scoff and shake your head. “Maybe severely malnourished and ten or more years younger, sure. Maybe in a different life, even. He’s your height and has dark hair and eyes, built like an upside-down pyramid. No doubt with some square meals he’ll be a brick shithouse like you,” you chuckle. “That's about it. He's from Louisiana, though. Your dad go ‘cross the border and start sowin’ seed in Cajun country when you were a kid?” You giggle, blocking a wide palm when he goes to grab you.
“You stayin’ for breakfast? I've had a soup on all night. could go get your kid.”
“Nah, I cooked. She’s prob’ly over there eatin’ more than her half,” Joel grimaces, looking at the wall like he can see through it into his house, into Ellie’s mind.
Your smile doesn't quite meet your eyes. It's like reopening the scarred wound in his side.
“Alright.”
Joel seems to take it as dismissal (or he was looking for a way to leave, even though he’s the one who came over), and dips his chin at you before ducking back outside and around the picket fence to his own house. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands and sigh.
Shower, food, bed. Check on your patients. Repeat.
You shuck your coat and beanie and go upstairs, eager to strip off and eat and crash. Bed sounds incredible, even without your preferred space heater of a… Friend . The good news is, with Ezra finally discharged, no one has to sit on- call at the clinic overnight. If someone needs you, they’ll come knocking.
You shower, dress in warm lounge clothes, eat your soup, box the rest for the week’s meals, and crash face-first into your bed within an hour of getting home.
_______________
Joel had already been home when you and Ellie went past, leading the newcomers to their allotted house. You had your elbow looped in the guy’s, Ellie and the girl were ahead, grinning and talking animatedly about something- probably a book, if he knew Ellie at all.
You had a serene smile on your face when looking at him , answering a question and carefully minding the paths in the snow for your patient, and Joel’s heart had clenched up tight. Some ugly part of him walled up, seeing both of you happy and at ease, with himself nowhere in the frame. He pressed his molars together and drew himself up, turning away so he didn't have to watch as you followed them inside their new home and shut the door.
Ellie had carefully and methodically (with all the untrained, blunt force of a hapless teenager) sanded down all the fractured edges he had over their trek across the country and back, and his increasing terror at the loss of control over himself or his situation was only doubling- down the closer he got to you . You’re another person to look out for, who would happily tie their fate to his own; your pain, his pain. Your happiness; his. Ellie has already pulled away from him, sensing his aversion to talking about Colorado and possibly seeing straight through his ocean of lies surrounding the trip, of their abrupt exit.
He isn't sure his heart can take another breach.
He stands in the doorway, his back to you and Ellie in Ezra’s house, and thinks about drawing back from you. Putting the walls up that you’ve come to expect every so often. But then he thinks of the disappointment he will see in your face when he does, and it hurts just as bad as the jealousy does. He tries to make himself not care, but he’s only fooling himself.
He doesn't even know if you like this new guy.
You could just actually be caring for a newly-disabled patient.
You could just pity the guy.
He’ll wait. But he’s not sleeping the day away in your bed. It's the weekend and Ellie is out of school and working on her latest project, moving into the garage and away from him. He’ll nap on the sofa in case she needs him to haul or build or fix something, and train his good ear on her while he tries to rest.
Overnight rounds were a bitch on his joints and back. He’d much rather lay in bed with you and leave Ellie to her own devices; not much trouble she could get in, in Jackson. But that somehow feels like crossing a line, so he stays back and away from it.
He’d rather pull back before you can have the chance.
He’s not sure his heart can take another failure.
-----------------------------🍄-------------------------
Link to part 2
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#joel miller#the last of us#joel the last of us#joel x reader#joel x you#ezra prospect#prospect (2018)#prospect ezra#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader#ezra x you#reader insert#afab reader#cis AFAB reader#no description#ezra x you x joel#ezra x reader x joel#love triangle#poly dynamics#tommy miller#ellie williams#also on ao3
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Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂
Week Five: Baking Cookies or Eating Pie
Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis finds you baking in the kitchen and you manage to lift his spirits.
Warnings- Implied Smut.
This is an 18+ Only Blog.
A/N- Ahhh thank you! You all are the best and thank you for all your support with this little series. Don't forget to vote on Friday for the next activity shared. Happy Reading!
Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist
Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist
“Welp till next year.” Curtis gave a sigh, one filled with yearning for next spring when he could roll his Camaro out of the garage into the gleaming sunshine. But now that fall was here and winter wouldn’t be far behind, already the cold was blistering as the winds coming off the lake chased away any illusion of summer, it was time to put her to bed.
And it was one of the reasons he didn’t look forward to the end of autumn. As much as you loved the cool weather, he much preferred warm summer where the Camaro got to run the roads, bonfires and beer were a nightly thing and his Honey was wearing all the very tempting sundresses.
You made him appreciate fall a little more, although he probably never really love it because of the cold.
Now that the Camaro was put away safely, he worked on picking up his garage, making sure that his tools were placed back and any of the excess oil and gas he had used was prepared to be properly disposed of. With a wipe of his hands on his rag, he started to go inside.
Opening the door was a blast of sweet heat, the aroma reminiscent of when his gram was alive. He inhaled deeply as he was sure to close the door behind him, his stomach rolling with desire at what he was smelling.
You stood at the nearby kitchen countertop, swaying in place while you were sifting flour into a large bowl. Ingredients for your favorite cookies were scattered across the counter in a bit of chaos that you made sense of. “It smells like heaven in here.” Curtis muttered to you while you tossed a grin at him, grabbing at your spoon to give a mix. “What is in the oven?”
“Your favorite Curtis.”
“The chocolate chunk with flaky sea salt?” He asked rather hopeful.
You pinched some dough from the nearby chocolate chunk cookie bowl, holding it up for Curtis to taste. He did, enthusiastically, nibbling on your fingertips and sucking all remnants of sugar from them. “You can be my taste tester.” You offered. “But they gotta come out of the oven first.”
“I'm willing to wait.” Curtis informed you while making his way to the sink to scrub his hands clean from before, then as you continued mixing your cookie dough, he did up the few dishes you used so they were clean for your next use.
“What are you baking all these for though?” He asked while you popped your batch out of the oven.
“Bake sale, we’re trying to raise some money for the drama club since their isn’t really any extra this year.” Your tone tinged on frustrated, Curtis knowing fully how strained you were feeling with the school this year. “You finish putting away the Camaro?”
Swiftly changing the subject, Curtis suspected it was because you were just exhausted about it at this point, he let it slide for your sake. He nodded as he eased into a nearby bar stool opposite of where you were baking. Still nearby, but out of your way. “She is all in bed and waiting for next summer. I was dreading it…”
“But?” you broke a chocolate chunk cookie in half after it came out of the oven, letting the steam escape to cool off. You leaned across the counter to reach Curtis, offering if to him.
Taking his first bite, he chewed slowly, savoring it. It was so reminiscent of his childhood that it made him feel so happy right in that moment. “But I come inside to this and suddenly life is fucking good and sweet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said with sincerity that made you beam happily at him.
“The garage is heated, right?” You questioned while eating the other half of the cookie, Curtis reaching over to steal another, the gooey chocolate to much of a temptation for him to resist.
“Yeah, I mean not like the house but I keep it warm. Alot of our water pipes go through the garage and when they freeze its always a bitch to thaw back out.” He stated, more focused on his cookie at the second then what you were starting to hint at.
“Well…” You lean against the counter, wiggling your brows suggestively at him. “The Camaro might now be driveable but we can still make use of her then.”
He swallowed suddenly, the suggestive interest flaring in his gaze and now baking cookies was no longer on your agenda. “Pretty Girl, I fucking love the way you think.” He snapped up to a stand, making you giggle as you wriggled out of your apron. “You need to do anymore?”
“That last batch is due to come out right now.” You tossed your apron on the counter and he tilted his head to the garage.
“Get your sweet ass in the backseat Pretty Girl, I will be right in.” He grabbed at the pot holders to hurry up and get the sugar cookies out so he could follow after you.
#curtis and honey autumn this or that#curtis and honey#curtis everett and you#curtis everett x you#curtis everett and reader#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett and plus!sized reader#curtis everett x plus!sized reader#curtis everett fanfiction#curits everett au#chris evans characters#amber writes#sweater writes
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more uv@eot shit
this is gonna feature words that dont rlly make sense unless you've read the rest of the manuscript
THE LOST AND FORGOTTEN ARTS
All Martial Arts are mostly banned, save for a few practiced and allowed by the PANTHEON for sport. Martial Arts are culture, you see. Culture not approved by THE PANTHEON is pushed to the margins.
And anything not approved by the Pantheon is the whole of humanity.
Here, drink this. That’s it. Hard to go down, huh? Yeah, haha, fucking–you’ll get used to it. You have to. That’s AMRI, it heals all wounds, it's made from the Semen of the God of the Binary Star we orbit. RIT, the last star before all the suns fade. They try to call out to us, you know? The solar flares scramble the Meta-Consciousness and fuck up the systems in The End.
It’s expensive as fuck, can only be bought by the Gods. How’d we get them? By fucking stealing them of course. How else? We destroy shipments, grab them back. We never get caught. We’re good like that. You, though? You’ll fuck it up. Unless you stick around.
You’re a ROOKIE aren’t ya? There’s a lot to learn about the THEATER OF SUBLIME VIOLENCE. That’s what we like to call this whole charade. Yeah, that is the term for the gladiatorial sports as well. For the Gods it might just be sport, but for us it's our entire lives. We spend our entire lives in violence, struggling to get out of hell.
Here’s the secret, Rookie. There’s no getting out of Hell.
So what do you do when you can’t reach heaven? You destroy it. “It’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism,” they say. So end the fucking world. Become the apocalypse. Some say this shit is depressing and defeatist as fuck, but I don’t think so. For the next world to be born the current one must be destroyed. It takes a helluva a lot of hope to get there.
Let me teach you the ropes. You probably have some fighting knowledge, right? Everyone does, here in hell. Throw a punch, a kick? Yeah, that’s good. Gimme a grapple? All right, good enough, you gotta apply some more pressure around my neck but you’ll get the hang of it. That’s enough. Let’s get you to a Martial Commune. That’s where you’ll learn the ULTRAVIOLENCE ARTS. We like to call it just UV ARTS.
You ever heard of THE HEAD OF MARX?
THE HEAD OF MARX
Named after the economic thinker, the Head of Marx puts in mind the sleek plausibility of revolution. To be inducted into this art, you must recite the Communist Mantra and have your skull broken apart with anticapitalist enlightenment, then sutured back together to become a silver kintsugi, with threads of nano-mantra-wires made by the Monk Shatrasattva of the Broken Mountain Range, a well known Marx-Dharmist. The Head of Marx makes your head thicker than most. You become fucking determined. Your main attacking tool becomes your HEAD, you slam it down and destroy and kill the specter.
Art Traits
Posture: 3
Speed: 4
Style: Raider/Sentinel
Determination: When you describe yourself canceling out a Hit with your Skull, inflict Push 2 on one of the attackers, and then give them your Provoke 1.
Philosophical Juggernaut: When you make a close attack and describe yourself using your Skull, gain 1 Deflect Token. 1/Strike.
Impenetrable Power of Communism: At the start of your Riff, choose a square adjacent to you. Any attack that starts from that square or has a line of effect that goes through that square suffers Dullness as your burning Skull faces that direction.
MINOR MASTERY: THE HEAD
Things will never be the same.Your head has been shattered apart, and put together again. Your eyes are concetric bifocals to continue the Proletariat revolution. It is only through economic upheaval can everyone blast open the gates for the Path of Enlightenment. And once done, there’s still work to do.
For 1 Beat, you can use your head like a hammer. Make a Close Heat Attack, and then give the target a Knockdown 1 or Push 3.
EXCEEDS:
TRIPLE SKULL: +1 Beat to make the attack a Blast 3 Heat Attack.
ULTIMATE KILLING RHETORIC: Gain a STRENGTHEN TOKEN after the attack, and then Rush 1.
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You need to read the live action, the manga and the anime as different canons. It's healthier to the fandom's brains AND it's also better for analyzing properly what is going on.
One Piece is the type of story that relies heavily on the medium it is presented on. Hm actually, let me correct myself: One Piece is the type of story that celebrates and understands and was born to be told in that specific medium. The form and the content don't exist as separate entities, but are rather intertwined to elevate the narrative. That the characters are soooo cartoonish is not a mere style choice— it holds meaning, it complements what the author is trying to transmit.
One of the first things that I learned in college while studying storytelling was that there's a max point for tension in any story. There's a top to how tense you can keep the audience. If you reach that point, you won't be able to intensify the emotions; that's it, you need to introduce a breather or you'd end up with a stagnant narrative.
In manga/comics and cartoons/anime it's easier to walk that line. The power to make some silly joke or have the characters acting stupid is in the hands of the mangaka. I bet any manga reader or anime watcher can think of a moment in their fav series when the characters were in the middle of a seriously important moment, just to be involved in something ridiculous that breaks the tension.
It's fantastic. Mangas and animes love to make fun of their mediums, introducing satire to allow the audience some laughs. It's not until later when the reader/watcher sits and realizes how fucked up the whole situation was. A delayed punch to the gut, something to keep the mind working and thinking of their series until they wait for the next chapter/episode.
How to make the audience feel the impact of a character? Well, you can allow the audience to empathize with the character by explaining their reasons or backstories, you can show the world through their eyes. You can also show them all goofy and happy, so when the hammer strikes the readers/watchers will be nostalgic for the good times, mourning the fact they will not get more of that and becoming nostalgic. There are so many ways to keep a character haunting a story...
Oda is aware of all the manga medium can and cannot do. For people like him, the limitations are actually just more tools to play with. If you want to double check what I'm saying, go reread the panels where Luffy awakened Gear 5. Only manga could offer what went down in those panels; when the very nature of Luffy's powers are revealed to the audience and the characters, the manga gets self-aware and voices it out: "hey, this is the type of thing that only happens in comics, right?"
The anime allows a different range of tropes and shapes the story, correctly translating it. It's true that the best translations mind the public and the medium, adapting the jokes and references. It's also true that every translation is a little betrayal to the original, a unique creation in its own right. A good example of that is the way that the fillers shape the perspective of the watchers when it comes to the characters' dynamics. If the anime has a filler arc where the fight, a new tension will be present in the next manga canon arc. If the anime shows a filler where characters are close friends, it's gonna be weird when they start acting all distance back at the manga canon events. Not all fillers are meant to be considered part of the main storyline, of course. You have OVAs and you have movies and fillers and all types of media that are considered separated.
On the other hand, you have the visual changes: imagine that the anime changes the angle of a scene where two characters used to stand close and put more distance between them. What the manga could mean as a subtle implication that those characters cared about each other could turn into cold tolerance of the other's presence. Even the best of animes have those changes!!!!
In One Piece's case, turning the story into a live action series must change almost everything. It'd be impossible to maintain the cartoonist aspects of the story (unless they decided to go full Looney Tunes in that movie with Brendan Fraser lol). The choice was the following: we can try to keep the original elements even when they translate poorly to the new medium so we can please the original fans that are used to the story —OR we can try to translate the essence of the story and change all that needs to be changed, so that we keep the storyline and storytelling coherent and cohesive, at the cost of creating something not necessarily alien, but still new.
Violence in OPLA is way more serious.
You know how in the manga/anime characters would get fatally wounded and come back like it was just a minor injury? Or how they'd heal with no major medical intervention? That's a liberty of the medium. Your brain doesn't process the same way when you see a drawing wounded and when you see a real life person wounded. In OPLA, the suspension of disbelief is harder to achieve. Even and because the story was already introducing Luffy's powers and other fantastic elements, they needed to be careful to not overdo it. One option was to make people actually die— to know that in the live action not everything is so silly? It raises the stakes. OPLA discards some elements that are natural of a manga and in consequence, the story turns out to be darker. You have no fillers or little stripes of silly drawings or author comments or openings and endings. You'll have to do with what you do have and tell a story worthy of being told in that new medium.
That's a good translation right there, made by someone who understands that you cannot copy and paste things recklessly. That's the formula that made so many live actions fail, in fact.
You'll see many fans complaining because they don't understand any of what I just explained. For them it's easier to justify their opinions by saying that "they did this bad and that's why I don't like it" than admit that "they did this correctly but it's not my thing anyway".
One big example? Fanservice cannot be carried out from manga/anime to a live action. It's not the same to exaggerate the proportions of a body in a drawing (we can discuss the morals of this later) than ask of it from a human person. It's not the same to use some sexual traits in fiction as a way to appeal to the audience than to carry out those implications to a live action (again, I'm not saying it's good or bad because that's a discussion for another time).
Actors are humans. They will never have the same characteristics as an animation or a drawing, no matter how advanced technology is. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you appreciate art for what it is in its medium.
So really, what's the healthiest option? It'd be to approach each version as exactly that, a version of the story. As foreign as it can sound to some fandoms, the audience doesn't have to justify their opinions on something. Opinions are not professional reviews or art analysis. You can be as subjective as you want! To perceive each version as its own little world is easier: you can say "I like this better" without invalidating the opinion of anyone else. There's also the fun in exploring the different implications (they look like friends in this version but like lovers in this other) and playing with the divergences. Fans do that all the time in their art (literature, visual art, music, etc)
You can also analyze different versions of what is going on and contrast them. Do the differences change the form and content of the story or just one of those things? How does this new element change the dynamic between these characters? Are the characters written well but get thrown into a new setting? Is the setting the same but the characters feels more like ocs than the characters from the original story?
Knowing how much One Piece values symbolism, it'd be interesting to see how they could translate the constant influx of symbols in the manga or in the anime to the live action. The live action might show just the most important parts, cutting all the rest for lack of both space, time and budget. What does the author consider to be vital to the story and what can be cut down?
To have three parallel Luffy's in different stages of the story is fascinating to me, more so than the idea of trying to mix three formats that won't even match, mind you.
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𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲: 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤
summary ─ salt and butter never tasted better.
pairing ─ brothersbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader
warnings ─ food used as seduction tool once again im sorry sjkdfhjd, sexual innuendos, implied oral sex
a/n ─ last day of sucktember!!!!!! thank you everyone for reading and commenting! i hope you liked what i wrote so far!! and for the last day... as rihanna once said “suck my cockiness, lick my persuasion...”
You were watching the latest Tom Cruise movie with your brother, who was laying on the large couch, and his best friend Bucky, whom you were left to share the smaller one with. You had a big bowl of popcorn between you, but it soon found its home on your lap to make room for both of you─ which ended with you snuggling up against your brother’s best friend.
What you’ve failed to understand was how exactly Bucky started feeding you popcorn.
You were halfway done with the movie when you felt his arm around your shoulder and his other hand suddenly dipped into the bowl and plucked a couple popcorns, popping some in his mouth and holding out the rest for you.
At first, you indulged him in by only taking the popcorn out of his fingers and chewing them quickly. Soon, though, things took a little turn where he started to brush your bottom lip with his thumb as he fed you, and you’d have to lick away the salt his fingers left behind on your lips.
That was actually how you decided to fuck with him: You sucked his thumb in your mouth the next time he brushed his finger tip on your lip, licking away the salt and butter. You heard him choke silently and clear his throat as he wiggled. You smirked. You turned to him a little and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue just a bit. Bucky’s eyes darkened when he saw the way you were waiting for him to feed you.
He grabbed a handful of popcorn and started putting them in your mouth one by one, never taking his eyes off of your lips. When he was done with the popcorn, he slipped his thumb first for you to clean it up, and then his pointer, middle and ring finger in your mouth. You moaned softly, but the sound got lost in the explosion sound coming from the movie. Bucky coughed and adjusted himself.
“Aw,” you pouted. “We’re out of popcorn.” Your brother extended his empty bowl towards you without taking his eyes off of the screen.
“Can you make some more?” He asked. “We still have a second movie.” You looked at Bucky as you took the empty bowl.
“Sure, I’ll be in kitchen,” you said and stood. You could feel his eyes on you while walking towards the kitchen, burning holes on your back. You shivered. Just as you threw the popcorn into the microwave, you felt hands grabbing your waist. You swallowed a squeak.
“You licked them all away, honey, but I got something else for you to suck on if you wanna,” he said silently. His dark blue eyes were looking right into yours while brushing the skin of your sides with his hands under your t-shirt. You shivered again and leaned against him, feeling the bulge in front of his pants. Humming, you turned around.
“Is it as tasty as your fingers?” You asked him. He smirked.
“I’ve been told it’s tastier,” he murmured. “Whatcha say?” You peeked a glance at the microwave.
“We have two minutes,” you told him. His face darkened.
“I can let you have that taste in two minutes,” he said. “Besides you have another bowl to fill, so we have extra two more.” He leaned in so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “We’ll see if you’re as tasty in that extra two minutes, hm?” Moaning softly, you nodded. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down.
“On your knees, baby love.”
Just like that, you fell to your knees and opened your mouth for him.
You found out soon enough that he was right about being tastier.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#suck
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ANOTHER RAPID FIRE QUESTION ROUND!!!!! on the condition that it cannot help you escape the deserted island, what is one thing you would take to a deserted island? what's a book that changed your life in high school? what's your ideal job? what's your favorite ice cream flavor? what's your favorite place you ever visited and where would you like to visit someday? what's your favorite video game? again i can't think of any more questions but if you have something you would like to say. well. you can say it. bye bye 💖💖💖
oouhh my god that's a tough question to start with. like the boring answer would be some sort of multi tool but i suppose anything that helps me survive would eventually also help me leave. it'd have to be like. a ball. or some other sort of small nicknack that i could easily keep on me to play around with, oH or my childhood plushy. or actually like a lil instrument like a harmonica to learn that'd be cool. yeaah so like a rubiks cube or a harmonica or my plushie ^^
The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy was like the only thing i read during middle/high school that wasn't required reading for a class it's fantastic. ok well it wasn't the only thing i read but it's the only thing i've reread like 5 times by now lmao. it definitely helped stoke my imagination and interest in physics with the dumbass sci-fi fkjdksjs
wuuuh i haven't thought too much about it but i think ideally i end up in some sort of pure mathematics research position; i imagine i'm also gonna end up teaching at a uni somewhere at the same time, which isn't bad honestly even though i'm an awful teacher ^^ i just love talking about and trying to explain that stuff. i don't know exactly where my passion comes from but it's just. sure i've always been good at it but more than that it's exciting! it's so exciting to learn about! maths isn't invented, it's discovered, and we're discovering it! and it's so complex and so stupid. it's embedded in everything and exists wholly outside of it. i also like philosophy lmao
ok ok, so. good. proper. vanilla icecream. like chocolate with fudgy bits and stuff is incredible, fruity/berry flavoured icecream is awesome too. but there's a reason vanilla became synonymous with default and it isn't because it's boring it's because it's the best. but yeah only if it's good, shitty vanilla icecream sucks ass. it's also incredibly close to be entirely honest i DO like a good berry icecream. but the simplicity and delicacy of vanilla just does it for me most of the time
i don't think i have a favourite place- i haven't traveled enough yet😭 the furthest i've been from home was just sydney and the gold coast and it was like. different but the same, all just australia still but somewhere else. but i've always wanted to tour through europe and japan and some bits in south africa and the americas and other places too though. i need to see everything
AHH terraria probably??!!!?! it's so hard to say but really terraria is probably the game i've played the most in my life. otherwise plazma burst is an old flash game that's close to my heart because of nostalgia. and cause it's fucking awesome still tbh. OHH and the henry stickmin games!!!! also nostalgia but they also fucking rock still. and then there's the basic answers like portal and skyrim because of course. i cried when i finally beat portal 2, it was literally one the first games i ever played on the xbox 360 we got when i was like 9-10 years old, and like, i'd get stuck at bits and not play for a while at a time so it ultimately took some two years to get through but when it happened it was just. ough.
#ooauuuagij i can't think of anything else it's like 3am i've been doing chores and statistics all today and haven't spent much time online#one more week until a small uni break tho!!#ouH and THANKS YOU for the very great ask!!! i enjoyed thinking about all such things ^^#hope you enjoy reading and i'm curious about some of your answers too if you wanna share also :>#02
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Yooo, could I ask for some more Paz Vizsal? I really loved the Paz/F lap sitting one, I'd love to see a continuation of them, adding in all of the kinks in here to entice you/ideas. Haha. Dom Paz/Sub F. Paz edges her on more back at hideout, fingering her already hot and wet cunt as she struggles to stand from the overstimulation, rubbing up his manhood against her. Carries her to the bed, spanking her bottom and her cunt. Eats her out and then uses her as a cock warmer. Girl is BEGGING, she's down bad at this point he ain't even fucked her yet. He then face fucks her to quiet her up but even then shes slurping and moaning as she deep throats this man, she is choking on his dick and loves it. Paz grips her hair in his hand as he watches her. She was good, taking his cock well he rewards her with his finish. She keeps it in her mouth opening and closing it so that Paz can see, this gets him riled up at the sight. Paz has a big one, but with all the fingering and cock warming he did earlier he has no problem thrusting right inside at this point. Breeding kink kicks in, he wants to fill her up and he does so all night. Girl is living it rn, crying in pleasure from his cock. Paz mating presses her and hits deep, burying his cock as far as he can push it. At the end of it all her cunt is throbbing, agape dripping with cum. He tells her that she was begging for his cum so bad but here her cunt is leaking it all out. Paz runs his fingers up and down her folds before scooping his cum, pushing it back inside her.
Technically Part 1 (but this can be a totally independent read)
Author's Note: Hoooo boy, what a prompt. Girl you saucy~ Since there's so much to work with (in a good way) I decided to pick and choose various parts to stir something up, I hope that's ok with you :3
Summary: Paz Vizsla has a bounty to pick up, but he has a more important thing sitting in his lap he wants to do first.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, Porn without Plot, Cock warming, Unprotected sex, Some size kink, Breeding kink, A few spanks, Creampie, Armor kink, Sex in the pilot's seat of Paz's more than likely shitass broken down ship if Din's is anything to go by
Word count: 1672
The man holding Paz's bounty on this smog covered mid-rim planet is probably wondering where the Mandalorian they hired is- but Paz couldn't give less a fuck less about that. Not right now.
"Cyar'ika,"
It's the dead of night; The viewport is near impossible to see through from the outside with the glare of the hanger bay spotlights, while the cockpit where you both reside is hot and stuffy with the smell of sex. There's the sounds of taking off and landing shuttles in the distance, repair tools running and fuel lines pumping into freighter ships; But those things are of the least importance right now.
"I could keep you like this all night."
Almost the moment you landed in the spaceport, Paz had refused to let you even shift from your spot on his lap, his non-gloved hand still slick from fingering your cunt for so long during landing. The engines hadn't even finished winding down when he'd pulled out his cock from the groin seam of his flight suit, sinking himself into the soft velvet of your pussy before the hyperdrive was even cold.
He's barely moved since, hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as they spread wide across his lap.
"Make all these boring hyperspace trips more comfortable while you keep me nice and warm with this little pussy of yours."
With no trousers on you can feel the cold beskar of his armor against your skin, along with the feeling of his fingers.
You won't complain about his proposal. The idea of leisurely sitting on his lap for hours and hours, his fingers lazily circling your clit while rough bumps of space travel shift you on his cock- there's worse ways to spend your time.
His chest presses against the entirety of your back, only shifting once to sit more upright in the pilot's seat. His ship is a smaller one, and so there isn't much room to maneuver especially since you're in a seat only meant for one. But he feels massive, his body shadowing you from behind as his chestplate presses against your shoulderblades. It feels so hard and cold, your lower body completely exposed while he's largely hidden by his armor. He tossed your trousers and boots somewhere off to the side- you'll find them later.
"Paz, come on,"
You don't need to finish the sentence, he knows exactly what you're begging for. When you attempt to grab onto the sides of the seat to raise yourself on his cock yourself, Paz's harsh grip forces you back down, before giving you a spank to the side of your bare thigh. He can't hit your ass directly from this position, but he's damn close.
"Be patient."
It stings; And with a whine you settle again. Doing so makes you sink back down his cock to the base, stretching you out so much you feel a dull, delicious ache. It makes a shiver go up your spine, cunt flexing and tightening around him.
Paz has always been big, in every sense of the word. With how much he'd teased and fingered you the entire hyperspace flight here, he has no problems this time with stuffing his fat cock inside of you balls deep, feeling like he's so deep that he's in your stomach.
He loves it; The feeling of you so snug and tight around him, small in his lap. It spurs something deep within him, and even he struggles to maintain his own demand of staying still. The feeling of your cunt fluttering and leaking around him is impossible not to focus on.
"Don't you-" The head of his cock bumps a spot deep inside of you and you swear you see stars for a moment, and it's a struggle to not moan with your bottom lip between your teeth. "Have to go meet with the bounty handler?" You're attempting to convince him to pick up the pace. He won't torture you for much longer, but that doesn't mean he's just going to give you what you want right away.
"I will," His hands grip your thighs hard and slides you tighter against him, as in your attempts at grinding on him you've been sliding away ever so slightly.
"When I'm done with you."
They hired one of the best Mandalorian bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy. If they're that impatient, they can hire someone cheaper and less skilled than him.
Because he doesn't want to, but is, going to fuck his little cyar'ika first; The idea of cumming so deep inside of you will always get his cock throbbing. He starts slowly first, teasing you by gently thrusting his hips upward towards you. It's infuriatingly slow, but it's better than nothing.
When you attempt to lean forward to grip something and fuck yourself on him, he quickly grabs you back, forcing you back against his chest and spanking the side of your thigh again. It's harder this time, enough to make you gasp and give your skin a radiating sting afterwards, like the echoing noise of a rung bell.
"Didn't I say patience, cyar'ika?"
Even if he tried and failed to scold you it's right afterwards that he decides to finally really fuck you, hearing your bare skin smack against the thigh plates of his armor as he slowly begins thrusting into you. Your chest bounces in your top, panting as he slightly lifts you up with his arms, while also moving his hips.
It feels so good to finally feel him fuck you for real after so long of sitting still with a cunt stuffed past full, so close to heaven but unable to really get there.
"Paz, holy-" Your hands attempt to grip onto anything to steady yourself. The height of the chair and being on Vizsla's lap makes your legs dangle uselessly, barely able to tiptoe the ground.
The bottom of his helmet gently hits your head as he leans a little bit forward, surely grimacing behind his emotionless beskar guise. He's not always talkative, but it seems this time something in him is a bit different; Hearing all of his lewd thoughts and petnames spill out from his lips slightly muffled by his helmet.
"Kriff, you're tight- you feel good, little one?"
He can hear the wet, lewd noises filling the cockpit as he fucks you, as you leak down his cock and stain the fabric of his flight suit. He doesn't care, and if anything, it'll serve as a little bit of a reminder while he's busy and away from you for a bit.
"Yes! Just- Just a little bit more please-"
Your cunt is throbbing, leaking as if crying as his hips hit your ass over and over; You swear you can feel your heartbeat in your clit as he finally pushes you over the edge after so what felt like an eternity of grinding, fingering, and stuffing you full.
He fucks you through it, your thighs squeezing together. Your hands grasp onto the beskar plates on his arms, trying to hold onto something as your pussy clenches around him like a vice grip.
You're going to be so sore after this, you just know it, with the way he's trying to spear you onto his cock. He's close, his pace is borderline frantic; Unevenly paced as he feels your soft body bounce on his lap. Paz has never been silent during these sorts of moments, but he's even more talkative than usual now, huffing and groaning at the way your body wraps around him. Maybe it was just because of how he'd built it up for so long during the hyperspace trip, ruthlessly teasing you and enjoying it, but also knowing that once you landed, he'd be able to fuck you without holding back because of how much he'd worked you up.
The moment he finishes inside of you the back of his helmet raps against the pilot's seat, and his hips slow to a much more languid pace.
You think it's just something about Paz; But it always feels like he cums so much; To the point that it feels like it still leaks from you hours later. He loves that thought of course, and it's not as if you don't as well.
It's one of his favorite thoughts it seems, as the idea of filling you up like that almost seems to render him borderline feral at times. The idea of you getting, and being pregnant, belly round because of him; No matter if it's a possibility at the time or not. So he's intent to let you milk every ounce of it from him, until you're so stuffed full it will leak out of you and he'll fuck you all over again to shove it deeper.
'Don't waste it', he told you once.
It's just something you're reminded of, as his cock slips from you and you feel his cum already starting to leak out from your battered and sore cunt. Meanwhile your heart is still racing, pushing a chunk of hair from your forehead as you lean back limp against his chest. Your legs dangle sore from being tensed for so long, and the rest of your body feeling so awfully, deliciously sore and well fucked.
"Need a minute, little one?" You need more than a minute, but now that Paz's mind is clearing up from the drive to fuck you right this moment, he needs to earn his credits.
"Just a few."
He chuckles, and you can feel his deep voice in your chest.
"I'm going to get that bounty puck." Despite saying he's going to leave he doesn't make any sort of effort to shift you from his lap, hands still wrapped loosely around your hips. One moves upward, across your chest, only stopping to loosely wrap around one of your breasts and gently squeeze. One it passes, you feel his finger and thumb wrap around your jawline.
"Once I'm back, we have a long trip ahead of us."
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#i need to remember to do summaries on my requests more#paz vizsla x reader#Paz Vizsla/Reader#the mandalorian paz vizsla x reader#reader insert#reader#mywriting
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Look at things gone wrong with Moomin Midwinter
There's plenty that went wrong with this bind and stupid me kept thinking 'I can fix this'. Well, turned out I could not, some of the things that went wrong were just the step to finish it completely so, well, this is what came out of it
Most prominently, and first thing to go wrong, was the fact that I managed to pare a hole into my leather. Only later I realised, the display on my leather thickness gauge can be turned so it reads 0 thickness when the pushed down without anything in between. Instead of paring down to 0,6 or 0,7 mm I was usually closer to 0,3 or 0,4mm... which explains the hole.
Of course the hole was not closer enough to the edge to be covered up or trimmed off too.
So I decided to put a think piece of the same leather beneath it to cover the board and have the same colour. This might even have worked, had the hole ended up on a flat surface and in the area that gets the most motion.
At least it's on the backside.
Next thing, I did not not sufficiently colour the white core of my endbands. I usually colour them with crayons, but for some reason the colour did not stick this time. I might still be able to fix this with acrylic colour. Either that or I ruin the leather trying XD
Then the mock up on the backside cover. Often the pictures I use are too small or have a too little surrounding the scene I actually want on the cover to be usable as they are without white frames. So what I do is I make the actual picture larger using GIMP of Affinity Photo to create a wider, patterned border and avoid blank turn ins.
On the backside I did not notice I failed to make the edge large enough and blend in nicely so I have a more pale and blurry covered area and (to me) obvious edge shape of the tool I used.
Another thing I noticed too late and which was probably the cause for some follow up issues. I think I hung in the book block slightly askew. Now the inner book looks like it's cut askew too. (I measured back and front and I'm fairly certain the skew comes from a twist in the spine and not from the book block being cut at an angle.)
Following this issue, the squares were fucked up. Too large on one side too narrow on the other. I noticed that when I pasted down and closed the lid only lightly to check and fix any skew if necessary. It was necessary on back and front. So I pushed the paste down gently into a nicer position and pressed. Turned out fixing the position left me with wrinkles on the paste down side of the book. Luckily the pattern hides that rather well. (Have some close ups for better view)
Additionally, the paste downs, I cut 1mm shorter because I already suspected the cheap paper would stretch a lot, stretched beyond the book block still and are now visible even when the covers are closed.
#bookbinding#mistakes were made#moomin midwinter#things gone wrong#hole in the leather#uneven squares#wrinkled endpapers#skew EVERYWHERE
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