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notjustjavierpena · 9 days

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(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season.

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare.

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling.

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him.

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left.

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same.

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background.

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you.

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him.

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing.

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now.

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable.

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.”

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him.

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants.

You.

He wants you.

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible?

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social.

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment.

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know.

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too.

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again.

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side.

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you.

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?”

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in.

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over.

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high.

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you.

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound.

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so.

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?”

“No?” Your reply is almost a question.

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you.

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time.

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees.

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation.

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight.

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

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skbeaumont · 1 month

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Just a Graze | Joel x Reader oneshot

One-shot Joel/Reader. Previously posted in two parts but thought I'd make a masterpost for this one.

Summary: Joel comes back injured, and while you patch him up the tension that's been building for several months threatens to break.

Tags/warnings: dirty talk, explicit content, language, injury detail (not explicit), MDNI, sexual tension, PIV, oral (F receiving), FILTH

Word Count: 4.3k

Joel’s bleeding when he gets back. The screen door clatters shut behind him, wire shuddering against the wood, and you look up from the table. His face is set, a solid frown painted across his features – nothing unusual – but there’s a downward turn to his mouth that you recognise as a pained expression. He steps in and leans against the counter, one hand on the warped wood, the other pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers, clotting around his knuckles, staining his jacket red.

“I’m okay,” he says as you spring up from your place at the dusty kitchen table, “it’s just a graze.”

“Bullet?” You ask, ignoring his attempts to wave off your concern.

“Barbed wire,” he says, letting you lead him further into the cabin, toward the misshapen couch, “stupid mistake, I didn’t see it.”

The shotgun clatters onto the floor at his feet as he collapses onto the couch with a groan. He doesn’t protest as you pull his fist away from the wound, your hand warm against his wind-chilled fingers. The cut isn’t deep, but the wire has torn through his jacket and shirt down to the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a jagged cut that’s oozing blood.

“You must be getting old,” you say, standing to search through your pack for the first aid kit, “your eyes are going as well as your ears.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyes. Or my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, there-” he notices your grin, the glint of mischief in your eye. He sighs heavily. “You’re a damn pain in my ass.”

You huff out a laugh and pull a kitchen chair across to sit opposite him. You open the first aid kit – which is really no more than a small washbag stuffed with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of bandages – on your lap, pull out the disinfectant and start unscrewing the cap. “Can you take your jacket off?” You ask, and he nods, starts unzipping it and pulling it off of his uninjured arm. He winces a little as he peels it past his bad shoulder, shakes it down his arm and lays it over his lap, frowning at the gash in the fabric.

“I can patch that up when we get back to Jackson.” You say.

“Ain’t going back ‘til we’ve something to bring back.” He replies, and now it’s your turn to sigh.

“We’ve got two deer and a whole family of rabbits, Joel. There’s nothing else out here for us to get.”

“We both saw that clinic complex, and I ain’t arguing with you about this again. Winter’s well on its way, and we need as much medicine as we can get to make it through. I almost got in today – would have, if I hadn’t got caught on that damned barbed wire. We’ll both go back tomorrow.”

He fixes you with a hard stare, one that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, though whether it’s through fear or something else, you’re not sure. You’ve been partnering up for a couple of months now, going out on hunts and supply runs, growing slowly closer over long hikes and cold nights camping out under the stars.

At first, he intimidated you. He was cold, harsh; a solid bulk of a man who never smiled and rarely spoke, except to tell you to keep your voice down or stop walking so loudly. But then, gradually, he’d started loosening up around you. A few weeks ago he’d cracked a smile at a joke you’d made – something stupid about a bird in a tree, the kind of joke your dad used to make when you were a kid – and then that smile had grown into a deep chuckle a couple of days later, and then a conversation, whispered and illusive, under a starry sky last week.

This latest trip outside Jackson had been the most enjoyable yet, conversation flowing easily between you, and you were starting to suspect that the strange swooping feeling in your stomach that arose each time he looked at you, or bumped against you as you walked had a lot less to do with how intimidating he could be, and a lot more to do with him.

Now, locking eyes with him over the opened bottle of Lysol, his eyes dark and with an argument boiling up between you, that feeling blossoms into something hot and delicious, stirring a fire in your belly that makes you bold.

“From where I’m sat,” you say, tipping the bottle of Lysol so that the disinfection pours out onto a clean swab, “you don’t seem to have much choice about what we’re doing next. You’re hurt, and I need to patch you up, so stop arguing and take your shirt off.”

He opens his mouth to argue but shuts it again, eyes flicking up to your face. A hint of red creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, tinging them scarlet in the low light of the cabin. You keep glaring at him. He lets out a long breath through his nose and moves to unbutton his shirt. The shirt is old, vintage, even – probably older than you – with mismatched buttons and a crumpled, frayed look. It comes apart easily, Joel’s fingers working down the buttons nimbly until he reaches the bottom. He pauses there, looks up at your face. You look away, because heat is creeping up your own neck now, hot and unbridled, as he pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and lets it fall open onto the couch behind him.

After his dark eyes, the most notable thing about Joel is his stature. He’s tall, and broad enough to fill any room he’s in. You’ve seen him lift grown men like they weigh nothing, watched him pick up a dead deer and throw it over one shoulder without so much as a stumble. Last month you went out on horseback to scope a potential hunting ground, and, sitting behind him in the saddle, you couldn’t see anything past the triangular bulk of his shoulders, your hands clasped easily around his waist. So, yeah, you know he’s strong, could tell anyone that the man is built. But when you look at him in the half-light with his shirt off, uncovered by layers of leather or plaid, the sight still sends blood rushing to your face.

His shoulders are broad, curving into thick biceps that tense as he raises a hand to scratch, self-consciously, at the back of his neck. There are small scars littering his chest, running down in narrow white slices to his belly, which is softer than the rest of him, sloping and scattered with coarse hair that continues below the buckle of his belt. You want to press your face into it, kiss the contours of his bellybutton and the plains of his chest, up to the juncture of his throat, which bobs as he swallows, eyes shifting to catch yours.

“You gonna patch me up or just stare?” He asks, and there’s something teasing in his voice, something that causes heat and slick to pool in between your thighs. “I- you’ve got a lot of scars.” You say, stupidly, tipping more Lysol onto the cloth you’re holding.

“Had a lot of run-ins with barbed wire.” He replies, the words turning to a hiss when you press the wet cloth to the cut on his shoulder.

“Should be more careful.”

“Now where would the fun be in that, darlin’?”

Oh, that’s new. You’ve heard him call Ellie pet names before, laughed when she rolls her eyes and shirks away from his affections, all fifteen years old and too cool to be coddled. But he’s never called you anything but your name – never so much as shortened it to a nickname like almost everyone else does. You flick your gaze from his wound to his face. His eyes are dark, expression unreadable, but the intensity of his gaze makes you look away, cheeks reddening. You pull the cloth away from his arm and start wrapping a clean bandage around his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, after a pause. “I forget, sometimes. Recently.”

“Forget what?”

“That you’re young enough to be my-” He cuts himself off here, “that you’re a hell of a lot younger’n I am.”

This makes you laugh out loud, a huff of breath exhaled. You’re still opposite each other, him on the sofa, knees spread wide, you in the kitchen chair. If you inched forward only slightly your own legs would be between his.

“Old days I’d have been old enough to drink and drive, and more than old enough to flirt, Joel.”

“That what you want? You want me to flirt with you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You shrug and hold his gaze. “I think it’s what you want too. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you.”

You have. He thinks he’s being discrete, but you’ve seen how his eyes linger on your legs, how he can’t help but drop his gaze to your chest when you wear something low cut. A few weeks ago you’d seen him adjust himself in his jeans when you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in a stream you’d come across after two days out searching for supplies.

“And how’s that?” He asks. You have to hold yourself back from leaning forward and kissing the worried crease of his mouth.

“Like you’re a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis.”

He scoffs at that. “Shoulda been a writer, sweetheart.”

“And how does this story end?”

“Ends with you walking away from me like you should’ve months ago. This,” he flicks a finger at himself and then you, “ain’t happening.”

“Why not? You want it, I want it. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Problem is,” he slides his arms off the sofa, reaching back to pull his shirt back up over his shoulders, “you think you know what you want, but you don’t.” He starts buttoning the shirt, fixing you with a stern look. “Trust me.”

He tries to stand but you put your hands on his knees, holding him in place.

“No way,” You say, your heart thumping in your chest, “you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t want.”

“What do you want? You want me to fuck you? Want me to spread your pretty little legs out across this couch and make you come on my tongue?”

Yes. God, yes.

“What if I do? What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?” You slide your hands further up his legs, holding him down on the couch. If he wanted to, he could push you off easily, but he doesn’t. When your fingertips reach the tops of his thighs he slides his hands over your wrists and pins them where they are, stopping you moving any higher.

“Find someone your own age, sweetheart. Someone whose knees don’t creak when the stand up. Someone who can make you happy.” And then he’s standing up, moving your hands off of him with ease, stepping around you in the kitchen chair to stride to the other side of the room, the tension collapsing in on itself as he tells you to get some sleep, that there’s more work to do tomorrow.

*****

The next morning brings rain. It hammers against the walls of the cabin and drips in through the leaky roof. Joel stands at the window, one hand on his hip, silently looking out at the downpour.

“Tell me you’re not considering going out in this?” You say, moving up behind him to peer out at the lashing rain.

“Might ease up later.” He says, turning to face you. “There’s enough to do in here to keep us occupied, anyway.”

“Guns?” You ask.

“Guns.” He agrees.

Joel’s fanatical about keeping the guns clean and working. It makes sense, you suppose. You don’t know much about his past, about how he and Ellie ended up in Jackson, but what you’ve heard, the snippets Ellie’s confided in you over quiet conversations, makes for grim listening. To Joel, those guns mean the difference between life and death.

And so you both sit at the kitchen table, meticulously cleaning Joel’s shotgun and your pistol, passing cloths and gun oil between you. You make casual conversation as you go, neither of you touching on the events of the previous evening. After he dismissed you last night you’d gone straight to bed, tucked yourself into the dusty single bed in the bedroom while Joel took the couch. Your dreams had been hazy and pleasant, and you’d woken up flushed.

You’re sliding the magazine back into your pistol when Joel jumps and swears, pulling his hand back from where he’s trapped his finger in the loading mechanism of the shotgun. A tiny bead of blood wells up and spills over his fingertip and he sighs heavily. You reach out and take his hand in yours to examine the cut. It's tiny - you've seen paper-cuts do more damage - but Joel's frowning like he's in pain.

“You’ve gotta stop being so clumsy.” You say.

“I’m not clumsy.” He replies, letting you turn his hand in yours, watching you watch his thick fingers, take in the breadth of his knuckles.

“No?”

“No. It’s-”

You're not sure what makes you do it - maybe it's frustration still boiling over from yesterday, maybe it's the way Joel looks at you as you clasp his large hand in your own smaller one - but before he can finish speaking you pull his arm across the table and wrap your lips around his finger. You snake your tongue over the pad of the digit and the noise he makes then - a breathy, broken groan - sends fire surging through you, heat coiling between your thighs.

“Distraction.” He finishes.

When you pull your mouth away and place a wet kiss to the palm of his hand, he slides his fingers across your jaw and up into the mess of your hair. His hand is hot against your scalp, curving around the back of your neck, leading you forward so that he can fit his mouth against yours across the table.

Pleasure flutters out from the pull of his fingers in your hair, and his lips are soft and dry until he opens his mouth to you, guiding your tongue into his mouth, pressing his into yours. It’s slow at first. Tentative, as though he’s waiting for you to push him away. But you’ve never wanted anything more, and when you moan against his lips he stands, bracketing your face with both hands to pull you up from your own chair.

It’s a messy walk backwards from the table. You bump against the broken coffee table, pull away from his mouth to curse and rub your shin, but then he’s falling back onto the couch, pulling you down into his lap so that your thighs are bracketing his legs.

You pause like that, looking at each other, both breathless and dazed, lips bruised.

“This what you want?” He asks again, placing his hand at your jaw gently. His fingers are thick, hand so large that his thumb rests at your temple and while his index finger sits under your chin.

“I want you, Joel. Please.”

When he kisses you again, it’s hungry and animalistic. All pretence of hesitation is gone. He presses his mouth to your throat, lets his teeth scrape the delicate skin below your ear.

“This is still a bad idea.” He says, voice breaking when you roll your hips against his. ”Shit.”

“Please, Joel.” Your voice sounds tiny, shrill to your own ears, desperate and pathetic, but Joel bites at the juncture of your neck and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the feel of his hands on your hips, guiding you against him, pulling your clothed cunt against where he’s impossibly hard in his jeans.

“I’m gonna take this off.” He says, pulling at your shirt, tugging it up over your head. “And this.” He runs a hand over your covered tit, pinches your nipple beneath the thin fabric of your bra, rolls it between his finger and thumb while his other hand slides up your back and unclasps it. It falls between you, forgotten immediately.

“Fuck, darlin’, look at you.” He says, running the knuckle of his index finger over the swell of your chest, down along your ribs and across one hip. He lets his hand fall away, brings it back up to the side of your face, pulls your lips back to his and drags your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure blossom through you, make you scrabble at the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as you try and get them undone. He helps, slides the shirt off of his back, careful where his shoulder is still sore. He balls it up and casts it across the room, then grips your hips and lifts you, turning you onto your back on the sofa, pressing himself between your open thighs. The change in angle presses the seam of your jeans against your clit, a jolt of pleasure rocking through you.

“You ever done this before?” He asks, hovering over you, dipping down to press a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

“I ain’t that innocent, Joel.” You reply, gasping when he pulls your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “Have you?”

This earns you a deep chuckle, a hushed whisper against the back of your neck, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, baby.”

And, fuck, that shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. It has your hips lifting up, seeking out friction. Joel notices and slides down your body, dropping onto his knees on the floor. He runs one hand up the inside of your thigh, presses his thumb expertly against your covered clit.

“I’m gonna take these off now, and then you’re gonna come on my tongue. That sound okay?”

You nod, voice lost as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls them down in one motion, pushing them away in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” He glides two fingers over the front of your soaked underwear, up to the waistband to hook them off.

And then he leans forward, presses light kisses up your thighs until he reaches your cunt. He pauses, blows a cool strip of air against you that has you trying to close your legs, but his hands are there, pinning them open for him. When he seals his lips over your clit and drags his tongue over it you thread your fingers through his hair, pull at the black-grey strands. You squeeze your eyes shut but he pulls away, chastises you gently.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten chocolate, rich and dark, pulling you back so that you gaze down at him.

He swipes his tongue over your slit, gathers the slick that’s pooling there. He’s like a man possessed, eyes dark, hair standing up on end from where you’ve run your hands through it, cursing and moaning as he slides his tongue over your clit, starting up a firm and consistent rhythm that has you bucking against him. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his forearms corded with muscle, biceps flexing up to those impossibly broad shoulders.

“You gonna come on my tongue?” He asks, hardly breaking away from you to grunt out the question.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, please.” You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, can hardly force yourself to keep your eyes on him where he kneels between your thighs like you’re an altar and he’s a lonely priest begging for repentance. It’s this thought – the idea of him worshipping you, tongue lapping over your clit, his eyes blazing with lust – that tips you over the edge. Your cunt clenches around nothing, body wracked with pleasure as you come, hard, on his tongue. He grins into your cunt as he feels you come apart against him, continues pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy as you come down from the high, limbs shaking. When you finally push him away, overly sensitive and buzzing with pleasure, he rocks back on his heels, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Your pleasure is painted across his face, his greying stubble wet with your slick.

He crawls back up onto the couch between your thighs, dips his head to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lip; on his tongue when he sweeps it against the back of your teeth, heady and sweet. He presses himself against you, drags the front of his jeans over your bare skin. The buckle of his belt catches against your bare stomach and you hiss into his mouth, reach down to unbuckle it. It comes off easily, falls to the floor with a dull thud, and then you slip your fingers through the buttons of his jeans, undo them quickly, desperate to get them off. He stands briefly, pushes them the rest of the way down his thick thighs and then kneels back between your legs. Immediately you slide your hand into the waistband of his briefs. He feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and delicious in your fist. He groans into your mouth as you palm him desperately, sliding delicate skin over the head of him, feathering the pad of your thumb against his slit. When you draw his cock out you break away from his needy mouth to look. He’s big: thick, curving slightly to the left, head already weeping precum.

“Fist feels so good wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.” He tells you, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

It’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given. He chuckles darkly at your needy reply, pushes his briefs the rest of the way off and wraps his own fist around his cock. He slides himself over your cunt, coating himself in your juices. Then he’s notching the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes in gently, slowly, stretching you out deliciously.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, easing himself deeper, feeling you flex and clench around him, “good fucking girl.”

He stills when he’s fully seated inside you, sucks at a spot under your jaw that makes you gasp with pleasure, runs one big palm up your body to paw at your breast, trying to collect himself, twitching inside you with the effort of staying still.

“Cunt’s so goddamn tight, baby.” His voice is broken, pitchy and breathy against your ear.

You run your hands over his back, feeling out the breadth of his shoulders, the thin scars that lace across them, his muscles bunching and flexing beneath your fingers when he finally – finally – starts to move inside you, rocking his hips into yours, dragging himself all the way out and then gliding back in. The head of his cock hits something inside you that sends white hot pleasure jolting through your belly. The cabin is silent now – the rain has stopped – the only sounds are your frantic breathing and low, breathy moans, and Joel’s whispered praises as he rocks against you.

Good girl, so fucking good for me, letting me fuck you like this, cunt so tight around me, could come just thinking about it.

It’s dirty and sloppy and fucking incredible. The power you’ve seen him exert on infected and drunkards and raiders suddenly coiled over you, his muscles pulling you taunt against him when he changes the angle, sits up, pulls you with him so that you’re riding him, his cock somehow buried deeper in your cunt, your thighs bracketing him. You can feel yourself growing closer to release again, pleasure notching up in your belly like fire spreading. Joel shifts slightly again, makes space for his hand to come between you, places his thumb against your clit and presses, draws out slow, gentle circles that match the pace of his thrusts.

“Need my thumb on you clit while my cock’s buried inside you, sweetheart? Gonna come again just like this, huh? Dirty fucking girl.”

His words are like fuel on the fire and within seconds you’re moaning and shaking, cunt clenching around him as you come, harder than before, on his cock. Joel fucks you through it, keeps the steady pressure on your clit.

“Gonna make me come in this tight little pussy,” He says, and you know you shouldn’t, know you should make him pull out, but he feels so good inside you that you grind down on him telling him yes, please, fist your hands into his hair to pull his mouth against yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, all teeth and tongue. He hisses into your mouth as you buck your hips and drive them down on him, and then he’s swearing, fingers digging hard into your hips.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- shit.” He pulses inside you, painting your cunt with his come, hot and wet inside you.

You continue rocking against each other, slowly, coming down from the high. When he slides out of you and shifts away the old sofa groans out in protest, springs creaking. It makes you laugh, breathless, racking laughter than drives away the sudden realisation of what you’ve just done, of how you’ve indelibly changed the way you look at each other, the relationship between you.

“That was… fucking hell, Joel, that was incredible.”

He’s looking at you sideways, his hair still a mess, stubble still coated with your slick. He’s naked and vulnerable and you think it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. When he leans across to slot his lips against yours you grin against him, trying not to think about what happens next.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

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redflagshipwriter · 27 days

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batmom Cass progress post

(masterpost)

Far Too Young: Cassandra Wayne, Teen Mother Debutante?

Danny cringed away from the headline on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “I am so sorry,” he said miserably. Someone must have reported on that first day in the city. Why'd they sit on the story for so long? That was the only time he'd been in public with Cass. So far, he'd only left Wayne Manor with Damian and Alfred to volunteer at the animal shelter.

Cass blinked up at him, from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Don't be,” she said. “It's fine. They will always talk.” Her face twitched into condescension. “It means nothing.”

He wrung his hands because it really did look like something. She hadn't given him the article and he wasn't quite bold enough to request to read it. But it couldn't be nice. Even the headline was judgmental.

“It would probably be for the best if we made a statement.” Grandfather Bat said out of nowhere.

Danny startled and jumped straight up. The chair creaked unhappily when he landed back on it.

“Brucedad,” Cass complained.

He huffed and held his hands up. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to startle anyone.”

Danny hunched a little more into his hoodie. Well. Tucker’s hoodie. It was way too big for Danny, especially after the weight he'd lost. But it was weirdly comforting. He fiddled with the sleeves.

“Cass, could we talk about it in my office?” Bruce said. His tone was calm and even. Danny sort of suspected it was for his benefit. “Danny, Damian is looking for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny let his heels drop off the chair, onto the carpet. “Yeah, okay. Where's he at?”

Danny found his 13 year old uncle out in the barn with his cow. Danny hopped the wooden gate to go inside and sneezed at the dust in the air from dried hay.

“Danny,” Damian acknowledged. He was brushing Batcow. “I hope that you are well this morning.”

Danny made that weird white person smile-grimace where only his lips moved. “Good morning,” he said, instead of either lying or being a bummer. “Are we going to the shelter today?”

Damian didn't pause. “Unfortunately, I have been told that it will not fit in Pennyworth’s schedule today,” he said primly. He dragged another long, precise stroke down Batcow’s fur, exactly lining up with his last stroke. Danny eyed his sure, confident motions. “Instead, I wondered if you would join me in a project in the barn. Have you any experience with wood working?”

“Nope.” Danny drifted a little closer. “Do you?”

“No.” Damian dropped to a crouch to take care of Batcow's hooves. “It is of no importance. We can overcome.”

“Hell yeah, Uncle D,” Danny agreed genially. Why not? He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are we making?”

“Storage shelving, for materials intended for art therapy.” Damian made one final brisk movement and rose in a smooth motion. He hung up the tools and brushed his hands off. Danny followed Damian as he started to leave.

“Art therapy?” Danny echoed curiously. “That's neat. For ….you?” He ventured.

‘It’s for me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘This 13 year old takes his responsibility as my Uncle seriously. He'll say it's for him, but want me there, and-’

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. “It is for Jerry and Batcow. They have unresolved traumas.” He pulled the door shut behind them. “We will require lumber from the storage unit, as well as an assortment of power tools. I am disallowed from using them without the presence of someone who is taller than 5 feet, or older than 20.”

“That is awfully specific.” Danny eyed Damian suspiciously. “I'm not going to get in any trouble for this, right?” He followed even as Damian picked up the pace a little as they crossed the huge green lawn towards a shed.

“Tt.” Damian tapped in a code at lightning speed and then hefted open the door. “No. You will be fine.” He said flatly. He stalked into the dark space. Danny followed and sneezed at the dusty interior. “Can you lift 50 pounds?”

Danny sniggered. “Yeah, easily,” he said with confidence.

Damian hummed in the back of his throat. “Good. You shall be the beast of burden.”

That was such a wild thing to say that Danny blinked twice while processing it. Beast of burden?!? Who said that?

“... I'm not sure I like that,” Danny teased. “Have you heard that I'm the baby?” He gestured at himself. Weedy as he was, he was still noticeably larger than Damian.

“You should be proud,” Damian said in a dry tone. “to be such an accomplished baby. Here.” He pointed at a bundle of lumber. “I require this.”

Danny was a burdened beast back and forth between the shed and the barn for three trips to assemble everything that Damian thought they would need. The preteen oversaw it all with perfect aplomb, dark eyes glittering as his plan started to come together.

There was a learning curve.

“That's why they say to measure twice and cut once, huh,” Danny observed. He pursed his lips at the board that was only about half an inch too short for their purpose. They couldn't like, glue or nail on a slight extension, could they?

“We shall throw this in the woods so that no one discovers our failure.” Damian lifted one side of the poorly cut plank and dragged it to the back of the barn into an unused stall. It dragged a line through the loose straw cushioning the floor.

“He's so little,’ Danny thought hysterically. He could not laugh at Damian. He absolutely could not. The little guy took himself so seriously. Danny was actually shaking with the effort not to laugh or coo.

Damian seemed to have no idea. “For the moment I will store it out of sight here.” He let the plank fall to the ground from an inch or so and then shut the stall door. Danny watched with his head cocked to the side and a hand pressed over his lips to hide his grin.

“We have two more excess planks.” Damian went back to business.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red mama bat

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 months

Text

Good Omens filming locations masterpost! ❤ 🐍😊 Part 2

(here to part 1 :))

Here to the map :)

Others in England (cont):

Tadfield Manor (S01E01, S01E02) - Bulstrode, Gerrards Cross

Scene: The Tadfield Manor where the satanic nuns run the hospital in the first episode and Aziraphale and Crowley visit in the second episode

Availability (as of 2024): The manor has been in private hands since 2016 - in 2023 sold again, I didn't find on the internet that it would be available to visit in any form, the manor is not visitble from the public road.

Link on the map

Four Horsemen meeting (S01E05) – Old School Cafe, Longcross Road B386

Scene: The cafe where Four Horsemen meet

Availability (as of 2024): street all day, the cafe Mon-Fri 7:30-15:00, Sat-Sun 8:30-15:00

Link on the map

Heaven middle floors (S01E01, S01E03, S01E04, S01E05) - Weybridge Business Park, Addlestone

Scene: The Heaven middle floors scenes in season 1 were filmed here

Availability (as of 2024): The places can be sort of seen from the street but I don't think that visiting is possible

Link on the map

Pollution by the river (S01E04) – River Wey Navigation, Guildford

Scene: The International Express Man delivers the package to Pollution

(fun fact: this one was the harderst one to pin down the exact location, I only knew bc of an article that the schooting took place by "Wey Navigation" which is a river long 32km (miles), I tried to find a better mention or through google maps comparing place for a long time but couldn't, finally I wrote to the River Way Navigation organization on facebook but they had no record of the shooting. Finally, in one of the photos I noticed that in the background there is a footbridge that I saw a photo of a similar footbridge while searching on a history of Wey Navigation river on the UK National Trust page and fortunately the previous mentioned facebook page knew where it was, WAHOO! :))

Availability (as of 2024): all day

Link on the map

Hogback Wood (S01E01, S01E02, S01E04, S01E05) - Painshill Park, Cobham

Scene: The Hogback Wood where The Them play, seen in several episodes.

Availability (as of 2024): The entrance to the park is paid (£11 with prebooking online on https://painshill.co.uk/visit-us/ticket-prices-booking/) They open at 10 and close at 16-18 depending on the season. The World Word II crater they shot the main scene at should be in the west-south tip of the park. The whole path there and back is 4km (2,5 miles).

Link on the map

International Express Man's house (S01E04) - Shetland Close, Guildford

Scene: The International Express Man leaves the house to make deliveries

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

Agnes Nutter's village (S01E02) - Weald & Downland Living Museum, Chichester

Scene: The Agnes Nutter's village in episode two. In the map I highlighted which part we see the villagers and Witchfinder Major Pulsifer to through in the show.

Availability (as of 2024): The entrance fee is paid (£15.50 for an adult ticket prebooked online https://www.wealddown.co.uk/), it opens at 10 and closes at 16-17 depending on the month.

Link on the map

Tadfield Air Base (S01E05, S01E06) - RAF Upper Heyford, Bicester

Scene: For the shooting of the Tadfield Air Base the former RAF Upper Heyford was used, by the examining the google maps and screenshots from the series I think that the area labeled as 'Shelter 9' was used.

Availability (as of 2024): The place is no longer used by RAF purposes, there are several companies that use certain areas it but it is not available for public. The Upper Heyford Heritage though organizes (paid - £25.00) tours through the airbase: http://www.upperheyfordheritage.co.uk/home-page/tour-booking/

Link on the map

Soho (S1) – Bovingdon Airfield Studios

Scene: The Aziraphale's bookshop and Soho in season one were built at Bovingdon Airfield Studios

Availability (as of 2024): The studios can be rented but I don't think they are publicly available – the Soho is not there anymore though, it is now build in studios in Scotland.

Link on the map

The motorway on fire (S01E05) - M96 Training Motorway at Fire Service College, Moreton-in-Marsh

Scene: The motorway on fire when Crowley is heading for Tadfield was filmed at M95 Training Motorway at Fire Service College that is usually used for training emergency service professionals

Availability (as of 2024): Not publicly available.

Link on the map

South Africa:

The 1941 church (S01E03) - St. Saviour's Church, Claremont, Cape Town

Scene: The scene in Season 1 where Aziraphale is outsmarted by the Nazis and is saved by Crowley

Availability (as of 2024): Their facebook says Always open

Link on the map

Famine at a fancy restaurant (S01E03) - Mutual Heights building, Cape Town

Scene: The restaurant where we meet Famine for the first time

Availability (as of 2024): It is a building with flats, offices and a reception, not available to public.

Link on the map

Crowley in a cinema (S01E04) - Joseph Stone Auditorium, Cape Town

Scene: Crowley in a cinema (with Neil Gaiman cameo) watching animated rabbits when Hastur interrupts

Availability (as of 2024): Not publicly available as such but they there are presentations and and such happening there https://www.facebook.com/josephstone1968/

Link on the map

Aziraphale dancing gavotte (S01E04) - Casa Labia, Cape Town

Scene: Aziraphale dancing gavotte in a discreet gentlemen's club in Portland Place in the late 1880s was filmed at Casa Labia in Cape Town

Availability (as of 2024): Casa labia is hotel and a restaurant so it can be visited in that way https://www.casalabia.com/

Link on the map

Anathema's child home (S01E02) - Llandudno Rock Villa, Cape Town

Scene: The home which we see Anathema as a child with The Book (in the show it's Malibu, California)

Availability (as of 2024): street all day, the villa itself seems that it can be rented

Link on the map

Eden desert and ep6 time bubble desert (S01E01,S01E06) – Atlantis Dunes, Cape Town

Scene: The Eden desert scenes and the time bubble with Adam and AC were filmed in the Atlantis Dunes at the outskirts of Cape Town

Availability (as of 2024): The Atlantis Dunes – or Witzands Aquifer Conservation Area – is a protected natural area. Biking adventures can be booked through https://atlantisdunes.com/ or also other activities through https://www.capetown.gov.za/Family%20and%20home/see-all-city-facilities/our-recreational-facilities/Nature%20reserves/Witzands%20Aquifer%20Nature%20Reserve

Link on the map

The apple tree in the Garden of Eden (S01E01) - Waterfall Valley (formerly Cascade Country Manor), Paarl

Scene: The Eden apple tree with the waterfall in the background was filmed at the retreat Waterfall Valley (then Cascade Country Manor) (the tree was added by the film crew for the scene)

Availability (as of 2024): I am not sure if you can visit the waterfall like that or you have to be a guest in the restreat. The retreat is available for booking: https://www.waterfallvalley.online/

Link on the map

There were other scenes also filmed at South Africa (thought not specified exactly where): Hell was filmed in Cape Town in a former abattoir. The Noah’s Ark scene and the Crucifixion scene were filmed on a windswept plain just outside Cape Town. Also the Meggido scenes. The entire village used for the scene with War causing mayhem in an african village is in fact a set, built on scrubland over a sand mine just outside Cape Town. The French Revolution scene wa shot on a set that had been used twenty-four hours earlier for the scene in Ancient Rome. Famine visiting a burger place with Elvis was shot on a set in Cape Town. Also some scene's in Anathema's cottage with Anathema and Newt.

SEASON 2

Most of season 2 has been shot inside the film studio in Bathgate (f.e. the whole Soho has been built there), the Hell in S2 has been shot in an old disused factory (not specififed which one). The shots of the Edinburgh castle have been shot from the top of the The Caledonian hotel.

Edinburgh:

Crowley and Shax in St James's Park (S02E01) – Inverleith Park, Edinburgh

Scene: Crowley and Shax meet to discuss the news in St James's Park – the scene though was actually filmed in Scotland.

Availability (as of 2024): All day

Link on the map

The place where Crowley parks the Bentley (S02E01, S02E02) – Circus Lane, Edinburgh

Scene: The place Crowley goes to to park the Bentley and sleep there

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

AC and Elspeth in Edinburgh (S02E03) - Moray Place, Edinburgh

Scene: Aziraphale, Crowley and Elspeth are taking the first "pickled herring" to be sold, Aziraphale and Crowley are debating good and evil

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

Detective Aziraphale parks the Bentley (S02E03) – Victoria Street, Edinburgh

Scene: Aziraphale arrives in the Bentley and happily goes to investigate

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

The Resurrectionist (S02E03, S02E06) - Cask and Barrel, Edinburgh

Scene: Aziraphale goes to investigate to The Resurrectionist bar (also in Gabriel's memories with Beelzebub) – filmed in the Cask and Barrel bar

Availability (as of 2024): outside all day, inside 12-24, Fri-Sat 12-1

Link on the map

Stirling:

Edinburgh cementery (S02E03) - Old Town Cemetery, Stirling

Scene: The cemetery in episode 3 was filmed at the Stirling cemetery (grave, some gravestones, Gabriel's statue and the crypt has been added by the crew for the shooting)

Availability (as of 2024): all day

Link on the map

AC and Elspeth going through Edinburgh (S02E03) – Broad Street, Stirling

Scene: Aziraphale, Crowley and Elspeth going through Edinburgh while Aziraphale is trying to persuade her that she could do something else

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

Meeting Wee Morag (S02E03) - Mar's Wark, Stirling

Scene: The small corridor behind the gate where Wee Morag is staying

Availability (as of 2024): The front all day, the corridor if not through the gate then hopefully from the other side

Link on the map

Others in Scotland:

AC drinking whiskey with Mr Darlymple and the corridor to Mr Darlymple (S02E03) – Hopetoun House, Queensferry

Scene: Aziraphale and Crowley drinking whisky with Mr Darlymple while he explains why he needs fresh dead bodies also at the house has been filmed the corridor reading to Mr Darlymple

Availability (as of 2024): Hopetoun is visitable, Friday 29 March 2024 to Sunday 29 September 2024 Open 5 days per week (Thursday – Monday) from 11am to 5pm, £13.50 for an adult ticket for House and Grounds (to see both), or £13.50 for Grounds (to see the corridor)

Link on the map

The Windmill Theatre in 1941 (S02E04) - Hippodrome Cinema, Bo'ness

Scene: The theatre that Crowley delivered the broken alcohol to and Aziraphale performed the bullet catch

Availability (as of 2024): You can visit the cinema for a movie or an event https://www.hippodromecinema.co.uk/whats-on/

Link on the map

Soho and more (S2) - The Pyramids Studio, Bathgate

Scene: The S2 Soho has been built in the Bathgate studio, also there were built and shot many other scenes

Availability (as of 2024): It is not available to visit for public

Link on the map

London:

Possibly only streets were filmed and the Bentley was added with VFX.

C on the way to A after A calls him (S02E01) - Wardour Street, London

Scene: Crowley on the way to Aziraphale after Aziraphale calls him (to tell him about Gabriel)

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

C rushing to A after Beelzebub's visit (S02E01) - Regent Street St James's, London

Scene: Crowley rushing to Aziraphale after Beelzebub told with that anyone who will be find helping Gabriel will be dealt with extreme sanctions

Availability (as of 2024): street all day

Link on the map

Whew! This masterpost took me several weeks, hope you enjoyed it and it might help you plan your trip to see the Good Omens places! :) ❤ 🐍😊 Wahoo! :)

#good omens #bts #filming locations #fun fact #masterposts #filming locations masterpost #long post

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0104-vikita · 21 days

Text

The Amazing Digital World

🍀•~ MASTERPOST ~•🍀

•~The beggining~•

In an attempt to do a little experiment. Developers wanted to test Ai's ability to evolve.

They started to create a very basic virtual world. Coding some realms, some biomes, some communities, some special locations, and different types of enemies and villagers. A combination between Minecraft and Stardew Valley.

Caine was like the coder's will inside this world, they coded him to create everything the developers demanded. Once the basics were finished, he had the task to look for errors, bugs, and anything that could harm the proper function of the world, as well as create whatever the creators demanded him to.

The game and its NPCs were specifically coded to be able to evolve. They wanted to see how far the NPCS free will could go, how much they could do. They wanted this virtual reality to feel as real.

This would take a while tho.

The developers had big hopes in this auto-sustained world. But it didn't work as fast as they thought. They left it aside for a while, and the company kept selling with normality. Some eventually forgot about it, but the small world they once created had evolved into a full fleshed out universe.

Entire families of each type of NPCs had formed, a functional economy, and different cultures arose. More importantly, the NPCs had reached the level knowing they lived in a digital world, but they also knew this was where they were supposed to be.

They lived their lives like a regular human being. Everyone expects one particular AI..who unfortunately was never meant to evolve as the others. An AI that till this day, keeps waiting for the coders to give meaning to his existence.

~• The Realms •~

Note: illustrations might be done in the future

The Main Grounds 🎪👣

Human-like creatures made of rubber inhabit what one was the starting point of everything. Most human-like inhabitants are clown themed, wearing colorful combinations and displaying extremely pale skins with iconic make up. Most houses now look like circus tents.

As the starting point of everything, Humanoid Clowns are usually skilled on all kinds of areas, nowadays though they are mostly recognized by their sharp communication abilities.

Feeding habits: Regular Foods and Water

Pomni and Kaufmo inhabit this realm

Woodland Kingdom 🌲🪵

Wood made toys inhabit this prosperous Nation. Although wooden puppets and dolls can be found, the biggest demographic group this realm are Chess-like inhabitants.

Trees on Woodland are abundant since most of this realm is forest surrounded. They provide wood for construction to other realms and are knowledgeable on the matter. Woodland has the widest insect population.

Feeding habits: Wood and Tree Sap

Kinger and Queenie inhabit this realm

The Great Cartoon Plains 🌽🚜

Probably the biggest biome and realm of all. Here cartoonish anthropomorphic animals made out of rubber inhabit the plains. Great weather, excellent soil, and wide terrains, The Great Plains is the hostess of the biggest agricultural production that feeds most realms.

Most families that inhabit this place farm and mine for a living. They provide the raw materials that sustain the rest of the world. They have great resistance and their ATP (Energy) lasts the longest.

Feeding habits: Regular Foods and Water.

Jax inhabits this realm

Raggedy Village 🧸🧵🪡

A village with a welcoming vibe, Raggedy Village is probably one of the safest and calmest realms. Rag dolls, plushies, fabric puppets inhabit this place in big teapot looking houses. They are usually very kind and willing to teach.

Raggedy villagers excel at the refining of cotton and fibers, as well as the art of sewing and designing everything from carpets and curtains to clothes, hair bowties and shoes. Raggedy village is the biggest exporter of clothes and fabric.

Feeding habits: Gossypium and Sweet Tea

Ragatha inhabits this realm

Puzzle City 🧩🎲

Tall, noisy and at times confusing, Puzzle City occupies this place on the list. Wacky and colorful, Puzzle City owns the most abstract and ingenious buildings and transport mechanisms. Their citizens are not any different.

Often called "The Geometrics" citizens of the city are plastic and are usually composed of geometric shapes that can be rearranged. Geometrics are especially good at architectural engineering and design, and are by nature bright in color and personality...with a few exceptions..

Feeding habits: No food is needed for survival

Zooble and Orbsman inhabit this realm

Stone Temples 🎭🎨

Special for being home of NPCS originally designed to be provoked enemies. The Stone temples are clean, polished, resistant and often, artsy. They display beautiful designs and paintings, and with reason.

Often called the porcelains, the inhabitants of this complex are artistic and emotional souls, and excel in every form of art, from painting, sculpting, dancing, music, and theater. Most porcelains have a distinctive physiology: Mask faces with light ribbon bodies.

Feeding habits: Minerals and Gossypium

Gangle inhabits this realm

Candy Island 🍭🍮

The most distant territory, Candy Island feels like a fever dream without a set time period. The name says it all, an island of the size of Australia where everything is made out of every type of candy imagined, including their people.

Lolli citizens, cake fellas, and gummy lads are just a few examples, they are often highly energetic and sweet. Most desserts found in any other realm most likely came from Candy Island.

Feeding habits: Regular desserts and raw sugar

Loolilalu, Gummigoo, Max and Chad inhabit this realm

The Amazing Digital Academia 🪄🔮

A wide academia with a fundamental purpose: Sustain the world they all live in. With the original coders absent, Caine is allowed to grant certain skills to NPCS that seem responsible and acknowledging about the matter

What we might know as coding, for them is magic. Being able to manipulate reality and spawn new creations, new textures, flavors, physics, biomes, was necessary for the expansion of this little world.

Here, students learn everything they need to know in order to maintain and expand this beautiful world. Alongside coding, characters study whatever discipline they want to master.

All characters previously mentioned attend as students and teachers

Uniform Variations:

~• Families and Births •~

Each type of NPC presents a different type of reproduction. No genitalia is present on any of them, but just like in the sims, the game recognizes the baby making process and starts the NPC's corresponding process to spawn a new baby. Different types of NPCS can result in interesting combinations and character designs

Rubber Animals 🐣

Humans and anthropomorphic animals have probably the simplest birth process. Just like in real life, regular pregnancies and Births take place. As stated before, Characters do not possess genitalia, instead the game recognizes certain intimate acts. If both characters desire to have a baby, an immediate fertilization will take place.

Babies are raised by their "biological" families and it is possible to identify the character's ancestry based on code patterns

Chess Pieces ♟️

Chess pieces do not reproduce, but spawn from flowers instead. Each type of piece spawns on its own recurrence, pawns spawn with the most frequency. Knights and Bishops spawn moderately, Queens and Kings spawn with the least frequency. Every 20 years, the new Queen and King must replace the formers.

Each type of piece is raised by its own kind except for Kings and Queens. Kings are raised by bishops, Queens are raised by pawns.

Rag Dolls [coming soon]

Geometrics [coming soon]

Porcelains [coming soon]

❤️ SPECIAL THANKS TO @notnights for helping me with ideas and figuring out a lot of stuff ❤️

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus au #the amazing digital world #open world au #tadc au

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ivesambrose · 8 months

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1. 2. 3.

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If you feel lost, aimless, overwhelmed or unsure in regards to yourself this has found it's way to you at the right time.

Personal Readings

Masterpost

Thank you for the tip! 🌹

Picture 1

A lot of you are burnt by your own ambitions and a need to prove something. You quietly wonder if you're even passionate about anything anymore or you are but do not what to do, where to start so you end up spacing out and procrastinating. Likely you were made to believe that if what gets you excited and happy doesn't automatically put you on the map and bring you money in traditional ways then it's practically useless.

You have in a way put yourself down consistently due to these external projections.

Of what I'm picking up on some of you are passionate about the following :

- Dancing

- Fitness

- Makeup

- Music

- The occult

- crafting something intricate such as designing jewellery or curating them

- A select few might be into taxidermy, herbology and even archeology

- A combination of the above, some of you have your own allure and might want to get into modelling, styling, dancing and design. You want to express yourself freely including your sensual as well as spiritual and esoteric side.

You want to be known but you want to stand out, with your accumulated power you want to guide others too, make them feel less alone and more understood and yet you want to be an enigma and mystery. You do have a strong potential to be a muse to many.

Your hidden talents:

- Something that is coming through significantly that it is something from your past/childhood/early teens that you had to sacrifice/were made to sacrifice even if you cared for it deeply and wanted to nurture it. It makes you bitter to this day because you were naturally good at it.

- Some of you should definitely consider working for animals especially birds. You have a gift to heal and develop empathy with them.

- Some of you can end up being excellent bakers and decorators.

A lot you can find success in the entertainment industry, media, running your own business and being your own boss, you have excellent leadership skills and determination it's just that you haven't gotten the chance to explore that side of yourself yet.

The advice here is to only look back at the past to pick up what you had left and walk ahead. Become your friend and ask your own subconscious to show the way, trust me you will be shown when you least expect it.

Picture 2

You simply love to learn and acquire knowledge. You could have specific subject(s) you're drawn to or you don't even like limiting yourself to that. You'd rather be an eternal student. I wouldn't be surprised if you were drawn to picture 1 or 3 as well. You have a thrist that sometimes almost feels insatiable.

You are rather intellectual and often give very sound advice. Mainly cuz you are highly self aware and very intuitive.

Regardless of anything else, you seek inspiration and adventure above all. You do tend to get bored with just one thing easily.

Of what I'm picking up on, some of you are passionate about the following:

- Learning, experimenting, teaching and innovating. Again this could be any topic or multiple. Could be something as literature and academics or physics or could even be cooking or carving wood. You could even be here educating people about Gothic architecture or the human anatomy. Or all of this. You're not meant to confine yourself.

- A lot of you seek travel and adventure. Even be passionate about extreme sports.

- Languages and culture.

- Some of you want to try and do everything, experience different things and don't want to niche yourself down. Your passion can simply be experiencing your life to the fullest so you have wisdom to give and stories to narrate and memories to look back on and trust me, that is more than enough.

Which quickly brings me to your hidden talents because you're supressing quite a few:

- Some of you can be excellent astrologers or even astronomers.

- A lot of you can read into symbolisms real. You can be a gifted psychic too if you aren't aware already.

- You can be really good at sports like archery, fencing, MMA etc

- Creative direction, photography is also coming through.

- You're very good with your words, whether it be in writing or speaking.

You are rather mutable and a very poised individual too, you can easily influence the people you come in touch with. Some of you can be good speakers, representatives or the face of a brand. Whatever you do, you end up being very good at it whether you like it or not.

The advice is to simply continue what you're doing, you're not as lost as you think you are. Keep making connections and continue being yourself instead of trying to make yourself small and fit in or follow trends or the algorithm.

Picture 3

You feel like a misfit and an outsider so much so that being passionate about anything worries you because you may end up looking a fool, not being good enough or not being disciplined enough.

You carry a lot of anguish in you mainly because you had to focus on things that were expected of you or because you had to survive so you might feel like you're good at many things but not great or could be great at something but you don't necessarily love it.

You're an interesting group here because you haven't even allowed yourself to feel excited about things.

What are you truly passionate about? I see nature, authenticism, a slower, softer life. The word passion itself feels too intense and deliberate for you.

You simply want to experience a life that doesn't feel like you running on a treadmill till your knees give out.

I do see there's an innate desire in you to help others, be it people or animals or even a dying plant. You want to find your peace and bring some of that peace in others lives too. Your energy feels like a walking into a warm cabin in the woods during winter with freshly made dinner waiting.

Hidden talents you have ample, a lot of them are based on learning and perfecting with practice :

- Cooking, experimenting with different herbs. I do see some of you have the potential to start a small business that involves food.

- Gardening and farming

- Painting

- Tattooing (this is coming through because it can be very therapeutic for a lot of you)

- Perfume making is also coming through as well as skincare.

- pottery and sculpting, crocheting etc

- reiki, medicine, physical therapy etc

- divination

Think of a life that's a bit more laid back a career that makes you feel less on the edge.

You've already been running on the validation of people who think you're dispensable or your worth is tied to something outside of you that you can't even find meaning in.

The world needs more souls like you.

The only advice is to be more compassionate with yourself, you're not running a race even if people have constantly been reminding you of it, there's no finish line. The only truth that matters is the story you tell yourself, over and over again. It will come to pass. Continue being. Continue creating instead of wondering about the how. You've figured out many things in your life, let life sort this out for you.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #pick a card #PAC #pick a pile #pick a card reading #psychic readings #spiritual community

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